#I am. in love with them they’re in every brain wrinkle I have

[corvidcentral]

Posts I found on Pinterest that i think fit Six (my courier 6 oc) that are incomprehensible to everyone except me and maybe two other people

[annabelinlove]

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

I turn my face from the fire and look at the person who just sat next to me. Sirius Black looks at me with tired eyes, cigarette that’s waiting to be lit in his hand. I blink a few times to focus before answering.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to sound awake, but judging from his face, I know I’m not doing a good job.

“You know what I’m talking about, pet. I am with you the whole day, if not me then Prongs or Moony, right until we’re tired and go to our room. When I can’t sleep, or wake up feeling restless, I come here to have a smoke and guess what. You’re here. Every single time. Reading, or writing or just staring at nothing like you were doing just now. We talk and then I go back to my dorm to go back to sleep, but I never see you leave. And every morning before class, you’re already here, prepared and everything. So tell me, darling. When was the last time you’ve slept?”

I stare at him with open mouth. I never knew he noticed these things, or actually thought about them. He’s looking at me with concern written all over his beautiful face. His frown forms wrinkles between his eyebrows and I wanna kiss them away. But you’re best friends, you can��t screams the voice in my head and I’m glad that my brain is working even without sleep. I want to open my mouth and answer him, but I have no idea what to say, so I just stare at him.

“C’mon, you know you can tell me anything. I’m your best friend, we’re supposed to tell each other when something is bothering us, so the other one can help. That’s what we’re here for.” he urges, desperation in his voice. His eyes are boring into mine, like he’s trying to read my mind, but I can’t help him do that.

“So that’s all I’m good for? Am I just a problem solver for you?” I tease him, trying to avert his attention from the topic. One side of his mouth twists, and I’m glad it amused him at least a little bit.

“You’re so much more than that to me, love.” Sirius promises, his features softening. He grabs my hand and his warmth seeps into me. “You are everything to me, so please, please tell me what’s bothering you. Why don’t you ever sleep?”

“Nothing, I’m just not tired.” I say nonchalantly, hoping that I sound convincing. He lifts one of his eyebrows and gives me an unimpressed look.

“Yeah, right. The circle under your eyes are so dark, I’d think you were a raccoon if I didn’t know any better, pet.” he jokes, but his eyes don’t hold any amusement, just pure concern. I sigh and look at our joined hands, my fingers toying with his rings. I open my mouth to say something but he interrupts me.

“I swear, if you’re gonna ask me why I’m wearing my rings now, I’m gonna strangle you.” he threatens, and I smile for the first time tonight, because it warms my heart that he knew I was gonna ask that. He knows me too well, it’s scary sometimes.

“I don’t wanna sleep.” I murmur, hoping he can’t hear me, but from the way he squeezes my hand, I know he did.

“Why don’t you wanna sleep, darling?” he asks gently. I shrug my shoulders, but he’s patiently waiting for my answer.

“Because I think a lot. And my mind goes to places I dont want it to go. I think about everything, the school, the future, us. And once I start, I can’t stop, until I fall asleep. But when I do, the nightmares begin. They’re horrible Siri.” my voice breaks and I try to take a deep breath, but fail. “I’m always alone in the dark, but I can feel I’m not alone, you know? Like the feeling you get when someone is watching you. And then, out of nowhere, someone just appears right in front of me. It’s either you, Jamie, Remmy, Marls or just anyone I like, but..B-but they’re dead, they’re always dead and staring at me with huge, lifeless eyes. And I try to move, to help them or run away, just to do something, but I can’t. It’s like I’m frozen in place. And then I hear voices, yelling at me that it’s my fault they’re dead or asking me to help or just telling me how worthless I am. And I can never wake up. No matter how much I try, to just wake up, I can’t. I keep telling myself that it’s not real, you are all okay and its just my imagination, but the longer it lasts, the realer it is and I can’t wake up and it’s terrible and it’s killing me and I don’t wanna sleep ever again because..” Sirius hugs me close to his body shushing me softly, stopping my rumbling. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I can feel the wet patch I formed on Sirius’ shoulder. I hiccup loudly, trying to keep my breathing calm, but failing once again.

“Shh, it’s okay love. Try to breathe. I’m here darling, don’t worry. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere. Just beathe, my love.” He murmurs into my ear, rocking us lightly. One of his hand if tightly wrapped around my back, drawing small circles, while the other one is in my head, protectively holding my head to his shoulder. I listen to his soft words, breathing in his cologne and trying to stop shaking. We stay like this for Merlin know how long, but he doesn’t stop whispering sweet nothings and rocking us lightly even after my breathing is regular and I’m no longer shaking. He squeezes me one last time, before slowly pulling away, yet his hands never leave my body. I’m basically sitting in his lap, but neither of us seem to mind.

“I’m so sorry, darling, I had no idea. I’m so fucking sorry..” he apologizes, but I interrupt him before he can say more.

“It’s not your fault, Siri. You couldn’t have known, because I never told you. I didn’t want you to worry.” I try to reassure him, hating that desperate look on his face, but he just shakes his head, and places his hands on my cheeks, his cold rings soothing my hot skin.

“I should have asked sooner, I knew something was wrong, but I decided to let it be and that’s on me, but I promise I’m never gonna do it again. I’m so sorry I’ve let you suffer alone for so long, my love. It’s never gonna happen again, I promise. You’re never leaving my side again. You’ll sleep in our dorm from now on. Company could help you, and you’re gonna try some of Remus’ tea, he hides under his bed and even if that’s not gonna work, we’ll go to Madam Pomfreys. You’re not in this alone okay? You have me and you always will, I’m not going anywhere and I won’t stop, until you get the rest you need and deserve okay?” he promises and I believe him. The look in his eyes is determined and I know that when he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t stop, until he achieves whatever it is he wants. I smile at him and nod, not being able to say anything. But Sirius doesn’t mind, he closes the distance between us, and gently kisses my forehead, the kiss lingering longer than usual and butterflies inside me are awakened. He leans back with me still in his arms and lays comfortably on the sofa. I set my head on his chest, and close my eyes listening to his heartbeat.

“You’re gonna get through this, I promise. I love so fucking much, more that you know, my love.” These are the last words I hear before drifting into sleep for the fist time in what feels like millennia.

And who knows, maybe one day I’ll share my secret about how I feel about him. And something about the way he holds me right now and his words tell me, that he will be glad I share another secret with him.

[thefreakandthehair]

I am once again thinking about an AU

Specifically a selkie Steve

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good werewolf Steve (get it, hairy beast, the hair, harrington) because protective mom Steve is just (insert emperors new groove meme here)

But! Selkie Steve, who’s mom is a Selkie and his dad has her pelt so she can’t leave him even when she hates him for constantly being unfaithful. And his pelt is locked up in his father’s safe, a way to control him because obviously he needs to uphold their family’s image while they’re gone and he needs a threat to do a good job

But when he gets kicked out, his father throwing his pelt at him and telling him to get lost, he never wants to see him again, and he doesn’t know where to go but it’s imperative he NEVER lets anyone near his pelt because he can’t be held captive like that again (oh hello trauma response)

No one knows, of course, because he can’t be a freak, even if he knows none of them would ever think that because their friend is a literal experiment with super powers, but like he can’t logic his way out of fear, not when he’s been raised to know he’s a monster because of what he is

Except he falls in love and he’s terrified because he wants to trust Eddie, who’s sweet and a freak but proud and who would protect him because he stands up for all the freaks. But he can’t because his brain doesn’t care about logic, doesn’t care that Eddie wouldn’t hurt him

But one night he’s so tired, he’s exhausted, training to be an emt is hard and he misses Robin because she’s at school and yeah, they talk every day but it’s not the same as when he could spend all day side by side with her (she misses him too and never misses their scheduled phone call time (at least an hour long) because I love their codependency and they’re definitely like those bonded kittens that you have to adopt both together)

But he’s so tired that he forgets his coat on the arm of the couch

He sleeps in late and Eddie, up early because he was so excited planning a new campaign that he never actually went to sleep, sees this beautiful, soft, furry looking coat. And part of him wants to just bury his face in it, because he knows it’ll smell like Steve and also he has lots of impulses about touching things that are soft, but something tells him not to. So he smooths it out where it’s a little wrinkled, but leaves it right where Steve left it

When Steve wakes up to a note from eddie saying he went to the store and will be back soon, and finds his pelt still there, right where he left it but neater now, he panics a little. Except. Eddie could have taken it, he’s taken other clothing (borrowed - technically, sort of, he doesn’t really give it back so much as Steve takes it back knowing full well he’ll borrow other stuff soon enough) but he left it there.

So he tests him again. And again. I read a story I forget where (probably here) about a Selkie leaving her pelt on a chair over and over before demanding in tears why the other woman won’t take it and keep her and that’s exactly the angst I want for them. He demands to know why Eddie won’t keep him, what isn’t good enough

And like that other story (folktale?) Eddie says he doesn’t want to keep Steve, he wants him to stay on his own accord, his own choice

And then the pelt goes into the closet, not a safe, because it’s Steve’s choice and he can go (but why would he want to?)

(Eddie does end up burying his face in the pelt at one point, it smells like Steve and the ocean (ignore that there’s no oceans nearby there’s a lake it’s fine) and it’s soft, but he still prefers to bury his face in Steve’s chest)

KAT I AM SO SORRY I MISSED THIS LAST WEEK! your brain is cooking up the most incredible, well-thought out, creative AU's and I'm sorry but you're gonna have to write at LEAST one of them?! like how does your brain DO THIS?!

[candycryptids]

Hiya! I hope you're doing well today! I love your characters and how you've structered their bios! Since Chuusday is listed first, is she technically your official WOL or is it someone else? Do you canonically have a WOL in the first place?

Also, I find it SO sweet that you and one of your partners both play FFXIV and have characters paired together ;w; Did you meet ingame or long before either of you started playing? Either way I wish you both the best!!! <3 - gardenofballads 🌻

Awaaaah! Im doing pretty ok!!! Taking time to answer this as a wind down from Emerald Weapon Ex Brain Soupage. And I’m so glad! ;W; I think I butchered one of those “Get To Know An OC” thingies- uhh… oh [this one] actually! I chopped a lot out and I think added a couple different thingums instead because there was so much to that that it felt overwhelming to try to look at let alone fill out LOL but it was a really good jumping off point uvu;

And!!! Hilariously Chuu was my First XIV Character, so she’s dear to my heart for being the first one- but she very quickly made it known being the WOL even as an AU was something of a Joke (Her character showed great reluctance and even frustration at having to do So Much World Saving, maybe a side-effect of me rushing through MSQ to catch up with my other spouse [Who plays Talia, though they’ve got less time for XIV these days ;0;] and the rest of my friends who were all EndGame already at the time in Shadowbringers fhdjfjsjfs.) So I made…… many alts. Throwing spaghetti at the wall but I have SEVERE side-character/NPC brain and kept making “supporting cast” types =w=; it actually took me like. 3? Alts before making an ACTUAL WoL with my husband (Ishi’li and Kizuna) (as of Right Meow, they’re in post ARR, but we’ve been working on Keathan and Tuesday together because Keathan was… Keathan’s first character in xiv XD so we’ve been jaunting through the story together and experiencing every inch of it so we can pick and choose what The Boys™ get up to when we wanna focus on them x3)

🥰 I knew both speece during at least high school- but I actually knew Keathan as early as Elementary school hehe 😌 tho the speece didn’t proper marry until… i’unno, 2017? (For frustrating legal reasons, I’m not legally married, but. As it goes. Someday we’ll have money to visit the one state that has legal poly marriages. Also I struggle to remember our wedding year 🫢)

Since managing to make a Co-WoL with my husband I’ve managed to make one other Alt meant to be a Solo-WoL (Mochiie) but I have to really wrinkle my brain to sink time into playing him, since I’m trying to take screenshots throughout the story at what I find to be inspiring beats xD And even still he has an alt-universe where he’s just a side-character for the ‘Main Timeline’ (where there’s a bunch of spaghetti and like 8+ confirmed WoL’s and the Msq entourage looks HILARIOUS in canon, someday I’ll get all the data together and take pictures, but I think it’ll cook what’s left of my brain x’3) [it’s less concrete than anything I’ve posted about before or I’d try to explain it ;v;’ it’s just interesting mostly to see how the story gets stretched to fit around a larger community of heroes than a solo guy shouldering the whole burden lmfao.]

