#i cant stand when my face is visible to others. my mouth and nose must be covered

[kim-monsterlings]

Danon - M Hellhound x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; injury (brief, not to reader), mild aggression, mentions of death, soul bonding, fluff, receiving oral, penetrative sex (+ knotting), marking (no biting - tattoo), more fluff to top it off, with the NSFW only at the very end - (if there is anything else anyone would like tagged here that I haven't caught, let me know!)

Wordcount: 3715

Masterlist

 The creature rested at your front door had been your shadow for some time now.

 The raven fur thick at its scruff tinged with a crimson the nearer you came, and though you doubted its domesticity - its claws were far too long for any house pet, not to mention in place of fluffy ears were ram horns, wide and curled back to its neck - you still felt sympathy for the creature, wounded as it was.

 You first saw it nearly a month ago, trailing at your shadow when the evening fell into night. If the creature had wanted to have you then, it would have. The flash of fanged teeth hadn't been so unusual, until the muzzle almost tore back, sinew and tendons sewing flesh together, up to it skull. Then you'd known it wasn't quite a dog, nor some odd breeding anomaly, and had fought to ignore the memory.

 Until the creature was at your backdoor come dawn when you went to the river for water and herbs for medicine. You were no healer, not properly, but your parents had passed down knowledge you cherished and made use of. Poultices ready-made waited for collection, all the while your stalker sat by the tree line, waiting; you weren't sure what for.

 To see it so defeated when it was usually full of life tugged you down to your knees. The first time you had confronted it - in a rage of foolishness, really, considering how lucky you had been to avoid any harm at its infliction, the creature had staggered back almost in shock at having stones thrown, before letting loose a growl so low your muscles locked, and you thought then you had incited your own death, as its muzzle nudged up at your fist, the creature large enough to come to your hips like a pony.

 The memory was nothing now. You whispered, hoping to soothe the dog-like demon when you brushed its fur. It gave a low whine, and tail thin like a whip with an arrowed tip tucked neater to its belly. Whatever it was, was decisively male, but your focus was more on the scratches curled deep into its stomach, and the wound on its throat must have been from another creature of the same kind.

 "Hey, boy," you said and offered your hand for him to sniff. The notion struck you as pointless; obviously he recognised you, laying at your door after following for so long, but the press of a hot nose was more reassurance to you than anything. "Stay still. You'll be okay, boy."

 The idea of letting him inside was daunting, but you couldn't just leave him there to die. No matter why he followed you, he had come to you now for help, and you pressed onto his back carefully. When he snarled, you winced through gritted teeth.

 "Come on, boy." You tucked your hands beneath his back enough to encourage him up. Your door was open. All he had to do was collapse inside. "Go on-"

 With a pitiful whine, he fell heavily against your thigh as you led him in. He managed to carry himself to the fireplace before landing with a thud, and though he still breathed, you weren't surprised to find him now unconscious.

 Treating a dog was different from humans but you made do with what you had, and you couldn't do anything more than that. What you noticed, even as you tried not to, was the thick stench of something foul and smoky on washing away blood, and something about it twisted at you. Like it was unnatural. There wasn't anything natural to a dog of his size, with horns and a tail like that, nor a muzzle so wide and sharp, but you had already invited him in and tended to his wounds, so you moved on.

 You left a bowl of water and some old meat at his side but when you retreated to your room, sharp canines snatched your wrist. His eyes flicked up to you, a bright, burning red against his ashen body. When you conceded and sat at his side, a soft whimper enticed your fingers to his scruff, careful to avoid the horns and shallow wound.

 "You're okay," you hummed, holding still when he inched close enough to lay a heavy head on your thighs. "You'll be okay, boy. You’ll be healthy again, and you won't even try to eat me, will you? No," you whispered, and spoke until his eyes fell shut.

 That night you spent curled uncomfortably back against the sofa, falling in and out of a restless sleep. You woke before dawn to find the beast gone, and in his place was a man. The first, natural instinct that came to you was to scream; his head was nuzzled against your thighs, a hand curled at your hip and clutching loosely, but the familiarity struck you before the screech came.

 His body was the same black of his fur, a rich, almost obsidian, but the giveaway was the tail twined to his bare legs. Even still, his mouth seemed off, a little too wide, and the short nubs at his temples, though dramatically smaller horns, were the same.

 So you yawned, snatching the blanket off the sofa and laying it across his thin body, too. Waking hours later with daylight on your face, you were alone. He had rested you on the sofa with a pillow beneath your head and the blanket up to your neck. It melted away remnants of fear, after being alone with not only some demonic hound, but a strange man, too, more than capable of harming you.

 It was a struggle to continue your day as you normally would, but it was a weekend, so a short trip out was all you needed. You were back before midday but still alone. Alone until well into the evening, almost convinced it had been a fever dream until you had finished changing into comfortable clothes, and the silhouette standing in your kitchen turned, tail wound at his bare ankle.

 "Oh."

 The tail flicked and he watched you with glowing eyes, which darted back from you to the door. "If you would rather I leave-"

 "No. No, stay." His head canted much like it had when he was the creature, and you smiled, offering him a change of clothes you had bought; not so much a change, but something to cover up with. "I'd like the company, and an explanation."

 He apparently had no shame, and you had to admit, he needn't have any. His body was taut, and once more you were drawn to admiring him. The clothes hung off his frame, adding to his general unruliness - his hair particularly, ruffed with thick curls nearly enshrouding the nubby horns.

 The stranger was a foot or so taller than you, stiffening when you reached out towards him. He blinked when you introduced yourself, before whispering, "my name is Danon. It's okay," he said, and tipped his head down.

 They were rough, thick at the base, and Danon's breath caught when you stroked up to the tips. Horns of a devil, yet he stood before you still weakened by wounds visible, though closed over at his throat, at least. No blood stained the white shirt yet, so you instead moved past to make a drink for you each.

 "Start from the beginning, Danon."

 His lips twitched, though the smile didn't last. "I am a hellhound. We guide souls on from their lives here. My life is owed to you."

 You sipped in quiet until it helped calm your thoughts. Sat opposite a hellhound, you needed the strength. "Sounds lonely."

 His voice trembled. "It is."

When Danon chose not to elaborate, you embraced the quiet. He had only sniffed at the tea, but you wouldn't force him to drink it. With his hands so large, clawed, the mug shrunk between them.

He still remained quiet, so you watched him carefully and said, "you followed me for a month."

 "It was meant to be you."

 Danon's lips pulled back like he was snarling down at his mug, but the action somehow only made a smile grow on your face. He snapped his head up, slamming the mug down hard enough the handle shattered free.

 "It was your life I was sent for. Not the elder man. You. Say something," he bit out, a snarl coming audibly now when you just looked at him, heart-pounding but face unchanging. "Is that it? You don't care about your own life? I could snatch it from you now, leave you there breathless until-" he bit his cheek sharp as his tail swung out in short whips. "I chose to give you time."

 The only sound you could make was a breathless, "why?"

 "I watched you long before revealing myself."

 "Oh, don't tell me," you cut in, rolling your eyes. "You fell in love with me? Is that it?"

 "Yes."

 "Very funny," you snapped, and Danon's throat bobbed. Like you had done, he said nothing, and you began to grip your mug tighter. "Tell me you're lying. You killed someone because you love me?"

 "His time had come. I sent him in place of your soul. The world cannot lose you. The way you care for these people… not one other soul is so caring. You deserve to live."

 "But he didn't?"

 Danon's long tipped ears twitched, almost pinning back once your voice sharpened. He thumbed the crack in the mug with his claw and grunted, "we can claim a soul. I fought for yours and until I choose to let you pass," he glanced up, finding your face ashen. "You will live. The elder was sickly. Longer for him would be a cruelty. His soul was so far gone I couldn't resist guiding him. It's like… like an itch."

 Questions sprouted endlessly the more he spoke, and you fully intended to return to the matter of him claiming your soul, but he hunched over, and you wondered if it took a toll on him, being the one to cart people from this life. Better to have a guide than not, but your mind drifted to the man whose passing you'd heard of nearby; very old, very sick, and in a way, it was an easing of pain.

 "Don't I itch?"

 His warm laughter came as a surprise. Danon's tail swayed gently. "No. You're like a beacon to me. I need to scratch the itch, but your soul is where I return to. When you healed me, you accepted my claim. For simplicity," he murmured, canting his head a little to hold your eyes. "We are bound, 'til death do us part. It is late."

 Like that, Danon dismissed the questions burning in your mind. He rose, his form slender and lean, before rounding the table towards you. His claws pressed beneath your chin and he fell low, so close his breath brushed your face. The warmth in your stomach tightened your chest. If Danon lowered himself a little more, you would lean into his kiss without pause.

 "I will never apologise for choosing you."

 Sleep evaded you for a long time. Knowing that a creature of hell was resting in the lounge gave you plenty to torment over, and like he knew, the soft padding of paws entered your room. The beast huffed a heavy breath against your hand before curling at the foot of your bed, a weight that left you curled into yourself. His presence was a comfort, even as you struggled to stop thinking of him.

 He loved you. He loved you, and he had bound your souls together.

 Sometime in the night as your thoughts became heavier, the bed dipped. The creature rose, a yawn baring sharp teeth in a display that had frightened you nights ago, before whining quietly. He nudged at your arm until you let him lay close, nosing at your throat and whining again until you were able to rest.

 Danon wasn't by your side when you woke. There wasn't a trace of him left. The shattered mug had been cleared away, the smoky scent that followed him was gone, and the comfort with it. You almost thought it had been a dream, a delirious lie after being alone too long, and forced yourself to go about your day as you would normally. If Danon came home, it would be of his own choice.

 He staggered into your room three nights gone and collapsed to his knees in reaching out to you. It was the thick of night, so you woke with a cry at somebody waking you. Danon caught your face in clammy palms and hushed you. It was without a word that you kicked back the sheets for him, and he crawled beside you - bare, but so exhausted you couldn't find it in you to care as he clutched you tight with a rough sigh.

 It wasn't the time for questions, but you leaned back as far as you could with his arms snaked against you, brushing your hand against his burning cheek. "I missed you."

 His glowing eyes blinked down at you. "You missed me?"

 You hummed and leaned into his chest. "Did you have an itch?"

 His chest rose beneath you but it was answer enough. Danon's kiss was tentative, pressed to your temple like a breath, fleeting when he laid his cheek to your crown. "I missed you, too."

 "Tell me what it means to have my soul claimed."

"Come morning, you may ask me anything."

 "Will you be here?"

 The hellhound paused a breath. "I'm never far," he said, but it was answer enough as you woke entwined, cheek to his shoulder and with a tail draped over your hips.

 For a creature of hell, sunlight blessed him. The sharp angles of his face looked softer in the golden hue, and you were free to admire him until he grumbled and peeked open an eye at you. Danon's brows dipped when he found you already awake, but you were quick to catch his arm before he could lean away.

 "I fought for the right to your soul," he murmured, thick with sleep and slightly slurred. "It is mine. Nothing can take you without me releasing you."

 "Don't I own my own soul?"

 "It is mine," he said against the pillows, grumbling and turning away. Though as he fought to muffle himself, his arm around you tightened. "Pretty soul, too."

 "Am I immortal?" Danon breathed a laugh. His tail flicked down your legs and he shook his head. "Are you?"

 "If I wish to pass on, I may."

 The words were rough and muffled now he had found a spot on the pillow to hide from the light, but you spoke still. If he was in your bed, he would answer your questions. "Will you pass on when I do?"

 He hummed, "I might." You frowned, and he let out a rumble of a growl, turning fully from the pillow. Danon rose over you until you were laid back beneath him. "It is dependent on you."

 "Me?" You blanched, "why me?"

 "How attached I am. I never," he growled, and would have lurched back if not for your touch brushing his arm. "I never intended to claim someone. Your soul is my burden-"

 "I'm a burden?"

 Danon snarled, but you bit back a smile at the gesture. He brought himself close, forehead to yours, and whispered, "I loved you before claiming you. That is my burden alone. May I?"

 Throat tight, you tried to hold your voice steady when you asked, "may you?"

 "May I sleep?"

 Your breath rushed from you and you forced a nod, laying still as he nestled back into the pillows. Danon's hand skimmed your stomach when you slid free, and his tail snagged at your ankle before unwinding.

  Days passed much like that, and each in his presence weakened you. Confessions came in soft whispers when, to him, they were the only possible answer to yet another of your questions. You asked him if he had a home. He did; loose curls fell against his horns, brushed his dark eyes, and the answer, though he never did anything more than smile at you, echoed in your chest. It was the same reason he came back after a soul needed guiding, and the isolation of what he was struck you when he returned, falling into your arms no matter where he found you.

 The worst came when he was gone nearly a fortnight. Some nights you doubted if he would come back to you, and the memory of him seeing you as beacon became your clutch. You had taken to resting on the small sofa in the days, knowing that if he came back in the light, you would wake.

 His whine was so soft you thought him to be the beast when a warmth brushed your cheek, but arms tucked beneath you and curled you into a bare chest. Danon's lips lingered on your forehead before he laid you on your bed, whispering your name as he began to free you from your dress. The lace parted easily for him, and you brought his hands up to your sleeves when he made to turn, helping him undress you until you were left only in your underwear.

 "Don't stay away so long," you whispered, reaching out to brush back his loose curls. Danon trembled when you ran your thumb against his horns. "What if you didn't come back to me?"

 He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. "That will never happen."

 "This isn't one-sided," you said. Lengthened teeth cut into his lower lip when you slowly parted your legs beneath him, and Danon's hips fell against yours. He let out a breathless moan when your touch pressed to his lips and he let them part, tongue hot against you. "Did you not think I loved you?"

 He whined, and his head fell heavy onto your chest. You gasped when he kissed the soft skin as it fell low, and his hands settled on your hips. "Tell me you do."

 "I might," you said, and he was peppering softer kisses across your breast, hot lips drawing on your nipple until you groaned. "You'll have to do more than that first."

 Danon's lips curled up against your stomach, and relief flooded you when he moved lower. His thumbs stroked small circles into your thighs when he pressed his hot tongue to the fabric clinging to your body, tasting you through it. His teeth caught at the hem and as you lifted your hips, he snatched them off and returned as fast, kissing purple flushes onto your legs before pausing.

 "Tell me now."

 With a small smile, you reached low to hook a finger against his horn, and breathed, "not yet, love."

 He snarled half-heartedly before a long drag of his tongue made you choke. Danon flicked the muscle up until it nudged to your nerves, earning a sharp cry of his name in pleasure. The heat now rushing through you began to pool in your gut, and tightened with the passion he began to lap at you with. The hound growled low, and the shock of it ran in shivers through you.

 Claws curled against your skin and he pressed your legs back to your chest. The same fire you felt throbbing glowed in his eyes, and he almost held your stare for as long as he stretched your tight body around his tongue, if you hadn't shuddered and bucked against him.

 "Danon-" His nose forced hot air against you, nosing up at your clit and you stuttered out a plea, grasping at his hair and grinding your hips up to his face. "I need you. I need you to-Danon-"

 He yelped when you dragged him up, and his body rubbed hard against you. The weight of him slick and nudging to your core made you wriggle, and he palmed your stomach with a small smile, the other hand circling his cock and guiding it up so his head rubbed to your nerves.

 "If we do this, you will wear my mark." He turned to kiss your knee as it came against his shoulder. "Am I what you want?"

 The shine to eyes was so innocent that you nodded, tangling your fingers in his hair again to drag him against you. "I love you."

 Your voice broke on a hoarse cry. Danon laid over you, your legs strained up against him a way that had your body so tight and stuffed when his cock drove deep. His lips, thick and sweetened by your taste, parted on a heady groan with each thrust, each clench of your thighs dragging him deeper.

 At that moment, your souls recognised the other; they must have done, with a feeling of belonging overcoming you as Danon cradled your face, running away a tear of pleasure. He rutted up as he began to gasp and shake, a weight slamming against your centre. He soothed you with a whisper of his love, and grinned at your answering whine before the claw of his thumb flicked your clit. Bolts of pleasure knotted in your core. You cried, seeing white and locking tight in the same second Danon thrust hard, the knot forced into you and sticking.

 You felt him come, thick and hard until he was panting and kissing down your throat. The black swirls of his mark formed across your chest and Danon held you close as his knot swelled all the more.

 "Stay here." He swallowed, nipping at your jaw before meeting your eyes. "Stop travelling," you said quietly, and Danon's fingers running down your hips paused, splaying wide as he looked down at you. Your traced his chest, drawn to the stretch of his skin where a matching mark laid. "Care for this village, the neighbouring ones. You said you only take souls at their time. Guide theirs."

 "Stay with you?" His small smile tugged at your heart. Danon slid his arm lower to lift you up against him, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. "I will try."

I wrote Danon in like one sitting and honestly? He stole my heart. I don't know how it happened but this is the longest thing I've written that wasn't intended to be two parts. Danon is now my baby, and I hope you all loved him too - let me know if you did! Threw in the NSFW as a treat to myself. We love indulgent writing. Thank you for getting this far <3

#kim-monsterlings writing #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #demon #monster x human #hellhound #hellhound x reader #hellhound x human #2nd person #female reader #Danon the hellhound #kim-monsterlings #exophilia fluff #exophilia writing

[volleychumps]

HIIIII!!! I just read your latest hcs and i was screaming when akaashi gave the reader his jacket :(((( i was hoping to put in a request for headcanons about the different captains giving the reader their jacket? The concept just has me so fuckin soft :))) i completely understand if you don't want to do it!!!!

I hope you enjoy, thank you for your support!!

Haikyuu Captains Giving their Crush their Jacket

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

Daichi

- “Do you always lock up by yourself? What if you get mugged or something?” “...why would I get mugged, we live in the countryside.”

- “Wow Daichi, I was just trying to care, no need for saSs.”

- Sweatdrops when you push off the wall to walk ahead of him, causing him to release a deep chuckle as he jogs up to your side

- “are you actually mad right now?”

- “I don’t know. There’s a taiyaki stand over there. Totally unnecessary information.” You pout a little as Daichi shakes his head, an amused smile tickling the corner of his lips as he makes the turn to greet the old lady running the stand.

-  “Three please.” You hop a little in place in excitement when Daichi hands you the one filled with red-bean, the warm pastry sending tinges of heat to your skin as you look at the other two questioningly

- “...you like both flavors.” you fail to notice the flush to his cheeks as you grin brightly. “You’re forgiven!”

- chuckles, knowing you were never really mad in the first place as the two of you continue the walk home, casting glances at your giddy figure as you bite into the pastry

-suddenly frowns, noticing the thin material of your school uniform being your only coverage as you grasp at the taiyaki for warmth

- “You don’t have a coat?”

- You still, blinking in realization. Slowly, you turn to smile sheepishly at Daichi as he fights the urge to palm his face

- “How do you forget? In the middle of winter?”

- “Maybe it was your sass?”

- scoffs a little as he stops, turning so he’s facing you.

-He gives you a stern look as he moves to set his bag down on the side of the road, you blinking in confusion as the second taikyaki is suddenly being pressed against your lips

- “Bite.”

-Your look of confusion continues as you take the taiyaki in your mouth, the other remaining half-eaten in your hand as the other is holding your bag

- ignores your protests around the taiyaki as he slips his own coat off, looking down at you amusedly as he wraps it around your shoulders, the warmth and his scent embracing you immediately

- takes the taiyaki and your bag from your hands, eyes stern with a playful smile on his lips “Now put your arms in the sleeves.”

- the heat rushes to your cheeks at how large the coat was around you, and the heat intensifies when Daichi steps forward to zip it up for you all the way up to your chin

- You give him a look, what about you?

- leans forward to take a bite of the taiyaki hanging out of your mouth, chewing as he looks down at your shocked figure in slight amusement

- “This is warm enough.”

- Daichi you smooth fucker

Kuroo

- “Oi, be quiet. She’s asleep.” “You’re just saying that cause you like her-” “LEV shut up-” “You never care when I’m sleeping!”

- the whole bus freezes as you stir slightly in your sleep before relaxing again, allowing the team to sigh in relief as Kuroo glares at the tall Russian boy, who bows his head in apology to your sleeping figure

- “Kuroo, come switch places with me.” “What? Kenma, why?” “You’ve literally been looking over here like a puppy that lost its’ owner for the past hour.”

- scoffs, sputtering that Kenma was talking nonsense before agreeing immediately

-omg what a nerd

- nervously sits next to you, rigid in his seat as your eyes suddenly open and your neck lifts from its spot on the window, a look of irritation on your face

- “Shoot, did I wake you up?” You blink in a daze at the captain in the seat next to you, still half-asleep as your head plops down on the raven-haired boys shoulder

- “Sorry, do you mind? The window’s killing my neck.”

- Kuroo.exe has crashed

- “Nope! Nope, no not at all!”

- “Ahah what a siMp-” “Yaku don’t ruin this for him.”

- before he can death glare his team, he notices how cold your skin was from the arm that grazed his, quirking an eyebrow as he takes into account the slight trembling of your fingers

-ah. you were right under the AC.

- moves as slowly as he can to reach down into his duffel before emerging with his own jacket “(Y/N)?”

- “mm...yes?”

- “Can you sit up real quick for me?”

- holds his breath, thinking you look absolutely adorable as you sit up in a stupor, following his demand half-asleep as he manages to slip his jacket over your shoulders, allowing you to relax back into the seat and onto his shoulder

- “Better?”

- “Much.” he literally feels his breath hitch when you smile a little up at him. “You’re so warm.”

-you cuddle closer, causing Kuroo to become a blushing mess as he nervously wraps an arm around you

- “...he doesn’t care that much when I’m sleeping-” “Lev, literally no one cares”

Oikawa

- “Y/N if it’s too cold don’t eat it.” “don’t tell me what to do.”

- watches in slight amusement as you take a big bite of your anmitsu as if trying to prove a point, your eyes challenging as the dessert sweetens your mouth.

- “Cold?” A knowing smirk tickles the corner of his lips as he takes a sip of his hot coffee, knowing damn well eating ice cream in the middle of winter was a bad idea

- but you were stubborn. he liked that about you.

-before you can shake your head no vigorously, a sudden ache comes over your head, numbing it slightly as a whine slips your lips

-pretty bitch bursts out laughing through a barrage of I told you so’s, laughing receding when he sees the pout on your lips

- “you got a little something...here.” You cant fight the blush on your cheeks when his thumb swipes at the ice cream on the corner of your lip, swatting it away lightly

- “Stop. I’m not a kid.”

- “you’re right. Even kids admit when they’re wrong.”

- “what kids have you been talking to?”

- before he can retort to your witty reply, you visibly shiver from the coldness of the dessert, feeling another headache come on before Oikawa clicks his tongue

- Pretty boy stands from his seat across from you to slip his own coat over his shoulders, causing the other customers in the shop to glance over

- “my, it must be nice to be young.”

- “Oikawa...people are getting the wrong idea” when you try to slip it off, he clicks his tongue a second time before slipping it on again, fastening the clasp just below the chin so it’ll stay

- “And what if I want them to get the wrong idea?” His hands rest on your shoulders momentarily as your head tilts back to meet the eyes of your friend, brimmed with confusion

-“what-?”

-hoe wipes the ice cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, putting it in his mouth afterward as you become a stuttering mess

-smirks down at your flushed expression, feeling coldness on his tongue as his chest pounds with anticipation

- “you heard me.”

Bokuto (Scarf, not jacket...oop)

- “It’s freezing outside, y/n!” “Bokuto, for the umpteenth time, I’m fine. I have layers, see?” 

- guiltily can’t tear his eyes away from your form as you try to stop yourself from shivering, arms wrapped tightly around your figure as you remain seated to the bench for the bus. 

-“this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have messed the bus times up.”

- puts his head in his hands as he chuckles humorlessly, feeling depressed that his attempt at a hang-out that could possibly be a date blows up in his face. It was now ten pm, and the perfect day had been ruined by the cold weather and his jumbled bus times. 

- before he can enter a fit of depression, your surprisingly warm hands place themselves on his cheeks as you look at him with a stern tinge to your pupils 

- “Don’t blame yourself. This weather is the problem.” 

- nervously leans into your palms, noting how nice your hands felt against his skin before he suddenly brightens, starting to slip his scarf off

- “Akaashi’s gonna be here in ten minutes, you don’t have-” you stop immediately when Bokuto’s smile dims, snapping your mouth shut before nodding, giving him the go ahead to wrap his scarf around your neck

- becomes excited, and surprisingly gentle when his fingers graze your skin as he slips the warm cloth around your neck

- freezes, holding both ends of the scarf in either of his hands when he sees your embarrassed expression before swallowing back the lump of nervousness in his throat

- “Are you warm?” 

- “...yeah.” 

- smiles brightly as he presses his forehead against yours, causing you to gulp a little as Bokuto had pulled you closer by both ends of the scarf, your noses brushing

- “Bokuto-” “Just for a little.” 

