#or maybe just grow a set of fucking balls and accept that not everyone is gonna conform to your standards

[daylightisviolent]

Hi just a tip! Don't make fun of people for being their unapologetic selves even if it doesn't conform to your expectations of how people should behave <3

#i just saw the barbie movie and gor made fun of for how i was raving about it #i didnt notice if it werent for my friend to tell them off #and as much as i didnt want it to get to me it did and it deflated my mood immensely #why would you do that? why would you look at someone you only see briefly walking down the street #obviously being enthusiastic and passionate about something #and decide 'im gonna make fun of that person where they might even notice it' #even if it didnt get to me #why do you fucking feel the need to do that? #why do you feel the need to do that? #why do you need to make fun of someone? #fucking sure you can find something odd but what gives you reason to openly establish it?? #i dont give a fucking shit if you think im weird i know and im trying to make peace with it #you can agree with my ways or not #i dont care #just keep your sad goddamn mimicry and taunts to yourself #out them anywhere but where that person is present #or maybe just grow a set of fucking balls and accept that not everyone is gonna conform to your standards #anyways go watch the barbie movie its fucking great #natasja's babbling #natasja's venting

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

fWhip was really hoping this stupid party would end soon. 

Yeah, sure, peace was nice- but did he have to stand awkwardly in a loud room packed to the brim with people he didn’t know to keep it? He sighed for probably the millionth time since he’d got here (and maybe the billionth if you counted the days beforehand), even though it’d only been- what an hour? And he got here before the party started! ‘Cause for some reason, Gem had decided to drag him over to the dumb Overgrown for this dumb party to preserve some dumb peace since “the war only ended so recently”. He didn’t get the point of it.

For one, the Cod-Grimlands war had ended, like, five months ago! They'd already had an entire two weeks of nothing but mending the relationship between their empires, why would they need more? Plus, fWhip and Jimmy had been dating for two of those months, and that’d be pretty peace-preserving, if you asked him. Gem had said something about how Katherine wouldn’t know that since they weren’t public yet, and the fae was only trying to help, but he’d tuned her out. Mostly because they just wanted to feel right in not wanting to be at this stupid party for stupid peace and with no other stupid synonyms because his stupid brain was overwhelmed with everyone’s talking and laughing and touching- Goddess did he hate people touching them.

Ok, they’re sick of this. The Count made their way through the crowd, pushing and shoving probably more rudely than he should be. Whatever, their reputation was already fucked anyway. They maneuvered over to where he’d last seen his sister, hoping a familiar face might help in some way. Maybe she’d take pity on them.

They wandered around the castle like a lost child for about ten minutes before giving up on his search, instead changing course to the open-air central garden.

Thankfully, no one else had decided to follow his lead and the place was utterly deserted. He plopped onto one of the uncomfortable stone benches and brought his legs up on the seat, resting their head on his knees to make himself feel better and hopefully get their brain back in working order. They can't imagine willingly going to one of these parties, let alone enjoying one. He truly didn't understand how people worked. 

A loud voice rang out- something about a new esteemed guest arriving, presumably another emperor. fWhip only groaned and cupped his hands over their ears to block the noise. He was way too sober for this, party etiquette be damned. If they were forced to be here, at least let them get hammered before the sun fully set.  

They lost track of time fairly easily now that the world was blocked out and no one was coming to bother them at every turn. They were kind of hoping they'd sit out here all night until it was socially acceptable to go home when footsteps interrupted their train of thought. He sighed. He really couldn't catch a break, could they?

A light tap of their shoulder both surprised and confused him. This was definitely not the ordinary civilian if they just walked up and touched an emperor like this. 

They raised their head suspiciously and spotted the blonde hair and fins he'd grown oh-so familiar with recently. Jimmy tilted his head as they made eye contact, a soft smile growing on his lips. "You gonna come out from your ball, or are you gonna spend some time with me?"

fWhip hummed in thought for a moment. "Dunno. My ball sounds pretty nice right now."

The cod scoffed before both men burst into giggles. fWhip unfurled and stretched, wincing as his bones cracked and popped back into place. "Ugh- parties," the winged complained. 

Jimmy nodded with an expression that said he'd felt the same way more than enough times. "I feel you there," he sighed. 

fWhip cracked a smile and finally took in Jim's appearance... All of Jim's appearance.

Jimmy was wearing a dress. Jimmy was wearing a dress- the Count's face flushed a shade almost as red as their hair and their jaw basically hit the floor. Goddess, this man was going to be the death of him.

The dress wasn't even distasteful or indecent- in fact, it was rather stunning. It was a long and flowy sundress, flattering his long legs nicely. It was mostly a vibrant green, but had gold detailing that made the whole thing feel elegant with its intricate patterning and loose, translucent sleeves. 

The sound of Jimmy's snickering snapped them from his trance. "fWhip?"

The man jumped, shaking his head almost as if he was trying to shake the thoughts from their skull. "Uh- what?"

"Is something the matter?" The Codfather inquired.

fWhip stuttered a bit. "Yeah, of course something's wrong!" They huffed in exasperation, "You look gorgeous!"

Now it was Jim's turn to blush as he turned away and covered his face with his hands, stammering and blubbering the whole time. "Well- that's one way to compliment someone, I guess," he grumbled lightly. 

fWhip rolled their eyes as they stood up and let their hands rest comfortably on Jimmy's hips, leaning back to gawk a bit longer. "You know what I meant, dummy. I've just... never seen you in a dress before." They paused for a second. "It's a nice change."

"Why, thank you, Count," the fish teased. fWhip only rolled his eyes, the smile creeping onto his face betraying the aloof persona he was failing at putting on. "I thought it would be nice for the start of spring. Helps with the heat, y'know?"

“And here I thought you liked the heat,” fWhip chuckled as they bumped their nose against Jimmy’s.

Jim rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, doesn’t mean I like to sweat, though. ‘Specially at a party.”

“I could make you sweat in another way,” fWhip grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at his partner. Jimmy flushed and pushed their face away, causing a mischievous cackle to escape from his throat.

“I’m breaking up with you,” The Codfather deadpanned.

That earned a squawk from the other man and a round of bickering that led into the night. They spent most of the party hiding away from the public, only dropping in to not seem suspicious and to attend enough since this event technically was for them. Eventually, the people did trickle out, and the staff made their rounds to wrap it up. The two found themselves back in the garden, lying amongst the flowers and chatting about nothing. 

A comfortable silence had fallen between them. fWhip had taken to picking at the grass near his head- a bad habit. He always needed something to do with his hands or he’d go mad with restlessness. As he mindlessly tore up House Blossom’s carefully planned and put-together lawn, he let his eyes wander over to the man at their side. 

Jimmy was a sight to behold with his long hair sprawling out across the grass, framed by flowers and his dress fluttering slightly in the breeze. He looked rather… feminine, which fWhip found that they liked, surprisingly. 

The cod rolled onto his side as fWhip opened their mouth to speak, “So, what’s with the change?”

Their response was a puzzled look. “What change?”

The redhead shrugged as best they could while laying down. “Just- you haven’t told me of any desire for feminine things before, and I didn’t think you liked that sort of style anyway.” fWhip’s implication was clear. Jimmy’d never been one for anything delicate or graceful, much preferring the more masculine dress of most Codfolk. Thick pants, long boots, and tunics are what you’d likely find the Codfather adorned in. It was practical for the mud and slime of the Codlands, but also a personal choice. Jim had told them of the years of living in Pixandria that he’d felt pressured to dress a certain way, not yet knowing he was a man. Not out of malice, but more out of societal norm. He’d hated it, basically doing anything in his power afterward to be perceived as a man from any and every angle. 

The blonde hummed thoughtfully as he drummed his webbed fingers on his stomach. “‘Dunno. I guess… I guess I just feel more comfortable now?”

fWhip hummed as a sign for Jimmy to continue. 

“I think that I’m more comfortable in the way people see me now. Like,” the man paused to gather his words, “now that I’m the Codfather and I’ve established myself in the public’s eye, I don’t feel so… pressured? Anymore?” He grimaced in his poor explanation. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m comfortable in the way I present- how I choose to present now.”

fWhip chuckled. “I get that.” And really, he did. They’d finally scrubbed their birth name from all Grimlands records only recently, and their citizens seemed to be calling him “Countess” less and less as the days went on- so they understood Jim’s sentiment. Void, he’d only just tried nail polish for the first time last week! So, yeah, he was well-versed in overcompensating masculinity. “It’s like you run away as far as possible from the feminine side of yourself and then approach it slowly from the other side, right?”

“Exactly!” Jimmy exclaimed, sitting up and leaning closer to fWhip with a wondrous grin. “That’s such a good way to say it.”

The Count smirked. “What can I say? I’m just so great with words.”

They yelped when Jimmy’s finger collided with their face as he flicked them, giggling. “Don’t take it too well, your head’s already big enough.”

fWhip playfully grumbled a bit, but ultimately shut up. “Well, I think you look ravishing,” he teased. “And I’d love to ravish you-”

“STOP.”

#fanfic #my fanfic #empiresfic #empires smp #empires s1 #empiresshipping #fwhimmy #fish husbands #fwhip #count fwhip #jimmy solidarity #the codfather

[selamat-linting]

there was a few things i missed and got wrong on my homestuck liveblog yesterday. first of all, i mistook terezi with kanaya with that morallegiance chat with vriska. makes sense, they used to be roleplay buddies until that mess of an incident. not taking away vriska's responsibility from that clusterfuck but, wonder how much of it is doc scratch influence. good god girl, why are you gambling with a literal god? also WHY rose is trusting that white ball asshole? i dont like him at all. he's basically responsible to a lot of the mess the trolls and beta kids is going through.

anyway, at the last page i left off, terezi and vriska's attitude towards each other is largely shown in the boy-off with dave and john. with karkat screaming in the background (he always screams in the background). so its easy to miss that theyre very much in a weird complicated, frenemy state with each other. that in between space where you're not sure if theyre genuinely fucking hates each other or theyre ribbing on each other like two meanspirited friends do. i've been there sister, i've been there.

speaking of vriska (again, because she is my child who has every disease), oh her relationship/friendship with tavros is very conflicted and, i dare say, delicious? this is something that im sure would hit even harder if tavros wasnt relegated to the butt of ableist jokes more than he's treated as a character but. trust me. imagine youre tavros. your friend(?) is vriska. she crippled you, she saved your life, she berates you at every turn, she kissed you. deep down she only wants best for you. she wanted you to kill her. she wanted you to hate her enough to do it. she doesnt want to bleed to death alone. she's begging you to kill her. she's could have forced you to do it but she doesnt. because this is for you both to grow stronger and survive. thats all she wanted all along. for you both to thrive in a world that eats you alive. she needs you to kill her. oh god *head in hands*

-so its really really sad to see vriska being so lonely after killing tavros. she dug a hole too deep to get out alone and the remaining friends she had that could have accepted her again are all dead or too burned out of her. i wish they both can meet each other again. just to talk and find closure. like, tavros deserves to be angry with vriska and he deserves to have that peace he always wanted from her. and vriska deserves to start being a better person and getting some peace of mind. she deserves a chance, is all im saying. like, its okay if tavros cant give it to her. but some of her friends could. maybe terezi? the worst they ever do to each other in terms of direct harm is the eye injury. or maybe karkat? oh god i dont want to hear them arguing, i would go deaf!

-at least vriska has john! its nice to see them being friends with each other. Tbh john has been a breath of fresh air (hehe) in all the doom and gloom. im not looking forward to him meeting his dead dad but right now, my boy is walking around the village with one of the finest music i heard so far. and then he drive a flying car with WV. its just, he is so positive and amidst a set of characters who lost all of their innocence, he remains as the one guy who tries to enjoy the game and take everything in stride. he felt smug when the salamanders keep referencing in his title, he bought everyone hats and snacks, he gave moral support to vriska. the harley and egbert family is so positive about everything and its so endearing!

-AND JADE! fuck yeah she's starting to show how awesome she is. YES JADE say fuck you to karkat! its been long overdue!!! she also should say fuck you to vriska too as a treat. and fuck you to tavros too. and fuck you to that prince of hope (more like doom lol) who blew up her computer. she deserve monetary compensation to deal with that troll polycruel.

-special mention to dave btw. i dont remember him doing anything particularly exciting lately but i believe he's the one carrying the team. john and jade had to do their quest to be effective in defeating the english demon guy (the brits are all demons lol) and rose had to be their prime researcher and strategist, so he basically did the save everyone's ass part. i cant wait to see him hang out with terezi. Also is it bad of me to want him go godtier? Like, it would be interesting.

-and other time aspect characters i want to appreciate, aradia! babygirl have finally get rid of her hopelessness and come back to life! and now she's bringing the gang back together!!! and putting the pieces on why gamzee suddenly breaks. too bad gamzee never had a chance to show his personality. anyway, im starting to think i was wrong about lil cal. like, i think it was posessed but oh no its just bro moving him around, but somehow that fucking puppet is the one wrapped up in literally everything. aradia finds that shitty doll and somehow its connected to gamzee losing it and the game sgurb and doc scratch and... whats going on????

-in conclusion, timebound kids are always the one carrying the team. they are hard to find but theyre the one who could determine how you win or lose the game.

-but how can i forget? kanaya! she came through. i really thought she was dead! but she is alive, and she kills people with a chainsaw than apply lipstick to her bloodstreak lips. she is trying so hard to be Hinged. final girl behavior fr. i wonder how she's going to meet rose again. i hope she talked rose out of that suicide mission.

-and can we talk about karkat? man, imagine leading an army of kids who did kill and maim each other before the game even starts. imagine being the lowest of the social hierarchy and trying to make the most toxic friendgroup filled with racists and murderers to listen to you. imagine being able to do that despite all the odds, bring them to victory, and have the price right on your hands only for it to be ripped away and your friends devolve into chaos and murder several hours later. its a failure of untold magnitude. no wonder he's so disturbed and angry at himself and everyone.