🌸🌸🌸…. I also hope you’re having a lovely week @gardenofballads !!!! I am tossing flower petals into the air around you !!! Thank you for the ask and well wishes n kind words 🥺💖 🌸🌸🌸

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[riotwritesthings]

I Want Love in the Aftermath

Minor Nat/Clint, Minor Pre-WinterIron, T, 2k - Humor, Team breakfast, Avengers family shenanigans

Ayyyyy I’m back after a very long break (forced by my mean brain, it’s a whole thing) with some silliness. Because of course I am.

This is a birthday gift for a friend, based on a real conversation the time he forgot the word for ‘afterglow’. Also dedicated to Dani, for responding without question when I messaged her at 1 in the morning to ask her opinion of various Avengers’ sex terms, the Clint/Nat is just for you BB

A normal breakfast with the team gets weird. Which is actually also pretty normal.

~~

Sam isn’t sure when he became Natasha's relationship consultant, or how.

To be fair, lots of strange things have happened around and to him since he joined the Avengers, but somehow this feels like the strangest. Every time she casually corners him to talk about Clint it throws him for a loop, and it's even weirder when she actually takes his advice.

He's not complaining, exactly, but there are some things Sam could do without hearing. Especially when they're horrifically sleep deprived after a long mission and trying to wait out the last of the adrenaline. Its ass-early in the morning, Sam hasn't slept in about thirty six hours, and all he wants is to finish his breakfast before passing the hell out.

"So then he starts juggling," Natasha says around a mouthful of the toast she stole off of Sam's plate,"which yes, is usually very cute, but not when I'm trying to enjoy the aftermath--"

“The what?” Sam interrupts to demand, so vehemently that Steve's head jerks up from where it's been drooping dangerously low over his bowl of cereal.

“The aftermath..?” Natasha repeats slowly and she looks genuinely confused, but it's impossible to tell with her.

“You call it the aftermath?” Steve asks, blinking quickly like he's trying to make sure that he's actually awake.

“Is that not what it’s called?” Natasha asks innocently while stealing Sam's other piece of toast.

“No," Sam says and finally sets down the forkful of eggs he's been holding, because this is much more important, "what the fuck—“

“Pretty sure it is," Natasha says, taking a pointed bite of toast before continuing, "you’ve got clothes thrown everywhere, everyone is sweaty and exhausted and bruised? What else would you call it?”

“It’s called the afterglow,” Sam sputters and he still can't tell if she's messing with them or not.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Natasha says, her nose wrinkling, and if she is fucking with them she is so convincing.

“What are you doing to people?” Steve asks, horrified, and then visibly shudders when she winks at him.

“Well, what do you call it then?” She demands of Steve.

“I call it private,” Steve says with a sniff and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Boo,” Natasha says, and Sam has to agree.

Sam has his mouth open to demand more answers, but when Clint and Bruce walk into the kitchen he swings his attention towards them instead. “Clint,” he barks, “what do you call that time period when you’re just hanging out with someone after sex?”

Bruce apparently inhales whatever's in his mug in surprise, probably tea, because he chokes and then starts coughing. Clint just grins brightly as he begins thumping Bruce on the back.

“What, you mean the aftermath?” Clint asks, and looks genuinely confused when Natasha crows in victory.

Sam isn’t falling for it though, and he narrows his eyes at Clint as he accuses, “She told you to say that.”

“Say what, aftermath?” Clint asks, still slapping at Bruce’s back absentmindedly.

“I knew it!” Sam shouts.

“You knew nothing!" Natasha insists, pointing a fork at him.

"No more missions without sleep," Steve mutters to no one.

“You can stop hitting me now, I’m good,” Bruce says with a wince and edges out of Clint's reach.

“Tell him I didn’t tell you to say that!” Natasha demands, turning to point the fork at Clint, and Sam makes a noise of protest when he realizes it's actually his fork.

“She didn’t tell me to say that,” Clint parrots instantly, suspiciously, while grabbing the pot of coffee that's just finished brewing.

Sam cheers, throwing his hands in the air, and happily ignores the withering glare that Natasha shoots at him.

“But!” Clint adds loudly before further arguments can break out, “I did get it from her. She said it once when we first got together and I thought ‘aww, that’s fitting.’”

“Aww?” Steve repeats, his face creased in confusion and his spoon frozen halfway to his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have asked Clint,” Sam mutters to himself, “that’s clearly tainted data.”

“Hey,” Clint protests as he drops into the chair next to Natasha, still holding the coffee pot.

“Of course she’s rubbed off on him—“

“Heyy,” Natasha says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“- I need to ask someone else,” Sam finishes decisively, “collect more data.”

“Very scientific of you,” Bruce says and holds up his mug in cheers from where he's taken a seat at the safety of the island.

"Well what do you call it then?" Natasha asks, spinning towards Bruce.

"Whatever option isn't 'aftermath'," he replies, looking vaguely pained.

"So you're Team Afterglow," Sam says with a nod, and Bruce's pained look gets deeper.

At the sound of more footsteps approaching the kitchen everyone’s eyes flick over to Sam before shifting to fix on the doorway, and the way they do it nearly in unison is more than a little creepy.

“That was very creepy,” Sam tells the room at large.

“What’s creepy?” Tony asks as he steps into the kitchen, not even pausing at all the attention, “other than all of you staring at me, of course.”

“Hey Tony—“ Sam starts.

“Don’t ask him,” Steve protests with a groan.

“What do you call that time period when you’re just hanging out after sex?" Sam asks, gleefully ignoring the tired glare Steve is leveling at him.

Tony actually stops in his steps to consider the question carefully, his finger tapping against his chin. Then he points at Sam as he finally says, “Foreplay.”

Bruce chokes on his tea again while Clint makes loud noises of agreement, and Steve looks down at his cereal with a weary sigh.

“Not helpful,” Sam says with a groan, and Tony just shrugs shamelessly.

“Why are we polling people’s sex nomenclature?” Tony asks as he finishes crossing the kitchen. He steals the coffee pot out of Clint’s hand, ignoring Clint repeating ‘sex nomenclature’ to himself under his breath and the fact that Clint was just drinking straight from the pot.

“Because Natasha is ruining my life,” Sam says heavily and holds out his hand to take the coffee pot as soon as Tony is done filling his mug.

“Sure, sure,” Tony says with a nod and apparently no further questions, handing over the coffee and then blowing Natasha a kiss when she glares at him.

“I just want to eat my breakfast,” Steve grumbles into his cereal bowl.

“No one’s stopping you,” Clint points out, although he does appear to be leaning across the table towards Steve.

Clint hooks one of his fingers over the rim of the Steve's cereal bowl, narrowly avoiding dunking it into the milk, and starts to slide it towards himself. Everyone in the kitchen watches as Steve blinks slowly and then finally seems to notice, slapping at Clint’s hand only to miss and whack the edge of the table. It makes the entire thing jump, and Sam and Natasha laugh a little too hard as milk and cereal slosh everywhere.

“If you are trying to take a poll, I think you need a bigger sample size,” Tony says thoughtfully, dropping into a chair at the table now that scuffle has settled. From the island Bruce makes a noise of agreement, and Tony grins.

“Hey, if you wanna call a press conference,” Sam offers, happily ignoring Steve’s protest of ‘what, no’ to continue, “then I will happily take a proper poll.”

Tony has his mouth open to respond, but at the sound of approaching footsteps they all spin to face the doorway again.

Bucky freezes before taking even a single step into the kitchen, his eyes moving over everyone staring at him and clearly considering bailing.

“Don’t run!” Sam demands, spinning a little in his chair to better face the door.

“Run,” Steve advises tiredly, barely looking up from what's left of his cereal.

“I think I’m gonna run,” Bucky says and shuffles back another step.

“Stay and take our sex poll!” Natasha calls gleefully, then shoots a sideways look at Clint when she notices that he's picking spilled pieces of cereal off the table.

That gives Bucky pause long enough for Sam to shout out his question over Steve’s noises of protest and the rest of the table laughing. Bucky glances back down the hall, like he’s still considering running for it, then sighs and steps fully into the kitchen.

“What do I call what?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised like he can’t quite believe the question and failing to completely hide what looks like a tiny, bemused smile on his face.

“You heard me,” Sam says flatly, “now what do you call it?”

“I don’t —“

“Everyone else has answered!” Tony insists, “this is weird family bonding, Frosty, get on board.”

Bucky looks around the kitchen doubtfully, searching all of their faces for tells, but he’s met with only nods and serious, expectant looks.

And Sam can’t be the only one who notices the way Bucky’s gaze moves back to Tony far more than it needs too, right? Apparently he is, though, because Steve is once again distracted trying to protect his breakfast from Clint while Natasha cheers them both on, and all of Bruce's attention is on adding sugar to his tea pinch by pinch. So Sam is also the only one who sees it when Tony winks at Bucky over the rim of his coffee mug, and he hasn't had nearly enough sleep for this.

At least Bucky shrugs and begins apparently pondering the question, giving it the thought it deserves on this weird-ass morning. Everyone in the kitchen waits with bated breath, and only slight distraction when Steve swats at Clint again, until Bucky nods decisively to himself and steps a little further into the kitchen.

"Aftermath," Bucky finally announces, and then flinches a little when the room immediately explodes in noise. “What?” Bucky demands over the sounds of Sam complaining loudly and Natasha howling with laughter, "you asked, an' thats my answer.”

"Why," Sam groans miserably and grabs for the fork that Natasha is jabbing at him, "why is that everyone's answer?"

“Fits, doesn't it?" Bucky asks with another small shrug and starts shuffling further into the kitchen, "clothes everywhere, everyone's sweaty and sore and covered in bite marks? Aftermath."

That spurs another burst of noise from the rest of the team, most notably Steve loudly dropping his forehead to the table and Natasha throwing her hands in the air with such force that her chair rocks in place. Bruce appears to be eyeing the doorway and planning an escape.

Unfortunately, the reaction that Sam is most aware of is Tony snorting into his coffee before wiggling his eyebrows and saying, "Oh, I do like your style."

"That's enough weird breakfast for me," Sam says and shoves his chair away from the table, "it’s gonna take me a couple days to sleep off this mess."

"You started this conversation," Tony points out with a laugh.

"No, Natasha started it," Sam protests, "right Steve?"

Natasha pauses in finishing off Steve's cereal, which she somehow has, to smile innocently. Steve still has his head down on the table, and he appears to be fast asleep.

"I'm running away from this family," Sam says and pushes himself tiredly to his feet.

"I'll come with you," Bruce says, standing from the island and clutching his mug of perfected tea to his chest, "it's been awhile and my disappearing skills are getting rusty. How do you feel about India?"

"Is it far away from these people?" Sam asks as he shuffles after Bruce, happily ignoring Tony and Natasha booing them.

"Not in my experience, no." Bruce says heavily.

"See you in a couple hours for training!" Natasha calls sweetly as they approach the doorway.

"No~!" Sam sings without turning around, and grins when he hears someone laugh.

He can't resist glancing back before he rounds the door though, just in time to see Bucky sliding into his abandoned chair next to Tony. Bucky has a look on his face that Sam has never seen before as he says something to Tony, almost flirty, and Sam consoles himself with the fact that at least this time Natasha notices it too.

After he sleeps for about twelve hours, Sam is definitely going to get her thoughts on that. And maybe he'll even hear the end of the juggling story.

[d-andilion]

mornings

another prompt for @whataboutthebard!

prompt: wuv - bundled up

(valskier, T/M, modern au, established relationship, fluff, mild horniness, playing it a little loose with the prompt today, 1.2k, read on ao3)

Mornings have never really been Jaskier’s forte. Back at Oxenfurt, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a class that started before 11:00 AM, and he’s still the university’s unofficial reigning all-nighter champion. The real world blasphemously required him to be up at a “reasonable” time most days, so he tried to keep weekend plans to afternoon hours where they belonged. He wasn’t sure which of his friends suggested they all go for an early breakfast on a Saturday, but whoever it was was getting a stern talking to.

The very naked boyfriend Jaskier found sprawled out between him and the alarm clock was the only reason the squealing device didn’t wind up smashed against a wall. That, and the way the sheets rucked up to expose Valdo’s thigh as he reached for the clock sucked every single thought, destructive or otherwise, out of Jaskier’s head. A few sleepy smiles later, Jaskier found himself bundled up in a mess of blankets and limbs, tracing paths over that pale skin with his mouth.

Then Valdo slipped his long fingers into Jaskier’s hair, flashed him a sly smile, and uttered fighting words: “I can’t decide if your obsession with my legs is cute or creepy.”

Jaskier tore his lips away from Valdo’s thigh with a squawk. “I am not obsessed with them!”

“Don’t whine,” said Valdo, seemingly unphased by his baseless accusations. “I said it might be cute. In fact, I’m almost sure it is. At least fifty percent cute.”