- chuckles when he feels the skin of your forehead flare up even more in embarrassment, his fingertips grazing yours as you sat centimeters away from the most loving man on a bus bench 

- “Just a little longer, okay?” 

- “Okay.” 

Ushijima 

- “Do you have a cold or somethin’?” “Tendou you were just bullying me earlier, don’t pretend like you care.” “I’m just showing my affection for our lovely manager!” 

- daddy ushijima blinks when you sneeze into your elbow a second time, face betraying no emotion as he stalls his walking pace to meet yours as you trail into the gym with the rest of the team

- “Are you...okay?” 

- Hesitant baby can’t show emotion what a cutie 

- “The weather’s all it is. I can’t be worrying our star player at a time like this, so don’t worry, okay?” Your bright smile is a vivid contrast to the slight paleness of your skin, causing Ushijima to become analytical as he crosses his arms, standing in front of you 

- “It’s okay if you’re not.” 

- “And it’s okay if you get out on the court and get our team another win!” You spin him by his shoulders, slightly surprised he was letting you, before giving him a little push

- “Good luck!” 

- glances back at you as if he was hesitating before following your command, Tendou, who had stayed behind, whistling lowly 

- “He literally never listens to anyone but the coach.” The sly redhead draws up to you, smirking before starting his pace to follow his best friend. “Why are you so special?” 

- “Tendou, I have full control over your training schedule, don’t push it.” 

- “Mean~”

- can’t stop glancing over at you while on the court, noticing how you were trying your best to hide your sneezes and coughs as quietly as you can before he can’t take it anymore 

- so when the next time out hits, Ushijima is standing in front of your position on the bench as you scribble down on your clipboard, his team jacket with its’ #1 hanging from his grip loosely

- you sweat drop as the whole Shiratorizawa team seems to be looking on at what was happening, ignoring Tendou’s shit-eating grin “what’s up?” 

- silent for awhile, making you wait in slight anticipation for the usually stoic, talented boy. His arms move to wrap said jacket around your shaking form, kneeling down afterwards to zip it up as your face flushes 

- Now at eye-level, he meets you with an even stare. “Go to the nurse. I’ll come see you after.” 

- As you stutter out of embarrassment asking him why, he glances back as he walks back on to the court. “You told me to not be worried.” 

- You groan, listening to Tendou’s laugh as your face seems to heat up more in your hands. From fever or feelings, you couldn’t tell.

- “So that’s why you’re special.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu captains #haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu daichi #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu #haikyuu bokuto

[shanedawsonsfanfics]

Byakuya Togami x Fem!Reader Nsfw

Content Includes; nsfw, degrading, afab reader, drugging, noncon, Byakuya Togami

Early this morning as you got ready to head to the cafeteria to meet the others, you noticed a piece of neatly folded paper in front of your door. A note someone must have slid through from the other side.

You pick it up and examine its contents.

In fancy writing, it read "I require assistance in the office, We will meet promptly after the morning announcement. I advise you be discreet"

Very blunt and to the point. Although there was no name, you knew exactly who called for you.

But why would Togami, as brilliant as he is, need help from you?

Your mind begins to rack up what could possibly be his intention. To kill you?

If so, the others would obviously know as you both would be the ones missing from the cafeteria. You knew the Ultimate Affluent Progeny was not that ignorant. Perhaps he truly needed your help, given his straightforward attitude.

You decided you would go, but would be sure to take caution. It must be something important, maybe he knew a way to escape.

You made your way through the dorm hall and spot Kyoko. She was leaning on the edge of the wall, seemingly lost in thought.. You acknowledged her intelligence and her great support during the class trials. Telling her about your whereabouts would ensure that if something were to happen, she would easily solve the trial.

"Hey Kyoko!" You wave. She responds with nothing but a glance to you, her expression like stone.

"I just wanted to let you know ill be absent during the daily meeting in the cafeteria… Togami seems to need my help…"

You give her grave look and her bright purple irises bore into yours. Her expression changed and showed subtle hints of worry.

The air grows cold and silent. She finally nods in understanding. "I will be sure to remember" Is all she says.

Nobody else greeted you on your way to the office. You twist open the door and was greeted by the cool dust filled atmosphere. It smelt of old wood and parchment.

Byakuya was sitting in the desk, a letter in his hand. He showed no reaction to your presence. You cleared your throat

"H-hey I got your note…"

Silence.

A slight squeak of his chair filled the room as he sat up straight in the chair, still reading the letter. "Come here" he says.. and you obliged, standing to his side, squinting to read the paper.

You were very close to him, and the smell of cologne and clean fabric filled your nose. You felt a little light headed, being so close to him. "This handwriting is absolutely atrocious, perhaps a commoner as yourself would have more luck understanding these childish scribbles"

You ignore his backhanded compliment and eye the letter. Instantly recognizing the handwriting as undeniably your own. Your heart sinks as every word written processed in your head.

When did you write this? This was surely your handwriting, but the words… Your face felt hot all of a sudden and your legs wobbled…

Byakuya notices your eyes skimming the paper and he raises his voice in annoyance "read it aloud"

You shake your head no… there was no way you could… You slowly move away from him until he grabs you by the hem of your skirt.

"Read it now"

He roughly pulls you even closer than before to him. Now holding you by the waist he snuck a leg between your own, locking you in place and ensuring you couldn't walk away. His grip was firm as you struggled to be free.

"It appears you have no other options now, I suggest you stop writhing like a filthy pig and begin"

He spoke with poison and his nails dragged into your skin through your clothes.

Your heart pounded, in fear, shame, and embarrassment.

"My s-stomach gets full of butterflies when I see to-togami around school"

You could see Togami smirk in the corner of your eye "wig! such a scandal" he says.

You gulp.. his skin dug deeper into your sides. He picks up where u left off

"I wonder what Togami thinks about, what does he jack off to?" He says in a sarcastic voice. "I wonder how he would react if I told him all the fowl thoughts that consume my mind when he is near"

Your face flushes and with a sudden burst of energy u begin to squirm again. Successfully breaking free you get up and scurry to the door. Togami grabs the back of your collared shirt and throws u against the desk before you can make it. "You are so irritating" he says as he pushes his weight on top of you, making you almost completely immobile besides your writhing arms on either side of his body. Your stomach and heart began to swell full of butterflies just like in the letter. He pulls you in for a deep, forceful kiss. "TEA" Togami says angrily. You refused to reciprocate. Togami suddenly bit down on your lip with a force that made tears pick in the corners of your eyes. As the stinging of your lip clouded you're mind you felt Togami pull away. "Your breathe is disgusting. SAME!!!"

He clicks his tongue.

Your mind begins to draw blank and you feel quite dizzy.

You close your eyes, attempting to relieve this sickening feeling. As you open them you can't help but feel like something is off…

Everything felt hazy, and confusing.

"Hello sister??? U still there? We haven't even gotten to the fun part ;("

Shane says looking down at you as his body is practically touching yours. You can feel his sweat make its way through his shirt and into the cloth of yours. A giant wet spot right between your chest.

"You look so nice kitten *Clicks tongue*

He says in a playful tone.

"I cant wait to cum all over you"

Shane begins to unbutton your shirt. His big, sweaty hands reaching for the newly revealed skin. Making sure to moisten every part of your body with the vast amount of sweat he creates. Seriously…. Whats his problem? You try to speak, to scream. But nothing comes out. Your throat clenches on its words and your mouth was desert dry.

"T-togami?" You say hoarsely in confusion.. you felt all your energy drain from saying his name. Togami… where did he go? As much as you pretended to hate what was happening, you truly wished he would embrace you with intimacy.

What was happening.. who is this man?

Where did Togami go?

"Aw I guess the drugs have'nt worn off yet isn't that tea. Idk who this 'Toe-gamee' guy is but you got someone better! Hey whats up! Yes! I'm shane dawson!"

He says beginning to unpants you. Your mind was barely processing any of this. You tried to fight him off of you but it seemed as though your body was made of jello… You could not move at all. You felt so powerless under this man's grasp. He seemed terrifying, he wreaked of stench, and his touches against your skin felt like knives.

Tears dropped down your face as you felt him drag his hand from your now bare chest to your abdomen. "This is where I'm gonna cum later ;)" he says… his hand left a visible grease trail on your body. You close your eyes as hard as you can. Please let this stop… please togami save me…

Togami would not be coming for you. Nobody would… you'd remain locked up in shane dawson's recording room forever being his kitten. And to set the record straight he very much did cum on his precious cat. Many times.. and you hated every moment of it.

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa x you #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa x y/n #thh x reader #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya x reader #mod shane dawson

[joonkorre]

what canst thou give?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: caught

yall cant expect me to watch the witch (2015) and not go insane trying to fit a quote into my work. also, this is the first time i ever write something veering into the 15+ category. so. go easy on me lmao

AO3

“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat.

“But only if you want to, of course. No pressure at all.”

It’s sweet, that tone, as sweet and numbing as the saliva dripping down his nape. If Draco is someone else, an unfortunate bastard even more miserable than he is, he might have believed it.

“I don’t know,” he replies, the unnatural chill on the back of his bare neck too visceral a feeling. Too real. “I think having to choose between that and rotting in a back alley is at least a little bit pressuring.”

“Not too much, though?”

“Oh, no, never.”

“Good,” Edmund whispers. At this point, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not even his real name, “good.”

Draco stays quiet. With smooth jazz crooning through the walls of bars and eateries to complete the easygoing ambiance of a mid-autumn night in Muggle London, it seems to be the least likely time of the year to find oneself bargaining for their life. But here he is.

“Now,” Draco’s pulse jackrabbits so quickly he can hear it. A delighted chuckle leaks into the night. “Your answer, please.”

When he doesn’t give one, the canines on his exposed shoulder threaten to break the skin. Unexpectedly, they lift off.

“You might want to think it through a little faster, doll,” the large hand pinning Draco’s wrists against the brick wall clenches around them, then drifts down his chest. Lays flat on his quivering stomach, a persistent pressure against Draco’s thrifted bomber jacket. “We have an audience.”

Draco sucks in the stale air with a hiss. He’s pulled his date this far into the alley because he didn’t want curious onlookers as they snog. Bad fucking idea that was. Still, the thought of strangers witnessing this horrid moment fills him with dread. They can’t do anything to help anyway, only to humiliate him even more.

“What—”

“Don’t look,” Edmund nips his ear lobe, “unless you want further mortification. You mortals are ashamed of the strangest things, I can smell it on you.”

Heat rushes through his body. Draco blinks, dizzy with… with something. He doesn’t know whether he wants to rebel, turn his head, and meet the stranger’s gaze head-on, or just rest his forehead against the grimy bricks and find reluctant comfort in Edmund’s instructions.

“What do you,” Draco murmurs, sour notes of alcohol floating back into his nose, “what do you propose I do then? Just stand here and wait for them to get lost?”

“You can make it easy for yourself and say no,” Edmund says.

Those canines are back on the base of his neck. The arm that isn’t wrapped around his middle slithers across his chest, calloused palm an anchor on his shoulder blade. Draco wonders if this looks intimate, possessive—protective, even—to their observer, when he simply feels choked. A mouse gripped within the gentle loops of a snake’s body.

“You’d look like you’re swooning in my arms while I drink from your,” the tip of Edmund’s nose travels up the length of Draco’s neck, ending at where his baby hairs are matted with cold sweat, “gorgeous, delicious essence. And it’d only take a blink of an eye. Our little voyeur would never know.”

“Merlin, can’t I have a single good date?” Draco grits out. “Just fucking say blood.”

“Oh, but you’re no fun,” Edmund says. “Being poetic has its merits, I think. Makes life interesting.”

“Life will be even more interesting when I get to live it, actually.”

The hand on his shoulder takes its time trailing to his face, and when it does, it tilts his jaw to the side. Draco’s eyes automatically slide shut.

“Oh, you will. Once you get used to the ‘undead’ part of it, life will be a joy to live.”

His hands shift against the grimy bricks, one seeking familiarity and warmth as it grips his other wrist, grounding him.

“You must’ve realized by now how anxious I am to have you by me, by us. If I’m not, I’d just pick you up from a club, drink from you, leave you behind that dumpster over there, and you’d wake up feeling hungover with no memory of me,” Edmund goes on, his face close. If Draco tries, he reckons he can swallow down the intoxicating spice of cologne wafting against his cheek. “But I’m not doing that, now, am I?”

Perhaps it’s not even cologne, perhaps it’s all Edmund.

“You see, the blood of mortals is our life force, yes, but few of them ever smell and taste like anything more than diluted shite. Blood like yours, though, that’s rare. Power like yours. That raw, untapped, repressed power hiding under masks and marks. Given enough time, enough resources, it can be brought forth, and you can prosper.

“It’d be a shame if all of what you are made of withers into nothing, don’t you think?”

Draco thinks and thinks. It’s all one can do when they’re held so firmly, quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Edmund kisses it away with false reverence, dotting another kiss behind Draco’s ear. Draco would have jolted if he has any energy left in him.

He realizes it now. Ever since the day Edmund’s gaze lingered a second too long, it was over. There is no one left to remember him, and if he ‘makes it easy’ for himself and says no, nothing will change. Sooner or later, he’d die without a purpose, alone.

What if he eliminates dying from the equation altogether?

He realizes it now. There has never been any choice.

Only one foggy, crooked path forward.

“Yes.”

Draco’s eyes open with a heavy drag, allowing in but a sliver of light. In the misty blurriness, he sees a smirk. One stark-white canine pulls the bottom lip inward, pierces through papyrus skin.

Draco’s vision darkens as red lips touch his. His nose clogs up for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the onslaught of scents and tastes. With every languid swipe of a clever tongue, copper as bitter as Charon’s obol forces its way into his mouth. A sharp needle of pain pricks his bottom lip. Draco flinches, tries to take a step back but the hand on his jaw keeps him close. One long finger sneaks into his mouth, prying it apart.

Swallowing the harsh tang of iron down, a rich, foreign sweetness floods his senses. It’s the nectar of late-June peaches and lingonberry syrup swirled in chamomile, coating his palate with a luscious glaze. A low moan escapes as his muscles relax. If it’s not for the steady hand on his stomach, Draco’s knees would have hit the dirty ground already.

“There we go,” Edmund whispers. His hands guide Draco to lean against him, back to chest, sending intermittent shivers to rack through Draco’s body. It’s cold, so cold, but he can’t pull away, just lets Edmund takes whatever he wants to take. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco gathers enough of his declining wit to argue. “Sounds like you’re calling a dog.”

“Ah, you’re cute. The Sisters will adore you.”

“Sisters...” Draco says, the furrow of his brow easily smoothened by another leisurely kiss.

“Sisters,” Edmund says. The hand on Draco’s jaw edges to his neck, thick fingers adding a slight squeeze to the vulnerable valley on either side of his Adam’s apple. Draco sighs into Edmund’s mouth. “Surely you don’t think there’s only one of us out there?”

Not very certain of what to say, Draco purses his lips instead. Edmund lets out an amused hum and indulges him, sucking on his bottom lip. It’s good, so good, until it becomes sickening, like raiding the entirety of Fortescue’s stockroom. Being a creature of the night is rapidly losing its novelty.

“Okay, enough, enough, thanks,” he says, tapping the muscular arm around him and turning away. Edmund only continues his little ministration below Draco’s jaw.

He doesn’t know how long his eyes have been closed, so he opens them once more. It’s like… it’s like he’s been floating on thick water and is only recently dragged into shore. Rubbing the creak out of his neck, Draco squints.

Past Edmund’s sturdy form and angular lines, out in the main street, the thin crowd of pedestrians pass by in chattering groups and pairs. Opposite to the alley, however, one lone figure stands just out of reach of the street lamp. The yellowish light merely suggests their existence as they lean against the restaurant Draco and Edmund exited from earlier. The bright tell-tale red of a cigarette butt is visible but other than that, no detail to be discerned. Looks like someone who’s just minding their own business.

“You must think yourself funny,” Draco says, arching his neck to accommodate the kisses peppering his skin, “using my own shame against me. I doubt people even remember there’s an alleyway here.”

“Don’t forget that when a being has lived for as long as I have, has accumulated this much power, nine times out of ten, he knows what he’s saying. I’m powerful enough to catch the scent of every mortal walking by, even know if they’re actually mortals or not. Our little voyeur? He’s still here. He’s watching. He’s waiting for you, doll.”

Edmund pauses, then:

“And whether he’s a mortal? That remains to be seen.”

Draco pushes away as far as Edmund’s firm grasp allows, which is only a few centimeters away. Whatever his blood did with Draco’s own, it snaps him awake with startling clarity just as swiftly as when it’s reduced him to a little more than a rag doll. Everything is so sharp it’s almost disgusting, like his eyeballs are gouged out, scrubbed clean, then shoved back in again. Draco locks his legs, willing himself not to stumble.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” he says.

“You don’t feel them now, but wait until they set in,” Edmund tries to tug him back, shrugging when he doesn’t obey. “Your abilities. We’ll go back to the House of Collective tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“I,” Draco says. “Please say that again. With actual information.”

“So demanding,” Edmund leans back and looks at Draco like he’s seeing him for the first time, a hint of humor in his serene demeanor. “The House of Collective is where the majority of us in Britain frequent and reside. The newly Turned are brought there to be with their brethren. Trying to deal with these new abilities alone is what makes them go Rogue and lands them on the front page. Think Jeannette McDermott, the poor woman.”

Jeannette McDermott drained and devoured 6 people in a single weekend. The Aurors got to her first before the news outlets. Being a shut-in and hating being perceived in general—Merlin knows how she got bitten in the first place—the only pictures ever taken of her as an adult was of her mangled body, torn by her own claws and twisted into stillness. It was a once-in-a-century scandal that paralyzed Wizarding Europe for 2 months straight.

Draco frowns. “I’ve always wondered. How did she—why wasn’t she brought back to the House, then?”

“That’s what irresponsible Turning looks like. If we want to Turn someone, it must be carefully considered and planned, for there must always be more prey than predators. Such is the law of nature,” Edmund says it like it’s a walk in the park rather than changing people’s entire lives. “Deacon Frangos was careless—amateur little weakling—and wanted something more thrilling than, say, going to clubs for gullible drunks.

“During the official trial at the House, he confessed that he spent days working through her wards and broke in. Never expected that McDermott was a fighter. She couldn’t get to her wand, but she did have a knife. She stabbed him 3 times as he was drinking from her. Their blood mixed, and Frangos ran off to lick his wounds before we found him. That was Friday.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Draco breathes, “that quick?”

Edmund only looks at him, silent as he waits for Draco to weigh his decisions. Or lack thereof.

“What about, what about my apartment? My things?”

“You’ll only be at the House of Collective until we get you accustomed to your new life, then you can return home. Or,” Edmund tilts his head to the side, “you can stay. It’s akin to a commune, there’s space for all. It’s in the middle of the woods, too, hidden behind extensive wards and Charms, very private. Don’t you love your privacy?”

“What, do you live there?”

“Yes! Just so you know, I built my own dwelling. It’s stunning, if I do say so myself. Marble floors, 5 balconies. Just added a new pool last month. Plenty of space to… christen, unlike your studio apartment.”

Edmund lets a casual grin grace his face, all jokes. Draco curls his lips. It’s a mystery for the ages as to how he’s ever found this man charismatic.

“I’d rather the, um, the studio apartment. It does have its charms. Checkered bathroom tiles, and, hmm, a working oven. I might paint the fireplace next week, who knows?”

“Big plans, big plans,” Edmund nods solemnly. “However, you will need to pay a visit at least twice a month for resources and news within the community. There are tons; we even have a matchmaking service so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to some bumbling mortal and worry about lifespans. Isn’t that so very neat? But, you already have me.”

Edmund shoots him a wink. If he’s not, well, Edmund, Draco might think it’s attractive.

“I think,” he starts. His neck is aching something fierce the longer he looks back, so he turns to face Edmund directly, “we need to have a talk about ending this entanglement.”

“My,” Edmund adjusts without trouble, interlacing his hands behind Draco’s waist, just above his bum. “Must you hurt me so? After all we’ve been through in the past three dates, you want to cast me aside?”

“Those three dates were nothing more than bouts of insanity. My apologies, I was in a moment of weakness and was somehow fooled by your… Merlin, I don’t even know. Basically, you were a passing fancy that I will rue ever having for the rest of my life.”

Edmund sighs and lowers his head until it’s nestled where Draco’s neck joins his shoulders.

“My 161st love has broken my heart. Oh, how can I recover from this pain?”

He lifts his head up, meeting Draco’s unimpressed gaze with a smirk. “Perhaps one last kiss will be the balm I need. Come on, just one more for closure.”

Draco gnaws his bottom lip and wets the still-throbbing cut on it. Then, he rolls his eyes, sliding them shut. No big deal.

“You’re so generous, Draco,” purrs a deep voice right at the corner of his mouth. Draco parts his lips, breathing in the hushed words. “Can’t say I won’t miss this. Your blood truly is a delicacy.”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Sweet, sweet wine.

Draco sags against Edmund’s strong chest, head lolled to the side, panting. They have stopped before it got too much this time, yet Draco still teeters over the edge of insanity with every suckle of lips, every caress of tongue. Edmund has been gentle, large hands cupping Draco’s face like he’s a priceless treasure made of opals and emeralds, combing through the slightly wavy hair Draco has grown out. He has fixed Draco’s shirt as he plucked off every scrap of sense remaining in Draco’s head, has stroked the purple marks in bloom, and covered them with the bomber jacket.

As Draco clutched those broad shoulders and wrinkled the expensive fabric adorning them, he had half a mind to demand Edmund to be rougher, to stop trying to savor it. Stop making it something to go breathless over.

Toying with the shiny button on Edmund’s wool suit, he reminds himself that it was smart to end whatever they had between them. Otherwise, he can see himself becoming addicted, and such a problem has no place in his life.

“It’s getting late,” he says. The street outside is still bustling with people, bursting with sound. The person leaning against the wall opposite is lighting up a new cigarette.

“Oh, doll,” Edmund hugs him tight. “Darling. You’re right, it’s getting late. ”

They stand there for a few moments more nonetheless, clutching each other. Then Draco sees it. Sees him.

As if on cue, the person straightens from their position against the wall. They step forward, one foot after the other, slack and loose, into the buzzing light. Draco can’t observe intricate details from this far away—has to wait until tomorrow, apparently—but he still has eyes.

A pair of snickering women stroll by, and the street seems empty for a split second. It’s enough for Draco to see large, black boots (Dragonhide, the part of his brain that never forgets Mother’s fashion books notes) and dark, well-fitted pants stretching over thick thighs. Sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing dark arms with a myriad of pink-white scars. White button-up, wrinkled and stained, tied by leather harnesses crisscrossing at the chest, like the wearer has forgone changing after work and instead hurried off to deal with an urgent task. An unusual outfit for urban London, but somehow, it works.

Left hand tucked in a pants pocket, the other tapping the fine ash from a cig into a puddle on the concrete. It lifts to hover in front of full, waiting lips. One sleepy bloke trudges by, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A hazy billow of smoke spills forth lazily as the bloke walks out of view, opaque clouds masking an expressionless face before disintegrating into the night.

“Doll.”

Draco glances back at Edmund, who is staring at his lips. His hands run tiny circles over the small of Draco’s back.

“We decided on one kiss.”

“I know,” Edmund’s thumb swipes over the cut, as soft as a brush dipping into paint. “There’s still blood.”

“Obviously,” Draco says with a slight snort, “you bit it. Like a brute.”

Edmund’s reply comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the cut as if wanting to both stopper the blood and squeeze it out. Draco assists by opening his mouth, slipping the finger into moist warmth. And for some godforsaken reason, his eyes travel back to the street beyond.

This time, both hands are in the pants pockets. The cigarette has stopped its light bouncing, now lying still between pillowy lips. Like before, the voyeur is a statue amidst a sea of movement.

Draco swirls his tongue against the pad of the thumb, tasting himself and gulping it down. It’s bitter and sour without Edmund’s blood to sweeten it up, but he keeps licking until all he can feel is the saltiness of skin, the clenched fistful of his jacket against his hip, and—

And green.

“It’s getting late,” Edmund whispers against his forehead, his lips a touch away from kissing his fringe.

Letting the finger fall from his mouth, Draco whispers back.

“Okay.”

The voyeur never stops looking. Draco knows because neither does he.

“We’re never doing this again.”

Draco’s eyes glide back to Edmund. “I never thought you’d be the one to say that.”

“Me, too. But I’m serious,” the man says, but doesn’t clean his finger. “From now on, we keep our hands to ourselves.”

“And mouths.”

“Yes, those especially.”

Draco huffs out a laugh, “Okay. Very well. I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement.”

Edmund shakes his head, then blinks. He looks up at Draco, mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, Draco, you’ve done enough for the night.”

“Pardon?” Draco says, sliding his arm into the crook of Edmund’s. “You Side-Along us.”

“Of course, and I meant. Merlin, you’ve done quite enough. Oh, goodness, that’s pungent.”