-okay now that im done with the characters. i want to compliment how good everyone looks. the art and the fashions are all sooo amazing. the talksprite is also wonderful. im inclined to change my pfp into feferi's talksprite because i like her design so much. also because hooray! She's just dead, not corrupted by horrorterrors. in my mind she is laughing at tavros and doomed dave rap battle while surrounded by beautiful scenery

-also, i cant believe infinite stairs are referenced AGAIN with sollux and karkat. and SMUPPET ASS JOKE? on tavros dead body? lmao. okay i need to see smuppet ass on dave again. he was just so funny with it. and karkat shipping craze with jadesprite and jade. the jokes are really good, fr

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #homestuck liveread

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

[nano--raptor]

Friends who laugh together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Biker & Bartender AU)

Words: 2340

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut, sex, oral sex, drug use, alcohol, cursing

A/N: This one was fun. Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ ongoing drunk drabbles with this anon prompt:

Bucky and reader smoking weed and having high giggly sex

I hope you like it anon! Thanks everyone for reading, and don’t take things too seriously!😘

Do not click ‘keep reading’ if you are under 18. Thank you.

You met Bucky at his place, 2:30 am, after he got off work at the bar. Walking into his garage, you made yourself at home, grabbing a beer from the mini fridge and plopping down onto the old couch. A few empty cans, a wrench, an ashtray and some darts sat on the table beside you. After cracking your beer and taking a sip, letting it linger on your tongue for a moment, you  picked up one of the darts, twirling it in your fingers. The dartboard hung on the wall across from you, and you threw it, amused but not surprised when it missed its mark, piercing the drywall below the board.

"Oops," you giggled to yourself, taking another sip. A familiar rumbling soon started to grow louder, piercing the quiet of night. Then the garage door roared to life and slowly opened, as Bucky pulled into the driveway on his motorcycle. He smirked upon noticing you, already there waiting for him, and slowly rolled into the garage. He killed the engine and sat back, the door rolling closed behind him.

"Make yourself at home," he chided with a wink, kicking down the stand and swinging his leg over. He grabbed his own beer, pausing to examine the dart in the wall, then giving you a stern stare. You shrugged your shoulders, sipping your beer and feigning innocence. Bucky shook his head, sitting down beside you and sinking into the couch.

"Long night?" He nodded, taking a pull from the can and leaning his head back.

"Busy. But good tips tonight." He grinned, that lazy sideways grin that always made your stomach flip flop when he flashed it at you. He might be your best friend, but that didn’t mean you didn’t think he was sexy as hell.

"Well with you behind the bar, I can imagine." You bumped his shoulder playfully, sipping again and then picking up the wrench to wave playfully in front of his face. "You never put this away. You're gonna lose it." Bucky snatched the wrench from you, waving it back.

"I always know where this one is. And right now, it's right here." He leaned over you then, stretching across your lap to put it back on the side table, and you breathed him in, always loving when his scent surrounded you. "Here, where it belongs." Then he laughed, sitting back and smirking at you again before taking another long sip of his beer. You couldn't help but steal a glance at his throat, watching it move as he swallowed and having another sip of your own. Whew.

The two of you chatted about your day, you told him about your day at work and he told you about his. When Bucky got up to grab another beer, he stopped by his workbench, grabbing a small container from the shelf. He sat down again and pulled out supplies to roll a joint, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his fingers as you watched him. He licked the paper to seal it shut, catching your eye and smirking, and you felt heat rush to your face. He always caught you staring. He sat back and lit the joint, puffing on it, then taking a long pull and slowly exhaling, as if he was breathing out the stress and tension he carried from the day.

He offered it to you, and you accepted, holding his gaze as you raised it to your lips. Smoking took the edge off, you’d often meet Bucky after a shift to just chill and unwind from your day. Sometimes you’d chat, sometimes you’d just listen to music. Feeling the stress melt away was therapeutic.

The smoke swirled in the air as you passed the joint back and forth, until it was gone and you were feeling that familiar, comfortable high. Bucky finished off his beer and set the can down, then looked at you pointedly before slowly leaning in to kiss you. It was easy to fall into it, your hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, the taste of beer on his tongue. His hand was on your thigh and when the kiss broke, you couldn’t help the wave of giggles that started. 

“Buck what are you doing!” Bucky sat back, grinning as if it was obvious.

“Kissing you.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanted to,” he said simply with a shrug.

“Is that all you want to do?” Bucky grinned, shaking his head and you couldn’t hold back your giggles. “You look fuckin’ adorable right now.”

“Adorable? That’s you darlin’. I’m not adorable, I'm… manly… and handsome.”

“Yeah okay Mr Manly Handsome,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes. “But I still think you’re adorable and you can’t change my mind.” Bucky’s eyes flashed then as she stood, suddenly picking you up, and you squealed as he tossed you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing!?”

“I wanna show you something.”

“Is it… your bed?” You laughed out loud at your own joke, clutching onto his shoulder and back as best you could.

“Maybe…” Bucky couldn’t hide the grin in his own voice as he carried you inside, definitely heading towards his room. Then he dropped you on the bed and you laughed again as you bounced, pillows bouncing off onto the floor.

“The pillows!” You reached over to swipe at one, trying to reach it, and squealed when you felt Bucky’s lips press against your skin, exposed from your shirt riding up. Then he was pushing it up further, crawling over your body, and your shirt was stuck awkwardly under your armpits, sliding up further to cover your face and you fell over on the bed, clutching Bucky’s arms.

“Buck I can’t see! Oh my god.” You couldn’t stop your giggles now as his lips brushed over your stomach, it tickled, and then he was shoving his head underneath your shirt. It had popped over yours as well and now you were staring at him as you both hid under your shirt.

“It’s a fort,” he grinned, before tracing his tongue over your breast along the edge of your bra.

“This is the worst fort ever!” You wrestled your shirt off all the way, then started tugging at his, not having much luck as he held you down to keep kissing and licking your skin. “Bucky! Take your clothes off!” You tried to roll him off of you, starting to call out about fairness as you were shedding clothes, but he hadn’t yet.

“Fine okay! Here,” he sat up on his knees and stripped his shirt off, his jeans hanging low on his hips, and he was a sight. “Happy now?” You nodded, biting your lip and trailing your eyes down his torso. Damn this boy and his beautiful body. You hummed, then voiced only half of your thought out loud.

“Ohhh, body…” Bucky raised an eyebrow, and you laughed again. “I mean, I like it! Damn, look at you!” You pushed him down on the bed then and straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him, fumbling with the button on his jeans.. When you discovered that you wouldn’t be able to push them off, you moved your focus to your own, trying to be sexy for him while taking them off, but failing at that as well.

“Need a hand?” Bucky asked, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No…” you pouted, finally freeing yourself from the confines of jeans. “But now it’s your turn.” Bucky obliged, stripping his pants off, and you practically drooled at the sight of him, hard and tight in his boxers. “Yeah Bucky,” you breathed, and then you were straddling him again, cupping his face and kissing him hard, rocking your hips against him and suddenly you were overcome with need. You didn’t even realize you were whimpering until his fingers were pushing your panties down, and he rolled you over, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder.

You were floating, eyes locked on his, and you could hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears. Bucky held your gaze, smirking, as he lowered himself between your legs and licked a stripe over your pussy, moaning at the taste of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” You just whined again and wiggled your hips, trying to get more attention from him. 

“Less talking,” you teased, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. He dipped down again, curling his tongue against you, into you, over your clit, back and forth, and your grip tightened in his hair and he brought you closer to the edge. You started panting his name, wiggling underneath him, and he held you down with firm hands. You couldn’t help bucking your hips, arching your back and crying out as your orgasm quickly washed over you, warmth and tingles spreading through your entire body.

Collapsing back to the bed, you lay panting, and Bucky’s hand smoothed over your stomach while he pressed kisses and kitten licks to your throbbing heat. Then he turned his head, kissed the inside of your thigh… and blew a raspberry on your skin.

You shrieked, curling into a ball and nearly kneeing him in the chin in the process. Your shriek turned into laughter as he crawled over you, blowing raspberries over every part of your skin he could reach.

“Bucky! Bucky stop oh my god! What the fuck!” He laughed with you, crawling up to kiss your lips, and down your jaw to your neck, but now you were squirmy and ticklish and you tried to get away from him.

“Nuh uh, you come here beautiful,” he drawled, licking back up your throat to kiss your jaw and then your lips. You were finally able to catch your breath and you gazed up at him, his hooded eyes dark and sparkling as he leaned in to kiss you again. Then you grabbed his jaw and turned his head, licking a hot stripe over his cheek instead.

“Got you!!” His eyes flashed again and he grabbed your wrists, easily pinning them down with one hand. He held himself up with the other, then ground his hips down against yours. You couldn’t help but moan at the feel of him, the need for him flaring up in your belly again.

“Do you want it baby?” he teased. It was obvious that you did, but you stuck your tongue out, asking him the same question instead, though a little more breathlessly than you would have liked.

“Do you want it?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. You’re so gorgeous.” Then he was kissing you more tenderly, pushing his boxers down and lining himself up. He pushed into you with a groan and your head fell back, breathy moans falling from your own lips as he moved against you.

“Bucky… Bucky, oh my god.”

“Yeah baby, fuck you feel good.

“Yeah you do too. This is amazing…” Your voice trailed off as he slid into you, then slowly pulled out again, sending heat tingling through your body when he sank back in. You had to grab onto him, wrapping your arms around him, wrapping your legs around his waist, you felt like you were floating, like you were heading towards pure bliss and you never wanted it to stop.

Bucky picked up his pace, grunting softly into the crook of your neck and you were completely losing yourself in him, until you started mumbling.

“Fuck, bucky… fuck, oh god, oh god… fucky, fuck… I…” Bucky’s pace faltered and he snorted against your skin, and then you froze. Your brain felt sluggish in the best way, high from the weed and from Bucky surrounding you, all over you, until you realized what you’d said and burst out laughing.

“Buck!” you snorted, unable to control your laughter. “Your name rhymes with… with fuck!” He twitched inside you and you squealed again, still giggling as you held him tightly.

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky said with a laugh, kissing your nose. “And fuckin’ adorable.” When your laughter died down some, you gazed up at him, his eyes crinkled with his grin, dark, filled with warmth and desire, hair falling around his face. He was beautiful.

“And you’re fuckin’ handsome, baby. Mister Handsome. As. Fuck.” You pulled his mouth down to yours and kissed him with a smile, feeling his own smile against yours, and you clenched around him, your grin turning devilish as he growled in response.

“Ohhhh darlin’. Now that feels fuckin’ amazing.” His head fell back and his eyes were closed as he started moving against you again, then he leaned forward until his lips found your skin, and he was kissing and nipping at your collarbones, your shoulders, your neck, thrusting harder, pushing deeper, as the pressure started to build.

“Yes, Bucky please, oh god yes!” Your cries rang out, nails digging into Bucky’s skin as he chased the end, and he angled his hips just enough that you started to see stars, that wave breaking and crashing wildly over you again. As you fluttered around him, squeezing his cock impossibly tight, Bucky roared, fucking you through it until he was spilling inside you. You could feel every ripple of muscle beneath your hands, every flex against your skin, every pulse of him inside of you, and it was so fucking good that you almost whited out.

When he collapsed against you, panting, a sheen of sweat covering his body, you whimpered, wiggling against him, feeling completely blissed out, but also sensitive and tingly all over. Bucky rolled to his side, pulling you against him and nuzzling into your neck again.

“Baby you’re so good. You make me feel amazing…” He kissed your neck and pulled a blanket over the two of you, and you snuggled against him, trying to curl into him and much as you could.

“Mmm, thanks Bucky. My fucky Bucky, Mr manly, handsome and adorable.” Bucky snorted against your skin again, and the giggles overtook you both once again.

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[yourtamaki]

the devil lives in his smile

atsumu x f!reader word count: 3k warnings please read: toxic fuckboy atsumu, manipulation, dubcon, degradation, dumbification, dry humping, face fucking, pussyjob, no prep, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, one pussy slap

nsfw minors dni

fuckboys come in a variety of shapes and sizes and personalities

and atsumu was one of the subtlest fuckboys around

he worked hard to give off an air of dumb jock charm so no one would sense his true nature until it was too late

and now he had set his sights on you

atsumu had first seen you early in the semester in one of his afternoon classes and from then on it became the only course he regularly attended

it had been easy sliding into your good graces, you were so kind offering him your notes at the flash of a smile

he’d come in late with a cheesy grin and mcdonald’s breakfast, crashing into the seat you had started saving for him and would offer you some food

it was a routine that had you perking up whenever he walked through the door, just like he wanted

so when atsumu invited you to a party that night, you were all too eager to accept

“can’t fucking believe how easy you were.” even with atsumu hunched over you and growling right into your ear, you could barely hear him over the cacophony of the frat party in full swing. or maybe it was just hard to focus when he was thrusting into you so hard and so fast, your mind couldn’t even string together a thought.

when you had arrived at the address your friend had texted you, a ball of dread had sunken to the pit of your stomach. a few friends. really just a get together before midterms. that’s how atsumu had described the gathering. he had failed to mention it was being held at the most notorious frat house on campus. the one with a bowl of condoms at the front door, drunk people strewn against the lawn and blasting music so loud you could feel it like a phantom heartbeat.

you should’ve left. should’ve turned on your heels and walked back home but the memory of atsumu’s bright smile when you had told him you’d go had you steeling your nerves and walking into the house.

he had found you right away and you weren’t sure whether it was because he was looking for you or because you looked so out of place among the crowd. he handed you a drink and you were so used to accepting things from atsumu you didn’t hesitate to take a sip. it was strong. much stronger then you were used to and the blonde chuckled when you gagged at the aftertaste.

his mouth was moving but the music was even louder now that you were in the belly of the beast and you gestured to him that you couldn’t understand. he nodded, grabbed your hand and led you upstairs, ducking under the tape guarding them off. you didn’t expect the rush of warmth to your face at the feel of his large hand in yours. if atsumu noticed your nervousness, he didn’t comment on it.

“are we allowed to be in here?” you asked as he guided you into an empty bedroom, closing the door behind you. a part of you wished the room had a lock in case some partygoers tried to crash in. another part of you was glad for the potential easy exit though you weren’t sure why you’d need it.