“I’m not obsessed.” He wasn’t. “I pay acceptable and completely understandable homage to a lovely pair of appendages that just so happen to be connected to your torso.”

Valdo wrinkled his nose. “Appendages? Not sexy, Julian.”

“I’m not trying to be sexy, I’m defending my honor!”

It might be true that Jaskier tended to give Valdo’s legs a little extra attention, but to call him obsessed was overstating things. So what if he never missed an opportunity to lavish Valdo’s thighs with kisses? Valdo enjoyed that every bit as much as Jaskier did; Jaskier could catch Valdo running his fingers over the marks left behind days later. And if Jaskier’s brain short-circuited every time Valdo’s legs wrapped around his waist, how could he possibly be blamed? It wasn’t his fault Valdo was an insatiable minx, was it?

Valdo chuckled at him. Chuckled. “You’re allowed to be obsessed with me, love. I would have preferred it be for my eyes or something, but this works too.”

Jaskier definitely was obsessed with Valdo’s gorgeous brown eyes, but that was a conversation for a later date. “You know what?” Jaskier said, crawling up over his boyfriend with a hand planted on either side of Valdo’s head. “it’s your fault I’m obsessed with them.”

“So you admit it?”

“Shut up.”

Valdo giggled up at him and, in full service of the completely valid point Jaskier was about to make, wrapped his legs firmly around Jaskier’s waist. If Jaskier briefly—briefly!—forgot what he was about to say, no one would ever be able to prove it.

“It’s your fault,” Jaskier continued, “because they’re a mile long each, unreasonably muscular for someone who does no physical labor—”

“I run!” Valdo cried, swatting Jaskier’s arm.

Jaskier plowed on. “And the first thing you do when I’m within range is entrap me in them! What was I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, dear one.” Valdo’s tone was smug with victory, but his pale cheeks had gone pink.

Jaskier dipped down for a kiss that became two and three, and he lost interest in counting after that. Valdo licked into his mouth. His arms wound around Jaskier’s neck, pulling him down to press Valdo into the mattress. Then the little tease turned his head with a grin and let Jaskier’s next kiss fall messily onto his cheek.

“We have to get up,” said Valdo breathlessly. Jaskier ducked to kiss his neck, featherlight.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Breakfast with our friends, recall?”

Jaskier sighed mightily and let his full weight crush his boyfriend for a moment in revenge, earning him a groan and a pinch to his shoulder. “Fine,” he grumbled. Valdo detangled himself to let Jaskier roll off and out of bed.

“Can I borrow something?” asked Jaskier, making a B-line for the chair in the corner of Valdo’s bedroom piled high with clean but unfolded laundry.

“If you must,” said Valdo, sounding very put-upon.

“Shut up,” Jaskier replied throwing a grin over his shoulder. Valdo’s eyes were notably watching his ass, as they often did whenever Jaskier turned around, but of course they weren’t going to talk about that little obsession. “I know you love me wearing your clothes.”

Valdo sniffed pompously. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

Jaskier laughed and continued to dig around in the pile for something to wear. He knew he’d left a few shirts here and at least one pair of jeans, but they were all mysteriously absent. There was no point checking the closet. Valdo only bothered to put away his nice clothes; all the others were either in the chair or in the dirty hamper.

“You could leave things here if you wanted,” said Valdo from the bed. His tone had changed but Jaskier couldn’t quite pin it down. More serious, maybe? Jaskier couldn’t think what about.

“I leave plenty of things here,” Jaskier replied without turning around. “You just never wash them.”

“I’m your boyfriend, not a laundry service.”

Jaskier snorted. “I think it’s reasonable to expect you to wash my clothes if you’re the one wearing them.”

“I do not do that.”

“You absolutely do.”

“Irrelevant.” Valdo sighed heavily and Jaskier heard the blankets rustling. “Anyway, that’s not what I mean.”

“Oh?”

There was a short pause. “You could leave more things here. Like… the rest of your wardrobe. Maybe.”

Jaskier’s brow furrowed for a moment. Why would he leave all his clothes here? That didn’t even make sense. Then the realization hit him and he spun around so quickly, he almost toppled over, stark naked with one of Valdo’s hoodies in hand.

Valdo looked a bit like he was trying to hide, at least as much as someone of his height was capable of hiding in an otherwise empty bed. He’d sat up against the headboard, knees brought up to his chest and the duvet pulled over his shoulders. A head of disastrously messy curls atop a pile of blankets. It was adorable. Jaskier dropped the hoodie he was holding and sat down on the side of the bed.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Jaskier asked. His heart hammered away in his chest. Jaskier was pretty sure he knew what was going on, but he wanted to be sure. He wanted Valdo to say yes. Because then Jaskier could say yes.

“Depends,” Valdo muttered. The covers shifted over his knees like he was fidgeting. Valdo rarely fidgeted.

“On what?”

“On your answer.”

Jaskier smiled so wide, his cheeks ached. He grabbed Valdo’s face with both hands and kissed him with a comically loud smack. “Yes!”

Valdo let out a bark of nervous laughter that turned real and warm, especially when Jaskier yanked him down onto the bed by his ankles and climbed back on top of him, kissing every inch of skin available.

“What about breakfast?” asked Valdo, but the intention behind it was weak. His legs were already back around Jaskier’s waist, and he made no move to let go.

Jaskier kissed the side of Valdo’s neck and the point of his jaw and the apple of his cheek. “We were going to be late anyway.”

Mornings were still terrible, Jaskier wanted that on record. But maybe they wouldn’t be as terrible if they all started out like this.

~~

w.a.t.b. masterlist

[honeypiehotchner]

“aren’t you going to thank me?” (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Nothing like coming back with a smut one shot am I right? 🤪🤪🤪 Happy International Women’s Day here’s Hotch eating you out

Prompt is from @multiverse-mxdness​ cm discord writing challenge!! I had too much fun w this

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), I honestly don’t think there’s much else unless you count Hotch himself as a warning (I do), ofc there’s the slight power dynamic bc he’s your boss

WC: 1,185 (I wrote this in like 15 minutes WHAT)

Going undercover was not exactly on your bucket list, especially not as your boss’s wife. 

This unsub is targeting couples at mixer events, and unfortunately their type has been exactly you and Hotch. You had no choice but to agree. 

It’s not that you’re uncomfortable, no, it’s nothing like that. You’re more than comfortable, and that’s the problem. 

You have a raging crush. On your boss. Did you mention he’s your superior? And it’s totally against some unspoken workplace rules to like him or anything further? 

“Y/N?” Hotch knocks on the door. “Are you ready?” 

You had come back to the hotel to change. You needed to be in a red dress, and Hotch in a red tie. 

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “One second.”

You adjust the seams of the dress, fix the collar and smooth out any random wrinkles. It’s one of those dresses you pack as a backup, but is never a first choice for an outfit. You don’t hate it, but you don’t love it either. 

It’s time. 

Slowly, you grab your purse and head to the door, opening it to reveal Hotch. He changed out of his grey suit and into his black one, complete with a red Gucci tie that Rossi gifted him one Christmas. 

He looks hot.

“Wow.”

You think for a second that the word left your lips, but it didn’t. It was Hotch. 

“Thanks?” you laugh. “Are we undercover already?”

“What? No,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You just— You look really nice.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, suddenly bashful. He’s never one to comment on anyone’s appearance, unless of course, Reid gets a haircut. “You too,” you offer, wanting to say it anyway, but now feeling as though it sounds cliché. 

“Thank you,” Hotch chuckles, dipping his head. “Ready?”

As you’ll ever be.

~ ~ ~ 

You hold onto Hotch’s arm like a wife would, leaning into him every few seconds as you both mingle around the event. 

You’ve been married for almost a year. Dating for two. Vacations on the beach are a must. Work hours are crazy. You work even though he makes enough to support you, and he supports your decision to work. 

It’s all so blissfully domestic and too good to be true. You’re going to bask in it for as long as you can, knowing after tonight it’ll all be gone. 

Hotch can sense the unsub approaching, so he squeezes your arm lightly to let you know. 

They approach with a smile, offering you a glass of champagne that you turn down. You and Hotch go through the general details of your relationship, each of you studying the unsub’s expressions as you speak.

The unsub looks for unhappiness in the couples, though, so the one saving grace the two of you have right now is that: happiness.

So, to prove they’re the unsub, you decide to grab Hotch’s face, and kiss him. Right on the lips. Passionately.

Immediately, the unsub recoils, and storms away, clearly angered by the trick you just played on them.

When you pull away, you lift Hotch’s wrist to your lips to speak to Morgan. “They’re headed your way. Definitely the unsub.”

Morgan responds letting you know he heard you -- and saw that kiss.

You drop Hotch’s wrist, knowing Morgan will give you hell for that later, but for now, you’re on cloud nine.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Hotch quirks an eyebrow. “For what?”

You scoff. “For saving your ass!” You playfully smack his chest, unable to hide your smile. 

“Oh, is that what that was?” he grins. “I thought you just wanted to kiss me.”

He’s your boss, your brain reminds you. But you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your lips. “Maybe it was a bit of both.”

Hotch pulls you in by your waist, and your hands return to their place on his shoulders. 

“In that case,” he says quietly. “Can I kiss you this time?”

You nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

He presses his lips to yours firmly, kissing you like he’s been starving for years. 

“I think,” he says, pausing to kiss you again, “I need to thank you properly.”

“Mhm,” you agree, kissing him again. “How are you going to do that?”

He grins, and you kiss his smile. “I can think of a few things.”

~ ~ ~

Just twenty minutes later, you find yourself being carried bridal style into Hotch’s hotel room. He sets you down on the bed and returns to the door, locking it and putting the Do Not Disturb card in for extra precaution.

“Have you thought of how you’re going to thank me yet?”

“Oh yes,” he grins, grabbing both your hands and standing you up. “And it starts with helping you out of this dress.”

You turn around, silently giving him permission to unzip you. He does so slowly, tenderly, his fingertips brushing your exposed skin and his lips leaving kisses in their wake. On your shoulders, your neck, your cheeks. Everywhere he can reach, even your arms.

He kneels as he pulls the dress down, smiling when it reveals what he had suspected. No underwear.

He helps you step out of the fabric and toss it away, gazing up at you with heated eyes. He takes your hand and kisses each finger, your palm, and your knuckles. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, holding his cheek. “Do you mind if I lay down instead?”

“Not at all,” he smiles. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Once you’re lying on the bed, a pillow underneath your hips, Hotch returns to kissing every inch of your skin. Up your arms and over your collar bones, up your neck and across your face. You’re in a blissful state, just lying there, cherishing this feeling unlike any other.

“Can I taste you?” he asks suddenly.

“Yes,” you reply instantly, whimpering when he presses an open mouthed kiss to your breast.

His lips travel down your stomach. You’re practically aching for his mouth to be on you, and he knows it. He still takes his time. He wants this to be special.

You taste like Heaven and he can’t get enough. His arms wrap around your legs, pulling you into him. He breathes into you, groaning when your hands find their place in his hair, tugging tightly. Hips bucking, you cry out when his tongue delves inside of you. He’s chasing your release more than you are; he’s desperate. He needs to know the taste of you when you let go, when you see stars in his arms, at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long. With a tongue like his and a fire inside of you, it takes mere minutes. You aren’t sure. But you explode.

He soothes you as you come down, breathing hard and shaking, yet still aching.

After a few more kisses, his lips travel upwards again, over your belly button, between your breasts, to your mouth. 

“Thank you,” you say, still trying to catch your breath.

“Thank you,” he replies, putting his weight on either side of you, pressing his body to yours, soothing your shakes.

[rozcdust]

My love is a sniper

Pairing: Kakucho Hitto x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, a bit of angst

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Canon divergent, violence, murder, substance abuse, profanity, Reader is killer for hire

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Being a good little hitman, you arrived two hours early to the job, mostly to prove to yourself (and maybe Draken) you were, in fact, not irresponsible but a good and useful member of the community.

Suck on that, Draken.

Looking up at the cloudy sky, you prayed it won’t rain. It’s been cold and cloudy these past few weeks, and you really didn’t need water fucking your baby up.

As you pulled out your set up, gently pulling out your rifle and setting it down, basically handling it like an infant, you couldn’t shake the thought on the back of your head. That fucking tattoo. You’ve seen it before, you’re sure, but where? And why can’t you remember?

Borderline saving you from your own train of thoughts, your colleague for the day arrived.

10 words in, you already hated him.