Edmund pats Draco’s hand on his forearm and leans toward his ear.

“Say goodbye to him.”

Draco’s fingers tighten around Edmund’s arm in warning. He doesn’t say ‘goodbye,’ but he does look to the street light opposite the alleyway. Before the Apparition wrenches all the thoughts out of his head, Draco vows not to think about the expression on that face.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #original male character #vampire #vampire draco #auror harry potter? #cursebreaker? #who knows #cigarette #how long can nancy go w/o writing the word ‘vampire’ challenge #there’s no particular purpose for that btw i just wanted to make things hard for myself #‘oh man i dont think im really that comfy w the idea of writing drarry being intimate just yet’ #solution: shamelessly abusing the drarry tag to write about another pair that’s not even endgame #had a lot of fun writing edmund #was planning for this to be a lil sexy vampy moment then BOOM plot idea #wait why did i just realize that the house of collective sounds like a house’s name in ballroom culture #ykw it’s very fitting in fact vampires are all very queer #joonkorre writes

[unlockthelore]

Daydream

Hiei dreamt of something similar to this but having it was different.

Part 9 of the Honor Among Thieves series. For more updates, please follow the honor among thieves tag on this blog.

“Now, don’t you two go off and do something reckless.”

Hiei sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. He wasn’t sure how he was lumped into assisting the ferry girl with hefting Kuwabara and Yuusuke’s unconscious bodies onto the shaft of her oar — but he felt it had something to do with the redhead assuaging her worries.

Without added help being sent through the barrier, the Reikai had to resort on back and forth transportation, which left space limited. It was a test of faith, as Botan put it in her initial explanation, wagging a finger at them both after ensuring the human pair were still among the living.

A way to assess whether they were truly upholding their end of the bargain so graciously gifted by “Lord” Koenma. Hiei resisted the urge to roll his eyes, dropping Kuwabara’s body none too gently onto the wood. The orange-haired boy groaned at the sudden shift. His hand unconsciously reaching for Yuusuke who was snoring away, rather loudly, in Hiei’s opinion.

Honestly, the longer Hiei spent around humans, the less he understood them. How could Yuusuke sleep so peacefully after coming close to death again?

“As I said, Botan, we’ll remain here until you return,” Kurama insisted, his voice gentle yet strained. “I doubt I even have the strength to move let alone the will to defy a direct order.”

Hiei snorted at that. He doubted Kurama’s will had anything to do with a lack of defiance. But he had a point. However irritating, the deal struck between them and the Reikai was fortunate. Violating it would only make unnecessary problems and more enemies than either of them needed currently. Walking away from the oar, still miraculously floating despite the added weight, Hiei ignored Botan’s furrowed brow and curious look in favor of standing near the debris Kurama was leant against.

The fox’s injuries weren’t fatal but Hiei wasn’t going to take any chances. His youki seeping out gradually to press and pool into Kurama’s own. The strain in the fox’s smile easing gradually, an answering wave of affectionate youki waking Hiei’s heart to beat slowly. Botan eyed them for a long moment. A weighty silence ended by a heavy sigh, her hands raising with a half-hearted shrug.

“Alright Kurama, I trust the two of you will behave until I get back.”

Behave? Hiei’s eyes narrowed. Did the Reikai think of them as errant children? The slight dug deep within his bones but Kurama’s youki, however weak, formed a wall in front of him as Botan hurried back to mount her oar.

「 She’s new at this, Hiei. Try not to hold it against her. 」

「 I won’t stand for being treated like a child. 」

Hiei huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets, ignoring the jaunty wave from the ferry girl as her oar lifted to the skies. Kurama’s answering wave, a small polite one, was no less genuine with the relief in his smile as they left. The ferry girl’s kimono and the distant figures of Kuwabara and Yuusuke becoming a speck on the horizon until their energy left the Makai altogether. Kurama’s pained sigh drew Hiei’s attention as the fox slumped against the debris, his hand cradling his side.

At his side in an instant, Hiei knelt down and gently tugged Kurama’s hand from the wound. One of the worse ones from how it cut into his uniform. The blood smeared across his skin a glistening red against the palm of his hand. Hiei’s lips pursed, and he held Kurama tight by his hip, dipping his head low. His tongue dragged along the wound, cleaning the blood from it. A tight hold on his shoulder, blunt nails pressing into the fabric of his cloak and kneading against his skin.

「 Hiei… 」

Kurama’s sigh was distracting at least. Echoing in his mind as it did in the comforts of the fox’s bedroom. After a few moments, the wound was cleaned and the cut closing itself. Hiei ran his tongue along his lower lip and the corners of his mouth. Tasting Kurama’s blood was nothing new. However, just as with anything he received from the fox, he wasn’t one to waste it or take for granted.

「 You could have asked for one of the seeds in my hair, you know. 」

An amused glint in the fox’s eyes made Hiei roll his own. It wasn’t the first time they’d healed their wounds like this without any of the fox’s supplies around or energy to give to one another. Yet with the way Kurama observed him, his smile toothy and the teasing words practically forming on his lips, Hiei fought the urge to blush. Undoing the clasp on his cloak and draping it over Kurama’s front in one fluid motion both to hide his reddening face from the fox’s view and give him comfort.

The air in the Makai was beginning to chill and whilst Hiei knew Kurama’s human form was durable, he hardly wanted to test how it would withstand the realm’s harsher conditions. Kurama’s smile fell and he shuffled beneath the cloak. His red hair a pleasing sight against the dark fabric. Rising to his feet, he walked to the edge of what had once been height of Maze Castle and stared out at the desolate plains. Ignoring the scuttling of the lesser demons, picking at scraps and darting off to escape Hiei’s gaze.

They knew better than to infuriate either of them but if they lingered any longer, enemies would come. Hiei sneered. It’d been some time since he could let loose. And with Kurama in his current state, he’d gladly take on the fox’s enemies as well as his own.

「 Aren’t you going to rest? It’ll be some time before Botan returns, and you must be tired from your fight with Seiryuu. 」

Hiei scoffed. Even the mere thought of the supposed “Ice Dragon” was repugnant. Seiyruu was nothing short of a disappointment. The battle wouldn’t have nearly lasted that long if Hiei wasn’t interested in seeing his triumphant grin turn to unbridled terror. Remembering Seiryuu’s face in his final moments brought a smile to Hiei’s. At least the fool could see the error in his ways even if he had no hope to correct them at the end.

「 You say that as if he was even a challenge. His ice was as poor as his bark. 」

Kurama’s eyes crinkled at the corners, the likelihood of a smile hidden behind the cloak. Green twinkling with mirth as he regarded Hiei silently.

「 If only he were aware of your affinity, perhaps he would’ve been spared the humiliation. Or was that your plan from the beginning? You seemed upset with how he regarded Byakko in his final moments. 」

Hiei stiffened up, stricken by the direct assumption. He hadn’t thought very much of the gesture and the lengths he went to cover Byakko’s head. Even rendering his body somewhat susceptible to Seiryuu’s ice was dangerous from the standpoint of a fighter. However, he couldn’t abide by the “Ice Dragon” ’s callous ways. Kuwabara and Yuusuke didn’t mention it and Hiei foolishly hoped Kurama would have let it slip from mind as well. He should have known better…

「 Rest. Analyzing me won’t heal the damage Genbu did to your body. 」

Against his wishes, Kurama shifted beneath the blanket again, settling upright with his back to the slab of rock. His mouth was visible now. Lips curved upward into an lazy smile, normally attractive and endearing, when not accompanied by one raised brow and a sweeping gaze. Hiei never shied from Kurama’s eyes but he knew his own body, and where the green gaze lingered was lower than his nose and currently occupied with his tongue.

「 And your saliva will? 」

Kurama’s amused musing made Hiei’s lips twitch. If it had been anyone else, he might have said a scathing remark or brushed him off entirely. Before their meeting, there was also the possibility of running him through. Spitting out bits of gravel that’d lingered on his tongue, Hiei scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Ignoring the heat in his face to glare off into the distance.

「 You’re insufferable. 」

Kurama laughed, wincing as he pressed his hand to his stomach but the pain didn’t crease his face as before. Hiei started toward him and the fox raised his hand. Not a dismissal but a show of good faith. Still, Hiei wouldn’t take a chance when Kurama was involved. The fox, infinite in his ability to withstand and adapt, was terrible at allowing himself to be cared for. A habit they shared. Sinking down to his knees beside Kurama, Hiei lifted his cloak to look at the wound better. Nudging the fox’s hand aside to brush his fingers against the healing skin.

It was healing, but there may have been others. Though he hardly could think of stripping Kurama bare and looking for them. For one, the fox would hardly allow it if he wasn’t in the mood. And two, this wasn’t an ideal situation for either of them.

「 You’re thinking terribly hard. 」

Hiei glanced up. Kurama’s gaze meeting his own and the fox dared to smile when caught staring. One of those distracting smiles that lowered Hiei’s guard — not that the fox hadn’t somehow climbed over the fortified walls months ago. Maintaining the war of wills was a futile effort. And conceding to Kurama without a fight was out of the question as well. After a long moment, the fox canted his head to one side and Hiei ended their brief battle with a quick show of taking a seat beside him.

Kurama chuckled warmly. Deep vibrations of a voice far older, yet familiar, sent shivers down Hiei’s spine. No mere chill, nor the frigid climate of his mother’s homeland, or the coldest winters in the Makai and Ningenkai could accomplish such a feat — but Kurama’s voice was beyond any of those.

「 Your heart is greater than you realize. 」

Hiei rolled his eyes. A retort dying on his tongue when he felt the warm press of Kurama’s body against his own. Barely any space between them with Hiei’s cloak half-covering his left arm from view, the fox’s head resting on his shoulder. Dark red hair obscuring Kurama’s eyes but even without looking at him, Hiei could hear the smile in his voice.

「 What are you doing? 」

「 Resting, isn’t that what you asked? 」

「 There’s a rock behind you, use that. 」

「 It isn’t as warm as you are, nor comfortable, and the night is growing cold — bear with this for my sake. 」

Hiei couldn’t argue with that. As they lapsed into silence, the sounds of the howling wind and distant noises from the city oft in the distance filled the quiet. Hiei’s thoughts wandering as he tipped his head back, staring up at the darkening sky beginning to fade from This was different than being in the fox’s bedroom or elsewhere in the Ningenkai with only the two of them present.

They were home. Their birth realm. A blood-soaked land where Kurama was lorded as a legend, the King of Thieves, and Hiei was a mystery, scorned and heralded, both as the Forbidden Child and a bandit. Fables meant to keep children awake at night given flesh. Reputations of bloodied hands and terse demeanors. The former holding true, but the latter? With Kurama leaning against him with a content smile, his fluttering sigh and light nuzzle against Hiei’s shoulder easing the fire demon into comfort, Hiei wasn’t sure.

Still, this was close to what he’d sought after. Dreamt of, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud in fear of Kurama hearing. Traversing the rugged terrain of the Makai, exploring its depths, hearing more of the land he was born to from someone who’d walked it for centuries before. Makai would always be his home but the Ningenkai held purpose now, however scattered it may be. Yukina was somewhere within the realms, Kurama was adamant on remaining in the Ningenkai until his mother’s passing — and Hiei had no reason to deny.

This partnership — their connection — it changed him in ways he wasn’t sure of. Shifted this warming dream into one palatable for their current place in life. Peering down at Kurama, Hiei stared quietly. He’d grown fond of the redhead over the past year and few months they’d been together. Enough to sacrifice his own well-being for Kurama’s human mother and endure trial after trial to stay at his side.

Whether the stories were true or not had no place here nor between them. Kurama was just as he was. A merged soul between a human boy and a fox demon. Tangled between centuries old knowledge and brutal grace, tempered by an empathetic soul.

Faint though it was, he’d worried the fox was ashamed of him — to be with him. Yet to be here, with Kurama at his side unabashed in displaying their closeness for all the world to see, was more than Hiei could imagine.

「 It hadn’t crossed my mind… 」

Kurama glanced up at him, green peeking through deep red, and for a moment Hiei almost thought he saw a flicker of gold. Gone too hastily for him to make sense of. Hiei resisted the urge to brush Kurama’s hair away from his eyes and take a better look. Whether the Reikai idiots were watching them or not, he didn’t want to give them any reason to inquire about them further.

Kurama raised one brow before inching his head, his cheek pressing against Hiei’s shoulder. Taking the hint, the Jagan glowed beneath his ward as he allowed some of the dreams he’d been having to show between them. Kurama’s eyes widened, filled with some unspoken emotion, and he smiled lazily.

「 No? 」

Hiei blushed faintly, reaching up with his right hand to adjust his ward thoughtlessly. The teasing he expected never came but he never knew when it came to Kurama. However, the question held merit, why hadn’t he thought of it? Running away with him. Simply leaving where the Reikai couldn’t find them.

Surely Kurama had hideouts from his days as a thief and Hiei knew many places. They could be gone within minutes. Yet, he couldn’t broker the idea or even let it rest on his tongue.

「 No… 」

Hiei’s brows furrowed. Shiori wouldn’t know what became of her son if they ran away, and Kurama would miss his mother sorely. Wondering what became of her and if her illness resurfaced in his absence. If Shiori died without him present, Hiei knew Kurama would never forgive himself. Then there was the matter of Yukina and the promise they’d made to find her.

But even then, fleeing from the Reikai was both cowardly and futile. Their access to the barrier would be gone and they would never know true peace.

「 I assumed we’d come back here on our own terms. 」

Once they were relieved of their baby-sitting duties and secured in the Reikai’s “good graces”.

「 I thought the same. 」

Hiei blinked slowly, staring down at him in shock.

「 ….You did? 」

Kurama wasn’t looking at him now. Staring out at the remains of the castle and to the forest beyond its plains, seeming taken with analyzing how the fauna had changed. Hiei could see his fingers moving beneath the cloak. Was Kurama trying to call the plants to his aid? A whisper on the wind, a shudder deep in his soul, cries of the forest and its creatures answering to Kurama’s youki. Diffusing it quickly, the fox seemed pleased as he nestled against him again.

「 I expected we would return together, I just wasn’t certain of when. 」

Hiei wasn’t sure what to say to that. And the prolonged silence drew a strange noise from Kurama, the fox tipping his head back to meet Hiei’s gaze, green eyes flecked with curiosity and worry.

「 Is that strange? 」

Why would Kurama look at him like that? As if this hadn’t been what he was after since they became… closer. True, he still held his words close to his chest and perhaps the fault lied with him if the fox found his intentions confusing. Actions suited him better but while the idea of grabbing Kurama’s hand and running off with him into the night was appealing, it was also just a dream.

「 No… 」

「 You’re thinking about something. 」

Not a question but a fact. Kurama’s gaze sweeping over his face and Hiei’s eyes narrowed in response. Another contest of wills arising before he dismissed it. There was no point in keeping this from him.

「 That it would be easy — running away with you. 」

Emotions flicked across his eyes too quickly for Hiei to name them. Kurama’s smile returning, softer and adoring, one of the smiles that Hiei’s heart to beat loudly. As if he were caught in the aftermath of a great battle — victorious and elated.

「 Are you asking to run away with me, Hiei? 」

And then the fox had to ruin it with his teasing. Hiei rolled his eyes.

「 I will drop you. 」

「 Forgive me for asking then. 」

Hiei did. It was a stretch with the newfound territory they’d treaded on but he was almost certain. If it was Kurama, he would likely forgive him no matter what he did. Hiei was no stranger to pain — giving wounds or receiving them — but any wound Kurama created, he healed. And when he said he would never harm again, he meant it. The truth seared upon his soul and in every moment shared between them.

Hiei swallowed thickly. Fear crept into his chest and curled deep in his heart. Kurama’s eyes never leaving his own, the warmth shared between them staving off another wind gust ruffling their hair. With a full view of Kurama’s eyes, Hiei’s tongue loosened almost immediately but it was his mind’s traitorous thoughts of the fox’s hand in his own as they walked through the forest.

The trees, the grass, the very Earth coming alive at Kurama’s presence — and Hiei simply happy to be at his side.

「 If I was asking… what would your answer be? 」

Kurama hummed in answer and rolled his eyes to the sky, a smile tugging at his lips, gentle in its curve without a hint of his usual teasing.

「 … Tempting. 」

Hiei stared at him flatly.

「 Tempting. 」

The dry teasing repeat of the word garnered a laugh from Kurama. A lack of a wince or a hiss of pain bringing a smile to Hiei’s face. He could have listened to that laughter for days on end without tire. His fingers brushing against Kurama’s own hidden beneath his cloak and the fox’s laughter eased, returning the light touch with one of his own.

「 Fine, I’ll accept that for now. 」

Hiei pressed his little finger against Kurama’s and the fox sighed softly. His youki wrapping around Hiei’s own as attempting to blanket him. Tipping his head back against the rock, Hiei stared up at the darkening sky and breathed in deeply. His energy pressing against Kurama’s, melding together and holding tight as if he had the fox in his arms and refused to let go.

「 What they said did hold merit. I’d forgotten others knew of my past. 」

「 That’s right… the uki-me mentioned quite a bit about you. Have you dealt with the Saint Beasts in the past? 」

「 Now and again. You? 」

「 When it suited me. They were confined to this “castle”, I had no need to linger or desire to be caught with them. 」

Hiei smiled. It was unwise to cage a fox. That is when they tended to show their teeth. Or at least it was what Kurama described to him. Something he’d seen in the brief moments when their wills clashed early on. Glimmers of who the fox had been before.

「 You would’ve made a better Saint Beast. 」

「 But Hiei, I thought we became partners so you wouldn’t have to fight me. 」

Innocent though the words were spoken, the implication drew Hiei’s attention to Kurama’s smirking face and he narrowed his eyes.

「 You bastard… you were listening the whole time? 」

While Kurama strode to meet his battle with Genbu, Hiei spoke with Yuusuke and Kuwabara on the sidelines. Expecting the fox to be too distracted to hear the half-truth. Honestly, he should’ve known…

「 Will you drop me if I say yes? 」

「 Without hesitation. 」

「 Then no. 」

「 You’re the worst. 」

「 You care for me. 」

Kurama’s expression remained innocent but his eyes gave him away as they always did. A little too knowing, a little too amused, a little too — distracting. Hiei looked away to maintain his anger. A flickering ember though it may be, it was deserved now with this embarrassment.

Gradually, as with all moments between them, it passed. Kurama relaxing against him and the gentle press of their fingers becoming something else as the fox’s little finger hooked over his own. A light test with how easy it would be to break Kurama’s grasp on him. A hold Hiei didn’t want to end any time soon. Perhaps it was the fox’s acknowledgement of their shared dream. Or Hiei’s desire. He wasn’t rightly sure.

Nevertheless, this moment would be woven into his memories along with every other moment spent with Kurama. Hiei breathed in deeply, sighing through his nose. He could still remember the direction of the Forest of Fools, the Plateau of the Beheaded, the jagged slate grey faces of the Jakkaru Mountains, even where the wind might have taken the glacier island of Hyouga.

「 One day, I’ll steal this world’s greatest treasure. 」

Kurama chuckled, tightening his hold on Hiei’s little finger.

「 Is that what you were thinking about so deeply? 」

「 Mm. 」

「 Then, what is this world’s greatest treasure? Perhaps I’ve heard of it. Or stolen it already. 」

Hiei snorted at the confidence in Kurama’s tone. Of course he would think that the treasure he was after was something that’d already fallen in his possession. Anything worth note would come eventually, a thief’s creed.

「 I doubt it. It’s something not even you can steal. 」

「 And what would that be? 」

Kurama huffed, a slight fare in his youki at the affront. The fox had his pride after all. His skills in thieving were unsurpassed at least by the legends’ account. But Hiei didn’t rescind his words or try to appease Kurama’s lightly bruised ego. This treasure was something the fox couldn’t steal. Not in a hundred nor a thousand years, but he did possess the power to take it away and Hiei was humbled by that thought.

Pulling his finger from the crook of Kurama’s own, he laid his palm atop the fox’s and laced their fingers together in a tight hold. Tipping his head to one side to meet Kurama’s curious gaze, his heart fluttering as he squeezed the fox’s fingers in his own. Warmth blossoming and he was grateful for the cover of the darkening sky to hide the redness in his cheeks.

「 You. 」

Recognition dawned on Kurama quickly. His breath hitching and Hiei felt a burst of satisfaction at the wide-eyed look. Catching Kurama off guard was a feat in itself. Moments of honesty were the easiest way to achieve it. And that look was rewarding enough.

「 You plan… to steal me? 」

As softly as the words were spoken in his mind, Hiei almost thought he hadn’t heard correctly. His eyes softened and he held Kurama’s hand tighter, pressing closer to him.

「 I already have your heart. 」

Memories of that day on the roof where they spoke of the rumor of the Boy In Black came to mind. If he was going to steal anyone’s heart, then why not it let it be that of his partner? Kurama must have seen the memories as well because he pressed forward immediately, the Jagan burning hot between their foreheads touching. And if Hiei wasn’t smiling before then he was now.

「 So I’ll take great care with it. 」

Hiei’s eyes adjusted well to the dark even in the Makai. A soft dusting of pink across Kurama’s cheeks catching his eye. Lack of refusal stirring hope in his chest. Peering past the fox, oft on the horizon, the outline of the ferry girl was visible.

Disappointment doused the flickering flame but Kurama’s light touch to his jaw drew his attention back to him. Green filling his entire world as the fox leant closer, their lips pressing together in a chaste kiss. Lighter than the ones they exchanged in the dark but meaningful all the same.

Hiei’s breath warm as he exhaled through his nose, pressing closer to Kurama with his hand caressing the fox’s back.

「 To the first of many… 」

“Time to go,“ Kurama murmured against his lips, pressing a lighter kiss before he pulled away, offering Hiei’s cloak to him. His eyes crinkled at the corners with an amused smile likely from the look on Hiei’s face.

Taking the cloak in his hands, Hiei fought to remember how to swallow and breathe. That voice. He’d heard it before in Kurama’s memories and in the reaches of the fox’s mind when he tried to soothe his nightmares. Rising to his feet on shaky legs, Hiei pulled his cloak on and fastened the clasps. Watching Kurama’s back as the fox approached the edge of the debris, tipping his head back as if feeling the wind.

Hiei’s eyes softened and he held out his hand, reaching for the redhead as if he would vanish. His hand snapping back to his side when Kurama began to turn and the ferry girl, Botan, made her descent with a cheery wave.

「 I will always be yours, Hiei. 」

Hiei stared at Kurama’s back all the while. What?

“Something wrong?”

Stiffening up at the two sets of eyes, green and pink, focused on him — he reflexively shot a glare at the ferry girl who squeaked and hid behind her oar defensively.

“What’d I say?” She whined, comforted by Kurama’s soft chuckle and pat to her shoulder.

Hiei huffed, averting his gaze and looking out at the horizon trying to memorize the scent and the landscape.

“Ready to go?”

Focusing his attention on Kurama, the fox’s gentle smile eased his irritation immediately.

“Let’s go.”

One day, they’d return to this land and they’d do it together.

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #kurahi #kurama #hiei #fanfiction #my fanfiction #honor among thieves

[chatnoirismycinnamonroll]

Only Human: Akuma! Marinette AU (part 3)

Disclaimer: I dont own, and never will I even come close to owning, either Miraculous or Christina Perri's song Only Human.

Tikki raced through the now silent hallways towards her chosen's classroom. She had been trapped in Marinette's purse, held down by the mist, and was only just able to get out. Like everybody else in the school, she had been able to see everything Only Human had shown her classmates. She felt her pain, her sorrow, her anxiety and stress at having to pretend that everything was fine when it wasnt.

Tikki sighed. She knew she shouldn't have held Marinette back from telling someone her identity for so long. All of that accumulated stress had been bound to be released sometime. And boy, what a release it was. Plagg must be so happy at the destruction she knew Marinette had left in her wake.

But, honestly, Tikki couldnt blame her. The way Marinette's "friends" had cornered her chosen in the bathroom had left Tikki piping mad, and if she ever saw them again, identity or not, Tikki was going to give them a piece of her mind. Anyone who thought Plagg was hell to live with had nothing on an angry Tikki. He may be the god of destruction and bad luck, but she was the goddess of creation and luck. You piss her off, and you might just get a new hole in your along with having your good luck run out.

Whoever said cats were the protective ones were highly mistaken.

Marinette sighed. She kept her eyes on the butterfly until she could no longer see it. She didnt want to face her classmates right now, especially since she could remember everything she had done as an akuma. She could remember making Lila bite her own tongue hard enough to bleed. She could remember lifting her and Alya up and slamming them into the ground. She could remember every image she made them see, every memory that she knew would make them feel guilty for treating her the way they had. And she didnt feel any better for it. She had hurt Chat Noir. She had blasted him into the wall with enough force to leave him dazed, when all he was trying to do was help her.

She also knew that she had had no control of herself. She had unwillingly let Hawkmoth push himself past her grief and into her mind. He had used her memories as leverage over her classmates, her....