“i’ve got friends that live here.” he said, crossing the room to plop down on the bed, stretching out like he owned the place. “they won’t mind.”

reassured, you made your way over to him, leaving a sizeable gap between you as you sat on the end of the bed.

he cocked an eyebrow at you. “what are you doing all the way over there?”

atsumu was always in your space in class, scooting in close to look at your notes, leaning over to take sips from the coffee he bought you. it was different now. there was no barrier of the desks separating you. there was nothing but empty air between you and for the first time since you met him, you were uneasy in atsumu’s presence.

you felt stupid for even feeling this way. this was atsumu, your friend. the person who covered for you when the professor called you out and you weren’t paying attention. the person who hung out with you when all your other friends had abandoned you. granted, you weren’t paying attention because atsumu had been whining about how unfair it was he didn’t have your number. and your ex friends never quite looked at you when you crossed paths on campus with atsumu by your side.

still. he’s your friend. being close to him is nothing new so you swallowed your growing anxiety and scooted closer to him until your thighs were pressed against each other. a hand landed on your shoulder, pulling until you were lying on your back with atsumu’s arm around you.

“that’s better.” he said. better? this was more then you had in mind but you couldn’t deny, it was nice to be in his arms. or maybe just nice to have someone hold you for the first time since you could remember. how long has it been? definitely before the semester started. the only man you’d talked to for months had been atsumu. everyone else had just… left. faded out of your life. at least you had atsumu. if he left, then you’d really be all alone. so if he wanted to cuddle a bit, you could bear it if it kept him by your side, saved you from loneliness.

“yer pretty, ya know that?” he was gazing down at you, a glint of something sharp behind his dark eyes. “real fucking pretty.”

“thank you.” you laughed a bit, feeling far too awkward to do anything else and desperate to change the conversation. “h-how come i never noticed you had an accent before?”

“it’s faded since i’ve been living in the city but it comes out once in awhile.” his face somehow gets closer to yours and his voice drops to a whisper. “ ‘specially when i’m nervous.”

“what are you nervous about?” you find yourself matching his volume, holding your breath as his other hand comes up to cup your cheek.

“this.” your eyes stay wide open as atsumu crashed his mouth onto yours. it’s not how you’d imagined he’d kiss and you can admit to yourself now that you had daydreamed about it once or twice. you thought he’d be gentle, all soft lips and breathy laughs.

the reality couldn’t be farther from that. his kisses weren’t just hungry, they were ravenous, biting at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth and let his tongue snake inside. you could taste the remnants of whatever drink he’d had and it made you cringe, remembering exactly where you were. you tried to pull back but atsumu’s grip was too strong and he chased you, surging forward until he rolled, now on top of you and pinning you to the bed. there was nowhere left to go now.

he finally broke the kiss, letting you gulp precious air into your starved lungs. “fuck, darlin’. ya look so hot right now.”

you were about to ask him to let you up, already thinking about how you were going to get home safe when one of his legs settled in between yours, his thigh grinding against your covered mound. you couldn’t stop the moan at the unexpected friction, hips bucking up to seek more instinctively. you trembled at the cruel laugh atsumu let out at your expense.

“fucking knew it. i knew ya were a slut the second i laid eyes on you.”

you wanted to shake your head, hot tears threatening to spill over but atsumu was pressing right against you now, giving your clit the attention it didn’t know it craved until that moment. tension was building in your gut embarrassingly quickly and you came with a silent cry, gripping tight onto atsumu’s arms that had you caged in. his movement stilled as he felt you shudder beneath him.

“did you just fucking cum?” you didn’t know atsumu’s voice could get that low, that it could sound so terrifying.

“i-i… you didn’t stop! you wouldn’t stop.”

“tch.” he pulled back and you wanted to weep at the disgusted look he threw your way. “is that all it takes? ya fucking cum the second anyone puts their hands on ya?”

“no no!” you were shaking your head but he wasn’t looking at you anymore in favour of unbuckling his jeans.

“don’t be a bitch now, sweetheart, help a guy out. it’s only fair.”

he pulled himself out of his boxers and your hands went numb at the sight. it wasn’t the length that scared you, it was the girth. it was the thickest cock you’d ever seen with the widest part right in the middle with a tip shiny with precum. the thought of what it would feel like inside you entered your mind before you could stop it and you swallowed thickly.

“what, never seen a real dick before? on your knees. now.” you jumped at the bark of a command, shakily getting off the bed and kneeling before him. when you did nothing but look up at him, atsumu slapped his cock against your face a few times, smearing precum against your cheek before pressing the tip to your lips.

why was your mouth opening up? why were you letting him gag you on his length, letting him he thrust into you with little regard for your comfort? why were you getting wet from it?

“that’s it god ya don’t know how many times i’ve thought of this. every fucking time ya opened yer mouth goin on about something stupid i wanted to shove my cock down yer throat to shut you up.”

you didn’t know who the man before you was but it wasn’t your atsumu. not the atsumu that made you laugh everyday and filled your stomach with butterflies when he winked your way. maybe that person never existed but the thought was too upsetting you didn’t want to believe it.

he fucked into your mouth for so long your jaw began to hurt from the strain but you didn’t want to stop. you were starting to become enthralled with the way atsumu was watching you. like you were someone desirable. it made you want to do whatever it takes to make sure he kept looking at you that way. you never wanted to see his disgust pointed at you ever again.

“that’s enough.” he pulled out of your mouth, a trail of salvia stringing out. he stepped out of his jeans and underwear, pulling his shirt up over his head before sitting back down on the bed. “strip.”

once again, you hurried to comply, shedding your clothes with little grace until all you had left was your panties. everything was moving so fast, the sudden realization of what you were about to do finally came crashing in as your thumbs hooked around the band.

“sometime tonight would be nice, darlin’.” he was stroking himself off as you hesitated, eyes glued to your bare chest and a wave of heat rose to your face. you shouldn’t like this, how he stared at you like a piece of meat. and yet you pulled down your panties anyway, stepping between his spread legs.

he grabbed you around the waist, manhandling you until you were straddling his lap. you didn’t know what to do with your hands, didn’t want to do something wrong and it didn’t go unnoticed by atsumu.

“i know ya wanna touch me so what are ya holdin’ back for?”

“i’m… allowed to?” your voice came out broken, hoarse from the rough treatment it had just been through. the smile that crossed atsumu’s face sent a shiver up your spine. there was nothing familiar about it, all curved edges and sharp teeth.

“dumb fucking whore. is yer head so empty that you need someone to tell you every little thing?” his tone was so patronizing it filled you with hot shame. you couldn’t help it, he wasn’t giving you a second to breathe, to think.

“please atsumu…”

“do you even know what yer beggin for?”

no. you really didn’t. you didn’t know whether you wanted to touch any part of him you could reach or run from the room or have him fuck you senseless. your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions that told you this man had lied to you for months and yet was making you feel so fucking good.

thinking was bad. thinking was making you feel worse. and you knew how to get the thinking to stop.

“please fuck me.”

“i know ya can do better than that, sweetheart.” he leant back on his arms to get a better view of your body. “show me how bad ya want me.”

your hips rolled forward at once, grinding your soaked folds along his shaft. the heavy weight of his stare was intoxicating. it made you want to put on a show for him, whining out his name and pinching your nipples. you clenched when you felt his cock twitch beneath you, moving faster now that his cock was slick with your spit and arousal.

just as you felt the tightening return to your gut, atsumu gripped your hips and stilled your movement. you blinked and suddenly you positioned on all fours with his blunt tip poking at your entrance.

“wait i’m not-!” he cut you off by pressing forward until the fat head of his cock popped inside you, the sudden intrusion making you cry out. atsumu was quick to grab the back of your head and push it down into the mattress.

“don’t worry. yer so fucking wet i bet ya won’t even feel it.”

inch by thick inch, he squeezed himself into you, your cries muffled and falling onto deaf ears. you’d never felt so full, you could hardly breathe as atsumu finally bottomed out but it was too late. you were overtaken by the unexpected orgasm, shaking hard from its force.

“ya really came just from me putting it in?” atsumu laughed. “i haven’t even tried yet, ya know?”

with that he pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, setting a rough pace that had your hands flying forward in search of something, anything to hold onto.

atsumu used you like you were a toy to take his frustrations out on, pain shooting through you as he battered against your cervix with every thrust. he hunched over you, humping quick and hard as he hissed into your ear.

“can’t believe how fucking easy ya were. i’ve been actin all friendly this whole time for nothin. could’ve just dragged ya outta class that first day and fucked ya in the bathroom, huh?”

you could focus just enough on his words for it to sink in that the friend you loved truly was just an act. there were tears running down your face and dripping onto the bed but you couldn’t tell if they were from pleasure or heartbreak.

“yer fucking mine now, understand? i’ve worked so hard for this cunt it belongs to me now. yer my hole now, just a place to keep my cum warm. say it.” he punctuated his sentence with a harsh slap to your ass.

“i- i’m...” you sobbed, mind too far gone to understand what he wanted you to say.

“who do ya belong to?” several more slaps landed on you, each one so hard it pushed you forward.

“you! i belong to you, atsumu!”

“that’s fuckin right. and what are you?”

“‘m your dumb whore! i’m a cocksleeve for you to fuck whenever you want!” you were rewarded with a quick rub of your clit that had you creaming, walls clenching down hard against him.

“what do ya say, slut, when i’m nice enough to let ya get yer filthy mess all over my cock?”

you babbled out your thanks mindlessly as he rode you straight into overstimulation, every nerve alive and buzzing beneath your skin.

“beg, dirty bitch. beg for my cum.” he was panting hard against you, hot breath on the nape of your neck.

“please cum atsumu i want it want you to fill me up and make me yours.”

“yeah? ya gonna walk around this party with my cum inside ya like a good girl?” you whined at the need to have him praise you, to make him proud of you.

“i’ll be good! i’ll be your good girl i promise please!”

“fucking take it then.” he came with a groan, warmth filling your lower belly as he gave shallow thrusts. he pulled out slowly, keeping as much of his cum inside you before reaching for your discarded panties. atsumu put them back on for you, not letting you move a muscle as to not allow even a drop to escape. when the panties covered you once more, he gave your now clothed pussy a slap, a jolt of electricity shooting through you.

“no chance of it coming out now.” before you could reply, the bedroom door swung open and two men stumbled in, pausing when they saw you two on the bed. you knew you should cover yourself up and yet you were watching atsumu for any indication of what you should do. when he didn’t motion any sort of signal, you presumed that meant he wanted you on display and you obliged with your head bowed.

“should’ve known you disappeared to bag someone.” one of the men said. “wait, atsumu is that the bitch you’ve been chasing all semester?”

“yeah.” atsumu’s face was turned away from you but you could hear the grin in his voice. “she gave it up pretty easy though.”

“that’s my boy!” they both clapped him hard on the back and ruffled his hair. they waited as atsumu dressed himself, talking idly about you as though you weren’t there and the blonde was all too happy to share details. the three left to rejoin the party but before atsumu closed the door, he turned back to you, face cold and hard.

“better keep yer fucking promise or i won’t be as nice next time.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu imagine #hq smut #hq imagine #cw dubcon #cw manipulation #cw toxic relationship

[leiawritesstories]

No Swimsuits After Dark

Rowaelin Month, Day 14: Skinny dipping ;)))

Word count: 1264

Inspired by an actual sign on my relatives’ hot tub that says “No jumping, no diving, no swimsuits after dark.” Enjoy!

Warnings: language, implied sMuT, Fenrys Moonbeam

“Hell. No.”

“Hell yes!” Lysandra smirked. “Girl, you said you were up for anything. I repeat, truth or dare?”

Aelin sighed. “Remind me again why I got drunk enough to agree to this.”

Elide cocked her head at the red Solo cup in Aelin’s hand. “If that’s Lorcan’s punch…”

“Gods, you’re all horrible,” Aelin groaned. She took a long pull from the cup. “Fine, bitches. Dare.” 

An evil grin spread across Lysandra’s face. “You know the sign on the hot tub?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know how it’s like 1 am? Meaning it’s definitely dark?”

“No shit, I’m not drunk enough to be confusing night for…shit. NO.”

“YES. Hot tub, ten minutes, and since it’s after dark…no swimsuit.” She and Elide toasted each other and broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

Aelin glared at her two best friends. “I hate both of you.”

“Nah, you loooooooove us,” snickered Elide. “Now strip and dip!” 

Lysandra spat out her drink. “Oh my gods, El, I’m stealing that phrase,” she wheezed. 

“Go ahead,” Elide grinned. “Ae, you gonna grow a pair and go skinny dipping or will we have to throw you into the hot tub?”

Aelin drained the rest of her drink and stood, pulling off her shirt. “I’m going, I’m going. Jesus, you think I wouldn’t take a dare? I am pretty damn drunk.” She tugged off her shorts when she got to the hot tub on the other side of the patio, leaving her underclothes with them. Quickly, not wanting anyone else to see her nude ass, she clambered into the tub, sighing as the hot water hit her skin. She closed her eyes, deciding to enjoy her impromptu soak in the hot tub rather than spend the whole ten minutes worrying another of her drunk idiot friends would stumble over and goggle at her. After all, the hot tub was gated off from the rest of the patio, and even though she’d left the gate slightly ajar, she didn’t think anyone currently at her house would be sober enough to remember it existed.

Not three minutes later, the gate squeaked open.

And a distinctly male, distinctly slurred voice, choked out a “Fuck.”

~

When Lorcan had asked Rowan if he wanted to go to Aelin’s house that night, he’d accepted like he always did, looking forward to another one of his best friend’s casual “family drinking nights,” as she’d coined them. 

Apparently this night was a joint girls’ and boys’ night, though, since Rowan had hardly got to say hello before Lorcan, Aedion, and Fenrys pulled him out to the fire pit for “bro time,” which meant shitloads of whiskey, too many shots, telling the stupidest jokes they knew until someone got hammered enough to laugh, and occasionally hearing drunk Lorcan moon over Elide. And, apparently, drunk dares.

He’d thought none of the wasted guys sitting around the fire pit could come up with anything worse than making Aedion steal the batteries from Aelin’s vibrator (a task that made Rowan blush red enough that he was glad for the cover of midnight darkness) until Fenrys aimed his empty bottle at him and slurred, “Go’shkin’dip.”

“The fuck, Moonbeam?”

“That translates to ‘Go skinny dipping in the hot tub,’ idiot,” Lorcan clarified. 

“Oh hell no!”

“Oh hell yes! What, don’t have the balls to do ten minutes alone in the hot tub? Might sober your drunk ass up, Whitethorn,” drawled Aedion. “After all, there is a sign posted on the gate saying that you can’t wear a swimsuit after dark.”

“Fine. I’ll go fucking skinny dipping. And then you, Salvaterre, can shove that bottle up your ass and see how long it takes for Elide to notice.”