He was a cocky old bastard, with gray hair and too many wrinkles to count. He introduced himself, but in one ear and out the other it went. Quite frankly, he reminded you of a business man you once curb stomped. It took all of your mental energy to not throw the old fucker off the fucking building right then and there. Taking a deep breath, and like a civilised little murderer, you opted for a more passive option.

Silently judging him on his rifle of choice and the fact he didn’t even check the fucking scope wasn’t as full filling as you hoped.

“So, you’re Trickshot, eh? You don’t look like what I imagined.” The man’s voice, despite being calm and deep, drilled inside your skull.

Looking up from your scope with murderous intentions in your eyes, you put on a tight smile.

“Oh yea? The fuck did you imagine?”

He lit up a cigarette, offering you one. You accepted it, snatching the lighter from him when he tried to light it for you.

“Someone older. Maybe a big ol’ mean guy with a buzzcut and prison tattoos.” He laughed as if he said something remotely amusing.

Your deadpan stare did nothing to shut him up.

Checking your wristwatch, you saw you had about 20 more minutes before your targets are supposed to arrive.

Perfect time to check over those files you dumped on your dining table and forgot about until the day of the job.

For being a well respected and established person in your industry, you sure procrastinated the boring parts as long as possible.

“Seriously? Did you not check who you’re supposed to shoot beforehand? How’d you even become a top dog with work ethic like that?”

Ignoring his yapping, your eyes quickly scanned over the names and faces, remembering only the most important info.

“Bonten, huh? Interesting bunch. ” You mumbled to yourself, rummaging through you head if you’ve ever heard of them. All your brain came up was a huge middle finger.

“Do you not know who Bonten is?” The old bastard sounded genuinely surprised.

You looked up from your file, one dedicated to a pink haired man with a mullet. He was cute, shame he’ll be a corpse soon.

‘Shame he isn’t Kakucho’ your brain helpfully supplied, but you decided to ignore it.

“Am I supposed to?” You hoped your voice showed your distain.

“They’re the gang ruling Japan, top tier of top tier, do you never read the news?”

“I prefer to consult tarot cards and moon phases.”

He snorted. “You and your generation, so self centred.”

Rolling your eyes, you went over another two files, comparing them quickly. Brothers. How nice! At least their family will get to have a joint funeral.

Only if you could remember where you saw that fucking tattoo before.

Flipping to the next file, you felt your heart drop, and a realisation dawned upon you.

You wanted to punch yourself. Of course you knew that tattoo, you stared at it almost daily for the past half a year.

The face of your ex stared back at you from the paper, every wheel inside your head turning.

Kakucho, what the fuck.

He never told you he was affiliated with the biggest gang in Japan, hell, he was fucking number 3! Which sure, you guess that made sense, you weren’t exactly open about your line of business either, but why did he then- why? Did he think you’d be scared of him? Did he think you’d think he’ll hurt you?

Even after the shitty way he broke up, you knew he’s never intentionally harm you. He was always shockingly gentle, he always told you to lock your doors and be careful walking alone and call him when you got home, he’d never-

Your brain kept repeating the last message he sent you, trying to put the puzzle together.

I’m not who you think I am. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not-

Oh.

You could practically see the lightbulb lighting up above your head.

So, he thought he was protecting you.

Why’d your type have to be pretty men with DVD logo bouncing inside their empty fucking skulls?

You let out a frustrated screech, throwing the file across the building roof. You were now pissed. A month of radio silence and intense emotional anguish, for something that could be explained in three texts? Seriously, Kakucho?

Your colleague looked at you, clearly irritated.

“What the fuck is-“

“One more word out of your damn mouth and I will beat your face in.” You interrupted him, too pissed off at this point to listen to his bullshit. Were you angry at Kakucho or yourself? You weren’t sure.

He snorted. “As if you’d dare-“

And dared you did.

5 minutes, one corpse and blood spattered all over you later, you took a deep breath, lighting up another cigarette.

Maybe Inui was right about those anger management classes.

Checking the wrist watch again, and seeing it’s almost time, you looked down from the building to see your client and targets walking in the building.

Well. This will be awkward.

Rindou was really, really tempted to go to the nearest pet store, get a cute customised collar with Kakucho’s name and put the bastard on a fucking leash.

At this point, just to make sure the idiot gets out alive, more than anything. They were meeting their rivals today, the gang they had a lot of disputes with over weapons trafficking, so it had potential to get messy.

Mikey told them to be careful, this could be a set up to get them killed, pay attention, be prepared to shoot on sight, yada yada da. Rindou wasn’t listening to the whole speech, but he got the gist.

Unlike certain someone.

And since the universe hated him, Rindou got the honour of having to watch both his and Kakucho’s back, the boss giving it to him personally, because at that point it was clear even to Mikey his number 3 will die if left unsupervised.

So now, he was standing next to Kakucho, his entire attention on his surroundings. They met up even, 7 Bonten, 7 Dragonflys, so if shit went down, it had potential to be fair fight.

Only if Kakucho wasn’t so useless. God, it took all restraint Rindou had to not kick that sad look off his face.

The meet up seemed to go smoothly, until gun sales were brought up.

“We want 50% of all the gun sales and 30% cut of drug trafficking.” The leader, Taro, spoke calmly, but it did little to fool anyone. He was obviously stressed.

Good.

“Absolutely fucking not. We handle the majority of both transport and sales. The fact traffickers have to pass a portion of your territory means nothing.” Kokonoi retorted, annoyance clear on his face. Who does this bitch think he is, tryna fuck with Koko’s earnings?

“Well then.”

A tight smile smile spread on Taro’s face.

“Suit yourself.”

The sound of shattering glass and bodies hitting the floor brought Kakucho back to reality.

[wri0thesley]

omg wait no hold on I just requested overhaul but then I remembered your overhaul thirst post about him pulling a "curing hysteria~" as an excuse and thought I'd request something along that vibe (no oun intended). I think that'd fall under orgasm control, overstim? (hope this is okay!)

hysteria antidote - overhaul x fem!reader (4k)

seeing nothing but the same four walls every day of your life is playing havoc with your brain. overhaul thinks perhaps you're suffering from hysteria. he has the perfect cure for that.

cw: not sfw/minors dni. dark content!!! dubious/non-consent. captive reader. talk of death, blood, etc. medical kink, gloves, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm control. misogyny. mentions of pregnancy/breeding. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: idk the internet said the 28th of may was his birthday so consider this both a birthday fic and a fic to celebrate 6k followers, sorry that i am gross and horrible but tbh im having a great time <3]

You really don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be going out of your mind.

Since the Boss was taken ill, and Kai – Overhaul, you remind yourself, though he’s always just a little less sharp with you when you trip over the new name than he is with anyone else – took over leadership of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ve been pretty much stuck indoors.

Considering that you’re pretty sure he only has fond feelings towards maybe three people in the entire world, including you, you guess you ought to feel special about it – but all it actually does is make you feel like a trapped bird, caged and restless. It doesn’t help that all of the other members of the organisation have started being weird around you; people who you’ve known most of your adult life, people who you’ve worked beside and killed beside and done other horrible things beside (for the good of the organisation, of course)--

But now, they look at you like you might break at any moment. They treat you like an invalid. Their brows crease when they see you out and about, quietly murmuring; “Shouldn’t you still be in your room?”, avoiding touching you at all costs. There’s a kind of fear in their eyes, that they’re going to be told off for even speaking to you, that they’re afraid of being caught close to you.

And you know exactly who’s to blame for that.

You’d tried to speak to him about it, once; you’d thought that perhaps he might be amenable to your desire to do something to help the Shie Hassaikai. He’s always wanted to restore them to their former glory, after all! But after you’d let out your little impassioned tirade, his eyebrows had creased over the bird-mask.

“You don’t sound well,” he’d said to you. “Go back to your room. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

You had missed, at the time, that he hadn’t said ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He’d just said ‘I’ll’. When he had come, that is how it had been; the reassurance that he was keeping you safe. That he didn’t want you to be tainted. That he was keeping you well.

Your quirklessness has never been an issue before, but it certainly hasn’t been a boon. Still, for Kai--

“It’s disgusting,” he’d said, agitated by the discussion. You’d stared at his hands, thinking about the destructive power he himself wielded. “Quirks are a curse, and you not having one is just proof you’re not infected.” He’d looked up, golden eyes piercing directly into yours. “I’m going to keep you perfect.”

Overhaul is not a doctor, for all of his talk about illness and disease and plague. You think he could have used his quirk for something meaningful, once; but you also know that his burning curiousity, his disgust of anyone who deems tainted, his utter lack of morality . . . those are all things that would not have been welcomed in the medical profession. So instead, he deals in needles and pills and altering drugs in the underground labyrinth of the compound.

Sterile rooms, with examination tables and scalpels and impersonal, silver-grey equipment. Pill boxes that rattle when he passes them to you and tells you to take three of those a day, one of those, that one has to be taken to with food--

The idea that you won’t take them doesn’t enter his head, and though he has never . . . overhauled someone in front of you, you have walked past other members of the organisation mopping and disinfecting blood and gristle from sterile flooring.

It is better to go along with him, so you take the supplements and the pills and submit to the way he grabs your chin in gloved hands on the doctor’s chair, tipping your face up to shine a light into your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. But inside, you are screaming.

You’re not made to be locked in one room, occasionally allowed out to pace the hallways of the upstairs – never the underground ones, not any more – with restless footsteps and your muscles fizzing with desire to taste fresh air. You’re not made to stare at the same walls and breathe the purified air and think about how empty the compound is, now that Overhaul is in charge of everything--

(Too many knick-knacks attract dust. Pollen allergies act up, if there are too many plants, and he hates hearing people sneeze. Furniture should be easily movable and barren, to assist in the twice-daily cleanings of every room that people walk through.)

But it’s getting too much for you. Suffocating. You feel like you’re choking on air all of the time; you take the pills, because the thought of what he could do to you is terrifying, but sometimes you wonder if perhaps it would be better if you didn’t.

You’d woken up that morning to the sound of rain hitting the high windows in your bedroom, and you had longed to go outside in your thin nightwear and spread your arms and taste the air, smell the rain, feel it hit your body in fat droplets. Your entire being had ached. You’d tried to distract yourself, with what little there was in the barren prison cell that you called a bedroom – but when the door opened at four thirty exactly, and Kai had stood there with his face as impassive as ever, you had not been able to stop yourself.

Hand fastening around his upper arm (you shouldn’t touch him, you know you shouldn’t, but the same four walls are getting to you), you’d begged him;

“I want to go outside.”

If anyone else had touched him like that, they would already be splattered against the walls and floor. But all you get is a furrow of his eyebrows, careful fingers (gloved, of course; the latex against your skin always makes you shudder) pinching at your hand to get you to let go of him.

“No,” he says. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care,” you’re petulant, you know, frustration bubbling up in every cell of your body. “If I stay in here for one more day, I will tear myself into pieces.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

“Kai—”

“Don’t call me that.” His rebuttal is sharp. “You know I’m doing this for your own good.”

Your face twists into something ugly. Overhaul hates it when you do that; hates the way your brow wrinkles, your mouth moves, your normally lovely face (one of very few he can bear to look at unmasked and not feel as though he is going to get sick from merely breathing the same air of you) marred.

“You’re not,” you hiss at him. “You’re doing this because you’re fucked up! Because you’ve got some weird fucking ideas about what’s clean and what’s unclean, because you’re on a power trip, because you don’t care about other people--” Your voice is pitching and modulating, all of the things that you usually try and keep balled up inside of you spilling out that the floodgates of how unhappy you are is open.

You’re breathing heavy as Overhaul, clearly irked by what you’re saying, tugs at the wrist of one of his surgical gloves. If he’s going to kill you, good – at least it will be better than this, you think, your breath coming in short sharp pants after the outburst.

He lets go. His hands fall to his sides. His golden gaze on you is very level.

“You’re hysterical,” he tells you. An exasperated laugh falls from your mouth.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course I am. Do you know the last time I breathed fresh air?”

“Seven months, two weeks, three days.” He says it without blinking. Your shoulders tense. Has it really been that long? “You haven’t been ill once in that time. The world out there is filthy.”

“It’s normal to get sick,” you try and tell him, but Overhaul is moving forward; past the doorway, and into your room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound of a lock ominous. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Kai in your bedroom.

In the medical examination rooms, sure. In his office. In common areas, back when he was just the boss’ troubled protege and not the boss himself--

His eyebrows twitch in disgust as he notices the dust on your bookshelves. You’d stopped letting any of the cleaners in here a month ago; you’d refused to clean in the mean time, taking whatever small victory against your captor that you could.

“You’ll give yourself respiratory issues,” he says.