She couldnt exactly call them friends now, could she? Not really. She looked up at them, seeing Rose and Mylene help Alix out from under a bookshelf and pull her towards Lila, who was still bleeding from her mouth and staring at Marinette with a frightened but hateful stare. Alya was sobbing and Nino was co.forting her, and Marinette's heart gave a lurch as they didnt approach her to see if she was okay, like she did with them after they got akumatized.

She forced herself to look away, forced herself to stand up and ignore their frightened gasps. She couldnt focus on them at the moment. She had to find Tikki so she could reverse her damage, and then she could head home and hopefully nobody would question why Ladybug got there late-

And suddenly there was a red kwami snuggling up to her cheek. She was standing at the front of the classroom, covered in dust and bruises, her hands cut and burnt a little from the struggle of tearing her own akumatized item, her classmates staging her, and her kwami was nuzzling her cheek and crying tears of relief.

"Tikki? Um..."

"Oh, Marinette, you're alright! I was so worried! I tried to prevent the akuma from getting to you, but I failed. I'm so sorry, Marinette. I was supposed to protect you, and you got akumatized anyway." Tikki lamented, tears leaking out of her big blue eyes as she stared up at her sweet, strong, beautiful chosen.

Marinette smiled, accepting that Tikki was giving her identity away because she was obviously going to say something important. "It's alright, Tikki. It wasnt your fault I got akumatized, it was Hawkmoth's. I remember everything, unfortunately, but I do remember that I never said the words. I never accepted his offer of akumatization. He forced his akuma onto me, Tikki. You tried to save me, but he was the one who took advantage of my emotions. Dont ever blame yourself for this, Tikki." Marinette held Tikki in her hands and kissed her forehead, nuzzling the cute being with her nose, getting a giggle out of her.

"You're the best kwami I could ever ask for."

"So it is a kwami."

Marinette looked up, finally acknowledging the others. Chat stood in front of her, staring down at her with several emotions in his eyes. She couldnt tell which was stronger at the moment. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and she knew the instant it clicked for him.

"You.... you're...!"

"A KWAMI? How did you get a kwami, Marinette? You're a superhero? And you never told me?" Alya said, her tears dying down as her eyes narrowed in astonishment and disbelief.

Marinette gulped, not exactly ready to face her classmates just yet. "I... um.. I...."

"She had no reason to tell you, Alya Cesaire. You should know all too well why that is."

Everyone stared down at the little red kwami, who had a serious look on her face that looked oddly intimidating for such a small creature.

Chat gulped, but kept his eyes on Marinette's as he shakingly whispered, "My Lady?" His anger towards his classmates rose further when Marinette nodded tensely, her arms folded and head bowed in a clear, protective manner. Oh, it was on. That did it. The entire class was gonna get a new one ripped into them. Nobody hurt his Lady, especially if she was also his Princess.

He glared at the class and stepped forward, ready to yell at them when a tiny red hand stopped him.

"Dont. You take care of Marinette. I'll take care of her so called friends." Tikki said, her blue eyes glinting dangerously. Chat nodded, turning to head towards Marinette, but his transformation suddenly dropping stopped him in his tracks. Everyone gasped as Adrie. was revealed, and they snapped out of whatever stupor they were in and began to yell, demanding answers from both him and Marinette.

He felt cornered and overwhelmed as they began to doubt him. How could he, Adrien Agreste, possibly be Chat Noir? They were nothing alike! Why didnt he tell them? Was this the only secret he kept from them? Did Marinette know? Why were they keeping secrets? What else did they have to hide?

He backed up until he felt a hand slipping into his, and Marinette looked up at him with reassuring bluebell eyes. He relaxed immediately. How could he not see his lady in her? He should have realized it the moment he called her his everyday Ladybug. He knew there was a reason he was so attracted to Marinette. There was a reason why Ladybug's rare flailings and nervousness so often struck him as familiar and adorable. Now that he thought about it, there wasnt anybody else who could possibly be Ladybug.

He held her hand tightly as the noise got louder and their classmates slowly came out from under the rubble to yell more things at them, and just when he thought he couldnt take it anymore-

"SILENCE!"

Everybody froze. They stared at the glowing red kwami as her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you all demand answers from her after what you've done to her?! Marinette is not some toy you can just drop once shes no longer of use to you. Shes not some servant you can call upon whenever you want something. She's not some emotionless robot who you can order around and expect her to follow orders without any single input or objection. Shes a human being, just like you! So sit down, shut up, and show her the respect she deserves for having put up with you all for so long or so help me I'll make sure none of you ever have a good day ever again."

The silence that followed was deafening. Everybody slowly sat down amongst the rubble and stared fearfully at the tiny goddess.

The silence was broken by a cackle, and the little black kwami that had come out of Adrien's ring slowly floated his way towards his other half.

"Oh, oh, sugar cube, you're gonna make me split in two. I cant wait to hear what sorts of things you need to say to these ungrateful morons." His laughing suddenly stopped, and he looked at the class with narrowed eyes, his black form a almost a shadow, the only things visible on him were the two glowing green slits of his eyes. "I too would like to see them properly punished for almost destroying Paris by literally akumatizing the only other person who keeps them safe on a daily basis. So if you need a little bad luck on your side, dont hesitate to call me up, sweet cheeks."

Tikki smiled at him, before her eyes turned serious again and she glared at the girls. "First of all, I'd like to say I am very disappointed in all of you. You had no right to just turn your backs on Marinette, especially after everything she has done for you without complaint. I cant believe one little girl's lies are enough to fool you, and they weren't even GOOD lies!!"

Tikki's little antenna began to sway in her anger. "Max!" He jumped, his glasses slightly skipping from his nose. "You're supposed to be the smartest boy in the school. Tell me, how was a rolled up, thin, paper napkin going to gouge your eye out when 1) it was rolled up into a tight ball, 2) headed towards Lila's hand, which was level with your stomach, and 3) your eyes were safely covered by your glasses? Tell me, how?"

Max looked down in shame, having figured that out at some time during the attack. Tikki shook her head and moved onto the next person. "Alya. You've called yourself Marinette's best friend, but you sure didnt act like it at all today. Best friends have each others backs. They trust each other and always listen to each other. This isn't the first time you've disregarded Marinette's words and facts as nothing but jealousy. Not only that, but you chose your boyfriend over your best friend. You didnt protest moving Marinette out of a chair she worked so hard to keep all year, and you didnt even give her the benefit of the doubt when she tried to warn you about Lila's lies."

Tikki began to slowly vibrate in her anger, a low buzz filling the room.

"And then, you have the audacity to te her to show you proof of Lila's lies when you yourself have no proof that what Lila is saying is true. You could have fact checked with Ladybug about being Lila's friend. You could have asked Marinette to ask Jagged Stone if he ever had a kitten. You could have looked up half the things Lila has said on Google and figured out that NONE OF THEM WERE TRUE. And then- and then-!"

Tikki stopped talking as her body glowed to a deep angry red, the black.of her spots looking more like the dark, empty void of space than the sweet, adorable, chocolate chip looking spots Marinette often told her they looked like.

"Sugar Cube?"

"And then, you dared tell her that she was wrong to be angry. That she was wrong to have treated Lila so "mean" when she hadn't been mean at all. You told her it was wrong of her to question Lila and then dared demand her to apologize before then telling her to keep away from you until she did. You ditched your best friend for a new girl, a stranger, with outlandish and interesting stories. I guess Marinette was wrong to have trusted you the way she did, didnt she, little fox?"

Alya reeled back, her eyes back to streaming tears. "I'm sor-"

"Dont. You haven't thought about your actions. Not really. You're not completely sorry, so dont apologize just yet."

Alya quieted down, her sobs silently shaking her frame as she leant against Nino, her thoughts finally calm enough for her to properly analyze them.

Tikki moved on, glaring at the other girls. "And you all. Mylene, Rose, Alix. Marinette has been nothing but kind to you. She has helped every single one of you with something personal. With something important. Both as herself and as Ladybug. And the one moment she makes a mistake, you make her out to be a monster. You, Mylene, know that Marinette wouldn't do anything out of jealousy, especially not after what she did with Kagami and Adrien." Mylene hung her head in shame.

"Rose, you called Marinette the everyday Ladybug, but you had no right to detract your words in such a way. Ladybug makes mistakes too, and you basically told Marinette that since Ladybug is perfect, Marinette couldn't be Ladybug because she wasn't perfect. You faulted her for feeling betrayed and insulted and for showing her emotions. And you had absolutely no right to do that." Rose let a few tears fall as she remembered her uncharacteristic behaviour.

Alix looked at the kwami in shame, knowing what Tikki was going to say. "Alix, dont you ever call Marinette selfish again. And dont ever fault her if she decides to act selfishly for once. I honestly think she can afford to be just a little more selfish sometimes, especially to get the boy of her dreams."

Tikki was back to her normal hue, and her anger turned to disappointment. "You all were pretty despicable today. I could not believe this behaviour from you. I expect much better from all of you."

The class hung their heads, all except Lila. Tikki stared at Lila blankly before moving back towards Marinette.

"Wait, what about Lila?" Adrien protested. He stood up and glared at the little liar. "Shes been spreading lies about both Marinette and herself all day. Shes the reason why everyone is mad at My Lady in the first place. Shouldn't she be lectured and punished as well?"

Tikki stopped her advance towards Marinette. She styled floating in the air for several seconds, before turning back and smiling at Adrien. Adrien instinctively stepped back from that smile.

"Don't worry, Adrien. Lila's been cursed since before I entered the room." Her smile switched from Adrien towards Lila, who stared back with frightened eyes. "I'm very protective of my Ladybugs."

@drarrylover007 @mindfulmagics

#mlb chameleon au #ml salt #bamf tikki #protective adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien and marinette #identity reveal #only human #song fic #dont mess with their chosen #tikki is scarier than plagg

[dragonwitch77]

Death’s Flower ch 2

“Stupid kid. Stupid gods.” Snatcher grumbled, stomping down the seamlessly endless steps that descended down to his realm. A realm that only housed beings that had left the mortal world for good, where there is nowhere else to go when their life came to an end. A domain that had many names.

The Underworld. The Realm of the Death. The Underground. The Forsaken Place. The Domain of the Snatcher.

Pretty much those names were enough to fill in the mortals and gods alike of what was down there. Being the God of Death, souls of mortals were sent to his domain to be dealt with after their parting from the living world. It was his sole duty alone to do this task, whether he liked it or not.

And he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact he liked that he was the God of Death. If it meant that others feared him and left him alone, then he didn’t mind reaping a couple hundred souls each day. It was fun to see others squirm in his presence, fearing when he might snap and attack them or prank them out of the blue. He may be the God of Death, but he had to have some fun once in a while.

He took in the site of his world as he reached the final step, standing on it as his eyes gazed over the world he ruled. Some would say that his domain was a dark place that didn’t even have a speck of light in it, but he could prove them wrong once they saw what a wonder his world was. It was like a kingdom of darkness, the only light coming from the pools filled with souls he had yet to judge, varying from bluish greens to deep purples and sky blue. As long as it wasn’t too colorful, his world was perfect.

“Boss! Boss!”

Almost perfect.

“What is it?” Snatcher sighed, stepping off the final step, letting the earth return to its natural state as it closed up behind him for another year before he could leave again.

His minion, one of many identical beings that swore their service to him, fell to the ground in front of him in a clumsy manor. Picking themselves up, they stood tall, or as tall as their pudgy small round body could only reach the height just half way to his knee. “Boss! Thank the Sisters you’re back! We just got a new batch of souls! It seems like a bunch a them had drowned.”

Snatcher rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “That’s the third time this month. Honestly, how many idiotic mortals are going to die before they realize that fishing out in a storm is NOT a good idea?!” He walked past the minion, grumbling to himself as he went deep into his domain. “What’s the status on our current pools?”

“W-well, we’ve managed to sort out all the young and old into the pools they should go in. Few have tried to escape.” The minion followed behind him, listing off the things that had happened while the deathly ruler was gone. “The dogs were getting restless after you left so we set them lose on some damned souls to keep them occupied. A child recently died of an illness. Someone was stabbed to death. Moonjumper is here. And we still—OOF!”

The minion fell backwards, looking up at the long black hair of their master.

“I’m sorry.” The minion coward as Snatcher slowly turned around, his eyes illuminating in the darkness, staring down the minion. “Did I hear that right? Did you just say, Moon. Jumper. Is here?!” A deep growl emanated within Snatcher’s throat as his cape began dancing with power.

“I-I-I-I-I’M SORRY! We tried to send him away but he wouldn’t listen!” The minion shook with fear as the dark serge of Snatcher’s power radiated. “He insisted that he needed to see you urgently, but you weren’t here!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“AT THE TEMPLE! HE’S IN THE TEMPLE!” The minion openly wept as Snatcher growled with rage, running towards his home.

)*(

The home of the God of Death was, as the other gods described it, not as fancy or well lavished as all the other homes of the other gods and goddesses. It wasn’t made out of white stone marble, but black cracking earth and vines with sharp thorns that held it together. It was just as big as any home fit for a god, maybe even bigger than the rest of them, but was not very appealing to look at with crumbling pillars, broken floors, skeletons of the many deceased used for decorations and furniture, and bodies of past intruders hung on the ceiling to show as an example.

But while the other gods and goddesses would find the thought of going to such place disturbing if not revolting, there was in fact one god who did not mind Snatcher’s strange taste of design.

And the only god to get on his nerves.

“MOONJUMPERRRRR!” Snatcher screamed as he burst open the doors of his home, forgetting to restrain himself as his power tore the rotten wood off their hinges and clatter to the ground in pieces.

“Ah! So he finally arrives! Though I can see he’s quite angry as a beehive!”

Snatcher growled as he spotted the god sitting in his favorite chair with a bowl of grapes in his hand. “What are you doing here you pathetic excuse of a god?! You aren’t allowed in the Underworld without permission from me!”

The god merely grinned, plucking a grape and popping it in his mouth. “Permission from you? Oh how silly but true. While indeed most do, I however can pop in out of the blue.”

Snatcher stormed his way up to Moonjumper, slamming his claws into the seat’s armrests and growled dangerously. “I REALLY insist that you stop with your ridiculous habit of rhymes you—”

“Temper temper! There’s no need of this distemper!” Moonjumper rose from the seat, shoving the bowl in Snatcher’s hands. “I only came for a visit! Now that’s not such a crime, is it?”

The god giggled, going around Snatcher as he threw the bowl filled with fruit away. Most would say that the two were look similar to one another. But while their faces did seem to mirror each other, that is where the similarity ended. While Snatcher was thin, bony, pale skinned, golden eyes, had wild long hair that reached to the floor, covered in darkness and wore pants, Moonjumper was a class of his own with his short pure white hair, blue skin, bright red colored clothing with chains wrapped around his torso and neck, wild red eyes, and scars covering his face.

And majorly legless. Everyone could spot the lack of legs from miles away. And it was no secret to how he lost them in the first place.

“You little pest! How many times do I have to beat it in you that I do not want you here?! You have your own domain! Go use that instead of here!”

“I do not wish to be this pestering! I only dropped by to see what your mind is festering.” Moonjumper grinned, floated around Snatcher. “You seemed quite tense, I should know. Tell me, what’s bothering you so?”

“I don’t need to tell the likes of you!” Snatcher shoved past Moonjumper. “I know your tricks God of Corpses! Don’t think for a second that I won’t know what you’re up to!”

“But that is not true! I really came to see you!” Moonjumper followed him, keeping a distance between them in case the Death God decided to get a little… slashy. “Say all you want with your skilled tongue of lies, I can see it in your sad eyes.”

“Stop following me.” Snatcher growled. “I’ve already got enough to deal with, and your visit is not helping.”

“Indeed all this talking isn’t much help. Shouldn’t you be searching for the thieving little whelp?”

Snatcher froze in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder, glaring at the other god behind him. “How… did you know something was stolen from me?”

Moonjumper clicked his tongue, waging his finger at Snatcher. “Oh silly Snatcher, can’t you see? There’s a connection between you and me. Though knowledge and memories we do not share, you tend to let you emotions go wild without care. Though it was only just very brisk, I could feel that the balance of the world is at great risk.” He grabbed to cloak that Snatcher never took off, pulling it up so that the tear was visible for both of them to see.

“For such a precious item that you deeply tend with care, seems that someone defiled it with a horrible tear.”

Snatcher swatted Moonjumper’s hands away, tugging the cloak close to him.

“This act is quite shameful, but who is very blameful? Mortal or god? This act has got me quite awed! For stealing a piece of the cloak that belongs to none other than you Snatcher, must be feeling deep satisfactory and rapture.”

“If it were a mere mortal that stole from me, they would die instantly when they touch the piece even by a little.” Snatcher glared at the tear. “No mortal can do such a task and get away with this without consequences. Even with help from another god, the task is impossible.”

“Ah! But to have a piece taken under your nose and gone! It seems that impossible was in fact improbable along.”

Snatcher shot a dirty look at Moonjumper. “… I don’t have time to deal with you. I have work that needs my attendance.” With that he stormed off, leaving Moonjumper to giggle madly at nothing.

)*(

“Thank you for coming Caitlin. I know this was sudden with what happened earlier today and with your help with the guests.”

“It’s no trouble! I was happy to help! Plus, I hadn’t had the chance to use my whip on someone for a long time now so I felt it was necessary for some practice.” Caitlin grinned, patting her trusted whip hooked on her belt. “Besides, I wanted to see the little cutie again~! I just can’t get enough of his tiny little fingers~!” The goddess purred, making Zaman laugh happily.

“Yes. Lyvia has certainly made a cute… child…”

“… Is something the matter?” Caitlin asked, noticing the sad look in Zaman’s three eyes.

“It’s nothing old friend. Just… Lyvia never showed any deep desire for anything other than looks before. I knew she had a soft spot for children, but… to go this far to make one. Without a partner no doubt. I… I honestly don’t know how to feel! I would never allow her to sleep with any man of course! She’s still too… too arrogant I fear. I feel like she only did it for attention and has no real desire to care for her daughter.”

“Zaman, old friend, do not worry!” Caitlin took Zaman’s hand between hers, grasping it tightly. “Your daughter is taking a big step. Motherhood is rewarding and learning. She will learn to be less immodest as she cares for her new child and learn to take her responsibility well. She now has someone who will depend on her and rely on her to take care of them. I’ve seen plenty of new mothers in my time and she’s no different.”

“But what if she strays from her duty as a mother? Children need constant care after all. I would know this well when Lyvia was but a small child herself and I had to raise her on my own.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong dear friend. You were not alone! You had friends who were willing to help. And now, your daughter has friends that are willing to help her raise her child when she is in need of that help.” She gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

Zaman sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “You… are a very wise old friend. And very right. I’m still worried about her, but I will give her a chance at being a mother.” His smile grew wide as his three eyes gleamed with a spark of giddiness in them. “And it will be a joy to be a grandfather. After all, someone needs to spoil my grandchild!”

“Oh you!” Caitlin slapped his arm in good fun as the God of Time roared with laughter.

“Father? Caitlin? Can you come to the garden please?” Lyvia’s voice called out from the garden, catching both of the gods attention. They shared a look before heading over to the garden.

The garden was a beautiful place, filled with flowers and fruits, with decorations that wild the imagination of any mortal, and small animals that played in the trees and sang lovely songs gifted by the goddess herself. Lyvia was seated by the edge of one of the many lakes in the garden, watching the colorful fish swim about.

“Lyvia? Is something the matter child?” Zaman asked, approaching her quietly as her child was sleeping in her arms.

Lyvia continued to stare at the fish swimming in the water before slowly turning her gaze to the moon. “… Father? How, high are the walls surrounding the garden?”

Zaman, taken by surprise by the question, shared a glance with his old friend. “Well, very high my child. Why do you ask?”

Lyvia looked away from the fish, fixing her eyes on her father. “Is it not possible to make them higher? I… would like them to be taller.”

“Now why in the world would you want that? The walls surrounding the garden are very high already.” Caitlin questioned, one of her ears tilting down in confusion.

“I know they are high as they are now Caitlin. And you are right to question my sudden request.” Lyvia stood up slowly so not to disturb her child’s rest. “But, please understand. It’s for my child’s safety.”

“The walls are tall enough for you not to worry for her safety my daughter. I made them myself and with the finest builders! Why has this worry come upon you?”

“…”

“… It’s… because of him, isn’t it?” Caitlin’s ear flattened against her head, her tail dipping down low to the ground.

Zaman sighed. “Lyvia—”

“Please father! After what happened today, I’m worried for her safety! Not fearing the God of Death is one thing, but to laugh in his face is another! Have you ever met someone who has laughed in the face, the actual face, of death himself?”

Zaman’s mouth hung open, yet no words came out. “… well… no. I can not tell you who has done such a thing.”

“Exactly! You both have told me what he is like. He will not take this lightly! What if he tries to do harm to my child? Or worse, kill her?”

“Now now! There’s no need to worry about that!” Zaman placed his hands on Lyvia’s shoulders. “Snatcher has used his one day of walking on the surface of the living. And he may be the God of Death, but he’s never taken a life of a god before!”

“But… but what about the Dark Days?”

The two older gods cringed, looking away from Lyvia.

“… Snatcher… does tend to hold a bit of a grudge against others.” Caitlin spoke quietly, her tail swishing to and fro. “I’ve seen firsthand of what he can do when he’s pushed far enough. He can turn things rather ugly real quick.”

Zaman sighed, rubbing his neck. “He’s an unpredictable one. With a variety of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Please build the wall higher father! My child must be protected from his wrath!”

Zaman glanced at his daughter, looking deep into her pleading eyes and found great worry deep within them. He looked to his grandchild, seeing the peaceful look on her sleeping face. So innocent and untainted by the world.

“… fine.” Zaman sighed with reluctance. “I shall see to it that the wall gets built taller.”

“Thank you father!” Lyvia threw her arm around her father, hugging him tightly. “Thank you! Thank—Oh!” Lyvia pulled back as her child started to cry. “My poor baby, did mommy startle you? Oh, I’m sorry.” She rocked herself, heading off for her chambers.

Caitlin watched as the young goddess walked away, turning to her old friend with a deep frown on her face. “Would building the walls higher even make a difference? Snatcher is a crafty one and you know that walls won’t stop him if he really will go after her child.”

Zaman rubbed his chin, stroking his small beard. “He is crafty. Too cleaver for my taste, and, dare I say, smarter than me and the Sisters. And terrifyingly dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries anything, but I’m sure he wouldn’t try anything so soon. But then again. It wouldn’t hurt to prepare and add a little guard to the place.”

“Yes, but would it be enough to stop him? He can be very persistent on his tasks, nothing will sway him from what he sets his mind on.” Caitlin huffed. “To think… he was once one of us on equal ground.”

“Now now. The past is behind us all Caitlin. What happened, happened. There’s nothing we can do now but more forward with time of the future.”

“… Zaman… how… how can you be the only god I know who doesn’t hold on to the past without a deep grudge? Everyone else seems to still hold it against him for what he’s done but you—”

“Caitlin, let’s just say for now that we all were young back then. Snatcher may almost be as old as me and older than you, but sometimes, you have to look at all angles before you see the whole picture.”

Caitlin stared at her friend for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. “I love you old fool, but sometimes, even with the clearness of a cat, you still remain a big mystery to me.”

Zanam smiled. “Because too much curiosity can kill the cat.” He laughed as Caitlin gave him a solid punch to the arm, leading her back inside for a few drinks before seeing her off that night.

#ahit #ahit au #ahit fanfic #a hat in time #death's flower au #snatcher #cooking cat #moonjumper

[dragonwithapenoffire]

My Heart or My People: Chapter 3

I wake up with a start, gasping in as much air as possible. There is a dim light coming from the windows and a figure sat with his head in his hands at the end of my bed. I shuffle away from him when,

“Lucy! You’re awake, finally, i was so worried” he said as he stood up and walked to my bed stand, filling a cup with water, “here take this.”

Numbly I reach out and Sting helps me clasp the glass in my shaking hands. Slowly, I move the glass to my lips and take a sip. Icy cool water slips down my dry throat, and I sigh with pleasure. “How long have I been out?”

“About two hours. I couldn’t leave you on the floor so I carried you to the bed. What do you think you were doing fainting on me like that? Have you been eating ok? All I wanted was to tease you, not give you a panic attack.”

“I’ve been eating fine Sting.” The tone not as harsh as I would of hoped, “you didn’t have to be so menacing.”

“You should know me better by now sister,” he smirked, “so are you going to answer my question?”

At my vacant expression he continued “why are you visiting that servant? Lucy, you’re getting married. To a king. You are real lucky it was me who was here and not our father otherwise you’d be in a prison cell by now, and your little friend would be in an unmarked grave.”

The truth in his words caused tears to slip silently from my eyes and before I knew it, I was red faced and pulled into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

We sat there for I don’t know how long, him rubbing my back in soothing circles each time my cries got a bit harder, my thoughts too suffocating.