Grumbling to himself, Rowan made it to the hot tub gate, barely noticing that it was ajar, dropped his shorts, and shoved the gate open. 

“Fuck.”

Already sitting in the hot tub, just as naked as him, was Aelin. 

His hands immediately covered himself, lest she see what his…reaction to seeing her nude in her hot tub was. 

Before he could back away, Aelin, her arms crossed over her chest, smirked at him. 

“You joining the party, Whitethorn?”

He was in the hot tub seconds later.

~

Sitting on the opposite side from her very drunk best friend, Aelin wondered if Rowan knew she’d seen exactly what he was trying to hide from her when he all but jumped into the hot tub. 

If she was maybe one shot drunker, she’d be the one jumping. But she had enough sobriety to tell herself that this was her best friend, no matter that she’s been madly in love with him for a long-ass time. Not to mention, she was drunk.

“Well…this is awkward.” Rowan finally broke the tense silence.

Aelin snorted. “Yeah. Part of me wonders if they set this up.”

“But everyone’s too wasted to have planned it.”

“Right.”

They were quiet for another moment, Rowan staring directly at her face, his eyes flickering with something Aelin didn’t want to name. 

“Ro, if you’re going to check out my rack, at least don’t try to hide it.”

His eyes jerked back to hers. “Your what?”

“My boobs, Rowan. Or are you too drunk to notice I have them?”

Those dark, green eyes dragged a path down her chest, stopping where the water hit her ribs. “I have never not noticed how hot your rack is. How gorgeous you are.”

Aelin’s breath caught. “You--”

“I’m drunk, Ae. You’re drunk. And drunk people tell the truest truths.”

“Then in the spirit of truth-telling, I am so fucking impossibly in love with you.”

It was his turn to go speechless. That emotion flickered through his eyes again, tinged with a darker flame. “You going to do something about it?”

Her lips were on his before he could smirk.

~

By the time Aelin strolled back over to the cluster of chairs on the patio, Lorcan, Aedion, and Fenrys had joined the girls. 

Elide, trying to hide that she was grinding in Lorcan’s lap, smirked at her. “That was a lot more than ten minutes, Ae.”

“Maybe I’m too drunk to tell time,” she grinned. “Much like you’re too drunk to be in public with your man.”

Rowan flopped down in one of the patio chairs. “Fuck, I need water. Ae, you got a water bottle?”

“Kitchen.”

“I can’t fucking remember where your kitchen is, Aelin.”

“And is that because you drank three whole bottles of shitty whiskey?”

“IT’S BECAUSE HE CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING EXCEPT YOUR--”

“Fen, if you finish that sentence, I will personally castrate and murder you, in that order,” Rowan growled. 

Aelin whacked Fenrys upside the head with a water bottle. “Get out of my house, Moonbeam. You’re not getting hungover on my couch again.”

He opened his mouth, probably to make another raunchy comment, saw everyone’s expression, and stood, weaving on his feet. “Lorky, will you drive me home?”

Lorcan and Elide stood on each side of him and headed for their car, calling out goodbyes. Aelin watched them go, shaking her head. 

Lysandra was smirking a smirk of pure evil delight. “Lorky.”

Aedion was wheezing. 

Rowan just grinned at Aelin. “Are you kicking them out, or am I?”

“Hey, hey, we’re leaving, no need to get territorial. I wouldn’t stay the night for all the money in the world, knowing that I’d hear you two on the other side of the house.”

She and Aedion were off before Aelin could swat her. 

Rowan tugged her into his lap. “Well, we’re alone now.”

“Mhmm.” And she fell asleep on his shoulder. 

Rowan chuckled as he walked her inside, telling little Whitethorn to calm down, they’d have plenty of time tomorrow. And the day after that. And the rest of their lives.

#my writing #rowaelin month #day 14

[accioprozac]

Jealous : Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: You’d known the Weasley twins since 1st year and had been pining after Fred nearly as long. You knew it wasn’t requited, Fred treated you like he treated Ginny, like a little sister. Your crush on him was painfully obvious, almost everyone knew except Fred. Still, you were holding out hope. Then Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball and you felt your heart spilt in two. But despite Fred’s apparent disinterest in you romantically, he still attempts to sabatoge all your dates and you’re getting sick of it.

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s note: Please interact! Also, I wrote this on my phone so sorry if the spelling and format is a bit wonky.

“The Yule Ball is coming up,” you mention, trying to keep your voice light, “Are you going to ask anyone?”

George gives you a knowing look and you glare at him. He knew about your not-so-secret crush on Fred. Hell, almost everyone did, except Fred. You weren’t exactly good at hiding your feelings.

“I have someone in mind,” he grins slyly.

“Really? Who?” You ask, a bit too excitedly, and he gives you an amused look. “Come on Fred, tell me!” You wheedle but he puts a finger to his lips, zipping them shut.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he starts, “She’s in Gryffindor.”

Well obviously,” George snorts. Fred gives him a look that says what’s that supposed to mean? “You barely talk to any Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws are too smart to put up with your shit and Slytherins? I’m pretty sure that whole house hates you after the prank we pulled last year.”

Fred’s eyes light up at the mention of the prank and he enthusiastically starts to recount Snape’s reaction to his House’s robes being turned red and gold.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“He didn’t say much, but do you think he could be talking about me?” you ask Hermione anxiously as you both get ready for bed.

“Well it would make sense. You are the girl he spends the most time with.”

“I hope he asks me,” you say wistfully, “Night Hermione.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next morning, Hermione’s forehead is wrinkled in thought when you sit down for breakfast, “Y/N,” she starts, “I heard from Lavender Brown who heard from Katie Bell that Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball.” Her lips are pursed as she anxiously studies your face for some type of reaction.

“Oh,” you say dejectedly, “Good for him.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Ginny says sympathetically, “My brother is an idiot.”

You give her a weak smile back.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A few days later, Ernie Macmillan comes up to you and nervously asks you to Hogsmead. He’s sweating profusely but you secretly admire his bravery. You accept and the date is fairly uneventful, mostly consisting of playful banter, and he walks you back to the Gryffindor common room, kissing your cheek chastely before departing.

Fred and George caught sight of the kiss and Fred snorts, “A Hufflepuff?”

“What’s wrong with Hufflepuff?” You demand, crossing your arms.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he mutters before angrily storming off. George mouths “sorry, I’ll talk to him,” before following Fred.

Ernie doesn’t talk to you again after that date. Every time you approach him, he finds some reason to leave quickly. You couldn’t lie, it was hurtful, was the date that bad? He seemed almost scared to be around you.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A boy from Durmstang ends up asking you to the Yule Ball. His name is Ansen. He’s tall and has nice eyes, so you accept. Maybe you aren’t in love with him, but he’s a nice distraction from Fred. You get along with him well enough, you both like quidditch and chocolate frogs. He’s not a bad dancer either, he twirls you around and that combined with your F/C dress makes you feel like a princess.

When the Yule Ball ends, he walks you back to the Gryffindor tower and wishes you a good night.

When you enter the common room, George and Fred are talking in harsh whispers, heads bowed. Both of them are still in their Yule Ball suit. Fred looks up and seems a bit annoyed, “Who’s that bloke you went to the ball with?”

“His name is Asen, he goes to Durmstang,” you say, shrinking a bit under Fred’s glare. “He’s really nice,” you added, just because you could.

“You went with him??” Fred huffed, sounding a bit disbelieving. “He’s Bulgarian, how do you guys even talk?”

George grinned, “I bet there’s not much talking involved when they get together.” You shoot him a look, not helping George.

Ginny glares at them from a armchair by the fireplace, the splitting image of her mother, and they shrunk under her angry gaze. “Stop being gits,” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the girls dormitory, “Tell me everything.”

Once you’re done recounting the date, she smiles, “He sounds nice.”

“He is.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Ginny notes innocently.

“I know,” you sigh. “I just wish I that Fred had asked me.”

Ginny winces, “I know the feeling.” Harry, right.

“I’m sorry Gin.”

“Boys are stupid, who needs them?”

“Here, here,” Hermione agrees from her bed, her voice is thick with tears and muffled slightly by her pillow.

“I’m going to kill Ron.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next day, Ansen’s hair is bright blue. When you try to talk to him, he seems disgruntled and brushes you aside, muttering something about “stupid Weasley twins” and “she’s not worth the trouble.” You narrow your eyes and put two and two together. Fred and George.

You storm up to them and Fred gives you an annoyed look as you cut of his conversation with Angelina.

“You two are unbelievable! You can’t just prank everyone I try to date,” your voice raises a bit and you know you’re making a scene, but you’re to mad to care. You can feel onlookers burning holes into your back with their curious stares.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred drawls and George quickly removes himself from the situation, putting his hands up like don’t get me involved.

“You dyed Ansen’s hair blue and now he won’t speak to me,” you shoot a glare at him, “Not to mention whatever you did to poor Ernie.”

“We prank everyone,” he says defensively.

“You scared them away,” your voice is accusatory.

“Well if they’re that easily scared away, they’re not worth your time,” he replies breezily.

“You don’t get to do this,” you repeat. Your voice is quiet but shakes with anger and hurt.

“Why not?” Fred asks, looking a bit sullen.

“Because you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ruin all my chances of love after you broke my heart,” your eyes widen at your thoughtless confession.

He gaped silently for a moment, “When I broke your heart?”

“You took Angelina to the Yule Ball.” At his blank look, you felt your face grow hot with anger, “You know what? Forget it. Fuck you Fred Weasley. Stay out of my life”

“Wait, Y/N!” He scrabbles up and grabs your wrist. You jerk it away from him, feeling like he burned you, before running into the girls dormitory.

Hermione, who had been silently watching the exchange, set her book down, “Fred Weasley, you are a compete arse,” she hissed before running after you.

She finds you lying face flat on your bed, “Y/N? I’m sorry about Fred, boys are idiots.”

You let out a watery laugh, “I hate him,” you pause, “but I also love him and he doesn’t love me back and it’s hurts, Mione.”

“I know,” she sighed, wrapping you in a hug. You allow yourself to cry on her shoulder and she glares at the wall behind you, thinking of all the things she wanted to do to Fred Weasley for hurting you.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You avoid the Fred for a whole week and you’re absolutely miserable. You’ve been spending more time with Hermione which is fun and all, but you missed George(and maybe Fred too). It’s not that you were mad at George, but if you spoke to him, Fred would probably be there. You made sure to continue to smile at George in hallways but your face would turn icy at the arrival of Fred.

The next week, you’re walking to potions and Fred grabs you and pulls you into an empty classroom. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

You sigh wearily and avoid his gaze, “What do you want Fred? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I want you.” His voice is so earnest and when you look up to meet his eyes, he’s smiling nervously, hands wrung together.

You look away, “No, you don’t. You’re just saying that because you can’t stand seeing me with another boy and no longer fawning over you like a lovesick little girl.” Your tone is venomous and you take a step back, preparing to leave but his voice stops you.

“That’s not true,” he says defensively, “I fancy you, I think I always have. It just took seeing you with another bloke for me to realize.”

“What about Angelina?”

“I don’t love her, I love you,” his frank declaration stuns you into silence.

“You love me?” your voice is a hoarse whisper.

His face flushes and you hate that you still find him endearing after everything he’s done, he nods solemnly, “I do. I know I’ve been awful to you these past weeks and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to see me.”

You feel your resolve crumbling, “I’m still mad at you but I do miss being friends.” You don’t address the love confession, you were still too mad and hurt for that.

“I’ll make it up to you Y/N, I promise.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

He stays true to his word. He walks you to every class and even apologizes to Ernie, who is no longer avoiding you. He doesn’t try to demand anything from you or push you, leaving everything up to you. Slowly, you begin to trust him again and can feel your relationship shifting from friends to something else.

Your first kiss is at the end of the school year. You say goodbye to George and turn to Fred, nervously aware of his family standing a few steps away. “Write to me?” you ask and he nods. You stand on your tip toes and peck him on the lips, quickly. He stares at you in shock for a moment before gently grabbing your waist and pulling you in for another a kiss that leaves you both breathless. You can hear his brothers hollering in the distance and Molly scolds them.

When you pull apart, Fred’s face is almost as red as his hair, “Bye Y/N, I’ll uh- see you next year,” he pauses, “Or maybe you could come to the Burrow sometime during the summer? You don’t have to but I reckon Mum would love to have you, and I would too of course-“

You cut off his rambling with a laugh, “I’d love to Freddie.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #hogwarts #yule ball #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x y/n

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  III

I gave myself a small case of blue balls with this chapter, I apologize! It gets a little, ahem, spicy. ❤️

Edit: @chelseareferenced forgot to tag my boo! Sorry love!

Chapter 3

Lords grant you mercy you were going to kill him if he didn’t let you out. Heisenberg had, quite quickly, established a set of ground rules that you were to adhere to at all times when in the Factory, the most notable being that you weren’t to leave the upper floors without him under any circumstances. This, of course, left you alone for the majority of your time there since he never allowed you to aid him in his work.