“Good,” your voice is cold, but you realise you’ve backed away from him. For all of your attempts to stand up to him, you’re terrified. Everyone knows what he can do. “Better dead than here--”

Gloved fingers around your wrist, so tight you can practically feel them bruising.

“You don’t mean that,” he says. His voice has gotten softer, cajoling. You’re trembling in his grip. “I told you. You’re hysterical.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you say, but your words feel like you’re spitting them out around a mouthful of gravel. “I—I’m calm--”

Your knees knock against your bed, but Overhaul is still clinging to you; still too close. Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

“You’re not. You’re hysterical.” He repeats it, calmly. The hand not on your wrist reaches up and cups your face, a gloved thumb stroking across your cheek as if you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. The scent of the latex is overwhelming. “But that’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He clicks his tongue behind the mask. “It’s mine. All of this checking for the physical sickness, and I didn’t think about checking your head.”

You fall onto the bed as his knees knock against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s just a plain, single bed; rumpled sheets, because you’d fought against any attempt for someone to come in and collect your laundry, too. Overhaul looks silly in your room, you think dimly; like a huge black crow in the nest of a small, frightened wren.

“If you fight,” he tells you, “I’ll disassemble you. I’d rather not. I don’t want to taint you by using my quirk. But . . .” He’s sinking to his knees in front of you, those same methodical hands pushing up the skirt of your dress. “If I did, I’d get a blank mind to work with. I won’t hesitate. But I’d still rather simply fix you without having to break you into pieces first.”

You know him too well to think that he’s bluffing.

After all of the vitriol you’ve spat at him, he’s unwilling to kill you. Would it be worse, to be mindless and brainless under Kai’s quirk? You’ve heard some of his failed experiments before; babbling, drooling, broken things. He’s killed them sometimes just to put them out of their misery.

What if he did that, and your mind remained perfectly capable – just utterly unable to communicate with your body? A prisoner in your own skin. Worse than even now. You swallow back the lump of fear.

“H-how are you going to do that?” You ask him.

You start at how cold the gloved fingers are on your bare thighs, as Overhaul pushes them apart. Cold fear prickles down your spine. You’re too scared to fight back, but everything he’s doing is making you want to run.

“Did you know,” Overhaul says, those same hands sliding higher, to tug at the waistband of your underwear. “In the past, there were rumours that doctors would cure hysteria by genital massage and stimulation?”

His words are very clinical, but there’s a thickness to his voice behind the mask that fills you with revulsion.

“It might be nonsense, of course,” he says. Your underwear is being tugged down, pulled around your thighs, your knees, your ankle. “They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth--”

“Kai—” Your voice is a soft whine, fear-filled. This time, he doesn’t snap at you for calling him by the name he’s left behind. He simply says;

“Spread your legs.”

You don’t want to. But you want to risk what he’s threatening you with even less, so you tearfully open them as wide as you can go. He shifts forward, and the tip of the beaked mask digs into your inner thigh as he studies you like you’re nothing more than a diagram, not a living, breathing person--

“Next time I’ll have lubricant ready,” he says, under his breath, and your heart seizes up at the implication that whatever he’s going to do to you, there’ll be a next time.

You start at the sensation of gloved fingers gently parting the lips of your sex, Overhaul’s golden eyes drinking in the sight of you spread open and bare. You’re shaking, but for some reason the way he’s looking at you – the utter concentration in his eyes – makes a curl of heat flare deep inside of you.

“Don’t,” you breathe, trying not to squirm. “Please--”

“I don’t want to have to,” he says. His tone remains calm, unbothered. “I’m doing it for your own good, you know that. Just helping you along.” One finger slides through the slit; the sensation of the gloves against your most intimate, heated parts makes the muscles in your thighs clench. It’s . . . not exactly unpleasant, but neither it is pleasant. “Do you think I’m getting any pleasure out of this?”

He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. You know this; everyone knows this. If this particular thought was so unpleasant to him, you don’t doubt he’d have found somebody else to do it (the thought of one of the other members of the Shie Hassaikai doing this to you fills you with even more revulsion than the idea of Overhaul himself). But you can’t say that out loud. Not after what he’s threatened. So you press your lips together and shake your head, gasp dying in your throat as one of Overhaul’s latex-covered fingers prods gently around your opening.

“You’re getting wet,” he tells you, as if you can’t feel the shameful slick beginning to leak from you. “That will make this easier. Good.”

You hate that the praise makes another jolt of arousal go through you. You don’t want to like the feeling of his gloves, rubbing at your heated cunt; the sensation of a fingertip circling around your entrance, brushing the bud of your clit and making you want to clamp your thighs around his hand.

He sinks the tip of one finger inside of you and you jerk, your hips out of your control as you try and sink away from the intrusion. Overhaul clicks his tongue again in annoyance at you. The hand holding the lips of your cunt open moves, to land on your hip and pin you between the bed and the wall so you can’t squirm again.

“I’ll sedate you next time, if I have to,” he says. “I’m not getting anything out of this. I’d prefer not to have to do it at all--”

He’s lying. You know he is. But you can’t call him out for it, so you press your trembling lips together and try to stop tears spilling out from your lash line as the finger inside of you sinks further and further inside, past his first knuckle, right down to the base.

He crooks it inside of you and your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into your palms through cotton. His touch is curious, exploratory; has he ever actually done this to anybody before? He slides over a rough patch inside of you with the latex-tipped finger and a moan escapes your mouth against your will, your head falling back against the wall. Narrowed golden eyes look up at you as he repeats the motion; taking in the gloss of your lips, the widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders are shaking up and down.

You can feel yourself pumping more slick out; helping the glide of his finger inside of you, as he begins to carefully thrust it in and out of you. His touch is made all the more impersonal by the mask obscuring everything but his eyes and eyebrows; you can’t even hear him breathing.

Your cunt is fluttering around him, pleasure swarming you in breathless waves as he withdraws his finger entirely. He lifts the glove to his eyeline, looking only vaguely interested in how the white latex glimmers with your arousal.

“I’m going to use two now,” he tells you – and that is all the warning you get before two fingers beside one another are opening you up, scissoring your tight channel apart with an ache that you feel up to your hips. You bite back the whimper, but you’re unable to stop the choked breaths that are falling from you as he fucks you with them in steady, constant thrusts.

A covered thumb brushes your clit; swollen, now. Sensitive. Standing to attention. Your hips attempt to jerk in his hold once more, a strangled noise that’s neither pleasured nor pain falling from your throat. You’ve touched yourself, of course you have – even recently, just to try and assuage some of the boredom that fills your exactly-the-same days – but Overhaul’s fingers and thumbs and touch on you are so entirely different from that.

He continues his assault over your clit, those same eyes watching you with that same detached, clinical disposition that he’s had most of the time. There’s a cast to them that suggests there’s something more, but whatever emotion – if, indeed, he’s still capable of that – he’s feeling about having you at his mercy in this way has been pushed to the back of his mind as his thumb rolls and pinches at the bud.

Your body goes all-over heat, Overhaul’s fingers still pumping in and out of you, the slick noises of your shaming wetness echoing around the prison of the four walls you’ve spent seven months in. You’re teetering on the edge of something, hot and needy and wanting – and as Overhaul’s thumb sweeps over your poor aching clit again, you tilt your hips forward for as much stimulation as you can--

And he pulls his fingers out of you.

The heat fades into nothingness as you let out a noise of disappointment. Overhaul’s head tilts to one side, considering.

“What do you want?” He asks you. “Say it.”

No. You don’t ‘want’. He’s wrong. You keep your mouth pressed tight now that the damning noise has fallen out of it; you have managed to not let the tears trembling in your eyes spill forth. Your gaze meets his, defiant and tired and afraid all at once.

“Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re going to carry on being difficult.”

He does it again; his fingers plunging into you, scissoring you apart, rubbing against your folds with a practised agility now that he’s done it for the first time. He has always been a fast learner; always been observant. His thumb is back on your clit with ceaseless assault, and all over again you feel heat begin to build up; tension that crawls into every crevice of your being and worms its way deep inside you despite how badly you don’t want this.

The hand holding your hip loosens somewhat, allowing you to messily thrust your hips into Overhaul’s stimulation. You’re torn; you shouldn’t want to hump against the gloved fingers stimulating you, you should be wriggling and squirming away. But it feels so good; even with the skin-tight covering of rubbery latex, Overhaul’s fingers seem to find every one of your weak points and exploit them.

There it is again, building up on you; a ball of tension in your stomach being gradually wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips flex against his hand, your fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedsheet--

He denies you the peak of your orgasm for the second time.

And a third.

And a fourth.

“Kai--!” You’re too far gone to even think, after the pleasure has been pulled from you so cruelly, over and over again. The tears spill over your cheeks., rolling down in fat, shaming droplets. Overhaul’s eyes narrow.

“No,” he says, vehement – more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day. “You know what to call me.”

You know what he wants you to call him. You know that he wants to leave his old name behind, start again, be someone who can drag the Shie Hassaikai out of the shadows and into light and power once again – and he thinks that the name will help. You gurgle out a sobbing, strangled noise;

“O-Overhaul, please--”

Three fingers are plunged as deep inside of you as they can go, crooked to rub against your sweet spot; as Overhaul murmurs, detached but soft;

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They thrust into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with firm, certain strokes – and this time, as the orgasm rushes up on you all at once, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you with his fingers through it, his thumb not ceasing the circling. Pleasure washes over you, finally, in great waves and crests. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, soaking him in your wetness (his eyebrows furrow again, at how close your fluid comes to spilling over his bared wrist; but you are too relieved to think about anything other than finally getting what you need).

Your hips flex, gasps falling from your mouth with every thrust of them – and you expect Overhaul to pull his fingers out of you. To stop touching you. Perhaps to strip off his gloves and put on a new pair – you know he always carries spares – and sneer at you as he walks out of the room.

But Overhaul’s fingers do not move from inside of you. The fierce rhythm of his fucking and petting and rubbing does not stop, even as the final aftershocks of your orgasm clench loosely about him and his constant stimulation becomes more of an annoyance than anything else on heated, sensitive skin.

You squirm, trying to push your thighs together to get him to stop touching you – but the hand not fucking you forces your thighs to stay parted with the curl of fingers into supple flesh, leaving you helpless to do anything but let him carry on touching you. Carry on fucking you.

A short, sharp shock of an orgasm rips through you as he swirls his thumb over your clit just so, and you realise that you’re drooling down yourself as well as panting; helpless and sloppy, utterly unable to do anything except lie there and take it until Overhaul decides he’s had enough of touching you.

You come, what? Twice more? Thrice? Until the pulsing of your channel is painful, your skin feeling red raw, your whimpers into the ceiling dry and broken. Only then does he pull his fingers out of you with a lewd pop.

A gush of your fluid that his fingers were stoppering soaks your bedsheets, and you watch, dazed, as Overhaul stands up. He looks down at you for just one moment, that stretches unbearably long in the heat-and-sex soaked atmosphere of the room.

He strips his gloves off of his hands, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he leaves the crumpled latex on your bedside table. He’s sliding on another pair as he speaks;

“Feel better?”

No. No, you don’t. You feel worse. You feel disgusted and violated and aching, your body over-stimulated and exhausted, sweat and drool and bodily fluids clinging to your skin. But if you tell Overhaul that--

“Yes,” you say, voice very soft and small and weak. You cannot see his mouth, but you see the way his eyes flash happily, the overall sensation of him smiling.

Why does Overhaul’s smile make you so scared, when Kai’s smile used to just make you feel warm?

“We’ll need to do it a few more times,” he tells you, as your blood runs to ice in your veins. “Such maladies aren’t cured in a day, after all. But . . .” He turns, rearranging himself carefully, his mask readjusted. You can’t see him as he speaks the next words. “I’d like to try some of the other suggested remedies, too.”

You think of his earlier words.

‘They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth.’

You’re never going to escape, are you? You’re going to be trapped in this compound until the day you die, and Overhaul is going to think that he’s keeping you safe--

“Take a shower,” he says to you, as he opens the door. It is not a suggestion. “And stop not letting the maids come in here to clean. I’m not having you get sick.”

You think he might be the sick one.

[serzhantkris]

Haunted- 6

Summary: He knew, from the moment he found her there, bathed in the glow of fire, that she would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Damon x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1531

Taglist Open

1881

“‘How can I say what I owe to you? This paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am dazzled, with so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light every time. But that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so clever woman.’”

“Mina is very clever,” she said. Damon paused his reading, tilting his head to get a better look at the girl’s face. She was concentrating, brows pulled tightly together, her hand resting on top of his as he followed the words on the page as he’d been reading aloud. Her hand was so small, compared to his, even at ten years old, though Lilian’s physical size said very little about her brain. “They speak so highly of her, don’t they?”