Between sobs I said, “ I love him Sting. I always have. And now... and now i have to marry someone else, and i know king rogue is meant to be nice but i hate him for it! I really do, because somehow, somehow i kept up hope that somehow i could be aloud to love Natsu and if only for a little while, i want to love him, even if it’s dangerous.” My tears got loader, drowning out any more words i spoke, and Sting just sat there, listening to me ramble well into the morning.

•••

“How important is it for Lucy to marry King Rogue? What kind of state is our country in for you to need to marry off your only daughter so quickly to a foreign king.”

“I have my reasons. You have seen first hand on your travels how poverty ransacks our country, this marriage will improve that”

“Poverty has never bothered you before.”

“We need the money for our country. And the strength and supplies that will come with that”

“Father, you sound like you are talking of war.”

The king struggled to speak, to speak the truth he himself was denying. “War is upon us.” The king said weakly, not being able to look the prince in the eye.

“Who? I will go and-“

“Someone who will not be reasoned with.” Said the king, taking a sip of water from his glass.

“Then let me marry. But don’t put Lucy through this.”

The glass slammed to the table, “I have already promised King Rogue the offer of marriage-“

“Then let me marry king Rogue. Let me take this sacrifice, if only so Lucy can marry whoever she wants”

“Don’t be so preposterous!” The king spluttered. “King Rogue has no siblings. No family. He needs heirs. Something you cannot provide him!”

“There must be a way father. Please.” The Prince begged between tears, and the sound of the prince and the king arguing, shock the castle for several hours more.

•••

When i awoke, Sting was no longer in my chamber, he was probably off in the bed of one of the many servants he is especially close with. Being gone for so long, i don’t blame him.

I bathed and dressed, washing away any of the sadness left from yesterday, before setting up camp on one of my windowsills with a book, counting down the hours.

As the sun began to set again, i put on a cloak and snuck out of my rooms into the gardens, the setting sun providing enough light for me to see, but also enough so that my identity would still be hidden. I walked towards the middle of the maze, the grassy hedges again hiding me from castle eyes.

He looked like he had been here a while. He was pacing and his pink hair stood up from his head as if he had been running a hand through it. I cant describe the relief i felt when i saw him standing there. My heart began to beat quickly in my chest.

“Hi.”

He looked towards me, his face searching mine for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. He seemed as relieved as me to see me here.

“Hey Luce,” he said, a weight visibly lifting from his shoulders.

I took a step towards him. “First of all, i want to say I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me Luce-“

“No. I do. I should of been more honest with my feelings from the start. About everything.” I swallowed, “I love you Natsu. I think i always have, from the moment I first met you. And i have spent the last few years wondering if you could ever feel the same way to someone who is surely promised to another. And now I am getting married, and quite honestly I don’t care about any of that now. I just want to spend however long i have left of my freedom, with the only person i have ever loved, if that person would be willing.”

I didn’t think Natsu was breathing. In my letter i had confessed my love to him, if only to be selfish for this short time, and had said that if he felt the same way, he should meet me here, in the maze, after sunset. And when I saw him here, i felt like i was going to explode.

“Luce, I-“ a tear found its way down his cheek, “I love you too.” Another tear. “I never thought you could love me. I never thought it could ever be possible to be with you, and when you said you were getting married, i-i broke inside Luce. My worst thoughts were coming true. And now you’re saying all this and- and the stars damn me but i want it. I want you Luce.”

We were both now crying. I took another step towards him, my eyes catching on his lips. He was right there, i could kiss him. If i was brave enough i would just kiss him. His hand found its way to my cheek to wipe a tear and then suddenly his lips were on mine. I don’t know if it was me or him who did it, but I didn’t care. His lips were so soft, and gentle, and warm. All i could focus on was our lips embracing each other that I forgot where my hands were. He opened his mouth slightly and he tasted of home. His tongue gently grazed mine and i took a deep breath. This is what i want.

We finally broke apart and just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Words were useless in a moment like this.

“I should probably head back before someone notices I’m missing.” I finally said, taking a step back.

“Yea. Yea that would be good” he was just as lost in the moment as i was. I started walking away when he grabbed me into a hug, his scent filling my nose. He gave me a quick kiss on the head before disappearing into the night.

#fairy tail #fairy tail au #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail nalu #fairy tail princess lucy #hiro mashima #lucy fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel

[thegraypope]

Assassin (unfinished)

Ciri was a beauty Colony, settled for looks above any natural resource, it became a holiday resort for the rich and powerful of Humanity. Bloated and corrupt politicians rubbed elbows with celebrities, drug lords, smugglers and CEOs; all there for the sun, sea, prostitutes, drugs and gambling. Lauraly was there for work; a high class assassin, she had taken a job to kill a former governor from Mars who had built an empire of billions from bribes and the subjugation of natives in outer colonies.

Lauraly, or Ly as her friends called her, was given a dossier on the target when she took the job; Manson Sterm, five foot nothing of scumbag, a fetish for young people of any gender or race or age, legal or not. He was at a party that night in Ciri city, a mangle of sky scrapers and beaches all sprawling out from the Space elevator at the city centre. The party was being held by some up and coming musician who spewed the same mediocre pop from their pretty mouth that had existed for centuries. They were having a launch party for their new album, or something, and the organiser had extended invitations to any random person on planet with cash and a hard on for an easily seduced person with dreams.  Ly had heard rumours that prostitutes were banned in the building so they had to be smuggled in under the guises of girlfriends or assistants; she had gained an invitation to the party and been given an advance on payment to purchase an outfit to fit in, she just needed to tan herself.

Lauraly stepped out of her hotel in a kimono and bikini, sun hat, sunglasses that hid her face and fashionable sandals, her pale white skin rarely saw the outside of buildings or space ships, she relished the chance to be in real sunlight and took a short walk down the promenade outside. After five minutes, Ly stopped and walked down a set of wooden steps and onto the soft sand where she took off her sandals, clenching her toes in the sand and taking a deep breath and letting out a quiet but meaningful moan. Standing tall at around six feet, she stood on her tip toes and scanned the area and found an empty sun lounger, she dropped the kimono to the ground and lay her hat on top of it before she sat on the edge of the lounger and took off her sunglasses and lay back with her eyes closed.

After half an hour her communicator went off and she rolled onto her front, she looked around and saw several people looking at her ‘I’d prefer not to get any attention for this job but I kind of like them checking me out.’ Ly thought to herself as a smirk crawled across her face. She lay her face down and set her alarm for thirty more minutes. After her alarm went off she stood up, put on her hat, sunglasses and kimono and walked to a beach side bar where she ordered a cirian Rum cocktail, as the tide came in she finished her drink and put her sandals back on as she slowly made her way up the steps to the promenade and back into her hotel. ‘ I hope you enjoyed your sun bathing, ma’am.’ The Bell boy noted as he unsubtlety checked her out from behind. ‘Thanks, I did.’ She replied to him, giving him a wink. ‘I should come here again, not to work just to tare the town up, I like the beaches!’ she thought to herself.

As she entered the cool air of the lobby she removed her sun glasses and walked into the nearest lift and selected her floor. A tall, broad man walked in just after her, selected his floor and smiled at Ly. ‘Hi, You here for work or pleasure?’ He asked, ‘I’m here for work, but not that work, so keep your wallet in your pocket because you can’t afford a night with me.’ She replied sturnley. ‘Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, I was going to ask what work you were in and if you’d like to grab a drink tonight. I’m on planet alone and saw you go to the beach alone so I thought you might be in a similar position. I’m really sorry if I offended you.’ The man was visibly upset by Ly’s response and was shaking a little bit. Ly blushed ‘I’m sorry, I thought what with the planet we’re on and its reputation and you’re a good looking guy, I thought you were, you know, soliciting. I really am sorry, maybe we can get a drink tomorrow night, if you’re still around?’ ‘Sure, tomorrow night, eight at the hotel bar? Hopefully I don’t proposition you again.’ He replied, blushing at being called a ‘good looking guy’. The lift doors opened and he began to leave ‘I’ll see you there, dress nice for me, I want to see more of your nice ass!’ Ly said in a bashful but confident way. The man stood and waved goodbye and left as the doors closed.

A few seconds later the doors opened again at Ly’s floor and she walked out, now with her hat and glasses in her hands. As she approached her room she began to undress, removing everything but her bikini by the time she was at the door. As she entered her room she threw her bundle of clothes onto a chair and dropped her panties to the floor, walking out of them and throwing her bikini top onto the end of the bed. She walked into her shower and washed herself, running her hands through her long white hair and laughing to herself. ‘I have a date, with a person!’ She stepped out of the shower, clean, and wrapped herself in a towel and dried her body before towel drying her hair. After she dried herself she put on her underwear and sat to a small table with a mirror on it and began applying makeup, a blend of grey matching her hair from her hair line that merged into darker greys and ending under her eyes in a black which was fashionable in more affluent worlds to mimic the coal used on frontier worlds which is seen as edgy fashion; then she applied a jet black lipstick. Ly stood up and walked to her closet and pulled out a floor length, red gown and put it on. There were slits either side from the floor to her hips with a modesty skirt underneath from her waist to just underneath her buttocks; The  top had a low sweetheart neckline and no sleeves. She then sat herself down on the edge of the bed and put a pair of stilettoes on and picked up a small clutch bag. Inside the bag was a fresh lipstick and two capsules intended for Manson.

Ly walked down the hallway ‘I look fucking amazing, this is wasted on a job.’ She got to the lift and pressed the ground floor button. There was already a young couple in the lift and she gave them a respectful smile as apology for breaking up their make out session. ‘you can carry on, I don’t mind looking away if you don’t want an audience.’ She said to break the tension.’ I wouldn’t be able to not think about kissing you.’ The girl said to her, blushing bright red. ‘Thanks for the honesty.’ As the lift opened at the lobby Ly winked and strutted out across the floor to the doors. Outside the doorman opened the door to an automatic taxi and she go in. ‘Where to?’ the taxi asked, in a calm, monotone voice.  'The Harmony Building, Please.’ She said, gazing out of the window. ‘Did I just say please to a fucking robot again? I need to stop that polite shit’ She said thought.

It took twenty minutes to get to the Harmony Building and there was a back log of cars up to the building towards the red carpet laid out for the party. ‘I’ll get out here, thanks.’ Ly opened the door and the taxi said ‘Your account has been debited for the fayre, have a nice day.’ Ly ignored the crowed and went to a back entrance. At the door she hooked her small wrist terminal, which looks like a Rolex watch, into the door controls and allowed herself access. She made her way to a lift out of sight of the front doors and pressed the penthouse button. During her lift ride she checked her makeup in her compact mirror and took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth.

The doors to the lift opened to a huge apartment with a glass ceiling and stark white walls with art pieces placed around the edge of the room. ‘This must be a sugar daddy’s apartment, no way an up and coming pop star could afford this place.’ Ly muttered to herself. A waiter walked passed with a tray of champagne, Ly took one and sipped it ‘No shit, actual champagne from earth, huh, someone sucked the right ass apparently. I need a sugar daddy for myself I think.’ She thought to herself. She sipped the champagne as she walked through the party, checking for rooms and exits when she saw him, Manson Sturm, and she immediately sprang into action. Ly put her glass down on a small circular glass table and smiled, strutting towards the bar, making sure to bump into Manson. ‘Oh, I’m Sorry, sir. I hope I didn’t spill your drink.’ She said in a soft, shallow voice. Manson eyed her over and raised his eyebrows and placed his hand on his protruding gut. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I could never stay mad at a nice young thing like you.’ His neck bent at an angle to look at Ly’s ass ‘You didn’t spill my drink, dear, maybe I can get us both a drink for our nerves?’ He spoke with the confidence of a young man who knows he is good looking, this is not true. Ly stops herself from rolling her eyes in front of him and forces her smile to stay. They walk to the bar and he grabs her hand, glaring at her breasts. They reach the bar ‘two vodka sodas, my good man.’ He moves his hand to the small of her back and licks his lips. ‘Maybe we could get to know each other a bit better in one of the bed rooms, where it’s quieter?’ Manson asked, his tone and demeanour had gotten noticeably seedier and he had become erect and wasn’t trying to hide it. Ly swallowed some of her pride and bent down to whisper in his ear ‘Maybe I can take care of that for you?’ He grabbed his drink and downed half of it in one gulp ‘Come on!’ he said aggressively as Ly picked up her drink and he grabbed her other wrist.

He slammed the door behind her as they entered the room. ‘On your Knees and see to me then, see if I cant mess up that makeup a bit!’ he unzipped his trousers while Ly prepared the two capsules in her clutch. ‘On the bed, please, I don’t want to hurt my knees on this floor.’ She made a face to appeal to his love of feeling like a father figure to his conquests. ‘alright then, anything for a pretty girl, I suppose.’ He climbed into the bed and Ly pinned him ‘Ooh I wasn’t expecting you to be dominant.’ He said, getting excited ‘Shut up you disgusting sack of shit.’ As his mouth opened to shout obscenities at her she threw the two capsules into his mouth, lowering herself to his ear and whispering ‘this will give you a heart attack in two minute, it will be fatal and it won’t leave a trace. I will leave this room in two minutes and pretend to have serviced you sexually, causing a huge heart attack. Normally I don’t enjoy killing people all that much but a child murdering scumbag like you I was happy to kill.’

Manson’s body twitched as Ly got up, she noticed that he had ejaculated over his trousers, leaving a puddle over his mass of pubic hair. ‘You’re fucked up, you came because a hot woman straddled you and murdered you, seriously?’ she stood next to him and checked the time on her watch ‘bye, asshole.’ She left the room as his hand grasped his chest. She ran to a nearby security guard and motioned to the room ‘We were making out and I think he had a heart attack form the excitement.’ The security guard touched his ear ‘Call an ambulance, get a medic ASAP.’ He ran into the room and Ly made her exit from the party via the same back access lift.

AS the doors closed on the lift Ly let out a sigh of relief ‘one dead asshole.’ She played with her wrist terminal and sent a message to the person who posted the hit:

Target: Manson Sturm

Status: Deceased

She closed the terminal in time for the lift doors to open on the ground floor, she crept out to the back of the building and went to a dumpster which had a bag behind it that she stashed there two days ago. She removed the dress quickly and slipped on a short, black cocktail dress with a halter neck and changed her shoes to flat pumps. She pulled out a makeup wipe and removed her makeup and lipstick before applying red lipstick and quickly adding light black eyeshadow.  When she was changed, she bundled her clothes into a handbag and walked onto the street toward her hotel.

After walking for forty minutes, Ly reached her hotel and entered a door direct to the bar and ordered a straight whiskey and another be sent to her room in twenty minutes. She drank the whiskey in one quick swig and went to the lift. The man from earlier noticed her leave the bar and ran to catch her at the lift. ‘Hey, you look nice, want a drink with me now?’ The man asked. ‘I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine, why are you so interested in me?’ Ly asked in an almost sullen tone. ‘well, my name is Marcus, you are?’ She thought for a second ‘I’m Diane and I’ve had kind of a long night, I just need to sleep it off, ok handsome?’ she gave him a half sincere smile. ‘Sure, that’s fine, I should turn in too, I guess. Goodnight, Diane.’ The lift doors opened and Marcus left. ‘Yeah, goodnight.’ The lift reached Ly’s floor and she walked briskly to her room.

As soon as she closed the door she locked it and put a chair under the handle. She stripped out of her dress and shoes and started gathering all the clothes strewn around the room and placed them on the end of the bed. She dropped to her knees and pulled a backpack from under the bed. Inside the bag was a pair of skinny Jeans, a military grade wrist terminal, a white t-shirt, high tops and a black hoodie which she quickly changer into. She put her long grey hair into a pony tail and started putting all of her things into the back pack; first clothes, then her laptop, followed by a small makeup set and she placed her old wrist terminal into the bag. ‘oh, shit, can’t forget that.’ She whispered to herself as she stood on her tip toes and pulled an automatic pistol out and placed it into the backpack.

Ly put the hood up, put the bag on her back and approached the door ‘Sorry, Marcus, no pussy for you tonight, big guy.’ She said jokingly to herself as she removed the chair from the door and walked to the window. After Ly opened the window she stepped out onto the fire escape, it would be pitch black if not for the moon, oh, and all the billboards, cars and street lights. Ly closed the window behind her and made her way, quietly, down the steel fire escape.  She got to the last floor and jumped onto an air conditioning vent  and jumped down the final two feet to the back alley. Ly rubbed her hands over her toned bum as she walked deeper into the alley before stopping at a side alley. She stepped in and pulled a black tarp from over a motor cycle, not sporty in design but actually an old prospecting bike she acquired on a job. She checked the battery and started the engine, it was silent and put the full face helmet on, that had also been hidden in the alley.

Ly pulled out onto the street and turned right, heading for the inland outskirts of the city. ‘I shouldn’t have liked that kill or how I did it or any of it; but I would do it again to take a piece of shit like him out of the galaxy.’ Ly muttered under her breath, trying to reassure herself that the murder she just committed was justified or not. After an hour of driving Ly pulled into the security driveway of a small space port; she showed the robotic guard her faked credentials and the security barrier lifted for her to drive through. Lauraly pulled up outside of the hangar bay marked 34, turned off her bike, climbed off and walked it through the steel roller door; which had automatically lifted in the presence of her biometrics. Inside the hangar was Ly’s ship, The Osiris, was a thin three claws under a wing. The centre claw was the living quarters, cockpit and cargo hold while the outer two claws were the engine pods. The wing was laden with rocket pods and machine guns while the centre claw had a pivoted machine gun under the pilot’s seat. Ly walked her bike under the near side wing and to the back where she pressed a switch on her wrist terminal and a hatch opened for her to put the bike into and for her to enter the ship. Inside, she placed her bike against the bulk head and strapped the bike to the wall racking. Ly made her way up a short set of ladders and pushed a button halfway up the wall as she rose from the ladder, sealing it behind her.

‘Home, sweet home!’ Ly exclaimed as she stretched her arms out around her. She dumped her back pack on her bunk and opened it, carefully removing the pistol and it’s ammo and placing them into her gun rack; She then took out her laptop and placed it into a draw under her bed before throwing her dresses into a clothing compartment. ‘

[katzuyas]

dazzle me with gold

previous part | ao3

Victor is too busy playing with little Vicchan to immediately notice what it is that Yuuri is doing, but when Yuuri sheds his tunic his attention is inevitably pulled away from the pup in his lap.

How could it not be?

Yuuri's chest is bared in the sunlight and the muscles of his back move as he rips the axe from the chopping block. Victor's mouth is parched, lips as dry as his eyes which refuse to blink for fear of missing even a moment of this beautiful spectacle. Breathless, Victor follows every shift of Yuuri's body when he rests a log of wood on the block, swings the axe and brings it down with a heavy thump that feels like Victor's own heart straining against his ribcage.

"Wow," Victor whispers.

Vicchan wiggles in his lap and Victor momentarily tears his gaze away from Yuuri to look at the dog. He's kneading Victor's thighs as he tries to find the most comfortable place to rest and it's precious, yes, but...

Victor looks up when another thump carries through the air. Yuuri turns around and puts another log on the block before his eyes catch Victor who is frozen where he sits.

"Would you like to try?" he asks.

Victor vehemently shakes his head. "No, no, I'm... no. Please, carry on."

And Yuuri does.

And it's pure suffering, Victor thinks.

The sun bears down on them hard, but Yuuri works through it as if he is used to that. He is, Victor realizes, but at the same time he must be feeling the heat on his skin twice as much as Victor does. The expanse of Yuuri's chest and shoulders, even his face, is covered with a sheen of sweat that makes him look like a statue of a god, gleaming with its polished to perfection surface.

Only the silver stripes across his body ruin the image, but Victor can't help being fascinated by them as well: they look different in the sun than they had that one moonlit night. He remembers how they almost shone in the dark with a light of their own, yet its nowhere to be seen now. Now, the silver is almost white like scar tissue, barely visible against the brightness of the sun.

Yuuri chops the wood in a steady rhythm that Victor's heart can't seem to keep. It runs headfirst into desire that overtakes Victor's body in a hot flash of want when Yuuri huffs a tired breath and pushes his hair back with an uncaring hand. He stands there, a gorgeous, sweaty god, tempting Victor with his every breath, but the worst... the worst is when he smiles.

It's a curious, happy thing that sets Victor's groin aflame and Victor moves before he realizes it.

Vicchan gives a little bark when he unceremoniously falls off of Victor's lap as Victor stands, but Victor is too busy making his way towards Yuuri to notice or care. Yuuri pauses his work and smiles at him again, and it's almost too much. It takes all of Victor's self-control to stop himself from clinging to Yuuri's half naked body then and there.

"Are you torturing me like this on purpose?" Victor asks, voice low.

Yuuri's eyebrows draw in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

Propriety be damned, Victor thinks as he pushes Yuuri against the side of the house. He slots his body firmly against Yuuri's and he knows Yuuri can feel what Victor is feeling, because his brown, molten eyes widen when Victor cants his hips just so.

"You–" Yuuri breathes, but chokes on his own spit. "Just from... from that?"

Victor groans, bowing his head against Yuuri's shoulder. Which, in hindsight, is a mistake, because Yuuri's skin is warm and smells like sweat, sunlight and fresh wood, and Victor's arousal spikes hot at the thought of how it would taste on his tongue.

"You don't even know how divine you look, my Yuuri," he murmurs while he turns his head to press his nose against the pulse point on Yuuri's neck. "You're like a young god of temptation, sent down to the land of us mere mortals who can't possibly resist you."

Yuuri makes a conflicted sound. It gets distorted into a tiny moan halfway, because Victor loses his composure and presses a kiss against Yuuri's throat. His lips come away salty and dry, but warmth heavy like honey seeps into his body from just that.

"Yuuri," Victor moans. "What charm did you put me under, love? How can I resist you?"

Yuuri's fingers skim across Victor's back and Victor feels criminally overdressed. A shiver at that tender touch still makes it down his back, though. It always will at Yuuri's hand, he knows. Yuuri's aim must have been the short hair on Victor's nape, because soon those fingers lock there and pull Victor away from the warmth of his skin.

Yuuri's cheeks are flushed, but his eyes shine brighter than Victor has ever seen them.

"Then don't resist me," Yuuri tells him and it's as simple as that.

"Can I really just...?" he asks, but before he can finish the fingers of Yuuri's other hand clutch his jaw and close it for him. They're strong, relentless, and Victor feels claimed to the very last drop of his blood that now rings in his ears with the rush of passion that courses through his veins.

"You can," Yuuri says, a fierce fire in his eyes. "And you will, no?"

Victor nods his head as much as Yuuri's double hold allows. It seems to be enough, because Yuuri's mouth quirks in approval that Victor feels rushing straight to his groin.

"Now," Yuuri begins. "On your knees, my lord. I have a task for you."

#yuri on ice #victuri #vikturi #victuuri #viktuuri #my fic #dazzle me #FIND YOURSELF SOMEONE WHO LOOKS AT YOU LIKE VICTOR LOOKS AT YUURI #INITIATIVE 2K18

[lesbiandanieljacobi]

Put You In My Pocket And Save You For Later

Cisco Ramon met Mick Rory for the first time back when his type was exclusively ‘looks like they could beat the shit out of anyone who makes me feel bad” 

Read on AO3

aka the HeatVibe S1 rewrite monster that took over my brain

Cisco Ramon met Mick Rory for the first time back when his type was exclusively ‘looks like that could beat the shit out of anyone who makes me feel bad’. The unfortunate consequence of this was that frequently the current object of Cisco’s affections had to start with his immediate predecessor. Cisco’s at one of the neighborhood bars that tends towards a more – well, criminal – clientele, when he spots an ex by the jukebox and a guy built like a tank who looks like he could beat the crap out of anyone in the building propping the bar. The guy’s shirt buttons are almost entirely undone, revealing a set of abs to make Superman jealous, and the sleeves cling to some frankly marvelous biceps. He looks like he could probably throw Cisco over his shoulder and fight his way out of the bar without breaking a sweat, and the devil-may-care smirk on his face only adds to the dreadfully pretty picture.

Cisco aims for the bar.

“Hello.” purrs the man, when Cisco reaches him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

One drink turns into three- during which Cisco’s new friend graduates from ‘Built Like A Brick Shithouse’ to ‘Mick’ – and then into a dance – during which Cisco discovers Mick’s hands almost meet around his waist and the height difference between them is a solid eight inches – and then into a bar fight – when Cisco’s asshole ex takes issue with how close they’re dancing. Cisco kisses Mick in the alley behind the bar after they get thrown out, and Mick wraps his hands around Cisco’s thighs and lifts –

Yeah. This will work out just fine.