You’ll just get in my way — he’d sneer at you, patting your head in a condescending manner. Not to mention the Lycans have a preference for young, supple devotees — he would tease you, wiggling his gloved fingers at you from inside in the elevator, chuckling to himself as he descended into the bowels of the factory to continue his projects. You had no idea what he was creating down there, but you knew that it often didn’t work out as planned from the way he’d fume when he returned. Once again you have been left to your own devices, only this time you have a way to alleviate at least some of your boredom. With a huff of effort you slide to the floor and crawl over to an old vent duct in the wall. It had caught your attention one night when the echoing of his voice through the shaft had woken you up, realizing that one of his work rooms below you was connected to yours via this duct. Though it provided you with minimal entertainment, it did give you insight to the type of work he did. Experiments; this was where he made the Lycans and the other twisted creatures that roamed his Factory. One night, against your better judgement, you had read an extract from an open journal on his desk when trying to make yourself useful. It mentioned something called Soldats and an army he was trying to create. You were lucky that you had moved away from it to straighten his sheets, otherwise he would have caught you red handed. Not that he was happy to have you in his space at all. “Fuck!” The loud cursing pulls you back to reality and you peer down the shaft expectantly, gripping the grate that covers it as you listen to Heisenberg rant about his latest creation being a failure. He had a tendency to speak out loud, likely recording his findings. The echo of his boots thudding against the metal floor betrays his movements and you follow it along the floor until you can’t hear it anymore. It means one of two things; either he’s leaving the Factory altogether or he’s coming back up. Quickly, you get to your feet and smooth down your clothes; a pair of simple trousers and a tunic top. You’d managed to scrounge up the modest outfit with the help of the ever amicable and charming Duke after a rather abrupt introduction from Heisenberg. Begrudgingly he allowed you to pick whatever you deemed necessary, and even a few luxuries like a fancy hand mirror, even though he complained that you were going to bankrupt him. It didn’t stop him lingering nearby, supervising the exchange through the puffs of cigar smoke. It was on your return to the upper levels, Heisenberg fancying the stairs instead of the elevator this time, that you’d properly come into contact with the Lycans. You weren’t sure what possessed him to give you a glimpse of inner workings of his Factory. Maybe it was another cheap shot at frightening you, or maybe it was pride that drove him to parade his creations before you. Needless to say, they did scare you. The lower reaches of the Factory was their domain and as you followed Heisenberg closely, his one clear instruction, you couldn’t help but feel their eyes watching you from afar. They snarled and growled and howled at your intrusion, sniffing the air curiously. It was rare for their Master to bring something new to their den and not let them tear it limb from limb. You were quick to beg him to take you back to the relative safety of the upper floors, which he did so with immense satisfaction and shit-eating grin on his face. The sound of the elevator dings and you come to stand in the doorway, watching him stalk out as soon as the gate opens, muttering heatedly to himself. In typical Heisenberg fashion he stalks right past you and into his office without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. Clearly someone was having a bad day. Steeling yourself, you pad gently to his office door and find that he’s left it open for once. A good sign. Usually if his mood is dangerously sour the door is slammed shut and you avoid him like the plague until he makes himself known, but that isn’t necessary this time. “Is everything alright?” You ask from the threshold, careful not to enter until you’re invited. Like the ever faithful woman you are you try to serve him as best you can, even if he does make it very difficult at times. Heisenberg sits in his metal chair, leaning back. His stance is exasperated, but the tight grip on the shot of liquor in his hand is angry. His hat and coat have been discarded on his bed, his glasses sit on the desk, and you see blood on his knuckles. Upon closer inspection you see the trails of splatter on his exposed forearms, his shirt sleeves having been rolled up while he was working no doubt. “Yeah,” he breathes, raising the glass in a mock toast, “I’m just dandy.” He is definitely not dandy. Toying with the prospect of overstepping the mark or remaining respectful to his status, you rock on the balls of your feet. On one hand he always seemed so annoyed when you’d remind him that you were there to serve him, as Mother Miranda had instructed, but on the other he often chastised you if you tried to take the initiative; frankly, the constant push and pull drove you mad. “Heisenberg,” you chide quietly, approaching him cautiously. He hated it when you called him my Lord, or even sir, heatedly telling you to just call him by his surname like everyone else did. You obeyed, accepting it as the happy medium. Vibrant green eyes watch you closely as you settle for leaning against the desk, careful not to disturb the organized chaos that was his research. It’s still a work in progress, the way you navigate around one another, but you’re slowly making progress. “You can talk to me, you know,” you remind him, trying to remain resolute under his intense stare. There’s no denying that his rugged appearance, scars and all, are attractive and his more wolfish qualities gave him a uniqueness that was equal parts exciting and intimidating. You swallow nervously at the notion that you may be growing a little too comfortable in your thoughts of Lord Heisenberg. “Is that right?” He hums, knocking back the shot in one. He sets the glass down slowly on the desk, lulling you into a false sense of security that you had no business having in that place. In an instant he’s up on his feet and towering over you, hands braced on either side of you. You stiffen at the sudden closeness, looking up at him with a startled expression; he always gets a kick out of scaring you. “And just what would we talk about?” Comes his veiled question, shrouded in feigned innocence, asked in a voice like sin. You can practically feel the static in the air, the room electrified. He’s trying to tempt you, to trip you up so you’ll fall into his trap and make a fool of yourself. It’s a game he likes to play. That little hummingbird caged within you is in full flight when he runs a clawed finger gently down your cheek, the threat of him slipping and slicing your flesh too real to ignore. Oh, how he finds your fear so tantalizing. Your lips part in a shaky exhale, chest tight with the onset of emotions you’d really not want to be unpacking right now. The metal edge of his desk digs into the back of your thighs, boxed in by his large frame. This close you can feel the heat that emanates from him, a consistent wave, that mingles with the scent of oil, leather, and something wholly him. It leaves you reeling, panicked by the unsettling notion that you like it. You’re losing the game so early on and he knows it, even though it was rigged from the start to be in his favour. Just at the point when you’re about to crumble, your body yearning for that delectable touch to trail just that little bit lower, Heisenberg cuts you off. It’s cold and efficient, with all the precision you’d expect from someone of his talents. With a low, downright sinful chuckle he takes a step back, leaving you a wide-eyed, wanton mess. He’s won and you just let him do it. Colour burns shamefully on your cheeks and you’re quick to scamper away to hide in your room, proverbial tail between your legs. You’re furious that you made things so easy for him to play you, and play you he did. Utter fool. Little did you know that the fourth, and most dangerous, Lord had played himself for a fool too.

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[navyhyuck]

want you to kiss me ‘till i’m out of air — 1.8k words, lee donghyuck

warnings: suggestive, a very heated makeout, some risky phrases, okay maybe i wrote over 1k about kissing hyuck and what about it???

“You sure you don’t wanna? You’re really testing me now, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Your fists ball up in frustration at Donghyuck’s cocky words, your lips pressing tightly together as you try not to let him get to you. He’s always like this, twirling you between his fingers like a play toy to mess with until you’re riled up enough; but you don’t want to give him the pleasure, knowing your anger was what boosted his ego the most. Instead, you turn towards the boy, who has his eyebrows raised in the most infuriating fashion.

“Fuck off, Lee,” you breathe out sharply, unclenching your fingers with a turn of your head, refusing to show him your frustration. He doesn’t budge, only leaning forward in his seat to rest an elbow on his knee, letting his chin fall into the palm of his hand; you can feel him smirking at you, his eyes wandering your shaking confidence. “I said fuck off.”

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t get mad at me,” he mocks softly, his voice a complete contrast from the way he’s treating you. “You’re much prettier without that scowl on your face.”

“You’re cuter with your mouth shut,” you snap back quickly, not realizing the extent of your words before he’s chuckling again.

“Oh, really?”

You turn back to him, seeing him staring back at you with a mildly amused face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

You raise an eyebrow at his advance, watching as a slow smirk spreads over his face and you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips. They’re plump and fully inviting, with you unconsciously licking your own lips in an anticipation you didn’t have earlier. You catch yourself when Donghyuck snaps his fingers, watching you with hooded eyes as you trail your gaze away from him.

“See something you like?” he asks, his voice dipping into more of a whisper now. You want to roll your eyes like you usually do, swatting him away without a second thought. You want to scoff like you usually do, not taking a single word to heart like he wants you to. You don’t want to give in; that’s exactly what you want. And why would you want to give the worked up boy exactly what he wants? It's like giving candy to a spoiled child. He already has everything he needs. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not,” you say, your voice shaking as you inch back slowly in your seat, pushing your back into the cushion of the couch. He doesn’t respond, only taking the chance to somehow move even closer. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His voice is barely audible now, only low in your ear. A shiver runs down your body, engulfing your emotions completely with a sudden surge of vulnerability. You scoot back further. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You want to stop heating up at the sound of the pet name slipping from his mouth so casually, but the blush rises anyway, only increasing your embarrassment. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care—or notice, as a matter of fact—now standing up and plopping down beside you on the couch.

“Go away,” you say weakly, glancing over to catch a glimpse of him before realizing that was a mistake, because you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the intoxicating gaze he’s giving you. The playful nature on his face is gone now, only an unfamiliar look taking over as his eyes flit from your lips to your eyes. “Wh-what’s that look for?”

“You’re pretty,” he cuts you off halfway through your question, the usual teasing tone nowhere to be found. “Wanna make out?”

You let out a strangled noise at his blunt question—one that is indistinguishable to truth—choking on air before you blink, hard, and look at him again. Donghyuck’s eyes are still on yours, not a single trace of humor on his face anymore. His fingers tap into his thigh repeatedly, as if growing impatient.

“Are you serious?”

He inhales. “Yeah. I’m serious. I want to kiss you until you’re out of air. Kiss you until you’re squirming underneath me from how much you’ve wanted me. Kiss you until you’re clutching onto me like a lifeline and saying my name in that little breathy voice of yours to drive me insane. I wanna kiss you until you go crazy. I promise, I'm the only one who can make that happen.”

You wish you could tell him that you’re already going crazy, at least from the words that are spilling out of his mouth at record speed. You aren’t sure if it’s normal for someone to suddenly change their demeanor in less than five minutes, but the record breaking annoying boy is currently asking you if you want to kiss him and you’re seriously considering giving in. But you can’t, that’s exactly what he wants.

“Don’t say no,” he chuckles darkly, his body shifting towards yours. “You think I don’t know the way you look at me in school? You think I don’t notice the way you can’t take your eyes off of me in the hallways? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I don’t look at you like—” you catch yourself momentarily, noting that Donghyuck’s tongue is now poking his cheek out in the most infuriatingly attractive way. Instead, you blush further, averting your eyes. “—that. I look at everyone like that. It’s just how I look at people.”

You’re blabbing and he knows. He chuckles again. “Oh really? Then would you be falling to your knees to Na Jaemin right now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he comes in impossibly closer, his face now only a few inches away from yours. “That you wouldn’t be trembling under his gaze the way you are to me right now. What are you trying to prove, Y/N? You don’t want to give in? But it’s all here for you to take.”

Donghyuck smiles widely, his eyes piercing yours so deeply that you swear a jolt of energy pulsates throughout your body when he pulls back and leans against the couch. His legs spread on their own accord, along with his arms slowly resting behind his head as he opens his eyes. He tilts his head, offering you an almost sadistic smirk. “Why don’t you come here, princess? It’s much more fun this way.”

Your hands fist into the fabric of your shirt as you bite your lip in retaliation, in some sort of way to keep you grounded to reality as Donghyuck speaks of pure temptation to you. You want to give in, let it go and give him what you know he wants so bad; but you can’t. you can’t give him the benefit of that pleasure. How could you? He’s your sworn enemy, right?

But you can’t help but think of the way he looks in that very moment, you’d be blatantly lying to everyone if you said you weren’t mildly attracted to him. He's Lee Donghyuck. He’s a troublemaker. A heartbreaker. A menace to society but an addition that everyone loves regardless. He's absolutely wrecked, but perfect in the most beautiful way. Who would ever pass at the chance to kiss the Lee Donghyuck? Not you.

Just as he sighs at your lack of acceptance, you find a spark of courage inside of you to finally push yourself up, pressing a firm hand to his chest and swinging your leg over his lap. You hover over him expectantly, studying his expression as it moves from shocked to extremely pleased. When you settle yourself down on his lap, he inhales sharply at the action, moving his hands hastily to grasp at your waist.

Without giving him a second to process, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. It’s harsher than you think he expected it to be, because he pulls you away momentarily with a look that reads something along the lines of ‘are you for real?’ before his lips are molding with yours again. It’s messy—his arms grasping onto your torso in efforts to keep you close to him—your hands running through the hair you only could dream of touching before you’re clenching your fingers around the soft strands and tugging.

A strangled sound leaves him as his head lolls back on his shoulders, involuntarily pulled away from your lips as you smile to yourself at his sound of desperation. Soon later, you notice your mistake, backtracking slowly until he pulls you into his grasp again. He sucks on your bottom lip, the motion making you gasp in surprise and tug on his hair again; Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind the second time, however, this time groaning loudly at your actions.

“So rough, pretty girl,” he mentions in between a particular kiss, almost urging you to tug at his hair again. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

His hands rub at your sides, sending jolts down your body as his lips retreat from yours, making you chase them before he chuckles, placing a finger to your lips to keep you silent. But when his mouth pressed fluttering kisses down your jaw, you sigh loudly, loving the feeling of his lips now ghosting over the ever-so-sensitive skin of your neck. You’re about to prepare for something more but it’s too late, your mouth letting out yet another embarrassing sound when he latches onto a particular spot.

“Aw, princess, don’t get flustered. Look at you? You’re gorgeous.” Donghyuck manages to mumble before getting back to work on your neck; you’re basically falling apart in his arms as his lips pepper lower and lower, until his nose nuzzles into your collarbone. The cool breath to the area sends a hiss to your mouth at the searing feeling, your body reacting in the most pleasurable way as he presses yet another firm kiss.

“Hyuck?” you call for him quietly, watching as he warily pulls away from your skin. His thumbs press into your waist soothingly, possibly in effort to calm your erratic breathing. Then, he nods. “Kiss me?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now, pretty girl?”

“I mean,” you let your hand rest on the side of his face, admiring the several moles that cover the surface of his skin. “I want you to kiss me until I’m out of air. Like you promised you would.”

Something in those words sets him off, his eyes burning deeper than you’ve ever seen them before. Suddenly, his hands are on your thighs, hoisting you into his grip as he stands up. You let out a little yelp, latching onto his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, princess. I never make promises I can't keep.”

kiss-and-tell masterlist

#neowritingsnet #nctcreations #nct-writers #kpopscape #dreamwritersnet #donghyuck scenarios #donghyuck fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct suggestive #nct dream suggestive #haechan suggestive #haechan drabbles #haechan blurbs #donghyuck drabbles #donghyuck blurbs #haechan fluff #haechan scenarios #haechan au #nct au #nct dream blurbs #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #donghyuck imagines #q: gazing at the stars with felix

[oligbia]

Hello, can I get a short fic a/b reader who's dating Deku, but both are unaware that Bakugou likes reader also? Reader isn't a fan of Bakugou and always complains to Deku about how he kisses his ass too much and lets him get away with ish. Reader is definitely more sensitive/indignant than Deku tbh.

*ahem* this took embarrassingly long. But,, here. I like it <3

Bakugou X Reader X Deku

SFW, mild angst

Contains: yelling, insults, implied self harm *briefly at the end, very vauge*, bakudeku if you squint, references of suicide *in refrence to middle school Deku*

    Katsuki Bakugou was not jealous. Bakugou was confident and was going to be a top hero, and top heroes didn’t have time to be jealous. And, above all that, he was not jealous if stupid Deku. 