“They do,” Damon said, leaning his head against the elm tree. “She’s very bright, and her heart is pure. She reminds me of a little girl I know.”

“Am I that girl?”

“Well,” Damon chuckled, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. “I don’t know of many little girls who can read so well. Or find Bram Stoker so titillating.”

“Titillating?”

“Exciting,” he explained. “Many little girls would be afraid of monsters like Dracula.”

Lilian hummed, pressing her temple into Damon’s shoulder. She was curled in his lap, sitting sideways so that her feet barely touched the grass beneath them. “He’s not a monster,” she concluded. “I think he’s misunderstood.”

“Do you now?”

“He didn’t ask to be a monster,” she said, looking especially thoughtful. “He just wants to be with the woman he loves, and he doesn’t think the way other people do. His choices make sense, to him.”

“Well, he did feed a baby to his minions. That seems awfully evil to me.”

Lilian frowned. “He does nice things, too.”

“Doing nice things doesn’t excuse the things we do that are bad,” Damon told her. She looked up at him, perhaps more focused on this lesson than any she had learned in her years at the convent. “Even bad people can be kind, Lilian. It’s people who try to change or make up for their mistakes who are truly good.”

Lilian nodded, understanding, perhaps more than Damon thought she would.

“‘Madame," he said this very solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you as a friend, as a friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love.’”

“He loves her? Van Helsing?”

“They’re friends, aren’t they?”

Lilian nodded, and Damon could tell something was nagging at her. He waited, patiently, as she stared hard at the page. “Like you and I?”

“I suppose so, yes. Why?”

“Does that mean you love me?”

Damon kept his finger at its place on the wrinkled page, but adjusted Lilian so he could look at her face. “What’s this about?”

“I miss you when you’re gone. That’s all.” It was not all, Damon could tell, but he didn’t press. Lilian replaced her hand on his, ushering him to read further.

“‘There are darknesses in life, and there are lights. You are one of the lights. You will have a happy life and a good life, and your husband will be blessed in you."”

Lilian was quiet, though they knew the next line was hers to read, and after a moment she sat up rather suddenly. “Have you ever been in love? Like Dracula?”

Damon faltered. “What- I mean, why- do you think I’m a vampire? Is that it?”

“Don’t be silly,” Lilian laughed, her nose scrunching. “Vampires are all fairy tales. And they- they eat babies, I suppose. No, Damon, it’s just- you read like you really mean it, not like Father Lantom. He reads plainly, like he’s still learning the words, as I am. But not you. You read poems and love stories like you’re in love or you’re very sad.”

“I’m both,” Damon said, looking at her through his lashes, head tilted, like he was sharing a secret. “There is a woman. And you don’t read plainly.”

“There’s always a woman,” she said, giggling. “You really are a romantic. Sister Mary Eunace was right.”

“Was she now?”

“Who is she? The girl- the woman you love. What’s her name? Where is she? Can I meet her?”

Damon frowned, closing the book. Lilian’s smile fell, realizing she must have made some sort of mistake. “Never you mind, flower. She’s not around.”

Lilian turned away, picking at the grass. “Is she dead?”

The wind drifted through the courtyard, ruffling the grass and dragging Lilian’s hair into her face. He reached up, pushing it away, and smiled sadly at her. “No,” he said. “She’s.. Lost. I have to wait for her.”

“But she loves you,” she said. “So you’ll find her soon. Like Dracula, crossing oceans of time.”

“Something like that, I suppose. Yes. I would cross oceans of time for her.”

Lilian nodded, understanding but still so full of questions, and leaned back into Damon’s arms. He grabbed the well-worn book up again, thumbing at the frayed edges of the paper. He turned back to their place, the words suddenly a blur.

“Her name is Katherine,” he said after a moment.

“Is she a light? Like Mina?”

Damon exhaled, a clear picture of Katherine in his mind. “She is very little like Mina.”

“I suppose that’s all well,” Lilian said. “So long as she is a light. It’s a memaphor, isn’t it? Light means good, and darkness, that’s bad. It means there are bad things in life, but people who are light are good.”

“Metaphor. Very good, flower. Smart girl,” Damon said, amused. “Here. You’re turn.”

She read, slowly, her finger trailing along. Damon listened as Lilian read, but his mind was somewhere else. Buried in a forgotten tomb some hundreds of miles away, with his heart. There was a pain in his chest that couldn’t be soothed, not even by Lilian’s soft voice or the weight of her in his lap, not by the gentle breeze or the calmness of the courtyard. He longed to be with Katherine, longed to hold her as tightly as he did the little girl who longed for him to stay. But it was almost time, yet again, for him to say his goodbyes, and unlike Katherine, he knew that Lilian would be waiting for him, alive and well, even if he never came back again. He believed, with all his heart and soul, that Katherine was waiting, locked away, perhaps counting the days as he was- but there was a seed, just a miniscule crumb, of him that thought perhaps he had been lied to. That maybe she wasn’t there at all. But he couldn’t let it grow, couldn’t submit to the idea that perhaps she was not waiting for him. Because if he did—

He listened until the page ended, and closed the book with a kiss atop Lilian’s head. He knew she would be sad, and his heart would be heavy for another year, but picked himself off the ground all the same. Lilian walked with him through the gate, her hand in his as though guiding him, though the halls had become so familiar he could navigate them just as easily as the tunnels beneath Mystic Falls. She stopped at the door and he handed her the book, which she clung to her chest. It was old, the warn cover peeling back and the spine crooked. He’d had it for quite some time, carrying it with him from town to town as he wandered the country, the way a child might carry a blanket.

“Take good care of that,” he said. “I expect you’ll be surprised by the end.”

“Is it a sad ending?”

“You’ll have to read it to find out.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, leaning forward on her toes. Damon made no promises to return, and gave no indication that he would see her again, just as always. He waited, as footsteps echoed behind her and the door opened wider. Sister Mary Eunace ushered her back inside, instructing her to find her way to her room. Only when she was gone did the Sister let her gaze fall on Damon.

“You break her heart, you know.”

Damon’s eyes fell closed. “Only through breaking my own,” he said.

“And yet you continue to do so.” Sister Mary Eunace frowned, as though expecting Damon to come back up the steps, to change his mind, to stay just a while longer or, Heaven forbid, attempt to take the girl with him. “Does she know what you are?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “If she does, she’s kept it to herself.”

“And what do I tell her, if she asks such questions?”

“The truth, I suppose. Tell her I’m… Misunderstood.” Damon’s smile fooled no one, not Sister Mary Eunace, not God and certainly not himself. She waited for him to move again, to disappear into the streets, before quietly closing the door.

@navs-bhat @suspiciousmuffin @allinhishands @lordofthunderthr

[fairyoftbz]

insecurities | l. juyeon

🧸 pairing: idol!juyeon x (insecure) fem!reader 🧸 word count: 2.7k 🧸 genre: angst, fluffy end 🧸 tw: mentions of insecurities, doubts 🧸 a/n: sorry i forgot to post, i had a busy day and im exhausted, i hope it's gonna be enough! 🧸 requested: yes! thank you, it is very cliché but i hope this is what you had in mind! 💝

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Juyeon came home tired but happy, excited to see you again after a long day of intense practice and a show where he participated as an MC. You, on the other hand, were not as happy as he was, but you were for sure tired of something.

You couldn’t deny it, dating Juyeon had positive points, he was everything you could ask for in a man, but there were just as many negative points. He was an attractive, sweet gentleman, and it was almost impossible for him not to attract other girls, not even doing it on purpose. And it was one of your many insecurities even if you considered yourself pretty, you couldn’t help but get insecure every time he talked to someone else.

Because let’s be honest, in the Korean music industry, every single woman looks like an absolute goddess. So, when he interacts with someone, and they’re a bit too friendly, your heart pinches in pain as he gives them the smile he keeps for you and you only.

You think that they are more interesting, prettier and funnier than you, which has the ability to send your thoughts to the dark side of self-consciousness, not feeling pretty or enough next to those women. And tonight, it was hard to watch on National TV your boyfriend being extremely friendly with the other MC.

You had tried to comfort yourself that it was just a mask, that he had to look friendly and handsome on TV. However, you couldn’t help feeling disappointment and anger as he gave attentive eyes to the other MC as she explained something, his eyes falling on her lips pressed against the mic.

Juyeon walks through the main door, tossing his keys on the chest of drawers, getting rid of his jacket and shoes before joining you in the living room, happy to see that you were watching the same channel he appeared on. Eyes glued on the screen, your thumb rubbed against your lips, feeling the skin of the cuticles you scratched while watching your boyfriend feeling rough against your lips.

“Hi love,” he said as he sat next to you, pressing his lips on your cheek. You didn’t react, only emitting a slight hum as he sat comfortably.

Juyeon frowned but didn’t raise your bad mood, trying to think what was going on inside your head. Maybe you had a bad day, or you were just tired, despite scratching his head and think, he couldn’t pinpoint what had brought you in such a bad mood.

“Did you have fun?” you bitterly spat, and Juyeon’s eyes widened, surprised by your tone, the wrinkle on his forehead deepening as his brows furrowed at your attitude.

“I did. Are you mad or something?” he bluntly asked, and you sighed, taking the remote to turn the TV off, falling in an unpleasant, uncomfortable silence.

“Oh no, I’m super fine. I really enjoyed my boyfriend giving heart eyes to another girl on national TV, it was such a nice thing to watch,” you bitterly chuckled, and Juyeon’s eyes widened even more, not expecting you to pull out the jealousy card on that.

“Babe, what are you talking about? You know-”

“Please, spare me your fake confusion and lame excuses, I clearly saw what I saw. My eyes never deceive me,” you said while standing up, but Juyeon was quick to imitate you and grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away. You tried to free yourself from his grip, but he only tightened his hand around it.

“Juyeon, let me go,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to prevent the tears from escaping your eyes. Breaking down was the last thing you wanted to do in this situation.

“Not before you explain to me what this fuss is all about,” he said, irritation replacing confusion in his eyes. You let out a mocking scoff, your eyes filled with anger and disdain boring into your boyfriend’s, holding eye contact for a few seconds.

“You really think I’m this dumb? I clearly saw the eyes you gave to the other MC when you were both animating the show. Cracking jokes, giving her smiles that could outshine the sun, your eyes ogling her lips when she was talking or smiling. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch that?” you raised your voice, letting anger take over your body.

“I never did all of that, I don’t know what you are insinuating,” he spat, trying not to show it, but your words hurt him, hating the fact that you could imagine him cheat on you or fancy another girl.

“Go on social media then, you will see what I am ‘insinuating’! Everyone is already talking about how whipped you are and how cute of a couple you would look together. Some fans are even starting to make edits!” you shouted, shoving your phone in your hoodie’s front pocket.

Juyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves a bit, a gesture that had the ability to enrage you even more. Your family used to do that when they found you annoying or wanted to belittle you, and now seeing Juyeon doing the exact same thing as them really made you even more insecure about this whole situation. Your family made you feel like a real burden during your childhood and teen years that it hurt you to think that Juyeon was probably agreeing with that thought right now.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you are talking about. I was just trying to be nice, I can’t be rude or it’s mine and the group’s reputation that I’ll take down with me-”

“No it’s okay, no need to explain yourself, the message was very clear,” you said, and you finally freed yourself from his grip, your heart breaking as Juyeon sighed in annoyance again, seeing him almost roll his eyes.

“It’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t react like that, please,” he started, but you waved your hand in front of you.

“No, no, I got it, you-”

“Y/N, for the love of God, stop being so fucking insecure, it’s getting so fucking annoying at this point! I can’t do anything without you getting fucking doubtful, start having faith in me and in this relationship, dammit!” your eyes widened as Juyeon eventually snapped, his mouth slowly closing as he stared at you, realisation hitting him that his words and tone made a lot of damage once he saw the tears gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The couch separated the two of you, creating the illusion of a painful wall that made you shiver, feeling like your apartment had lost all of its warmth on the spur of the moment. His words were brutal, and they bounced around your skull, your head turning towards the corridor to swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying not to break down in front of him.

“Y/N, I’m-”

“Leave me alone,” you replied, voice wavering as you walked out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut before locking it.

Juyeon sighed and carded his hands through his dark locks, closing his eyes as he thought of the words that had escaped his mouth too quickly. He cursed under his breath as the living room fell into a deafening silence, his hands linked at the back of his neck as he thought of what just happened.