The next morning finds Cisco the good kind of achingly sore, marked up to hell and with scratches and scuffs on his back from the exposed brick of Mick’s apartment wall. Okay, so those weren’t so fun this morning, but he certainly wasn’t complaining at the time, with Mick’s body blanketing his, whole body jolting with each powerful thrust, and both of them delighting in the feeling. The other side of the bed is empty when Cisco rolls over to tell Mick as much – usually a bad sign – but Cisco can smell both coffee and bacon, which is a first. He grabs Mick’s button-down off the floor and slides it on as he follows his nose. 

Mick’s just as pretty in the soft sunlight of his kitchen as he was the night before, the open curtains casting a soft glow over the tattoos and the long, slightly bloody nail marks and the oval-ish bruises that must be from Cisco’s heels when his thighs were curled tight over Mick’s hips that are visible thanks to the low-slung sweatpants Mick is wearing. There’s a stovetop coffee pot sitting on a cloth placemat on a farmhouse kitchen table Cisco was pretty sure he’d been kissed against last night, but didn’t quite remember, and Mick’s humming was almost entirely drowned out by the hissing of the bacon in the pan he was tending.

“Morning?” Cisco says, tentative. Mick turns and offers him a cheerful smile that turns a little lecherous when he spots the mess of darkening hickeys on Cisco’s neck and what he’s wearing.

“Good morning.” he says, voice rumbling and low. Cisco feels a shiver ripple down his spine, and he steps forward to one of the mismatched but comfortable chairs at the table. "You want milk or sugar for your coffee?" 

Cisco pulls the entire pot towards himself and makes grabby hands for the mug Mick's handing him. 

"Just sugar." he says, and there's suddenly a vintage-y looking sugar shaker at his left hand. 

"And how do you like your eggs?"

Cisco is mildly concerned that he's dead or hallucinating, because this is nice and pleasant and not at all what Cisco usually gets after first-nights. 

"Scrambled?" he offers. Mick grunts, and turns back to the stove, letting Cisco settle in at the table. It gets quiet for a while, but a comfortable quiet, while Mick makes breakfast and Cisco drinks his coffee, contemplating how unfairly attractive domestic Mick is. They eat in a similar pleasant quiet, but Cisco keeps sneaking sideways looks at Mick, because he's not entirely sure he's real. The coffee's good.

The eggs are better. The bacon is out of this world. 

Mick clears the dishes when they're done, and Cisco starts to shift a little nervously, because he's done this before and he's fairly confident he's about to get kicked out.

Instead, Mick crosses to stand behind his chair and curls his hands around Cisco's neck, tilting his head back for a kiss. It's slow, and deep, and a little dirty. 

"It's Sunday." says Mick, when he backs off. Cisco makes a little noise of agreement in lieu of an actual response, because he's not sure where Mick's going with this.

"You got anywhere to be?" 

Oh.

So that's where he's going. 

"No." says Cisco, truthfully. "That your way of asking me to stick around?" 

Mick hums, leans down to kiss Cisco again. Cisco grins into it, uses his grip on the edge of the table to push up into Mick. They stay that way for a few long minutes, Cisco rising up and Mick bending down, and then Mick fists his hands in Cisco's borrowed shirt and pushes and pulls until Cisco's where he wants him. 

“Fuck, you’re so little.” breathes Mick, between kisses. Cisco whines, high enough to be embarrassing if he wasn’t so turned on, and then attempts to pull himself together at least a little.

“Does that do it for you?” Cisco asks, as soon as he has control of his vocal chords again and air to say it with. Mick lifts him off the table and starts walking, and Cisco wriggles a little in his arms as they move. 

“You telling me it ain’t doing it for you?” says Mick, breath hot against Cisco’s neck. He presses Cisco back against the cupboards and lets him settle on the counter, and starts his way down Cisco’s chest.

Cisco stops thinking after that.

***

Cisco’s enjoying a post-coital doze with his head on Mick’s chest and wrapped up in Mick’s arms, half-lit by morning sunlight, when someone slams the door open. 

“MICK!” someone yells. Cisco jolts upright, suddenly terrified. He’s been the unintentional other man before. He really doesn’t want to do it again, especially if Mick’s secret boyfriend is someone like Mick, because that shit will hurt. Mick makes a sleepy little grumpy noise that would be just adorable under any other circumstance, and mutters something that sounds like ‘go away’ with maybe a name attached to the end.

“MICK!” comes the yell again, louder this time. Cisco starts to attempt to wriggle his way out, and Mick just squeezes him tighter.

“ ‘s just Lenny.” grumbles Mick. Cisco shifts.

 “Is he gonna beat me up?” 

Mick opens his eyes in order to give Cisco a look that says ‘are you crazy’.

“Mick!”

The man in the doorway is really unfairly pretty, with bone structure like a supermodel and eyes like fucking wildflowers. If this is Mick’s actual boyfriend, Cisco is getting thrown out of here on his ass. The guy makes eye contact with Cisco, plainly sizing him up.

“Well, aren’t you a cute little thing.” The man says, at last. Cisco makes a slightly scared little noise. “Mick, he’s adorable.” 

Mick grins. “Glad you approve, then. Cisco, this is Lenny, my partner. Lenny, this is Cisco. I’m keeping him.” 

Cisco preens a little, internally, at the claim. He still can’t believe that someone as desperately gorgeous as Mick wants him this much. But under that comes a sense of disquiet.

“Partner?” he asks.

“Business partner.” says Lenny, grinning. “Although the other kind too, a few times.”

“Prison doesn’t count, Lenny.” says Mick.

“According to who? Also, Gotham.”

Cisco relaxes back into Mick’s hold, suddenly at ease given the teasing tone of Lenny’s words.

“We were drunk in Gotham.”

“Are you telling me you weren’t drunk the first time you bought this cutie here home? I’m making coffee, you’re making waffles – the proper kind, mind you – and I’m going to talk to your kept boy while you do it.”

Cisco splutters at the term.

“Fuck off, I’m an engineer at STAR Labs, I am nobody’s kept boy.”

Lenny beams like a proud parent and Mick’s laugh vibrates through Cisco.

“Alright,” says Lenny, “he’s a good.”

Three weeks later, Mick and Lenny take Cisco to Gotham for a long weekend as a present. Cisco talks tech with Wayne’s ward at a party and pretends he doesn’t know Mick and Lenny are stealing gold from the safe in the basement. He leaves the party with Timothy Drake-Wayne’s number so they can brainstorm later, and a pleasant buzz in his head from the champagne. He leaves Gotham with three new hickeys all the way up where his jaw meets his neck, only two of which are from Mick, and with the knowledge that the two of them holding him down is even hotter than just Mick doing it.

***

The surprising thing about this thing Cisco has with Mick is that it just keeps working. A year slips by before Cisco fully realizes it, then eighteen months, and it’s still wonderful. Cisco has a drawer in Mick’s dresser by six months, and he’s all-bar moved in at the end of that first year. Mick still makes breakfast and coffee every day, sends Cisco off to work with lunches that make him the envy of the labs, grins with that same unbridled joy every time he sees Cisco, like he cant believe that Cisco is still there. 

And the sex? That never dropped in quality. Eighteen months on, and Mick’s muscles are still making Cisco’s mouth water. It probably helps that Cisco’s been fucked against every wall in the apartment by this point, and on all the flat surfaces barring the part of the counter Mick uses for food preparation. Mick gets all lust-eyed whenever he gets his hands around Cisco’s waist, or under Cisco’s thighs, or generally anywhere on Cisco’s body that reminds him of the difference in their sizes. Cisco’s had long enough now that the inevitable dirty talk about how little he is doesn’t phase him, and just adds to the experience. It had bothered him, once, until Mick put together the world’s most spectacular Valentine’s Day ever and cemented the fact that there was a lot more than physicality making up their – well –

Look, Cisco hasn’t used the r-word to describe it yet, and he’s terrified if he does, he’ll fuck the whole thing up.

He’d said as much to Lenny, in the car on the way to Costco for their usual “Mick keeps no sugar in the house fuck we need bulk candy” run. Lenny had given him the “are you dumb” look that he and his sister seem to have down-pat, and reaches over the gearshift to pat Cisco’s thigh.

“Cisco, the only thing you could do that would fuck this up is turn us over to the police. He looks at you the same way he looks at fire.”

They drive in silence for a while as Cisco digests the information. It’s a little alarming to be told Mick Rory looks at you the same way he looks at fire. Fire is the center and orbit of Mick’s universe, and putting Cisco on that kind of tier of importance is outlook-changing.

“Really?” Cisco asks Lenny, at the next red light.

“Really.” says Lenny. “He loves you. I heard that from drunk Mick, which makes it even more true.”

Cisco ponders this all the way through Costco’s candy aisle, and doesn’t even complain when Lenny buys an obscene amount of Kraft Mac and Cheese, which is a sure-fire sign he’s planning a job. He’s still got his arms full of sour jelly worms when he marches into Mick’s garage come workshop and clears his throat.

“I love you, and this is a relationship, and it means a lot to me.” he says, a little stiffly.

Mick raises a cautious eyebrow, and sets down the wrench he’s been using to work on the motorcycle that’s his current project. Then he turns to face Cisco completely and spreads his arms out. Cisco crosses the floor faster than he thought he was capable of doing, and buries himself in Mick’s chest.

 “What brought this on, Korora?” Mick asks.

“I was talking to Lenny –“ starts Cisco, and he can feel Mick’s chuckle. Even Lisa can’t get away with using Lenny as a diminutive as much as Cisco does. Mick likes to pull that out as proof of how far integrated into their lives Cisco is. “And I told him I didn’t want to fuck this up by assuming it was more than it was and he said you were doing the same thing. And I though that was counterproductive so I should just say something.”

Mick tips Cisco’s head back with a handful of Cisco’s hair, and kisses him.

“I love you too.”

Cisco mentally replays the last few minutes so he can bask in the statement, and then lets his face twist up in puzzlement.

“Korora?”

Mick does that ‘I can’t look at you straight’ thing he does when he’s a little embarrassed about something. Honestly, why didn’t he say something earlier, the fact that he knows all Mick’s tells and expressions should be more than enough evidence.

“It means Little Bird.” says Mick, but something’s still a little off in his face.

“What kind of bird?”

“It might be a penguin?”

Cisco pulls back from his otherwise very nice snuggle to give Mick his best incredulous stare.

“It’s a Blue Penguin.” says Mick, as though this makes it better. “They’re little and quick and clever. Like you.”

Looked at the right way, that’s flattering, Cisco supposes. He can live with being a penguin if that life has Mick in it, so he buries himself back into Mick’s arms. There’s a shutter noise from the doorway.

“Awwwwwwwwww.” says Lenny, sickly sweet. “That would go on Instagram, if I had one. Maybe we could caption it with something soppy and romantic, too.”

Mick throws a socket wrench at him, and Lenny ducks out of the way, laughing all the while.

If Cisco makes Lenny send him the picture later, that’s no one’s business but his own. And if he posts it on his Instagram with a tragically soppy caption that’s entirely Troye Sivan lyrics, he’s going for maximum gay points and he’s in love, so really that’s just to be expected. That post does lead to one of the oddest conversations he’s ever had, however, when Hartley Rathaway comes up to him in their lunch hour the next day to ask where he met his unfairly attractive partner. Cisco blames him inviting Hartley for drinks at Saints, where he met Mick, on that weird itchy feeling in his stomach that begs him to make everyone else as happy as he is. When Hartley leaves, Cisco’s number and the address of the bar in his phone, Caitlin is staring at Cisco is unadulterated shock. Cisco puts on his best baffled face, and shrugs. 

He regrets it, though. Oh, dear God on high, he regrets it. Lenny and Hartley take to each other like long-separated soul mates as soon as they are introduced, and no one deserves that amount of combined shade in any kind of context, especially from two people as terrifyingly intelligent as Hartley and Lenny. Lenny goes to get another round, and Hartley excuses himself, and Cisco turns to Mick and smacks him on the shoulder several times in a fit of successful matchmaking joy. 

“It worked!” 

Mick smiles at him, fond and proud. Cisco jerks round again, a new thought leaping into his head.

“I am not sleeping with Hartley.” he hisses. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Mick quirks an eyebrow, and the couple of millimeters of movement manages to convey ‘are you sure about that?’ as easily as a paragraph of words. Mick absolutely learned that from Lenny.

“No.” says Cisco.

“You’re the one who jumped to that being an option.” says Mick, deliberately nonchalant.

“No.” says Cisco, with more emphasis.

“What’s Cisco saying no to?” asks Lenny, putting the drinks down. Hartley still hasn’t returned from the bathroom.

“Foursome.” says Mick. Lenny makes the same expression that Mick had, proving Cisco’s hypothesis about where Mick learned it, and Cisco lets his forehead drop down to the table. 

Hartley is surprisingly not-weird about it the next morning, but then again, it is very hard to make something awkward when Mick’s made brunch – entirely because the food is so good you can’t even consider leaving. He also continues to be not-weird about it for the whole next week, which is good, because Lenny’s decided that Hartley is going to be the other half of his criminal power-couple dreams, and Hartley becomes a fixture at the apartment.

“Get your own place!” Mick yells, hand over his eyes theatrically, about the fifth time he walks in on them fucking. Lenny flips him off and Hartley cackles, and the status quo, as unconventional as it was, continued.

***

All things considered, Cisco was surprised it had taken this long for him to be kidnapped as leverage. The men who took him and Hartley all look far too smug for this to be any kind of pleasant surprise thing from Mick or Lenny, and the zipties they used to restrain their hands are anything but comfortable. It’s his fault, he supposes. He had taken Hartley out to get smashed in honor of Hartley getting fired – and wasn’t that a shitshow. The reasoning appeared to be somewhere between Doctor Wells being unwilling to delay the Accelerator date and being pissed that Hartley was so very happy in a relationship that didn’t involve him, and Cisco’s immediate reaction had been to think of the top-shelf vodka at Saints with the “Heartbreak” post-it on it that Lisa liked to break out whenever she ran into Rosa Dillon again.

The whole bottle in shot form later, here they are, ziptied to chairs in a creepy abandoned warehouse. They might also be totally smashed.

“Why are we here?” asks Hartley. “And did someone build this warehouse specifically to be creepy?”

“They must have.” says Cisco. “The warehouse district is too busy for there to be creepy run-down ones, so someone owns this and has deliberately made it look creepy to fit a cliché.”

One of the henchmen looks chagrined.

“Don’t get me wrong, a little melodrama is great.” says Hartley.

“You have to say that.” says Cisco. “Lenny’s the biggest drama queen alive, and you’re banging him.”

“Len just has a nice sense of dramatic irony, Cisquito.” Hartley retorts.

“He is the closest a human being can get to a spoiled house cat.” 

Hartley makes an indignant noise.

“I’m not kidding! He even does the fucking ‘stick my leggy out’ thing when he wants attention.”

One of the henchmen clears his throat, and both Cisco and Hartley turn to look at him.

“Aren’t you dating Rory?” he asks.

“They like to share.” says Hartley, in what passes for a stage whisper when you’ve drunk half a bottle of vodka in an hour. Cisco beams, and nods.

“It would be a crime to deprive Hart of That Thing Mick does.” he confides, his eyes huge-wide and voice sincere.

“Or Len’s tongue.” agrees Hartley.  

There’s a muffled little pop, and then the goon that they’d been talking to keels over.

“Really?” asks Mick, lowering his gun. For a man so comfortable with sharing, he gets weird when details are divulged.

“We are so drunk.” says Cisco, because it’s true. Lenny’s laugh echoes out from behind them, where he’s cutting the zipties.

Cisco wakes up the next morning hungover and embarrassed, but that doesn’t stop Mick from fucking him against the bathroom counter for their first round of ‘thank god you’re alive and unharmed’ sex. Or from fucking him against the wall next to the closet for round two. While he’s getting dressed, Cisco can hear Lenny making coffee in the kitchen, and Hartley’s put something soft and jazzy on the record player that is most likely Nina Simone. For a moment, the world is soft and sunlit and good.

Then the fucking Particle Accelerator blows up.

Cisco listened to Hart, okay? They might as well be in-laws now, and as much as he hates to admit it, that foursome was memorable. As a result, he built a switch in that will allow them to divert the blast up remotely – and it’s lucky he did, because Ronnie was ready to sacrifice himself to do it manually, and Cisco doesn’t want to meet a post-Ronnie Caitlin Snow. Wells seems really off – incredibly calm for a man who’s life’s work just literally blew up in his face, and for a man newly confined to a wheelchair. And then there’s his fixation on Barry Allen, the man struck by lightning. Cisco texts the groupchat about it with one hand while programming systems to track Barry’s vitals and send them alerts if something changes while they’re not around with the other.

‘I don’t know, he’s just creeping me out.’ says Cisco’s last text.

Mick sends a shrugging emoji and an offer to fight Doctor Wells. Len suggests waiting for more evidence so the police will believe him. 

Hartley replies by sending ‘I told you so’ with the gentle effect.

***

Then Barry wakes up, and Cisco is consumed by the fact his life is now a comic book daydream made real. So consumed, in fact, that he completely missed the amount of Kraft Mac and Cheese that’s suddenly appeared in the house, or the way that Mick and Hart have been holed up in Mick’s workshop for the last two weeks.

Then the cold gun he made because being a mob wife made him a paranoid fuck is stolen, and everything drops into place.

“What new exhibitions have come into town recently?” he asks, interrupting Doctor Wells’ lecture on protecting Barry – which was creepy intense, again.

Wells shuts up remarkably quickly at the interruption.

“There’s a diamond exhibit at the Museum.” says Barry. “The centerpiece, the Khandaq Dynasty Diamond, is coming in by armored truck tomorrow. I don’t see what that has to do with the gun you built to stop me.”

“I’m a little concerned when a guy I actually have never met suddenly can run faster than light, and I have no idea what his morality is.” says Cisco. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, once you got to know me?”

“Because you didn’t know me.” Cisco admits. “Look, I’m pretty sure I know who took it, though.”

Wells throws his hands in the air. “So do something about it!”

Cisco pulls his phone out of his back pocket and hits speed dial 2 before putting it on speaker.

“Fuck you.” says Lenny, when he picks up. “I was in the middle of something.” 

“On any other day, I’d ask you to say hi to him from me.” Cisco says, already grinning. “But today, we’re going another route. Hi, Lenny, when are you planning on using my Cold Gun to steal the Khandaq Dynasty Diamond tomorrow while it’s being transported?”

There’s silence at the other end of the line.

“Does this mean you want in, this time?” Lenny asks, finally.

“No. You hurt my superhero and I will be very upset.” says Cisco.

“I’ll return him in mint condition.” says Lenny, drawling the way he always does when he thinks he’s coming out of a situation on top. 

“And you’d better return my boyfriend in mint condition, too.”

Lenny actually squawks.

“I haven’t forgotten about that warehouse fire, Lenny.”

“One time!” Len whines.

“One time you almost killed my boyfriend, Lenny.”

“They both come back pristine, and you give me a supervillain codename.”

“They both come back pristine, you all get away clean, and you get your codename.” Cisco bargains.

“What the fuck!” Barry interrupts, finally. “What the fuck, Cisco!”

“Ooooh is that him?” asks Lenny. “He sounds a treat.”

“Hart won’t like that.” Cisco sing-songs, and Lenny sighs.

“See you tomorrow, then, Flash.” purrs Lenny, and hangs up.

Lenny gets away clean – so do Mick and Hartley, who’s got gauntlets that control sonic vibrations, that’s the project that’s kept him and Mick so occupied – and Cisco gives Len his codename.

Captain Cold.

Lenny loves it, of course. Hartley decides on Pied Piper, and Cisco makes Mick a flamethrower and christens him Heatwave. After the incredibly enthusiastic round of thank you sex, Cisco heads into the cortex to face the music more thoroughly. Len saves him from too much indignant Barry by texting him in the middle of the Inquisition.

“Is that him? Is that Snart?” Barry demands.

“Yeah. He says to tell you that he and Pied Piper have talked and apparently would not object to sharing in this case.” 

His phone buzzes again.

“And that the view when you leave is almost worth getting arrested for.” 

Barry goes beet red and loses the ability to string a sentence together, and Cisco makes his escape. 

It’s a great escape, right up until someone grabs him from behind and shoves a bag over his head while they grab and tie his wrists. When the bag comes off, Cisco braces himself for the Santinis or the what’s left of the Darbinyans, and ends up looking straight at Mick, in full supervillain gear.

Oh god why was that so hot? That should not be hot. Mick grins, harsh and sharp.

“Scared?” he asks. “You should be.”

Mick is angling for a supervillain roleplaying moment. The terrifying thing here is that Cisco is absolutely going to go along with it.

“What do you want, Heatwave?” Cisco asks, forcing his voice to quaver with faux-fear.

“I want the Flash.” says Mick. “And if you can’t tell me that, well-“ He’s smiling his bonfire smile, the one that comes out when things are going up in flames and its beautiful and deadly.

“What if –“ Cisco doesn’t even have to force himself to swallow to sell the scared image, his mouth is already dry with how much he’s gagging for it.  “What if I offered something else in exchange for my freedom?”

Mick tilts his head to one side, considering a foregone conclusion. 

“It would have to be a damn good offer.” he says. Cisco fights back the grin threatening to break out across his face.

“What do you want? I’ll give you anything.” Cisco declares, with a certain flourish.

“That’s a dangerous offer, Little.” Mick purrs, and Cisco shivers and opens and closes his hands where the soft rope has them bound at the small of his back. “There’s a lot I want to do to you.”

Cisco leans in when Mick fists a hand in the front of his shirt and hauls him up for a kiss.

***

It’s Dante’s birthday, and Cisco’s been invited home for the party. Considering the last time he saw his parents was right after the accelerator exploded, Cisco feels obliged to go. He tells Caitlin as much on their way into STAR Labs one morning.

“I could go with you?” she offers, all open smiles and honesty.

“Cait, I love you, and bless you for offering, but Dante will spend the whole time flirting with you. I’m gonna take my boyfriend.”

“You’re going take your criminal boyfriend to your brother’s birthday party.” says Caitlin, emotionless. Cisco – hasn’t told her who Mick is. He will. One day. He’s just not sure he could take the lecture right now.

“Yes.” says Cisco. The upside is that literally no one at that party will start shit with Mick at his shoulder. The downside is that Mick is very charming when he wants to be, and may in fact charm three recipes and Cisco’s baby photos out of his mother if Cisco isn’t careful.

Cisco isn’t careful. He stopped being careful about the same time that he rolled into bed and pulled Mick Rory, pyromaniac thief, down on top of him, begging with teeth and tongue and hips and thighs that Mick never leave again.

Mick gets the whole recipe book, and promises to never tell Lenny or Lise or Hart about that one time Cisco dressed up as Rictor for Halloween.

If Cisco’s being honest, he prefers the party after that. The one at Saints and Sinners that Mick and Lenny and Lisa throw to celebrate his and Mick’s second anniversary. Cisco dances with Mick, and then with Len, and then with Lisa, and then Hartley, and then finds himself six shots in and standing on a table doing Take Me Or Leave Me with Mark Mardon of all people. Two more shots later and he’s being pressed against the door of the bathroom with his legs wrapped tight around Mick’s hips, head tilted back and panting for breath.

“Just like old times.” says Mick, against Cisco’s throat. “Only this time I can say I love you.”

Cisco kisses him, hard.

***

Cisco wakes screaming in Mick’s bed in the safehouse, the night after he makes Lisa Snart a gun to match her brother’s as a birthday present.

“Korora, wake up, it’s okay, you’re safe.” Mick’s murmuring into Cisco’s hair, strong arms pulling Cisco into his broad chest. Cisco gasps and shakes and thanks anyone who’s listening upstairs for the man he’s coming to realize might be the love of his life. The door slams open as his breathing starts to settle, revealing the rest of Cisco’s family. Len’s got the Cold Gun in one hand, his other flat against the door he’s just opened, and his eyes are the only thing giving away how scared he actually is. Hartley is half-behind Len, fists clenched inside his hastily-donned gloves, and Lisa’s Gold Gun is rubbing against the bare skin of her thigh that her oversize t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“Cisquito-“ starts Hartley, “what’s wrong?” 

“I think I died?” Cisco tries, testing the statement out on his tongue.

“In the dream?” asks Lisa. “That’s happened to me, it sucks.” 

“No. In – “ Cisco pauses, considers how he wants to phrase it. “In another timeline? I think? I need to talk to Ba – to the Flash.”

“Talk to Barry.” says Len. Cisco nods, and starts reaching for his phone, only to freeze and look back at him.

“Honestly, Cisco, you think we didn’t go research possible IDs and do the recon as soon as he showed up?”

Cisco shakes his head, smiles down at the rumpled sheets of his bed in his house with his family. He’s not letting anyone take that away from him. Barry picks up on the third ring.

“Cisco?”

“Hey, Bare, it’s me. Listen, have you travelled through time recently?”

“What – how – what?” Barry splutters.

“Okay so you did. Listen I think Doctor Wells is the Man in Yellow and he absolutely murdered me in that timeline.” 

Mick sits up bolt upright, and Lisa yelps ‘what!’. 