    Sure, maybe he was mad that dumb Deku got a partner before he did, but it wasn’t personal. Bakugou definitely didn't think about you. He didn’t think about the way your hands would look in his, the way it would look when his much larger arm rested around your waist. He didn’t think about sparring with you all the time, the way your body would look glistening in sweat as you cave him all you had. He only thought about sparring with you because he wanted to kill you, you were just another extra… right?

    But you were soft, delicate even. But, you also were assertive, not all peppy like the other girls. You were always looking for a fight. You wanted to protect people, not just save them. You weren’t afraid to kick Mineta in the balls (both sets), and you weren’t afraid of hero work. You never hesitated to jump into the fight. You were heroic- worth Bakugou’s time. 

It made sense you would like Deku more than him, it made sense Deku would get you. Deku was going to be a pro hero too, and with the way All Might dotes after him, he would be a hell of a hero too. Deku was smart, he was kind, and he was a decent fighter. He was everything that Bakugou wasn't. 

Because to you, Deku was a hero. He was going to save the world one day. But Bakugou was just a villain who managed to fool everyone into letting him be a hero. To you, Deku was kind and caring; Bakugou was just loud and violent. When Deku was emotional, Bakugou was just loud. He was a prick to you, and he knew it-and that destroyed him. 

***

“Hey Kacchan! Come hang out with us tonight!” Deku stood over Bakugou's desk, freckled face glowing as he smiled. Bakugou noticed your presence behind Deku. You were trying to hide your annoyance, Bakugou noticed. 

“No way would I ever hang out with you losers.”

Kirishima grabbed Bakugou’s shoulders, squeezing him playfully. “C’mon Bakugou! It’ll be fun.”

“Fuck off, shitty hair. I’m not going.”

Deku looked defeated. You knew how badly he wanted to hang out with Bakugou again. You didn’t see why of course- Bakugou was a jerk and wasn’t worth your boyfriend’s time. But, alas, you would do anything for the green haired boy.

You gave Bakugou a side glance, “Everyone is going- it would make you lame if you were the only one who missed.”

Bakugou looked at you, both angered and intrigued. “Huh? What did you say to me?” He rose from his seat, leaning around Deku to see you closer.  You looked him in the eyes, not intimidated or threatened. Deku looked vaguely panicked next to the both of you.

“I said you would look like the class loser to skip. It’s just a group hang out, Kacchan.” You teased his nickname, knowing it would set him off. 

Bakugou tried to leap forward to you, sparks setting off from his hands. “Shut up, dumb bitch!” 

You were about to hit him first, before Deku grabbed you to hold you back, his large arms containing you. Kirishima held down Bakugou, having to harden his arms to hold the explosive boy back. 

Deku drug you off somewhere, whispering in your ear in an attempt to calm you down. Kirishima sat Bakugou down. “Dude, you have to accept that she doesn’t like you.”

Bakguou rolled his eyes, looking out the classroom window. He knew you didn’t but he wasn’t going to accept it. 

“You have to move on. It isn’t manly to fight a girl.”

“It’s plenty okay to fight her, she started it!” Bakugou sat down in his seat, mumbling angrily. “and I don't like her- she's just as shitty as all of you extras.” 

Kirishima looked Bakugou up and down, seeing through his bullshit. “Whatever you say, bro.”

Bakugou let out a ‘tch’, thinking back at your interaction. He never wanted to actually hurt you, maybe playfully rough you up, but not genuinely hurt you. He never meant to yell at you either, you clearly preferred softer guys anyway. 

***

“You really shouldn’t fight Kacchan so much-”

You snapped your eyes to Midoriya, blood still boiling. “And why is that?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“He did everything. He’s a jerk.”

“He’s going to be a hero just like us, Y/N, one of the best-”

“Not with the way he treats people. He’s going to be a shitty hero-”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know Kacchan the way I do.” Midoriya tried to reach for your hand, but you swatted it away. 

“Do you even know him? He bullied you in middle school and was never really your friend as a kid. Honestly, Izuku, I don’t know why you kiss his ass so much, he will never respect you back and is always going to make your life, everyone’s life, hell.”

Midoriya’s jaw dropped at your words, unsure of what to do. You had never been this mad at him, or at anyone. Small fits of anger were a normal occurrence for you, but normally a minute alone and a kiss to the forehead would put you at ease- but this was beyond Midoriya. 

You crossed your arms, walking away from Midoriya. He ran behind you, trying to catch up. 

“Wait, Y/N, you can’t just leave.”

“Yes I can. I can’t be around that blond headed shit stick anymore or I’ll fight him.”

“You would win-”

“Don’t kiss my ass now, Midoriya.”

Midoriya looked to the ground. He really wanted to support you, but he also knew that he respected Kachan. To him, Bakugou was a hero, someone he looked up to. Bakugou was powerful, his quirk was amazing. He had the talent and skills to become a hero. He was someone who demanded authority and respect, he was a talented hero. He was amazing. 

“I’m sorry, just don’t go yet-” he peaked up at you, your body leaning against the wall, head in hands. 

“I won't go anywhere.”

“Good. Perfect.” Midoriya walked to you, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms to rest on your waist. He placed soft kisses on your hairline. 

“I’m sorry I got mad.” Your voice was not much more than a mumbled, muffled in his shirt. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry Kacchan doesn’t listen.”

You tensed, aggravated Midoriya just wasn't getting it. 

“Why do you respect him?” You peeled back, looking up at him. Midoriya’s arms stayed firm around your waist. “To me, he just seems mean. I mean, the kid bullied you your entire life. He told you to kill yourself ‘Zuku. Why do you keep pining after him?”

Midoriya blinked. “I don’t know. I just think hes going to be a great hero, and I admire that.”

You let out a defeated sigh. “So is Todoroki, and he’s nice to you!”

“I do respect Todoroki-”

“Not as much as you respect Bakugou.”

Midoriya stayed silent. You were right, he just didn’t agree with you. He was someone of reason who tried to work his way through things logically, but your view of Kacchan didn’t make sense to him. Yea, he was sort of loud and abrasive, but that was just one of those things about him, like how Todoroki is blunt and Iida is controlling. It wasn’t bad, it was just part of him. He knew that he didn’t have the best relationship with Bakugou in the past, but things can change; people can change. It was all water under the bridge now. You were all going to be heroes soon, none of that middle school stuff mattered, not to Midoriya anyways. 

“Let's just go back to class. We can worry about this later.” You started to pry yourself out of Midoriya’s grasp, his arms only pulling you in closer to him. 

“Thank you for trying to listen to me. I promise Kacchan wont lash out to you again, okay?” 

You nodded, not really believing him. Most of the time, you were the one who pissed Bakugou off first anyways. Midoriya placed a chaste kiss to your lips, letting his hands fall from your waist to find your hands. He placed a small kiss to your knuckles, watching your grow pink with the familiar blush he loved to see. 

***

Bakugou watched Deku kiss you, his arms holding you close. It made him sick. You should have been in his arms, his hand on your waist, his lips on yours. His hands tightened into fists, small burns forming on his own palms. He knew he wasn’t what you wanted, he knew you weren’t ever going to like him, but he couldn't stop pining after you. He couldn’t stop daydreaming about you, how he would treat you, the places he would take you. 

When you walked back into the room with Deku, both of you avoided his traveling gaze. You shot him a fast glare before Deku could usher you both back to your seats next to each other, Iida immediately lecturing you. 

It was the first time you saw Bakugou without his angry scowl, but rather, a sad frown. 

#oligbia original #my hero academia fanfic #mha fanfic #my hero academia x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #izuku mydoria #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya #deku #deku x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader x midoriya #oligbia request

[hex-obsession]

Silver Lining - Two

word count- 2,259

content warning- language, angst, indirect s**cidal thought

____________________________________________

Crows cawing, your eyes open just enough to hazily make out the all too familiar color of your room.

“Early bird gets the worm, you know,” a familiar voice murmurs. Pushing off the wall to your right, your body slides diagonally over your bed, your head dangling off the side. Upside down, Cheryl is slumped against your door frame, arms and legs crossed. Brazen as usual, just the way you loved her. You held your own in most regards but Cheryl was always there when you least expected it and needed her most. You swear there were a halo atop that adorable shaggy blonde head of hers. And not one of those tacky event items either.

“Like I’d get anything any time of day with all the birds around here.” A tickling squeeze builds in your abdomen, branching up your neck to your cheeks which now had a telling pink glow.

“So you gonna talk to old lover boy yet or what?”

You jolt forward and whip around fast enough to make any killer miss a swing. Your response is unnecessary as she’s already smirking devilishly, aware of what she’s doing. She might have been your closest friend but that did not stop her from tormenting you, or anyone else that crossed her path. All in good fun and love, of course. It went without saying that you enjoyed it and she knew when it was, rarely, time to pack it up.

Raising her eyebrows, she leans back and throws her hands up. “I’m just saying, if you don’t, you might lose your chance. That’s all I’m saying,” quieter now.

You sighed. She was right. You weren’t the only one who took a liking to Leon. But, unlike you, Yun-Jin did not hide her feelings, from anyone for any reason, ever. Of course, everyone thought he was charismatic and most, undeniably handsome. That was common knowledge. You ran out of things to talk about in a place like this, and secrets were few and far between. There was no reason to hide here. This was your foreseeable future, together. There was no getting out, no changing things. Being open and sharing everything together made your day to day bearable. The connections you lost in your old lives left gaping holes, but together as one tightly knit, weird, fucked up family, you helped fill the voids. Some took longer than others to accept that fate, and there were some inevitable hiccups, but everyone came around eventually.

Anyone who wasn’t blind could see the attraction Yun-Jin had for the newest addition to your group. Placing her hands on him in conversation whenever she got the chance, laughing a little too hard at the things he said, biting her bottom lip and smiling at him when he talked. You’d even caught her pecking his cheek playfully here and there. He’d always smile and look away, as if it were a game. Leon always had a sultry attitude to him, a ladies' man no doubt. Subtly flirting with everyone was just commonplace for him. That was part of the reason you held back. Fearing you missed your chance and someone else had filled the role you longed to be in. Maybe it was your fear of rejection or abandonment, or not wanting to lose something this important in a world as cruel and bare this. You were subconsciously working hard to convince him you were only a friend. Which you were, definitely friends. Close even, given the circumstances. Trauma bonding does one hell of a number to the timeline of friendship. Still, you sensed zero difference in his behavior toward you versus the others. Which, admittedly, was quite the letdown. Nonetheless, you had nothing to lose by casually admitting your feelings for him. Keep it light and airy and there would be no reason for things to change on the chance he didn’t feel the same. After all, you surely weren’t the only one with a harmless little crush. That’s all it was. Right? So what if you constantly day-dream about him holding you so close he might consume you, kissing you with four times the passion the Notebook tried to capture, never leaving your side regardless of what the future held. His taste, his smell… what his cock would feel like ramming into your cervix. Your brain was one giant knot, constantly distracting you and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it. Except tell him, but keep it simple.

By your calculations, it was November 18th. You’d been keeping track, not sure if it made things better or worse. Your third anniversary in this place was not far off. Despite being a literal nightmare, it had its perks. Your need for food was no more, as well as your other bodily needs. Sickness was a quickly forgotten annoyance of the past. You stayed in this eerily perfect state. Makeup never crusty, hair never oily and always smelling of your favorite fruit. The dirt and blood you’d acquire during trials magically disappeared upon return. You had a handful of outfits to rotate but there was no real need. Another upside, there were no severe temperatures here. Jackets, shorts, sandals, snow boots if you were Nea. You were always mostly comfortable. Even on Ormond where snow blanketed the ground, those gusts of wind should have sent chills right through you, but they didn’t. It felt like living in a dream or a, simulation. Just, where you’re hunted all day and night for the rest of your existence. At least death wasn’t permanent. Sometimes you’d wish it was, just to escape.

Several months have passed since Leon and Jill were introduced to your world. You had inside jokes and more close calls than you could both count. You were a damn good team and got along smoother than melted butter. What were you waiting for? You inhaled sharply and broke your stare out the window.

“I’m gonna do it.”

To no avail, your deep breaths failed to remedy the painful pounding in your chest, or the heat radiating from your face. Nevertheless, you marched out to the campfire to seek out Yun-Jin. As selfish as you wanted to be with Leon, she was your friend, and you held that in high regard. She was easy to spot in a crowd given her loud attire, but wasn’t around the fire. Which lead to your next realization; neither was Leon. Your throat tightened, heart still pounding. You set off a little too quickly to find her, or them. First stop was Ace’s shack. Judging based on appearances, you figured he would be one of the last people she associated with. Quite the opposite, they were dear friends. Not connected at the hip per se, like her and Claudette, but they related to one another's childhoods. Trauma bonding, can't beat it. To your dismay, the shack was empty, a seed of despair planting in your stomach. Maintaining the most convincing composure you could, you continue your search. Heading left down the line of shacks, robust laughter grows closer. You’d know that laugh anywhere. Cutting through the row, David and Felix are reclined under a tree. They were one of the few monogamous couples among you. The others being Nancy and Steve, and Adam and Zarina. You understood the allure of being romantically involved with more than one person, especially given your less-than-ideal situation, but it wasn’t for you.

“Hi y/n!” Felix shouted toward you.

Not wanting to stop and chat given your current objective, you flashed a cheeky smile and waved to them. Before they could get another word out, you dipped back behind the row of houses. Nerves getting the best of you, you parted your lips to breathe through your mouth. Every breath burned your lungs, realizing now all the times you brushed off your feelings have come back to haunt you. You should never have waited this long. At this point you would be more than willing, desperate, to share Leon. Refusing to let your anxiety get the best of you, you ball your fists and dig your nails into your palms to get a grip on yourself. There was one more place they could possibly be. A sliver of premature acceptance wedged itself into your train of thought as you trudged toward your own shack. Leon’s was adjacent to yours. Feeling foolish for not checking earlier, you round the corner to the opening. As much as you wish you could close your eyes, they were pinned open with anticipation. Looking up from your feet you were shocked to see an empty room before you. Relief and confusion replace your foreboding. Too much time had already been wasted, so you return to the campfire.

“Hey, have you seen Leon or Yun-Jin anywhere?” you, as calmly as possible, ask Élodie.

“They got pulled a little bit ago babe.” She was intently focused on Jane, her concentration not broken. “Which do you like more, up or down?” her gaze still fixated on Jane.