“Why did I say that,” he muttered under his breath and collapsed on the couch, unlocking his phone and scrolling on social media to try and momentarily forget your beautiful face painted with a hurtful expression because of him, but it was to no avail.

He saw what you saw; the fiction, the edits, the collages, he saw and read everything. He already hated seeing you cry and being hurt, but he actually loathed himself for being such an idiot and not comfort you about the whole situation with what was happening on every social platform.

His heart shattered in millions of pieces as he pictured you crying in your shared bed, holding the stuffed animal he got you for your anniversary tight against your chest, letting you drown in your insecurities and intrusive thoughts. He loved you very much, but despite him trying to remind you every single day, your intrusive thoughts always managed to get the upper hand when you found yourself hanging out on your own or with some friends. It was as if your brain shut out everyone who tried to reassure you or make you feel better, letting you drown and struggle in your sorrow.

Yes, the other idols were pretty, but they were nothing compared to you. Juyeon had only eyes for you and cared about you and, of course, his members, but never had he thought about leaving you for someone else. His intentions were just to sound and appear nice and welcoming on TV because he knew that some fans, antis and media wouldn’t hesitate a second to bash him on different platforms and articles for his rudeness and insensitivity towards his idol colleague. And not only would he break his reputation, but also the group’s, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

However, he also understood that it was something hard to watch for you, even if he reminded you every single day that you were the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Sitting on the couch, he started reflecting, putting himself in your shoes for a second. How would he have reacted if he saw you being super friendly and affectionate to another man? Someone more handsome, nicer than him, cracking jokes here and there to see you smile and laugh.

He tossed his phone on the couch space next to him, where he wished you were instead of crying yourself in your shared bed, watching the device bounce, collide with the armrest and fall on the ground. He didn’t even fret checking if the screen cracked, head too high in his thoughts to bother.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he pressed his joined hands against his mouth, tongue poking his inner cheek as he realised he had really messed everything up. His knee started bouncing at the disgusting thought of losing you, perfectly knowing that he had to do something before you could slip through his hand like grains of sand.

Juyeon stood up and knocked on the bedroom door, softly calling for your name.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you didn’t respond, faintly hearing you cry on the other side of the wall. “Go away, please,” your strained voice barely making it to his ears, his fingers drumming against the surface of the door in frustration.

From your side of the bed, still holding that teddy bear close to your chest, you let your tears damp the top of its head, feeling the exhaustion of crying kicking in. Juyeon didn’t knock another time, trying not to push your buttons too much to save his chances to talk to you.

You heard a small thud on the lower part of the door, frowning as you wondered what it was. Deep breathings filled in the silence lingering in the corridor, selfishly feeling a bit relieved that you weren’t the only one hurt in this situation. Juyeon was a smart, tolerant man, he knew when to put his pride aside and not blame you for something you said or did. Well, it’s not the case for this time, and it’s probably exhaustion that spoke for him, and that, of course, doesn’t excuse anything, but he wanted to apologise and make up for everything.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me or hear my voice after what I’ve told you, but I really want to apologise for what I’ve said,” you held your breath to hear his faint, low voice on the other side of the door. You sat up and felt dizzy for a quick second, still holding the teddy bear against your chest, your face buried in its head as you let the tears keep rolling on your cheeks.

“I know it’s hard to date me, and I’m really sorry, I wish we had a simpler life, where we could hang out and go on dates like two normal people. It’s also hard for me to not be the type of boyfriend everyone wishes to have, but I’m so damn grateful to call you mine.” Juyeon marked a pause and ruffled his hair, pushing the front pieces away from his hair while thinking of his following words.

“I… you don’t know how much I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you. I shouldn’t have, it was the dumbest move I could ever do, but I just didn’t know what to answer. You are so pretty, so beautiful, amazing, and absolutely wonderful to have around to me, so seeing you this insecure makes me mad every time you compare yourself to someone you think looks prettier, thinner, or more perfect than you. It’s... really frustrating because I try my best to make you feel like a goddess and worth it every day, but those unrealistic society standards and god damn social media make you feel like you are not worth an ounce of love,” he took in a big breath and raised his knees upwards, letting his forearms rest on them.

You slowly opened the door behind him and dropped the teddy bear by his side, letting him know of your presence. He was quick to notice it and turn around to hug your legs tightly, your hands finding their way in his hair and started massaging his skull.

“I’m so sorry, Ju,” you faintly whispered, and he breathed in deeply against your skin as if he finally found you again after being separated from you for years.

He grabbed your cherished stuffed animal and stood up, holding it against your chest with a tender smile. He sat you down on the bed and gave you a proper hug, mouth pressing loving kisses on your forehead and temple as his hand caressed the back of your head, holding you as close to him as possible.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I love you so, so much, I’m really sorry for all the stupid words I’ve thrown at you,” he said, and you shook your head, squeezing your arms around his middle tightly as an answer.

“I guess I have to accept that you have eyes only for me. But you know, it’s hard to acknowledge it and believe it when you find everyone around you ten times more beautiful than you are,” you mumbled against his chest as you sat on his lap, and he nodded, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

“I know Y/N, I know. I wish I could rid you of those insecurities, my heart breaks each time I see you so unsure of yourself. You're just so beautiful and amazing, it honestly kills me to see you like this,” he whispered, and you bitterly chuckled, gently pulling away to look at him with pearly eyes, his arms around you holding you still tight, making sure that you wouldn’t go too far from him.

“You can’t do that, but maybe you can help me soothe them by keeping loving me the way you’ve done since day one,” you mumbled, and he smiled, his eyes shining with tears just like yours.

You both cupped each other’s face and sadly smiled at the other, Juyeon feeling comforted at the sensation of your thumbs wiping the tears away from his cheeks and vice versa.

“We just need time, love, but I promise I’m going to help you realise how much you mean to me and how beautiful you are. And how much I don’t care about other girls,” he mumbled, and he gently drew your face closer to his, your lips grazing against his mouth. You closed your eyes at the proximity, feeling so much love and passion in his kiss that it was getting hard to breathe.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Juyeon pulled away from your lips and whispered against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours.

“I love you too,” you smiled, burying your face in his neck, your boyfriend kissing the crown of your head while hugging you tight.

You giggled as Juyeon applied pressure on your waist, making you fall on your side on the bed. His hand gently cradled your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone with a soft smile on his face. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against his, feeling him chuckle and gently press his lips against yours.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 3

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1   Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

“So, you guys looked pretty cozy in the garden.” Somi pursed her lips, disapproval evident on her sharp features as she watched me hop around, trying to pull the pantyhose up over the fleshiest part of my thigh. It was just a little past six thirty  and I already wanted the night to end. 

“He was telling me how he wanted me to have babies so his son could play with them.” I snapped. 

Somi blinked. 

“And uh..is he providing the baby batter?” She said drily and I laughed.

“I think..... he’s attracted to me.” I said dreamily, remembering the way he’d definitely gotten hard at breakfast this morning. 

“I mean, he’s a straight guy with eyes? Not surprising....” My sister grinned. 

“No, I mean... like actually physically attracted. I felt it too. it made me want to do something unholy with him.” I muttered, eyes misting over at the idea of being spread out on his bed. Satin sheets underneath my body, the weight of his body on mine. 

“He’s a vampire. Pretty sure anything you do with him is unholy.” She winked. I sighed, running a hand over my face. 

“Are you sure this is the way to go? “ I glanced at the robin blue off shoulder gown. I was wary of drawing attention to my neck, especially with a Kim. 

“It’s beautiful. Besides, it is your color. I want to see the look on Jungkook’s face when he sees you. Want to see him regret all his life choices.”

“i thought you didn’t approve of him.” i said amused. 

“I didn’t at first. But then you told me he rejected you and well, no one does that to my baby sister,” She glared and I hugged her close, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

I hesitated.

“Would it be too terrible if I tried to seduce him?” I bit my lips.

Somi’s eyes widened. 

“Sera...”

“Just hear me out.” I said urgently. 

She sighed. 

“Somi, I’ve never been with a man. I just... I can’t get married as a virgin ..I absolutely refuse to. And I sure as hell don’t want to give it up to one of these pompous little brats who act like utter douchebags.  So what am I supposed to do? Now, Jungkook ..” I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my pulse which raced every time I thought about him,. “ ...he’s...he’s so gentle. And nice and I just... I think he’ll make it good for me.”

I felt my face flame, half certain there was steam coming out of my ears. 

Somi looked slightly slack jawed. 

“Oh..um.. okay.” She laughed nervously. “ And how are you goig to get him to agree to this?” 

“Beg? ....  I don’t know...” I groaned. “ What do you think?”

Somi hesitated. 

“I think, for now you should concentrate on showing him that you’re not a child. So , do well tonight. At the dinner. Be polite courteous ... make good conversation... he’s going to be nearby right? Let him see you as an equal... I think he needs to trust that you guys are on equal footing before he will consider anything more ....”

I stared at her, my mind racing.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” I kissed her again.  “i love you. Now get my make up on.”  I said excitedly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For all that I wanted Jungkook to be slack jawed when he saw me, it was my own jaw that came unhinged when I opened the door to the hallway at exactly 7.00 PM

I stared, my eyes literally popping out of their sockets when i took in the absolute fucking  vision  he looked like. 

Tight, fitted leather pants that molded to his legs , putting those deliciously muscled thighs on display, so tight on his crotch that my mouth watered . A dark belt, cinched tight around his ridiculously slim waist and he’d paired it with a  blue silk shirt , that flowed around his torso like water. A thin black and blue striped tie hung around his neck, knotted loose and the end brushing past his waistline and a small silver earring dangled from his earlobes, catching the light of the lamp in the hallway. 

My throat went dry as I stared at him. 

And then i squinted. 

Oh God, was that a   nipple?

Nope. Not doing this today . 

 “Please excuse me!” I said hoarsely, voice cracking and face flushing red as I turned right back around , wrenched the huge oak door open and all but flew into the safety of my room before  slamming the door shut in his face. 

I sank to the floor in a heap, pressing a palm to my heart, trying to calm my pulse which had shot up so much. Somi stared at me from where she was putting away her cosmetics, eyebrows raised in surprise,. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked worried. 

“I think I just came untouched.” I whispered, staring at her with wide eyes.

Her eyes widened and her lips twisted in disgust.

“Oh my god, you horny little pervert!!! Get up from the floor, you’re wrinkling the dress!!”

I breathed rapidly, trying to get my brain to function but the sight of Jeon Jungkook’s nipples covered only by a thin silk shirt was burned into my mind. 

i had never wanted to lick something so bad. 

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Sera? Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice called from the corridor and I whimpered. 

“I can’t do this... Please... i can’t.... don’t make me..” I begged. 

My sister gave me a glare and stalked over grabbing my arm and dragging me up with ease. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like you’ve never seen Jungkook before, how hot could-” She pulled the door open and froze in place, her eyes going wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise as she stared at Jungkook.

“ Fuck me ..” She whispered softly, clearly having lost all her senses at the sight of him. I elbowed her hard, trying not to burst into tears.  .

Jungkook frowned.

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing!! Nothing...she’s just excited that I’m finally dating again!!” I laughed cheerfully. 

Jungkook glanced between the pair of us, a small frown on his face but he didn’t question me further.

“Should we go?” He prompted and I smiled, wide. 

 Just don’t look at him. Don’t look at him and you’ll be fine.

I kept my gaze straight ahead as we walked down the corridor. 

“You look nice.” He commented casually and I swallowed.

“You look.....” decadent...like the kind of dessert I’d be tasting for hours... please let me lick your nipples...”.different.” I squeezed my eyes, willing myself to calm down but it was impossible. I swelled and ached in all the wrong places and my thighs trembled with the effort not to rub them together. My insides clenched, arousal dampening the bikini briefs I had on and i had to bite my lips to resist the urge to climb him like a tree and grind down on his thighs till I came. 

 fuck. 

“ Your father mentioned that it would be better if i blended in with the other patrons. He thinks it would make your date more comfortable if I didn’t hover around in black like a ghoul. “ He laughed. 

“ Ahahahahah....” i laughed shrilly, barely listening to a word he said because I was having a mental breakdown. 

I glanced to the front of his chest again, a quick sharp glance and yup.....those were certainly a pair of nipples, the nub hard and obvious through the silk of his shirt. 

Jungkook left to get the car and i stood at the entrance to the mansion, shivering lightly. The small fur throw i had on my shoulder was more for decoration than to keep warm and the night was chilly. 

By the time Jungkook brought the black Bugatti around, I was shaking. 

“Ooh... That’s a fancy car.” I commented , heart racing with how handsome he looked, gripping the steering wheel and he smiled. 