“Did you just call me by my name in front of your supervillains?”

“Relax, Scarlet, we knew already.” Len calls, loud enough that Barry will hear him. “Also, if it’s Wells, I will kill him myself.” 

“Like hell you will.” grumbles Mick. “I want him.”

Cisco switches the call to speaker.

“No one’s killing anyone.” he says. Len raises an eyebrow that says ‘just you fucking watch me’, and Cisco attempts to glare him down, Mick’s fingers tracing up and down Cisco’s spine.

“Wait, Cisco, how did you know?” asks Barry. Cisco looks up at the crowd in the door.

“Fuck, I’m a metahuman.” he says. 

“Fuck, you’re a metahuman.” echoes Hartley. Then, more tentatively, “snap?”

Barry hisses out a breath through his teeth and behind Cisco Mick tenses – not out of fear of Cisco, but rather fear for him. Metahumans – aren’t popular, in Central. Too much wanton destruction from dumbasses with vendettas.

“We’ll confront him.” says Barry. “I’ll call in the Arrow for help, and we’ll confront him. If we stop him, my dad gets out of prison.”

*** 

It doesn’t work. The Arrow and Firestorm and Barry all together manage to do nothing but aggravate him, and then Eddie’s taken and the particle accelerator is turning on and they have to move all of the metas in the pipeline. Cisco slides into the booth that Mick and Hartley have colonized in Saints and leaves Barry to talk with Len. Hartley slides one of the hard ciders Cisco prefers over to him, and then snickers when Len puts “Cold As Ice” on the jukebox.

“Drama queen.” says Mick, teasing, and curls an arm around Cisco’s shoulders. Cisco snuggles in to his side and listens in to Barry and Len’s discussion. His eyes widen at what he hears, and he looks back at Hartley.

“Yes, this is sexually charged as hell, I know. Lenny and I talked. The only way this changes is if you think he wouldn’t be a submissive, adorable, eager to please little fucker in bed.”

Cisco has, in fact, considered such things. Barry’s a human vibrator. Sue him.

“Nah, he will be.”

Hartley gets a dirty little smirk on his face.

“What do you want?” Barry asks, up at the bar, and suddenly Cisco knows exactly how this is going to play out. Len writes something on a napkin, slides it across the bar, and Barry goes bright red and stammers.

“Really? I’ll give you almost anything, and that’s what you want?”

“Really. That’s what I want.”

Barry swallows hard, but not out of fear. Not if his pupils are anything to go by. God, they might as well make being queer and having a soft spot slash hard on for bad guys an entrance requirement for joining Team Flash.

***

“You know, I thought this would be more awkward.” 

Cisco looks up from wrangling with the coffee pot into submission and takes in where Barry is leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across his still-marked-up chest and fading ligature marks staining his wrists. 

“Speaking from experience, that’s how it usually goes in this house.” says Cisco with a wry grin. “You want coffee? Lenny and Hart probably won’t be up for a while.” 

“Sure.” says Barry, and then rubs at the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. “Should I be gone before that happens?”

“Boss would hate that.” says Mick, from the doorway. He’s wearing nothing other than the criminally soft sleep pants he prefers, so both his burn scars and his ta moko are on display. Barry’s jaw is on level with his pecs when Cisco drags himself away from his ridiculously hot boyfriend to sneak a look at him.

“Stay put, Scarlet.” Mick tells Barry, and then he takes a seat at the table. “I’ll even make you breakfast after I’ve had some coffee.” Cisco rolls his eyes in response to that, because what Mick means by ‘after I’ve had some coffee’ is ‘after I’ve stolen about half of Cisco’s mug of coffee by means of being weirdly soft in the mornings and cooing at him in Maori’ and even though Cisco knows its coming, its going to work. He resigns himself to the inevitable and pushes himself off the counter to go get his morning kiss off his boyfriend. Mick winds an arm around Cisco’s waist when Cisco’s leaning down, and then uses that arm to wrangle Cisco into a sitting position on Mick’s lap. One day, Mick being able to manhandle him that easily will stop being a turn on. Today is not that day. To be perfectly honest, this time next year isn’t looking to good either.

“Korora.” Mick coos, and Cisco sighs and lets Mick wrap his hand over Cisco’s on the mug and steal a few mouthfuls of his coffee. He looks up and is suddenly struck by the fact Barry’s staring at them with an expression somewhere between hearteyes, disbelief, and the kind of jealousy that absolutely blindsides you. Honestly, Cisco doesn’t know what to make of that, just as he’s not entirely sure what to make of Lenny’s actual Plan for this morning, as it had been outlined by Mick last night. Cisco settles in to wait for Hart and Lenny to arrive, fully aware that Mick wouldn’t let him go anywhere until he’d decided he was caffeinated enough for cooking. Barry took the seat opposite them and rests his chin on his hand.

“So, the threesome thing –“ Barry says, after Mick and Cisco have collectively drained the mug, because apparently Barry Allen does not understand subtlety.

“Not uncommon.” says Mick, because Mick and Barry have similar ideas about bluntness and getting to the point in conversations. Mick gets up and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“And, um, repeats?”

“That rather depends on your opinion on the Geneva Convention, Scarlet.” drawls Lenny, from the doorway. Cisco’s about ninety-five percent sure that those jeans are Lisa’s, and Lenny’s paired them with the washed-soft Rocky Horror t-shirt that appears to have become communal property and the almost-clear framed glasses he only ever wears on slow mornings. Barry’s cheeks are already heating up.

“What do you mean?” Barry asks.

“The metas you’ve got in the Pipeline.” says Lenny, serious, “you’re holding them illegally.” 

Barry stares at a point over Lenny’s shoulder for a solid two minutes.

“Fuck.” says Barry. “We are. Fuck, that was his idea.”

“I have a plan.” says Lenny. He lays it out, slowly, and Cisco watches Barry consider it, watches how Barry realizes how much better it will be.

“Ollie’s going to hate it. So much.” says Barry, and then slams his hands over his mouth once he realizes what he’s just said. Mick grins, and puts a stacked-high plate of waffles and bacon and eggs down in front of Barry.

“Relax, Whero, we’d guessed.”

Barry does not look at all appeased by this.

“You can never let him know that.” he hisses. “He will fucking shoot you. He shot me in the back. Twice. And he likes me.” 

Lenny tilts his head back and laughs.

*** 

It has somehow slipped all of their minds that while everything is going very smoothly on this end, there are in fact members of Team Flash who had not been informed of the situation. Which is why Cisco is sitting at his usual seat in the Cortex, listening to Barry and Joe yell at each other about trusting criminals.  

“He’s absolutely going to use you!’ Joe yells.

“But he’s not wrong about the illegal imprisonment thing.” Barry hisses back. “And I trust him.”

“Why on Earth would you trust him?” demands Joe. Barry, predictably, goes bright red and starts at the back of his neck again. Joe looks like he might actually take flight in his rage at this point, and Iris looks like she’s about to scream at the implications, so Cisco wades in to try and diffuse the situation.

“Look, I trust Lenny too.”

Joe spins.

“Lenny?” says Iris, plainly confused.

Fuck. Okay, Cisco’s just made it worse.

“Thanks, Cisco.” Lenny purrs from the entrance. “Alright, Flash, here as ordered.”

Behind him, looking swanky and evil in a lot more black leather than any of them bar Lisa usually wear, are Mick and Lisa and Hartley. Hartley blows an obnoxious little kiss at Caitlin, who scowls. Cisco fights down a smirk, fully aware that Hart delights in getting a rise out of people. The whole situation would probably have been marginally less terrible if Barry had been in costume. 

Barry is, needless to say, definitively not in costume.

“Leonard Snart knew who you were before me?” bellows Iris, perfectly justified in doing so, if you asked Cisco.

“It just sort of happened?” says Barry.

“How the hell does something like that just happen.” hisses Joe. “They all know, now!”

“To be fair,” starts Hartley, and Cisco lets his head drop noisily onto his desk, because he knows where this is going and Caitlin is about to murder him with a scalpel for not telling her. “We were going to find out eventually, one way or another. Cisco was sure to slip up at some point.”

Cisco keeps his forehead on the desk and raises one hand in order to flip Hartley off.

“See if I ever get you the Heartbreak Vodka ever again.” Cisco tells him.

“Oh no, how will I ever cope? It’s not like I’m fucking the Boss and get whatever I want.”

“What is he talking about, Cisco?” says Caitlin. Fuck, he really should have told her who Mick was, beyond the ‘my very large and scary and sweet criminal boyfriend’.

“Um, Cait, remember my very large and scary and sweet criminal boyfriend?”

Caitlin looks up at the crowd in the doorway. Mick waves.

“Holy fuck, Cisco.” says Caitlin. And then, almost nervously, “wait, does that mean the guy you set Hartley up with was –“ 

Lenny grins like a shark. 

“I hate all of you.” Cisco tells the desk.

“Really, Cisco?” says Lisa, “Even after I was so good and didn’t flirt with either of the very gorgeous women you’ve just put in front of me?” 

Cisco looks up for long enough to take in the fact that both Caitlin and Iris are blushing. Okay, being queer for morally ambiguous supervillains is totally an official entry requirement now. 

“Especially you.” he tells Lisa. She pouts. It’s very pretty. Iris somehow manages to get redder. Joe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

“I’m not going to ask about this.” says Joe, waving his hand to encompass Cisco and Mick and Iris and Lisa and Caitlin. “But I still want to know what possessed you to tell Leonard Snart your identity!”

“Sort of my fault?” says Cisco. “But they’d already figured it out.”

“Mostly my fault.” says Barry.

“Part of my – payment – for being here.” says Lenny, because Lenny loves to stir shit.

Joe and Iris turn on Barry in unison, looking horrified.

“He’s exaggerating.” says Barry. “I was totally on board with that part.”

Iris looks impressed despite herself, and Joe still looks vaguely murderous.

Which is, of course, when Oliver Queen walks in. 

***

Cisco is back in his usual seat in Mick’s lap, arms wrapped firmly around his boyfriend’s neck, glaring at Oliver. Mick’s grinning. 

“Korora,” says Mick, “it’s an arrow graze. I have had far, far, worse.”

“I don’t care.” says Cisco, because he doesn’t. “You don’t shoot our allies, Oliver! Oh wait, I forgot, you do, and you call it ‘training’.”

Lenny sniggers. Barry’s planted himself between Hartley and Lenny and Oliver, and Iris was looming at Oliver’s side between him and Lisa. If that’s foreshadowing, West family dinners could be about to get very interesting. 

“Don’t we have some more pressing concerns?” Hartley asks, once the staring competition has dragged on a few more minutes.

“We do, yes, thank you, Hartley.” says Barry, and claps his hands. “Len, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

Mick sighs, and slides a hand down Cisco’s back. 

“I need to go with him.”

Cisco lets him up, and pulls him down into a hard kiss before he lets go. 

Barry blushes in Hartley and Lenny’s general direction.

“What do you say to one for the road, Miss West?” asks Lisa with a flirtatious grin, and Iris suddenly can’t look at either Lisa or her father.

“I will never understand your relationship with your criminals.” Oliver tells Barry.

“I never thought I’d agree with you on anything.” Joe tells him. 

Lenny grins his shark grin again, and swaggers out of the Cortex to explain the situation to the criminals in the pipeline. Cisco turns on the cameras and the sound so the rest of them can follow along. As expected, Nimbus wants nothing to do with Lenny – Lenny’s been anti-Families for as long as he’s been a major player in the Underworld. Cisco knocks him out with a button, ready for transport. Baez is an easy sell – her boyfriend had manipulated her as much as Wells had Barry, so for all her anger, she understood. 

“Can I hit him? Just once?”

Lenny frowns.

“I tend to take issue with my people damaging what’s mine, no matter how recent the claim.” he tells her. Barry blushes, and Cisco pretends not to notice the possessive and anchoring grip Hartley has on Barry’s wrist, where Hartley’s thumb is sweeping across Barry’s pulse point.

“What about the engineer who built these things then, can I hit him?”

“Fuck no.” says Mick, firmly.

“Let me guess, that one’s yours?”

Mick grins. Shawna shakes her head with a smile. 

“Look at you, then, the valiant White Knights.”

“Big damn heroes is what we are.” Mick and Len say in unison, because contrary to popular belief, they are both giant nerds. Shawna pops herself down the hall ahead of them when they open her cell, and then into the cortex, where she grins up at all of them. 

“Sorry about the trying to kill you thing.” she tells Iris and Caitlin. “I’d gone a little stir-crazy in there.”

Lisa’s got her appreciating eyebrow raise going on, and she bumps Iris with her elbow a little. Iris looks torn between scandalized and turned on. Cisco’s intimately familiar with that feeling, and the speed with which it hits when a Snart is around. Shawna gets collected into the space between the two of them, and Len and Mick head over to Mardon’s cell.

“No killing Joe West.” Len says, hand hovering over the release button after Mardon’s agreed.

“Why?” demands Mardon.

“Because revenge blinds you to truth. And because my boy will be very unhappy with me if he dies, and you would not like to be the reason my boy and I have an argument.” 

Barry’s got the dopiest little smile on his face at all the possessiveness, and Hartley looks smug as hell. Christ, Cisco’s going to have to get used to Barry as a permanent fixture in that relationship, isn’t he? And if Shawna and Iris move in with Lisa, the kitchen is going to be damn crowded in the mornings. Cisco leans over to the intercom button.

“Lenny, if you’re recruiting them all I am kicking you out of Mick and my apartment.” 

Lenny turns and looks straight at the camera.

“What the fuck, Cisco?”

“There will be too many people in Mick’s kitchen, Lenny. It’s not happening.” 

Mick laughs, loud and delighted. Mark’s grinning too, now.

“Who’s that?” Mark asks, jerking his chin up at the camera.

“You remember Cisco Ramon, right?” asks Mick, steadying Mark as he crosses the threshold of the cell.

“I do.” says Mark, and then, to the camera, “Hi Cisco!” 

Cisco grins, and says hi back on the intercom. He ignores the scowl coming from Joe, mostly because he knows Joe will come around eventually and it’s always better to be nice to the scary and hardened criminals that Mick and Lenny know, mostly because it means they all underestimate him. 

Everything happens quite quickly after that – Barry skids off to drop a meta-cuffed Nimbus to the police, Caitlin and Cisco figure out Eddie’s in the accelerator, Cisco has to physically separate Lisa and Shawna from where they are latched to Iris’s neck in a supply room so they can rescue Eddie (Iris looks only a little bit guilty about that last part, but Cisco supposes that her fight with Eddie had never really resolved itself, so technically she had nothing to be guilty about), and they whisked Eddie out of there with Shawna’s help. And then Eobard was back and he was goading Barry about his mother and Barry looks like he’s seriously considering running back in time. They all leave together so they can consider their next move, and Cisco finds himself halfway down the hall, chasing Barry down.

“You know that whatever you decide to do, I won’t be angry, right?” says Cisco.

“What if me rewriting history means we never meet? What if it means you never meet Mick? What if I never meet Len, or you never introduce him to Hartley?” Barry babbles.

“Hey, listen, whatever happens, you know I won’t hold it against you, right?”

“Right.” says Barry, softly. “And we’ll still find each other. In any timeline. The Universe wants us to be bros.”

“Yes.” says Cisco, just as quietly. “It does.”

Barry runs. Barry returns. Barry slams the time machine into a thousand pieces and deposits Thawne in front of Lenny. Lenny raises the cold gun. Lenny shoots him.

Barry falls to his knees and starts to sob, his shoulders shaking. They circle up around him, all of them together, Iris and Joe and Cisco and Mick and Hartley and Lenny and Lisa. 

“Where did he go?” Mark asks, looking at the shuddering wreck of the man who had so scared him.

“To watch his mother’s murder.” says Joe. Shawna makes a sad little whine of a noise, and Mark crosses to join their circle in but a few steps. Cisco doesn’t know how long they stay that way, but when they untangle, Barry looks something approaching alright. He won’t be, not yet, but maybe he’ll get there, with help.

Mick and Cisco get the apartment to themselves, that night. Lenny and Hart went with Barry, after the wormhole opened, and Lisa, Shawna, and Iris are at one of Lisa’s safehouses. They spend the whole night just clinging to one another, like they’re some kind of anchor. When the sun spills over the windowsill and Cisco wakes from the half-doze he’d been in, Mick rolls over and pulls open a drawer in the side table.

“I almost lost you, today.” Mick says. “Almost lost our family. I never want that to happen.”

“I get that.” says Cisco. “But if that’s a wedding ring you’d better be prepared for both actually never getting rid of me and about six separate shovel speeches from the CCPD.”

“So that’s a yes. Have I ever been scared of the CCPD?” asks Mick, and Cisco’s laughing when Mick slides the ring on and pulls him into a kiss.

***

You could have heard a pin drop in the bullpen of the CCPD. Cisco Ramon – little bitsy tech guy, Cisco Ramon – stood in the path of the officers hauling Mick Rory in for questioning. He has his arms folded across his chest and his face twisted into a scowl, and Mick Rory looks fucking sheepish.

“Mikaere Rory, what the fuck did you do?”

David Singh grins.

“Albert! This case is yours.”

Julian Albert, the new metahuman specialist, looks up in surprise.

“Why me? Heatwave’s not a meta.”

David looks back at where Cisco is frantically scolding Rory, hands sweeping across bound shoulders, checking for injuries.

“Allen and Ramon can’t work on this one. Conflict of interest.”

Albert’s eyebrows shoot up.

“But try to be quick about it?” David asks, fully aware of the eavesdropping officers surrounding him and ready for that fucker Harrelson to spit his coffee across the room. “Mick and Cisco’s wedding is this weekend.”

#heatvibe #Mick Rory #Cisco Ramon #Prouves writes

[angustdtt]

“Zip me Up” JungKook- BTS

Anonnymous requested: Hi! Can I request a Jungkook smut where you are friends and he is all shy, literally just being his typical self. One day you go out clubbing/partying together and he gets really drunk and turns into the complete opposite, suddenly full of confidence . Somehow that night you end up sleeping together ;) Thanks in advance!!

A/N: OMLkajshdjakshdkjashdkjahs first smut  of JungKook, well it was bound to happen, I MUST DO THIS AT SOMEPOINT AND I CANT AVOID IT, I cringe....errtime, I’m sorry if it’s too weird :’), Thanks you so much for requesting Nonnie!! I enjoyed doing this :3. I want to thank some lovely folks at the @eatjinnetwork​ you know who you are :’D for helping me! and to the lovely @the-hug--list​ and @sunshinehobi7​ for helping me with insp with their moodboards :’), <3  

Thanks for Reading! Word Count: 3.2k Genre: Smut Triggers: Cursing, Sexy times Pairing: ReaderxJungkook

Masterlist

“Jungkook please–”  the words got caught up in your throat. A moan, filled with frustration, resonated around the room, ‘It’s too tight’ you thought. From the corner of your eye, you glanced at Jungkook who was biting his lower lip.

“Please, please,” you begged.

“No.” His answer blunt and raw. He was sweating and groaning, adam’s apple moving while struggling to swallow.

“Please, I need you,” you pleaded, squeezing his shoulder. He flinched.

“Fu— Stop…stop” He shook the hand off.  

“Aack,” you fall down on your knees. Jungkook ‘alarmed’ sat up after putting down the controller on the coffee table.

“Y/N!” he blurted out, ‘Are you oka-?’ Jungkook’s sentence cut when he saw you on the floor with a dress half zipped up on the back, only hands holding the fabric of it on the front.

“Ugh, yes, I’m fine…” you huffed, eyes squinting when seeing the big 'pause' word on the screen. “You could pause??”

Jungkook looked in your direction and shrugged.

Your tongue flicked in disapproval 'Can you please NOW help me??’ you requested rolling your eyes “Zip me up,” you commanded holding carefully onto the fabric to not expose your naked self to Jungkook.

“Umm…” Jungkook gulped trying hard not to stare at your back, but it was proving to be a difficult task for him. He scrubbed the palm of his hands over his black jeans.

“C’mon just do it, we are late!” you lifted your hair too looking away from Jungkook who gulped and blushed. He felt relieved about the fact that you couldn’t see his face right now. “Jungkook… please.” You backed up to where he was standing to force him to help you out. Jungkook’s hesitant hand grabbed onto the zipper pulling it up carefully, his hands grazed your skin.

“Aish…” you hissed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, too focused on examining and remembering every inch of your back.

“For someone who is constantly using his hands, yours are very cold,” you said suddenly. “Eh?” Jungkook asked, confused. 2You know… you’re playing video games almost all the time, wouldn’t your hands be warmer because of the controller?” You looked over your shoulder. “I don’t think so?” Jungkook snorted, finishing doing the zipper. You let your hair fall over your shoulders. “Thank you,” you sang, shimmying your boobs into place.

Jungkook too embarrassed to look turned around. “Well I’m ready now, I’ll go grab my shoes and we are on our way!” you announced leaving for your room and grabbing your things.

Jungkook headed to the door where his sneakers were and put them on.

“We are taking the car!” you shouted from the room “What? Why!?” he retorted  “Is like 10 blocks away!” “Because I didn’t just spend the last hour getting ready to arrive drenched in sweat,” you spoke, walking to where Jungkook was standing, your outfit complete. 'How do I look?’ you asked giving a little twirl.

Jungkook blinked twice and then looked at his feet. “Fine” he simply replied. “Just fine?” you scrunched your nose, not pleased with his answer. “How about this?” you turned, showing your butt and placing a hand down the curve of it.

Jungkook hiccuped. “Tch, aish…” He pursed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. 'Why did I even agree to this?’ “You said it will be a fun idea to go clubbing with me! What do you mean?” You walked closer to him 'You sounded excited two days ago, you don’t want to go now?’ you asked as tilted your head.

Jungkook looked at you and shook his head again. “Well fine, you stay and I’ll go…” You walk by him to the door and open it “Like I said, I didn’t just spend the last hour getting ready for nothing” You started walking down the hall outside the apartment when… “Y/N Wait!” He called to you, the distinct sound of car keys reached your ears as well as the sighs of a resigned Jungkook. You eyed him,  and smiled smugly.

He rolls his eyes. ‘Let’s go…’ ‘Alright, alright, alright…’ You pat his back.

The bass of the music made the walls vibrate, bodies crashed on the dance floor against each other and the odor of sweat sank into the nose. Jungkook sat at the bar drink on hand, sipping from it every once in awhile, eyes fixated on you. He felt a pinch in the pit of his stomach. People danced around you. His feet tried to move his whole self to where you were on the dance floor, but his chest to cowardly to follow. You enjoyed dancing. Jungkook had caught you more than one time, swaying your  to music while cooking. It was bewitching to watch you move around like the world was completely yours, and no one was out there watching. For someone as shy as him, that attitude oozing from you was almost magnetic. The cup in his hand was getting empty, so Jungkook asked for another drink. He wanted to be like those who danced next to you. Like those who grabbed your hands ever so carelessly without any hesitation, without thinking if they would be rejected or held onto tighter. He sipped from his cup, biting on his lips, frustrated and cursing. The warmth of the alcohol reached his stomach and felt like a kick. He saw you laugh. The music changed, the strong uplifting beat pierced his ears. He saw your smile. His eyes turned dark, his look determined. Jungkook swallowed his drink completely, feet moving once again, and this time… he really was walking. Elbowing everyone on his path, he made his way towards you, not taking his gaze off for one second. Strangers complained but the words didn’t reach his ears.

You turned around looking surprised.

“Jungkook?” You muttered, the sound of your voice muffled by the loud music.

Jungkook stayed there, looking straight into your eyes, internally still pondering on his next move.

For the first time since you arrived at the club, you stopped dancing. ‘Are you okay?’  your muted voice asked,as you tilted your head.

Jungkook nodded, face washed of any expression you might read.

You thought maybe he was all too tired and it was time to go home. You nodded as well, tip-toeing to get closer to his ears, propping yourself against him you said ‘Let’s go home now.” Backing away to see his reaction you dedicated a thumbs up to let him know it was okay to go now.

But his face said otherwise. Jungkook’s eyes shifted from your eyes to your mouth, and back again, he stepped closer to you his lips moved but someone elbowed you and you couldn’t read them.

“What?” you tried to shout over the music.

Jungkook leaned into your ear now and you heard him perfectly.

“No,” he replied. The tone of his voice was different, it was heavier and much gruffer. He smirked. His gaze was so intense it made you gulp. Jungkook slid his hands down your arm  and clenched his jaw at the sensation of your skin.

Your eyes took note of his every move. The scene was unraveling almost in slow motion.

He reached your hand and brought it up, placing it on his shoulder, and doing the same action with your other arm, then snakedhis arms around your waist. His heart was pumping fast in his chest, and secretly he hoped you couldn’t feel it while being this close. He started moving and swaying his hips.

You both were so pressed up against each other you could smell the booze when he breathed out, and a faint scent of his perfume. You started swaying as well a little confused by the situation since Jungkook didn’t enjoy clubs that much, but nevertheless you crossed your arms around his neck.