You have to either keep the courage you finally mustered until they get back or give yourself emotional whiplash by releasing until they do. You hesitate for a moment, but to hide your disappointment you quickly retort, “Up, definitely up. Gotta distract the killer with that beautiful face you know?”

“Like they're looking at her face and not that dumptruck ass!” Élodie howls. Jane facetiously puts her fingertips to her chin and looks upward, a façade of innocence no one here would ever buy. You can't help but giggle despite your inner turmoil.

“Well hey,” you add through chuckles, “when they're back can you please send her my way?”

“Sure thing babe,” Élodie assures, finally turning to meet your gaze.

A horrible nauseating mix of dismal, relieving, lewd thoughts of Leon swirl in your mind as you wait for Yun-Jin to step into the doorway. You knew you liked him but holy shit, where did this come from? The realization slapped you in the face. Try to blame infatuation all you want, not that you did, but it was so painfully evident now you were dumbfounded.

A soft knock jerked you out of your thoughts. “Hiya y/n, what's going on?”

Her delicate eyes effortlessly comforted you from across the room.

“I...” your eyes now glued to the floor beneath your feet, a reservoir of tears barely being held back, “I need to know how you feel about Leon.” Your nerves went haywire just uttering his name to her. An icy splash of chills surged from your head to your feet as your chest panged with dread.

“Well of course I like him,” her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

All that could escape your mouth was, “Oh.” Emptiness, despair replacing the jealous unease you felt before. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, feelings that danced around menacingly finally coming to a head.

At the sight of your distress, she rushed to sit next to you. “Honey, what’s going on?” her voice barely above a whisper.

You were ashamed for breaking down in front of her, afraid of guilting her for something that was not her fault, and now terrified Leon might follow her here, only to find you undone over him. You jerk your head up to face her and blurt out, “Jinny I think I love him,” face sopping wet with untouched tears.

She raises her eyebrows and smiles at you. “Honey I have fun toying with him all in good nature but there’s no connection there.” Your heart thuds against your ribcage. “Sure, I’ll admit he’s attractive, who wouldn’t, but I have nowhere near the same feelings for him that you evidently do.” She uses both hands to cup your face and pushes as much wetness as she can aside with her thumbs. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Not only to me but to him!” Despite being similar in age, she feels like a mother to you. Caring for a child, your own or not, will do that to you. That’s not a trait you lose over time.

“I’m so afraid,” you softly whimper, “of what he would say, what you would say.” You're picking at your cuticles, a habit you acquired during puberty as an outlet for your overwhelming feelings.

She wraps her arms around you, carefully as to not tarnish her jacket with tears, which would definitely stain the material. “I was just having a little fun, and from what I’ve gathered, he was more so allowing it than participating. You know I love you all to death but I’m not looking for anything like that, definitely not here.” She gives you a squeeze, and suddenly you can breathe again, the air around you no longer dense and difficult to swallow. “Honey, go get him.”

“Oh Jesus, let me fix myself a little first at least,” the sudden relief causing you to laugh involuntarily.

You were grateful disease and ailments didn’t exist outside of the trials, if they had you're sure you would've had an aneurysm from the stress you went through in a matter of an hour. Yun-Jin left you to your thoughts, which were now solely you and Leon together, doing anything and everything you could think of. The rest of the day you contemplated telling him, more so, how to. Thankfully you didn’t have any trials together, you were far too disorganized for that right now. “Tomorrow,” you promise yourself. Nothing like a clear head and a night’s rest to help you be your most collected, confident self.

____________________________________________

Silver Lining masterlist

#leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #dbd smut #dbd fanfic #dbd fluff

[lady-dimmadome]

*crashes into wall* I heard you were taking Heisenberg x reader requests? >:3c How about reader teasing Heisenberg through a very long meeting with the other lords (brushing against his inner thigh, sexy glances and winks, maybe an innuendo or two) and he finally gets back at them when they return to the factory?

(I hope I do your request justice! This one is gonna be a two parter, so be on the lookout for that! Thank you for the request!)

*WARNING* this fic contains NSFW content! Reader discretion is advised!

Karl knew he shouldn't have gave in and brought you along with him. He never should have fallen for your dumb, adorable puppy dog eye pouty face, but alas, he was a weak man when it came to you. And now, he was suffering the consequences.

Your hand snaked up and down his thigh, hidden under the long table, and occasionally brushed over his growing bulge. He knew it would be a bad idea to even glance over at you, knowing you would have that teasing look on your face. That face you made when he let you take control and allowed himself to be at your whim. Usually, he could easily turn the tables if he wanted to, but here, he really was completely at your mercy.

"Heisenberg! I asked you a question!" Mother Miranda gave him a pointed look. It was usual to see him rather despondent at meetings, but he always answered the questions addressed to him.

"Sorry.. I got a migraine." He tried to discreetly slap your hand away when he shifted to give Miranda his full attention. As much as he hated sucking up, he was afraid he would be found out if he didn't.

You faintly heard Alcina mutter something akin to "pitiful man-thing" before Miranda's voice boomed through the room again.

"I had asked how you're going to keep your lycans in check. The village purge is drawing near and I can't have them running amok before the preparations are complete."

Heisenberg had to physically reel his thoughts in when you firmly caressed his cock through his pants. It took every ounce of willpower to keep him from grinding against your hand.

"Urias is keeping them in the den. They'll be fine 'til I can let them loose."

Miranda slowly nodded, accepting his answer. It seemed as if she was ready to put an end to the meeting, and Angie was starting to get bored, furthering Miranda's decision to dismiss everyone.

You and Karl stayed behind, his iron grip on your wrist keeping your hand over his clothed dick. Once the room cleared, he took a deep breath and locked his eyes with yours. You bit your lip, already knowing he had a punishment waiting for you.

"Want to explain what the fuck that was?" He hissed through gritted teeth.

"I have no idea what you mean.." You tried to sound innocent, but you knew damn well Karl knew better.

He didn't say anything, only clenched his teeth and nodded. Letting go of your wrist, he moved to unbutton his pants and tug his cock out. The tip was dribbling precum as he pumped himself a few times under the table before scooting his chair back a fair amount.

"You know the drill, kitten." He motioned for you to get on your knees in front of him.

You knew he would go ever so slightly easier on you if you cooperate, but it was just to fin not to be a bit bratty.

"And if I don't want to?" Your voice carrying through the room. You knew you were digging yourself a hole, but you couldn't help but rile Karl up.

His nose crinkled a bit, but he took another deep breath and extended his free hand a but, only to yank it back towards him, pulling a metal pipe from the wall and using it to pull you foward. The force of the pipe, although not enough to hurt, caused you to fall foward and to your knees.

Karl motioned to you again, this time with a much more stern expression. He was dead serious, and you knew you wouldn't get to cum at all if you didn't listen now.

You adjusted yourself to kneel right in front of him and set your hands on his spread thighs. He licked his lips at the sight of you on your knees in front of him and made to grip your hair, pushing you down to his cock.

"Suck." Was his only command, and you let out a small moan at the pure authority in his voice. It left no room for argument.

You gave the tip a small lick before going down to the base of his cock and licking a long stripe up the underside and taking as much of him as you could into your mouth, using your hand for what you couldn't fit.

Karl's thighs shook from the pure pleasure you were giving him, and you hadn't even really started yet. It didnt take him long to tighten his grip on your hair and begin to thrust in your mouth, though. He quickly brought you to a gagging, teary eyed mess, only giving you short bursts of respite before pulling you back down. The wet sounds and your gagging, plus the grunts and sighs from Heisenberg, were the only things to be heard in the room.

Karl wanted to pull away, knowing spilling in your mouth would give you satisfaction. He knew this was a punishment and he should stop and drag this out, but there was always time for teasing back at the factory. Now, he was just desperate for release. He looked down at you between his thrusts to see you with your eyes shut, threatening tears. His balls slapped your chin with every foward motion, adding to his pleasure.

Soon, Karl was hunched over, your name spilling from his lips as he shot his load down your throat. He pulled your head close, your nose against his pubes as his dick twitched. You tapped his thigh twice, signaling for him to let you off.

After swallowing his cum, you took a good moment to catch your breath and regain your bearings. Karl had leaned back in his chair and was catching his breath as well. His eyes were closed and faint beads of sweat could be seen dotting his forehead.

After pulling himself together, he tucked his cock back in his pants, ignoring the saliva and leftover cum. He stood, albeit a bit wobbly, and helped you to your feet as well.

"Don't think your off the hook, kitten. You've got a long night ahead of you when we get home." Karl then began to lead you out of the building and back to the factory.

Biting back a smile, you followed him on his beeline home. You couldn't wait for what he had in store for you.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #re village #i didnt proof read this so please excuse any errors

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive conversations, fluff, fingering, soft smut

A/N: A little treat for the horndogs <3

"O-oh god! It's too big Nev, 's not gonna...c-can't-"

"Oh It's going to fit, don't worry pretty girl. Daddy's gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" He asked, cooing as she nodded frantically, tongue lulled out the side of her mouth. Neville had barely gotten past the tip before she began whining, crying about how big he was. He couldn’t help but lose control, shoving himself deep inside her, pistoning his hips at an ungodly pace. His eyes lingered on her chest, entranced by the hypnotic sway that they had due to his thrust. Pinning her hands to the bed, their eyes locked in an intense moment. 

“O-oh fuck princess, you’re so tight. You gonna cum? Hm? Gonna make a-”

“Nev?” he snapped up, a heavy gasp leaving his lips as looked to his side. (Y/n) sat there, a confused look on her face. “Are you alright? I think you were having a nightmare. You kept making a bunch of noises in your sleep!” he felt his face flush, clearing his throat as he looked away from her. His heart began to race as she climbed into his lap, turning his face towards hers. He looked at her, hoping his nerves weren't clear on his face. Due to the snickers he heard in the background, he was certain it was obvious to just about everyone but her what the issue was. 

“Hey um, petal, you might wanna move.” he whispered to her, trying to keep her hips from his troubled area.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head once more as she moved back. Her eyes widened at the newfound breeze on her rear due to her skirt being lifted up. Not sure of what the cause was she moved back slightly, gasping at the feeling of something hard and long against her ass. Suddenly it all set in, he was- “O-oh. I’m sorry Nev.” she squeaked, quickly hopping from his lap. She smoothed down her skirt, clearing her throat as she eyed everyone in the room awkwardly. While the pair seemed flustered, the team couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Well I guess it’s clear why you’re the boss now.” Fred said, laughing as he motioned to the large tent in the man’s pants. George gave him a low five, joining him in his laughter as Neville glared at them all. Who were they to make him feel embarrassed? Standing up he adjusted the tent in his pants but despite his efforts, his dick was still prominent through his slacks.

“Poor (Y/n). She’s not gonna live to see another day after that thi-”

“Would you lot quit it?! When the fuck are we landing?” Neville growled at the bunch, causing the laughter to cease. Everyone knew what it was like to deal with an enraged Neville and that was the last thing they wanted. If the plane hadn't already landed, he’d shoot it right out the sky.

“We’ve actually just landed, boss. I was going to tell you before this little…situation that just occurred. Your bags have already been brought to the villa to ensure we have maximum time to scope out the museum.” Harrison said, giving the man a nod. He hummed, giving him a nod. “In the meantime, the city is yours to roam girls. We’ll be sending two men with you for your safety.” he snapped his fingers and two tall men appeared, their scary appearance paired with “tourist” clothing. What was supposed to be a disguise was just a funny sight of two muscle heads in brightly colored floral shirts. The (h/c) haired girl walked over to the leader, tugging on his sleeve some. He looked down at her, face softening at the pout on her face.

“Will we be able to spend some time together eventually? I know this is technically a work trip for you but I-I’d really like to spend time with you.” she said, making his heart melt. She never failed to make his heart burst, unreasonably cute without even trying. He had already planned on making time for her but now it wasn’t just something on his list, but his main priority. Stroking her cheek gently he put a soft kiss on her forehead.

“ ‘Course petal. In the meantime,” he leaned down sucking on the skin below her ear as he let out a chuckle, “Why don’t you go buy yourself something pretty for me?” her eyes widened but she nodded regardless, looking at him with a shocked expression as he pulled away. Before she could respond Twyla began to drag her, yanking her down the stairs of the jet.

“Come on babes! We’ve got some shopping to do.”

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

“Was it really necessary to send them with us?” (Y/n) whispered, looking over her shoulder at the two large men that had been following them from a distance. “I mean, everyone’s looking!” she hissed, pointing to a group of people that were pointing and whispering to them. Twyla shrugged, a subtle skip to her walk.

“Just means we look important! You worry too much, babes. We’re on an expense paid trip to Italy and we don’t have to pay for any of these clothes? There could literally be an angry mob after us and that still wouldn’t kill my mood!” she sighed, still noticing the girl’s tense mood. “Plus, Neville would want you to enjoy yourself. Speaking of him…” she grabbed the girl’s hand, walking into the lingerie store on the left. She looked at her confused.

“Why are we here? Nev already bought me underwear.” she asked, following Twyla as she began to grab different sets off the racks. Another layer of confusion was added on when she noticed that she wasn’t grabbing her own size. Twyla let out a snort, throwing the small pile that she had somehow amassed into her arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re telling me after today’s little ordeal that you haven’t noticed? Your hottie has definitely been thinking of banging your brains out.” she said, giggling at the girl’s bashful expression. “I’m only telling the truth! And judging by your reactions, you’ve been thinking about it too.” she pondered her words for a moment. It wasn’t not not true. She most certainly had thought about Neville in more unsavory ways. Even before their reuniting, (Y/n) always thought about him as she attempted to get herself off, imagining they were his hands touching her bringing her to a well deserved climax. However anytime she’d get close, she’d become overwhelmed with the thought that what she had been doing was shameful. Masturbating to her old crush from school? What could be more dirty?

“I-I guess I have thought about it once or twice..” she admitted. “B-but I don’t have the balls to just walk out in something like this! What if he laughs at me?” Twyla gawked at the girl, blinking repeatedly. She could not believe her ears.

“Are you kidding me?! The only sound that will be leaving that man’s mouth is the sound of him telling you to get on your knees.” she responded, turning back around to look through the racks for more. “Plus, it’s not like you have to pounce on the man. All I’m saying is wait for the right time, maybe after a nice dinner or something then boom, whip out the goods. You’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose. If that’s all then let’s check out then go get massages! I’m making you pamper yourself this trip. Merlin knows you need a break.”

(Y/n) was thankful for Twyla’s pep talk knowing the blonde was right. Neville would like anything she did; it was just a matter of when she should do it.

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

And pampering they had done. (Y/n) and Twyla had been to just about every ritzy spot Italy had to offer them. After their shopping trip, the taller girl had taken them to get massages. It was funny how the masseuse instantly knew it was her first time from the abundance of knots in her back and when the man was done? She was most certainly an inch taller! They also had gone for manicures (despite having done that a few days ago..). Being bold she decided to get a set out of her comfort zone which she was beyond satisfied with. But the hot Italian sun combined with all the running around had tired her out, resulting in the driver bringing them to the villa.

The villa wasn’t as big as Neville’s second manor but was still insanely big. After the bodyguard had carried her bags to her room for her, she climbed into the brand new silk robe she had gotten, laying on the bed drinking the smoothie the maid had gotten for her. It was nice, just being able to relax. Throughout her years of working, (Y/n) rarely took off days. A lot of the time she’d even cover shifts for employees that couldn’t make it and even when the bakery was closed she would come in, fixing things up and tidying up mindlessly. Numerous times Twyla had caught the girl there when she wasn’t supposed to be and forced her to go home out of concern for her health.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the bedroom door opening, widening with enthusiasm as she saw the tattooed man in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Hopping up she ran over to him, jumping into his arms which he gladly accepted, holding her tightly. “I missed you.”

He smiled, setting the flowers down to hold her better before placing a soft peck to her lips. “I missed you too, love. I left early so I could spend some time with you.” his eyes moved to the bags in the corner of the room, chuckling at the large pile. “I’m guessing your shopping trip was successful?” she felt her face heat up at his lack of knowledge of the lingerie that lay within one of them.

“I guess you could say that. Come, come! I wanna relax with you.” she began dragging him over to the bed, straddling him once he was situated. They sat in a comfortable silence with Neville holding the girl close to his chest, just appreciating the closeness he had with her. Since they’re reunion, every intimate moment, be it sexual or not, had been interrupted by some instance where he was needed somewhere else. He hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time as he wanted with her but now he had her all to himself. His hands rubbed at her back gently until he got bored, deciding to test the waters. He knew it’d take a while before they’d get anywhere near what happened in his dream but he was willing to wait. He’d do anything to be able to touch her, feel her in a way that was less than innocent. As he gripped at her ass with one hand he brought the other one up to her cheek, cupping it as he pulled her into a deep and sensual kiss.

She gladly accepted, kissing back as she brought herself closer to him, playing with the bits of loose hair at the base of his neck. He began to nibble on her lip before pulling away, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. A mewl sounded from her, causing him to pull away slowly. Gripping at her waist above her robe, he gazed into her eyes intently. “You wearin’ anything under here?” he asked, watching as she looked down, shaking her head. “No? God you’re making it so hard for me to not just fuck you right here.” he sighed some, reaching for the ties on her robe. He stopped, looking at her once more for confirmation. She nodded frantically before stopping, feeling slightly embarrassed from how eager she was. With one soft tug, her robe was undone revealing her soft supple breast which he instantly went for. With his lips wrapped around one he began to lick and suck at the other, both of them moaning in unison. After a while of him teasing her sensitive nubs she began to grow impatient, rocking her hips against his gently as she let out a soft whimper.

“P-please..” she moaned breathlessly, not too sure of what she wanted. All she knew was that she wanted something, anything. Everything he did had her near her edge, from his kisses to his tongue and she needed to feel more. Pulling away he looked at her, thinking for a moment before pulling the two of them up.

“I wanna try something,” he said, positioning in front of the mirror. “He pushed back the fabric of her robe, putting her pussy on full display. His pants tightened at the sight of her glistening folds which she avoided in the mirror. Neville gripped her chin gently, positioning it to look at her bits in the mirror, chuckling at her wide eyes, pupils fully blown with arousal. With his other hand, he began to massage up and down her thighs. He watched as her legs grew weak, shaking with anticipation. Trailing his fingers near her sex, tracing small patterns on the inside of her thighs. 

He patted the side of her cheek with two fingers, pulling her attention away from herself to make eye contact with him through the glass. “Open up.” he whispered, small praises of approval leaving his mouth as she did. He took his thick digits, slowly pushing past her kiss stung lips. His eyes watched in the mirror as they entered her wet little mouth, groaning at the feeling of her soft tongue gliding along the underside of them. Pushing them a little further, she gagged, eyes tearing up. She looked so pretty with tears in her eyes, already fucked out before he had even put them in. It was hard to tell who wanted it more at this point but as Neville finally slid a finger into her folds, it was obvious. Hot tears fell down her face, already overwhelmed from it all. Pumping his finger in and out, his eyes flickered between her fucked out face and her pussy, juices already coating her thighs. Moving his face to her neck, he began to suck and kiss on her neck.

(Y/n) was becoming more and more desperate by the moment. She had subconsciously begun to play with her tits, rubbing and tugging on her nipples. “M-more, Nev please!” she begged to which he instantly complied, sliding another finger in. He began to work her open more, scissoring and stretching his fingers inside of her. Once her muscle had relaxed once again, he began to speed up his moment, the heel of his palm creating a slapping noise each time it’d meet her pussy.

“Merlin, baby, you’re soaked. Your messy little cunt’s just eating my fingers.” he purred out, chuckling deeply as he felt her clench at his words. Who knew his pretty little princess would get worked up so easily, slowly reaching her peak just from a few fingers and words? He used his other hand to rub at her clit, causing her knees to buckle, falling back onto him for support. He loved how much she relied on him, becoming a needy mess just for him. He curled his fingers up, aiming for her spot until he found it causing her to let out a loud cry, gripping onto his arm tightly. Neville watched as her face scrunched up, tears streaming down her face.

“N-need to….need ta….O-oh god Nev! I’m gonna-” before she could finish her eyes widened before snapping close, head falling back onto his shoulder as she rutted her hips against his fingers, whimpering as she rode out her high. He continued to rub at her clit, fingering her cunt until she began to whine, pushing him away. He smirked some, admiring her fucked out expression in the mirror. Her eyes were shut, pants  puffy lips. He licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, sensitive and fucked out, messy and cum covered from her orgasm. As he pulled his fingers out, he had to stop himself from letting out a string of curses at the way her cream began to run hot down her legs along with the bit that had gathered on his fingers. Lifting them to his face he wasted no time, sucking and licking on them. He moaned softly, continuing to clean them thoroughly, not stopping until the only thing that remained was the salty taste of his own flesh.

“You look so pretty when you cum, flower.” he muttered, smiling as the girl just let out a soft ‘mhm’, half asleep and barely able to process his words. He took off her robe, lifting her up as he began to carry her to their private bathroom, letting out a content sigh at the events that had just happened. Although he hadn’t been able to get off himself, he was more than happy being able to just please her. 

Afterall, it was what he wanted more than anything, to have his flower live in absolute happiness and pleasure.

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TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg  @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #mafia!neville #mafia!au #mafia

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

[mamamittens]

Exquisite Control

Help, I thought too hard about what it would be like if Ace had a touch of Carrie in him. If the fire he used was a bit more... tied with his temper. And he refined that temper. I just really like people with nasty tempers but a fine control over it until someone fucks around and finds out.

Okay, maybe I'm also mentally preparing myself for the holiday season. Pray for me y'all, work will be riding my ass well into February ;_;

Also, I'll work on Sabo's jewelry tomorrow, I was just really tired and this wouldn't leave me alone.

So enjoy Scary Ace. Or don't. I'm not going to pretend I even read it over before posting.

@cyborg-franky, enjoy mild shipping vibes.

Also, warning for somewhat graphic descriptions of people burning alive. You can't convince me Ace didn't kill people often with his devil fruit, I'm sorry. Fire kills people. Smokey the Bear told me so.

Ace was a hellion growing up. Snarling and biting at everyone and anyone that came close to him. A ball of self-hatred and desperation to leave a mark on the world, even if it was in the shape of his teeth in every hand that reached out to him. Gramps taught Ace determination. The kind that left blood on his teeth and wanting more. Sabo taught him what it meant to be patient. To be clever with his teeth, where to bite and when to nip. Luffy… taught him that there are people out there that will love him despite the violence in his soul. Luffy inspired him to use that as a weapon in defense, rather than just lashing out because he could.

But still Ace had his damnable temper. Not even Sabo’s passing couldn’t cool the fire in his blood. Not Dadan and her awkward affection, nor Makino and her gentle acceptance. It beat in his chest like a war drum. A need to prove himself more than the sins of his father. It curled in his heart, intertwined with his hatred for what he saw in the mirror. He lacked any control to tame it, so it spilled over, often hurting those around him in bursts.

What finally taught him control was, ironically, his devil fruit. And Deuce. Deuce really helped Ace in those first few weeks. Endlessly patient, but not willing to take his shit… Sabo would have gotten along well with Ace’s first mate. Really bonded over wrangling his feral mountain child heart and temper.

Fire came easily to Ace. It had been in his very bones from the start and never stopped growing. It was so strong, in fact, that Ace found it almost impossible to so much as walk past a candle without it flaring up. Deuce taught him what it meant to breathe. To settle in his chest and understand what it meant to be still. To rest on his haunches rather than stalk around, waiting for a perceived insult to set him off. He still hated himself. His reflection. Every part of his face that he deemed too much like that man.

Not even his ever-growing crew could help that.

But when he patrolled his ship late one night with nary a flicker of candlelight, he felt like he was one step closer to casting aside his darkness. The shadow of a man long dead that hovered over his shoulder along with the entire world. That night, the reflection of his eyes looked like a banked campfire rather than the cold steel he thought suited the devilish man who created him.

Challenging Whitebeard was the best and worst decision he ever made.

He never used his devil fruit outside of that first instance, too aware that his fraying temper spelled disaster for the entire ship. His hard-earned control strained under the weight of mocking laughter with every failed attempt. He got better, of course. He could hardly grow up on Dawn Island, let alone thrive in it’s hostile environments, if he wasn’t adaptable. But still… that fire burned brighter—hotter—with every passing comment.

He’d never held his temper at bay quite like this before.

Whether he intended to or not, Whitebeard taught him true restraint. To hold back just enough, even if enough wasn’t good enough for what he needed to do. To understand where the line was and just how close he was comfortable being to it. He wanted to kill Whitebeard, but the man’s crew? Not his target. They did not deserve his wrath. Even if they tested his patience with their mocking laughter again and again.

And when he finally caved and asked that damn question, Oyaji… gave him hope. It settled in his chest. If someone who knew that man could look past his legacy and accept Ace as he was, then… maybe that long shadow wasn’t quite his burden to bear after all. Maybe Luffy and Sabo were right to accept him so easily. He still had bad days, of course, but with time… he could pick out parts of his features he liked. That he could look fondly at because they reminded him of his family.

Thatch teased him for his freckles, how they splattered over his nose and cheekbones. Perpetually casting his features in a soft, childish light.

Oyaji liked his eyes, how they lit up with a certain fire separate from his devil fruit. How alive he looked when he was willing to put everything he was on the line.

Marco admired the loose curls of his hair, how the twisting locks caught the light of both their fruits on an ebony canvas. How soft it was despite Ace’s lack of care. He would often ruffle Ace’s hair when he was being particularly difficult.

A great many of his new family members liked how his blush burned bright over his face to the tips of his ears. Flickers of fire casting embers into the air when Ace was especially worked up. Which was often.

And then, one day, Ace taught them something too.

What it meant to have absolute control even if it appears like it was the complete opposite.

A strong rival crew sailed boldly through Oyaji’s territory, destroying homes and ransacking people under their protection. Insulting everything under the sun and then some.

At first, Ace did quite well. Insults didn’t quite roll off his back, but they were noted and addressed accordingly. His moniker getting a real workout as he tore through the rival crew with a determined stride. It was his first real fight with Oyaji’s mark, after all. So what if he showed off a little?

Then they crossed a line.

“So you’re the whelp of that bitch, Portgas Rouge, huh? Just as worthless, to boot!”

There was a shift in his stance. Something in his chest stirred hot, seeping into his bones. Lanterns in the evening light swayed before standing still. His eyes fixed ahead as his lips were pulled into a grim smile.

Sensing something, Thatch was quick to try and defuse the situation.

“Hey! That’s a lady you’re talking about, how about you shut your mouth?” Ace lifted his hand and glanced back.

“It’s alright. They can apologize in person.” Ace raised his other hand. Candlelight flickered and swayed, twinkling in the air around him as the lanterns heated up. Glass began to crack.

“Ace! Don’t lose your temper like this!” Marco called out.

“Lose my temper, Marco?” Ace called out, as fire gathered at his feet like fireflies. The air itself began to buckle and sway under the heat, wood softly groaning. Easing his shoulders back, Ace cheerfully beamed.

Fire plumes swept around the deck like a whip, hot air barely grazing his family and the flammable wood of Moby Dick. The offending crew began to scream as shapes condensed in the flames. All manner of creatures twisting and spiraling around.

Ace was pleased to note that the rude man who insulted his mother by name had a lot less to say when his throat was charred.

One by one, the crew was ignited in quick fashion. Ace wasn’t cruel, not anymore. Not like he used to be. But he was calculating with his burning anger. Something Sabo had set the foundation of long ago. Ace rather thought Sabo would approve of how there was scarcely ash left. Not even the deck was seared by the burning heat.

Ace was thorough, to put it lightly.

When the last one was gone, Ace sighed. Turning on his heel, he brushed off some grime from his shoulder and smiled at Marco.

“I’ll have you know I have exquisite control.”

Later, Marco would confide in Ace that the look in his eyes at that moment was magnetic. A promise uncompromising. That he couldn’t look away. It wasn’t like Roger, where his presence felt like it filled the room. It was like seeing an absolute certainty cast in silver and fire. As sure as the sun and searing to the bone.

Teach would not get to tell Ace that in those final moments, Ace looked like hell on earth. Damnation made flesh and punishment assured. That his warm fire burned like ice.

There wouldn’t be anything left of him either.

#one piece #ace one piece #gol d ace #short fanfic #burning alive #it's kind of dark my dudes #so watch out #I just really like certain horror tropes #and i think it shows #mild shippy vibes but you can ignore them if you want #also teach dies #cause i said so #as he deserves #portgas d. ace #special mention for portgas d. rouge #don't insult his mother #fuck around and find out