Jungkook moved his hands down your back slowly, making your skin prickle there were he had touched. The palm of his hands were sweating and feeling heavy. Around the two of you the crowd was still dancing, some of them barely grazing you. Jungkook moved you away from them without you noticing, He only wanted you for himself, he wanted you to only be touching him, he felt possessive. He was slowly going insane. Wanting to go further.

A grunt escaped his lips and your ears perked up. The sound filled you with pride and it made you giggle. He felt hot, and you were no fool. He was always shy with you and distant, even though you tried your best to let him know you secretly fancied him. But right now, he wanted you. So, you turned around and pressed your ass against him.

At your change he held onto your hips pulling you against him.

Lifting your arm to cup his face, you start grinding against him.

Jungkook gulped harshly, and without thinking he pressed his lips against the skin of your neck more than anything to muffle a silent “Fuck.” But the tingle of it provoked a loud moan that alerted Jungkook.

You covered your mouth and turned to look at his face- he was red and sweaty, his chest visibly heaving. You both remained there staring at one another. It was an embarrassing moment, you never thought about how the heat between your legs had risen up that night until Jungkook touched you with his warm and plump lips. You wanted to run away- this was not something you did often, normally you’d just go somewhere and get it over with, but with Jungkook it was different, something didn’t feel right about just being forward to him. You wanted to go back to the apartment, and wished you had never come to the club. But as soon as you thought that, you felt his hand again.

Jungkook forced you to follow him through the crowd, you could only see his back, and his hand holding onto yours. You reached a set of stairs, and then walked down a small and tight hallway packed with people engaged in different actions, Some were smoking, others drunk, making out and aggressively grinding against each other. The further you got the less the music could be heard. Jungkook stopped next to the door of the restroom and turned around.

“Listen, Jungkook,” you chuckled nervously, your thoughts tangled from trying to explain what happened back there. ‘I..I- I don’t in-’

Jungkook gently moved you from the place so you could be on the side of the wall. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands to make you stop talking.

Only then did you take the time to really look at his features.

He looked at you lovingly, half smiling. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, making your heart racing hard inside your chest.

His eyes glimmer and on their reflection you saw yourself. You chuckled.

“I like you,” he whispered.

The words took you aback, thinking maybe you heard them wrong.

He giggled, partly because of his confession, and partly because he noticed your baffled face.

'Come again?’ you asked.

Jungkook shook his head, with both hands still on your face he leaned down and pecked your lips.

It was short and fleeting, but it left you breathless, the silkiness drew you in and you found yourself trying to reach again for them, closing your eyes.

“I like you,” he repeated. Opening your eyes you stared at his smiling face, you bit your lips and smiled at him as well. Without taking your eyes off Jungkook, you heard the door of the restroom open, and you immediately crashed your lips together dragged him inside. The breathiness off the kiss echoed in the small bathroom, as you competed to lead the kiss. The sloppiness caused you both to laugh while your teeth clicked.

Jungkook locked the door, then grabbed your thighs and lifted you up so you’ were straddling his hips.

Pulling apart from the kiss, and nuzzling on his neck, you start to kiss up his jaw, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat.

He begian to walk to the sink. Gently he placed you down and went back to cupping your cheeks, and placing soft and loving kisses on your forehead, on your nose, the corner of your mouth, continuing the kissing trail down your neck and collarbone. With expert hands he shoves a hand between your thighs and starts caressing the exposed warm skin.

You clutched his shirt bringing him closer, so close you could feel him growing behind the fabric of his pants. You grabbed his face and brought it up so you can kiss him again, holding him firmly while your hands grabbed his neck and pulled his hair.

Jungkook sizzled, with his tongue he parted your lips deepening the kiss, explored the inside of your mouth with it. Grabbing onto the hem of your dress he dragged it up your thighs. “Y/N” He breathed heavily. “Mmm?” you responded fingers trailing down his chest heading down to his belt. “I want you” he whispers lasciviously.

Cold trailed down your back at his needy words.

His hands moved to your lower back to push you up against him.

You took the opportunity to grind your hips against him.

'Then make haste,’ you almost pleaded to him, your hand undoing his belt.

Someone knocks on the door and demands for you two to finish and leave the bathroom, but with the raw violence of someone who demands not to be disturbed from his attention on you, Jungkook kicks the door in an almost beastly way and answers, “Fuck off,” to the stranger on the other side. Jungkook grunted, and finished dragging down his clothes. He returned to kissing you again, tilting your chin up, his actions frantic, and burning with lust.

You tried to tease him by grasping on his hard length.

“Shit,” he groans darkly.  Too drunk by his emotions Jungkook ripped off the fabric of your exposed panties,causing you to jolt in surprise by the outburst of his strength. “Goddamn,” he says eyes fixated on your core, he smiled smug “Baby you’re so wet…” He licked his lips and looked up at you biting back a moan, eyes pleading.  He started to go down on his knees when you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back up. “No, no, no,” you exclaim panting out, “Not today, I need you right now…” you demanded.

Jungkook pondered between your request and his needs, but your face and your ragged petitioning win, soon enough Jungkook started jerking himself dragging the precum along his slit. “Y/N,” he grunts again, taking one last and long look at your messy self.

You ground against the tip of him letting him know to move faster.

“Jungkook, I need you”

At the mention of his name rolling off your lips he roughly, almost desperately thrust into you.

“Fuck.” The sudden intrusion made you gasp and cry out. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice shivering. “Did I hurt you?”

Your lower back crashed against the faucet of the sink. You weren’t hurt but the decisive thrust almost had you looking at the stars, and you couldn’t believe just how riled up he made you. “No, I’m okay” he lifted your chin up.

“I promise you, don’t worry, but—” you swallowed hard “Let’s… go a little slower, or I’m not gonna make it” You chuckled, and kissed his nose.

He nodded.

This time, he pushed inside you slower, controlling his movements, more gentle now.  You moaned softly and he groaned. Your legs intertwined behind his back giving him more space, your hands clutched to the back of his shirt, almost digging your fingers into his flesh. “Yes, small I like that…” you purred pleased. You both melt into one another, He was pulsating inside you, it too all your strength to refrain from clenching around him and making him cum sooner than expected.

Jungkook slowly started to grind into you deeper, a lewd noise resulting from the clashing on his skin on yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He placed his forehead against yours, his breath hitching from time to time.

You caught his lips kissed him wantonly eliciting a whimper from the back of his lips. Closing your legs around him, you let him know it was ok to go faster now, and he complied. “Aah—” you cried out. “More, more,” you begged, arching your back. “Shit, fuck… I’m—”  Jungkook choked down a moan, eyes shut tight trying not to cum before time.

You clenched your walls around him, a strong burning sensation at the pit of your stomach. “Oh, my fuck— I’m…” Jungkook struggled, trying to keep his cool by hiding his face on your neck.

“I’m cumming too, Jungkook…” you whimpered, your hips now grinding at the same time as him trying to reach your climax “Fuck, Faster… please” You both were heaving messes, and you could feel your juices dripping all over. Jungkook pounded hard into you hitting you right where you needed him. A fire spread in your body, waves of electricity intoxicating you everywhere. Jungkook cursed to the skies, his husky voice moaning your name over and over. You were both still pulsing after the strong orgasm. The daze left you both light-headed, Jungkook grabbed onto the sink his legs shaky, He pulled out of you.

Your arms weren’t responding, and simply lay there limp on each side of your body. You looked at each other and chuckled. Jungkook then gently helped you with your dress and placed you down. He noticed the ripped panties laying on the floor.

“Yikes, sorry” he said and threw them away into the bin next to the toilet.

“Jesus, I completely forgot about that” you gasped, looking at them one last time through the reflection of the mirror. You didn’t see before the state in which Jungkook left them.

“Just how strong are you?” you giggled, opening the cold water faucet. “Y/N…” His velvety voice called your name and you looked up at him, his cheeks flushed red and hair sticking to his forehead. “Mmm?” you responded still dizzy and breathless. “I really meant what I said. ”

You tilted your head confused.

“That I like you, I have done for some time now, I was just too shy to tell you.”

You smiled.

“I like you too, for some time as well.” You bit your lower lip embarrassed.

Jungkook shook his head. ‘Why you didn’t tell me?’ he inquired.

You shrugged.

“Guess I spend so much time with you I got infected by your shyness”

He chuckled and grabbed your shoulders leaning down to kiss you again lovingly.

“Well, neither of us can be shy again from now on…” he mentioned and you agreed. “Now let’s go home…I got to zip your dress up before,” you tilted your head, as Jungkook grabbed your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, then unlocked the door, but before leaving he turned to you and said, “Now I want to unzip it…”

#BTS #BTS Imagine #angustdtt #BTS Smut #BTS Scenarios #Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #Jungkook Smut #Jeon Jungkook #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #Jungcock #bangtan smut #v #taehyung #jimin #jin #seokjin #jhope #hoseok #suga #yoongi #rapmonster #rap mon #namjoon

[dyke-yoonji]

i cant believe this shit wake me Up AGAIN (save me),, I aRE pissed. I know shadowhunter doesn’t give one (1) flying fuck about Raj, buT I DO?? and them not showing me if my son is all right is racist and biphobic 

#GiveRajProperWriting2k17

Care for the loners (on AO3)

When Raj wakes up, it’s inside the Institute Infirmary, with a brace around his neck and bandages on his knees. He doesn’t feel the pain -  thank god for morphine, amen- but he still feels compelled to say “Ouch.”

A movement on his left catches his eye, and he finally notices Alec Lightwood, standing over him with his phone in his hand. The dark-haired boy almost smiles. “Yeah, sorry about your knee.”

Raj has enough energy to wink at him. “If you wanted me down on my knees for you, you could have just asked, you know.”

Alec snorts at that, moving closer to the bed. “What would have been the answer to that?”

“No, unless it was a request from the High Warlock himself.” tells him Raj, one eyebrow raised. Then he turns serious for a second, looking uncomfortable. “How’s Lydia?”

“She’ll survive.” when this fails to make Raj answer or calmer in any way, Alec puts a hand on his shoulder. “You do realise that it’s not your fault right? It was the demon, not you.” Raj still won’t meet his eyes, so Alec sits down at the edge of the bed, hands on each of Raj’s cheeks. “Izzy nearly killed me under possession, and I did something pretty bad too. And no, I won’t tell you until you’re out of this bed and skipping again.”

Raj rolls his eyes. “I just wanted to say that this is pretty gay, Lightwood. Get your filthy hands off me, I can literally smell the blood from your clothes. And net time, if you want to prick me with an arrow, you could just use-”

“I am going to give you one more chance to shut the fuck up.” 

Raj fakes an outraged gasped. “I cannot believe? Literally so shook? Can’t believe I came back from a possession just for this.”

Alec punches him on the shoulder. “That arrow in the knee? Consider it payback for interrupting me and Magnus, asshole.”

“Oh yeah, you gotta thank Magnus for knocking me out? Honestly, he can do it any other time he wants. Choke me to death, I’m all about that life.” He says, snickering at Alec’s deadpan expression.

“Do I have to remind you that it’s my boyfriend we’re talking about, mhh?”

Raj arches an eyebrow. “Uhm, how is he your boyfriend when you still haven’t had a date yet, mmh? Checkmate. Sleeping beauty kiss doesn’t count.”

Alec groans, hiding his head in his hands, while Raj just cackles gleefully. “When will you let me live? Also, shouldn’t you be-”

The archer doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the door opens and Victor Aldertree walks in. His eyes find Raj first, and they track every part of his body that he can see, before he visibly relaxes, sighing out in relief.

“Raj.” Just the way he says his name makes Alec feel like he’s intruding in something he should not. He stands up, squeezing the panicked shadowhunter’s shoulder.

“Hope to see you back on the field soon, and I’ll let Lydia know. Get well, Raj.”

Raj mutters traitor under his breath, but nods at Alec with a smile. Never trust a gemini.

Then the doors closes between them and its suddenly just Raj and Victor.

The man stares at him for a couple of seconds, before going to sit down in the small plastic chair next to the bed, both hands clasped on his tights. Something about the way he held himself reminded Raj of Clary’s friend, Simon, the way he seemed always to be supressing the urge to do something.

Raj speaks first. “So, uhm, the trial with Jac-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Interrupts him Victor, his eyes still on Raj’s face. It was unnerving, especially since Raj could not allow himself to look back into those eyes. It would only lead to problems that he didn’t want to face.

He opens his mouth to tell him something – anything, really – but once again Victor beats him to it. “I am going to give Branwell a full warning once she’s up and about again.”

Wait what? “With all due respect, sir-” he starts, but he gets interrupted again.

“Victor.” At Raj’s expression he almost smiles. But it looks wrong, tired. “Just. Call me Victor. No sirs, please.”

If he could have a nickel for everytime he had wanted to know what was going through the man’s head… “Okay, uhm, Victor. What I was saying, I am the one-”

“I am aware of what happened-” Victor tried to interrupt again, but Raj didn’t let him continue this time.

“Listen, Victor, you’re going to have to let me finish my sentences hear, cause I’m trying to get a point across.” He doesn’t even have time to dwell if he stepped a line or something, cause Victor just arches an eyebrow and then nodded him to continue. “Great. So, I’m the one who attacked Lydia and I’m also the one who let Magnus and Alec go right under my nose. So if anyone should get a warning, then it’s gotta be me, not Lydia. She did nothing but her job.”

Victor clenches his fist, and looks very pissed when he speaks next. “Does her job description include insulting you every time she gets a chance? Does it include calling you a bad shadowhunter just because you couldn’t get the best warlock in the whole of Brooklyn locked under chain and keys? Cause last time I checked, it didn’t.” He stood up abruptly. “I have eyes in the entire Institute, don’t forget that. I see what she does to you. She is not your mistress and she has no right to treat you like she is. You are a damn good shadowhunter and she needs to stop trying to undermine you every time she gets a chance.”

Raj had rarely ever seen Victor lose his cool like this. If he ever did it was because of Valentine, or something official: never for something as mundane as this. Lydia honestly didn’t care much for any of the Shadowhunters at the Institute with the exclusion of Alec and his little gang, and they didn’t like her right back. So her being rude to him should not even be his top priority.

“Why do you even care?” he asks him before he can stop himself. He doesn’t dare to hope, because Raj is Raj, and Victor… is so out of his league it’s like they’re not even playing the same game.

Victor rounds to him immediately, hands on his shoulders. Raj might faint at the closeness, he’s not ready. “Why do I care? Because you’re the first person at this godforsaken Institute who made feel welcome here.” One of his hands travels to Raj’s cheek and he feels a shiver down his spine as he leans his face in his hand. “Because when it comes to handling me at my worst, you’re the one who never fails to step up.” Uhm, probably because Victor at his worst is the hottest fucking wet dream come to life? “Because whenever I feel like I can’t like I’m drowning and I can’t breathe, it’s always you that brings me back.”

Raj must be dreaming, because there is no way Victor is actually saying what Raj thinks he’s saying. No way Raj is picking up what he’s putting down. Error 404: mutual crush not found.

But Victor is unaware of the civil war between the South (Raj’s pants) and the North (Raj’s brain), because he continues, implacable. “Because I care for you, Raj, like I’ve never cared for anyone else in this world and I can’t stand to see other people bringing down what I feel is the only good thing in this damn Institute.”

Raj is going to answer. He so is going to answer. He has a full poetic valtz ready in his mind and he’s going to dedicate sonnets about Victor’s beard and brains and everything- “I think this is the bit where you kiss me.” Says his traitorous mouth instead.

The other man smiles, and woah, are those Victor’s lips on Raj’s lips? Wouldn’t it be a shame if someone’s tongue fell in them.

Victor is careful around Raj’s knee injury and bends down so Raj won’t have to move his neck too much, and honestly Raj wants to cry at this blessing.

So of course that’s when the familiar lyrics of Thinking Out Loud from that goddamn vine that he Aline had shared ages ago starts blasting on his phone.

When your legs don’t work like they used to before…

Raj ignores it for all 5 seconds, before he pulls out of the kiss, one hand on Victor’s tie as he reaches for his phone. He doesn’t even need to look at the fucking ID.

“FUCK YOU ALEXANDER GIDEON LIGHTWOOD.”

When the phone smashes against the wall, he’s sure he can still hear Alec cackling on the other line.

Gay solidarity was truly dead. At least he still has Victor. Soeaking of which.

“I am not sure I felt what you meant with all those words, I think you should kiss me one more time to get the point-”

Now, that was a taste he wasn’t gonna get tired of any time soon.

#victaj #alderaj #victor aldertree #raj #shadowhunters #salma writes #holding a pile of garbage: i did a thing

[yellowfeather84]

Hello you! I'm looking for a chapter in which Jamie explain to Claire his life in Ardsmuir, the chains, the Iron's noise and the fact that because of that he was ashamed of touch himself when he dreamed of her.. I cant remember the chapter or even the book... I hope you could help me! Thanks

Hi! The section that you’re looking for is in Voyager, chapter 44.

“I,” said Jamie, “am a fool.” He spoke broodingly, watching Fergus and Marsali, who were absorbed in close conversation by the rail on the opposite side of the ship. 

“What makes you think so?” I asked, though I had a reasonably good idea. The fact that all four of the married persons aboard were living in unwilling celibacy had given rise to a certain air of suppressed amusement among the members of the crew, whose celibacy was involuntary. 

“I have spent twenty years longing to have ye in my bed,” he said, verifying my assumption, “and within a month of having ye back again, I’ve arranged matters so that I canna even kiss ye without sneakin’ behind a hatch cover, and even then, half the time I look round to find Fergus looking cross-eyed down his nose at me, the little bastard! And no one to blame for it but my own foolishness. What did I think I was doing?” he demanded rhetorically, glaring at the pair across the way, who were nuzzling each other with open affection. 

“Well, Marsali is only fifteen,” I said mildly. “I expect you thought you were being fatherly— or stepfatherly.” 

“Aye, I did.” He looked down at me with a grudging smile. “The reward for my tender concern being that I canna even touch my own wife!” 

“Oh, you can touch me,” I said. I took one of his hands, caressing the palm gently with my thumb. “You just can’t engage in acts of unbridled carnality.” 

We had had a few abortive attempts along those lines, all frustrated by either the inopportune arrival of a crew member or the sheer uncongeniality of any nook aboard the Artemis sufficiently secluded as to be private. One late-night foray into the after hold had ended abruptly when a large rat had leapt from a stack of hides onto Jamie’s bare shoulder, sending me into hysterics and depriving Jamie abruptly of any desire to continue what he was doing.

He glanced down at our linked hands, where my thumb continued to make secret love to his palm, and narrowed his eyes at me, but let me continue. He closed his fingers gently round my hand, his own thumb feather-light on my pulse. The simple fact was that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other— no more than Fergus and Marsali could— despite the fact that we knew very well such behavior would lead only to greater frustration. 

“Aye, well, in my own defense, I meant well,” he said ruefully, smiling down into my eyes. 

“Well, you know what they say about good intentions.” 

“What do they say?” His thumb was stroking gently up and down my wrist, sending small fluttering sensations through the pit of my stomach. I thought it must be true what Mr. Willoughby said, about sensations on one part of the body affecting another. 

“They pave the road to Hell.” I gave his hand a squeeze, and tried to take mine away, but he wouldn’t let go. 

“Mmphm.” His eyes were on Fergus, who was teasing Marsali with an albatross’s feather, holding her by one arm and tickling her beneath the chin as she struggled ineffectually to get away. 

“Verra true,” he said. “I meant to make sure the lass had a chance to think what she was about before the matter was too late for mending. The end result of my interference being that I lie awake half the night trying not to think about you, and listening to Fergus lust across the cabin, and come up in the morning to find the crew all grinning in their beards whenever they see me.” He aimed a vicious glare at Maitland, who was passing by. The beardless cabin boy looked startled, and edged carefully away, glancing nervously back over his shoulder. 

“How do you hear someone lust?” I asked, fascinated. 

He glanced down at me, looking mildly flustered. 

“Oh! Well … it’s only …” 

He paused for a moment, then rubbed the bridge of his nose, which was beginning to redden in the sharp breeze. 

“Have ye any idea what men in a prison do, Sassenach, having no women for a verra long time?” 

“I could guess,” I said, thinking that perhaps I didn’t really want to hear, firsthand. He hadn’t spoken to me before about his time in Ardsmuir. 

“I imagine ye could,” he said dryly. “And ye’d be right, too. There’s the three choices; use each other, go a bit mad, or deal with the matter by yourself, aye?” 

He turned to look out to sea, and bent his head slightly to look down at me, a slight smile visible on his lips. “D’ye think me mad, Sassenach?” 

“Not most of the time,” I replied honestly, turning round beside him. He laughed and shook his head ruefully. 

“No, I dinna seem able to manage it. I now and then wished I could go mad”— he said thoughtfully “— it seemed a great deal easier than having always to think what to do next— but it doesna seem to come natural to me. Nor does buggery,” he added, with a wry twist of his mouth. 

“No, I shouldn’t think so.” Men who might in the ordinary way recoil in horror from the thought of using another man could still bring themselves to the act, out of desperate need. Not Jamie. Knowing what I did of his experiences at the hands of Jack Randall, I suspected that he very likely would have gone mad before seeking such resort himself. 

He shrugged slightly, and stood silent, looking out to sea. Then he glanced down at his hands, spread before him, clutching the rail. 

“I fought them— the soldiers who took me. I’d promised Jenny I wouldn’t— she thought they’d hurt me— but when the time came, I couldna seem to help it.” He shrugged again, and slowly opened and closed his right hand. It was his crippled hand, the third finger marked by a thick scar that ran the length of the first two joints, the fourth finger’s second joint fused into stiffness, so that the finger stuck out awkwardly, even when he made a fist. 

“I broke this again then, against a dragoon’s jaw,” he said ruefully, waggling the finger slightly. “That was the third time; the second was at Culloden. I didna mind it much. But they put me in chains, and I minded that a great deal.” 

“I’d think you would.” It was hard— not difficult, but surprisingly painful— to think of that lithe, powerful body subdued by metal, bound and humbled. 

“There’s nay privacy in prison,” he said. “I minded that more than the fetters, I think. Day and night, always in sight of someone, wi’ no guard for your thoughts but to feign sleep. As for the other …” He snorted briefly, and shoved the loose hair back behind his ear. “Well, ye wait for the light to go, for the only modesty there is, is darkness.” 

The cells were not large, and the men lay close together for warmth in the night. With no modesty save darkness, and no privacy save silence, it was impossible to remain unaware of the accommodation each man made to his own needs. 

“I was in irons for more than a year, Sassenach,” he said. He lifted his arms, spread them eighteen inches apart, and stopped abruptly, as though reaching some invisible limit. “I could move that far— and nay more,” he said, staring at his immobile hands. “And I couldna move my hands at all without the chain makin’ a sound.” 

Torn between shame and need, he would wait in the dark, breathing in the stale and brutish scent of the surrounding men, listening to the murmurous breath of his companions, until the stealthy sounds nearby told him that the telltale clinking of his irons would be ignored. 

“If there’s one thing I ken verra well, Sassenach,” he said quietly, with a brief glance at Fergus, “it’s the sound of a man makin’ love to a woman who’s not there.” 

He shrugged and jerked his hands suddenly, spreading them wide on the rail, bursting his invisible chains. He looked down at me then with a half-smile, and I saw the dark memories at the back of his eyes, under the mocking humor. 

I saw too the terrible need there, the desire strong enough to have endured loneliness and degradation, squalor and separation. 

We stood quite still, looking at each other, oblivious of the deck traffic passing by. He knew better than any man how to hide his thoughts, but he wasn’t hiding them from me. 

The hunger in him went bone-deep, and my own bones seemed to dissolve in recognition of it. His hand was an inch from mine, resting on the wooden rail, long-fingered and powerful. … If I touched him, I thought suddenly, he would turn and take me, here, on the deck boards. 

As though hearing my thought, he took my hand suddenly, pressing it tight against the hard muscle of his thigh. 

“How many times have we lain together, since ye came back to me?” he whispered. “Once, twice, in the brothel. Three times in the heather. And then at Lallybroch, again in Paris.” His fingers tapped lightly against my wrist, one after the other, in time with my pulse. 

“Each time, I left your bed as hungry as ever I came to it. It takes no more to ready me now than the scent of your hair brushing past my face, or the feel of your thigh against mine when we sit to eat. And to see ye stand on deck, wi’ the wind pressing your gown tight to your body …” 

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he looked at me. I could see the pulse beat strong in the hollow of his throat, his skin flushed with wind and desire. 

“There are moments, Sassenach, when for one copper penny, I’d have ye on the spot, back against the mast and your skirts about your waist, and devil take the bloody crew!” 

My fingers convulsed against his palm, and he tightened his grasp, nodding pleasantly in response to the greeting of the gunner, coming past on his way toward the quarter-gallery.

#answered #book quotes #voyager