“It’s Namjoon’s . I thought you’d like to arrive in style today.” He grinned. 

I climbed in quickly, eager to get out of the biting wind. The interior was warm and cozy and i moaned, relaxing into the seats. 

“You look really good.” He said again, gaze flitting over me with a little more intent and I blushed. 

“You mentioned.” I whispered. 

“I see you in those godawful t shirts and stained jeans all the time and you’re usually just cleaning  spill ups or washing baby bottles  at the daycare so i keep forgetting .” He shook his head, thoughtfully, fixing the mirrors and glancing back. 

“Forgetting what?” i asked confused. 

“That you are literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

He said it casually, no fervent ardor behind his words . 

Just a matter of fact observation and somehow, the words felt like liquid heat being poured into me. 

it stuck me then, that I would give my entire life and soul to be on this date with Jungkook. To have dinner with him, to listen to him talk about himself. To tell him everything about myself. To just sit there, staring into his gorgeous face. Hold his hands over the dinner table and gaze into his eyes. 

 I’m so in love with you. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I said softly. 

“Yeah? I clean up good, don’t I?” He tilted his head, hair falling into his eye as he winked at me , a small smirk on his cherry red lips. 

I glanced away quickly, because staring at Jungkook was like staring into the fucking sun. 

staring at him made my eyes hurt. 

And it also broke my heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Sera....” Mingyu had a very familiar look on his face. A hungry, lustful , disbelieving look that I was altogether familiar with. 

I managed a weak smile in return, letting him hug me , wincing when he buried his nose into my neck, breathing in my scent like he was starving. And the honest truth was, I didn’t even blame him . Control came with age and Mingyu was way too young to have full control over his instincts. And I knew exactly what my scent did to a vampire’s instincts. 

But still, the grip on my waist was bruising and I was having a hard time breathing. I tried to push him away , a bit but Mingyu merely moaned, nosing in deeper.

“You smell amazing.” He sounded punch drunk . 

Over his shoulders, I caught Jungkook’s gaze as he sat at the table next to us. He was frowning deeply. 

“You okay?” He mouthed and I nodded.  it was way too early to pull the plug on this. We hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet. 

I grabbed the arm around me hard and dug my nails into the skin. That made him recoil, pulling away with a wide eyed look of horror on his face. 

“Oh.,..Oh God... I’m so sorry.. I didn’t mean too... I’m so sorry...” he apologized over and over again but I could see the way his eyes flashed red, every few seconds. His hands trembled and shook like he couldn’t wait to get them on me again and my skin crawled at the very prospect of it. 

The guy had zero control. He couldn’t keep his shit together for a dinner date in public. 

My mind flashed to Jungkook, how he’d barely batted an eyelash even while he was  literally  drinking from me and by contrast Mingyu looked like a snot faced, sniveling brat , desperate to have something he wasn’t entitled too. 

I sighed in defeat, tamping down the urge to cry. 

I hated this. Hated men like Mingyu who couldn’t see past what I was. Who couldn’t think past the idea that they would finally be able to drink from me, if they got me on a date. 

“It’s alright. Should we order?” I said softly, my voice shaking just a little. i jumped when water spilled over my hands, Mingyu having knocked his glass over while reaching for the menu. 

“Oh..Oh no.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry...” He stood up, trying to grab the glass but the water had already spilled across the table dripping over the edge to my dress.

My brand new, Dior dress. 

I turned, letting my  horrified, miserable eyes flit  to Jungkook.

I blinked, shocked at what I was seeing. 

Jungkook was laughing, hard. 

I fought the urge to grin myself as he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, fingers pressed against his lips in sheer disbelief. 

Well, I suppose it was a little funny. 

Mingyu was on his feet, bowing over an over again muttering about how beautiful I was and how sorry he was and I decided to put him out of his misery. 

Standing up, I bowed politely and stepped away. 

“Mingyu ssi.... I think we should postpone this to another day.” I said gently.

He glanced at me, his eyes flashing red again and gaze dropping to my neck. Oh, for god’s sake. 

“Can I have a taste though?” He said hopefully, holding a hand out to touch me and I flinched when his fingers closed on my wrist. .He yanked hard and I shrieked when his fangs came out, ready to sink into my skin.  

Jungkook materialized between us like he’d been conjured out of thin air. He grabbed Mingyu’s wrist, squeezing till the younger boy howled in pain and yanked him back so hard I heard something pop in his shoulder. . 

“Hands to yourself, Young Mr. Kim. I believe the lady said she would like to call it a night.” Jungkook growled into his face and Mingyu flushed. 

“Yes..Yes of course.. As you wish, Ms. Hwang. Can I have your number? “ He whispered and oh god, this was just so excruciatingly embarrassing for everyone right now.. 

Jungkook stared down at him like he was an insect he’d accidently stepped on. 

“You have to the count of five to get the fuck out of here kid.” He said drily. 

Mingyu flushed even redder, bowing to me once more before grabbing his jacket and scarpering away. 

I stared after him, completely stunned. 

“Can you believe he’s going to be a lawyer?” I whispered. 

Jungkook’s eyes met mine. 

We both started laughing at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This can’t be real. I refuse to believe, that what I witnessed was real.” Jungkook shook his head in disbelief as we waited for the valet to bring the car around.

I chuckled.

“You know what's actually unbelievable?  But true?” I said softly. 

Jungkook stared at me, eyebrows raised. 

“That is actually,  not  the worst first date I’ve had.” I admitted , grimacing. 

“Oh good god. “ He flinched. 

The valet arrived and I watched Jungkook head over to the driver side, before climbing in myself. I scrubbed the water stains on my dress after putting on the seat belt. Jungkook reached over, fixing something on my side of the dashboard and I held my breath as his shoulders brushed my breasts, the scent of his cologne filling my brain and turning it to mush. 

“so, what happened?” He asked settling back and I blinked. 

“huh?”

“Worst first date?” He prompted , pulling the car out into the driveway. 

“Oh... oh yeah. Freshman year of college. Agreed to date one guy...turned up at a hotel, he had three of his friends over.” I swallowed. “ They nearly killed me.”  

The car nearly veered off the pathway, Jungkook having gripped the steering wheel too hard and jolted it to the side.  

“Sera-  what? The sheer horror in his voice was palpable. 

“ They wanted a taste and I was an idiot back then I said okay just a taste for each of you...they were young...couldn’t control themselves .... so they just get drinking and well, I can usually let someone drink from me for a long time because my blood it sort of regenerates fast enough but...three people at the same time... I almost got exsanguinated.” 

“Jesus fuck.! tell me those bastards are dead...” He snarled. 

“My dad got them de-fanged.” I whispered. Jungkook flinched away as well. Being de-fanged was pretty much a death sentence because you couldn’t feed anymore. 

“Serves them right. Three of them...what the fuck.” Jungkook shook his head, jaw clenched. 

i swallowed.

“It’s kind of why I haven’t been with any Vampires. After that my dad got really protective of me and well, he doesn’t like the idea of me meeting  strangers. I was actually pre med back then. I couldn’t handle it. I quit and well, dad hired tutors for me and I got my degree in Childcare. And that’s okay. I love kids..” I laughed.

“You’re amazing with them. I’ve never seen Joowon this happy.” He said gently. 

“Its why I prefer staying with the clan. Only my family gets to feed from me occasionally because I don’t trust strangers to bite me, because they could lose control.”

The moment I said it, I regretted it. Jungkook’s eyes bore into me and i knew exactly what he was thinking. I didn’t trust people. Didn’t let anyone drink from me. 

And yet, I’d let Jungkook drink from me. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a friend. 

But he didn’t bring it up. instead he just sighed. 

“It’s not an excuse, you know. “ Jungkook said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Being young, its no excuse.  I’m not a born vampire which makes my instincts more potent and even dangerous but even in the first few months when I was turned... I never attacked anyone. Self control is a choice. That dude you met today... I doubt he gave a shit about you. Bastard just wanted a taste.... Could fucking see it in his eyes.” Jungkook sounded righteously upset on my behalf. 

“Now you know why I’m attracted to you.” I said softly. 

Jungkook froze. 

“Sera, -”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I said quickly, hating myself. 

Jungkook didn’t reply. 

Cursing myself for ruining the mood, I cleared my throat.

“I still don’t have to be home for a couple of hours. We could go somewhere else...” I suggested softly.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“I’m your bodyguard, Sera. If you choose to go somewhere , I’m kind of obligated to follow you.” He reminded me. 

I flushed.

“Right.....yeah...yeah. of course.” I stumbled over the words, so reminiscent of Mingyu that I felt a little sick. 

“So where to, Ms. Hwang?” He said casually. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“People can’t stop staring at us tonight .” Jungkook grumbled, glaring at a couple who had stopped their bicycles, just to gawk at him.

I laughed, tugging on his sleeve to pull him to a more secluded spot of the river bank, both of us looking distinctly out of place in a crowd of people dressed in comfortable clothes. 

 I hugged myself, watching the waves lap the river bank as I sat on a rickety wooden bench, a few dozen feet away from the water’s edge . The river looked especially picturesque today, reflecting the incandescent lights from Seoul’s skyline. 

“It’s because we’re dressed like we’re presenting at the Oscars.” I grinned at him and Jungkook’s lips quirked in a small smile. He stood by, glancing around at the people watching by, occasionally at the river as well. 

“This is nice. Do you come here often?” He asked , eyes skimming the city’s skyline , as he stuck his hands into his pockets. 

I hummed. 

“Sometimes. With Somi or Jimin. They like those ice lollies you get down the road.”  I smiled. “ I brought the kids here one weekend and they had a lot of fun.” 

Jungkook laughed.

“I bet they did. I should bring Joowon here someday.” He said thoughtfully. 

“ I could pack you guys some lunch.  Make it a picnic. “ I suggested and his gaze shifted to me thoughtful. 

“That won’t be necessary Ms. Hwang. I’m sure one of the cooks will be able to do it.” He said evenly and I tried not to let the words sting. 

“Of course.” I turned back to the river. 

For a few minutes we didn’t say anything. 

“Where were you? Before moving to Seoul?” I asked quietly. 

Jungkook hesitated before moving around to settle next to me on the bench. 

“Busan.” He said , staring out into the distance. “ I worked for a warlock there . For five decades nearly. His daughter was part vampire , part witch and well... I was lonely. “ His face showed a whole lot of regret, “ She had Joowon five years ago and tried to offer him as a blood sacrifice or something when he was born.” He grimaced. 

“She what?” I said stunned. 

He ran a palm over his face

"I didn’t want to do it but I had to kill her. Joowon was three months old and well, I had to quit my job soon after. Moved to one of the smaller villages nearby. Your father paid for my food and lodging. He wanted me to come over to the clan at once but I didn’t want to be a freeloader. When your father suggested you needed protecting, i thought it would be a good way to pay him back for everything.” He sighed. 

“Did you know who I was?” 

He gave me a look.

“Every Vampire with a dick knows who you are.” He said ith a dry smile and I flushed, looking away. 

“Jungkook...”

“The most desirable of humans. The perfect mate. The unsullied jewel of the Hwang clan.” 

He was laughing now, eyes warm and fond in the fading light of dusk and I found myself completely bewitched. 

“Unsullied....” I shook my head. “ I can’t believe people know I’m a virgin.” 

Next to me Jungkook went completely still. 

I turned to him and there was no mistaking the stunned look on his face. 

“What?!” I said feeling like my face was on fire. “ I told you I’ve never been with a Vampire.” 

“I didn’t think you meant... “ He stopped, swallowing. “ Anyways its none of my business. Let’s talk about something else.” 

Something wicked began to stir inside me.

“I’m saving it for the right man.” I said softly. And then I turned to stare right at him, long enough to get the point across. 

He stiffened a bit more.

So i barreled on. 

“These bumbling fools who can’t string two words together in my presence....They don’t deserve someone like me, don’t you think?” I prompted. 

He swallowed again and I felt a sort of vindictive satisfaction. Just knowing that I affected him possibly just as much as he affected me. It soothed my bruised ego a bit, the way he refused to meet my eyes now, making up for his brutal rejection earlier. . 

“I deserve someone amazing, don’t you think Jungkook?” I pressed on and he finally looked at me, eyes blazing. 

“Only the best for you, princess.” He muttered  holding my gaze. and I tried to ignore the way the nickname made warmth bloom all over my skin. 

“Yes. Only the best. I don’t want any of these younglings with their fumbling hands and stammering words. I want a  man. Someone who knows how to put me  in my place.” 

Jungkook gripped the bench hard the old wood splintering under his strength and I bit my lips. 

“Someone who can be gentle, show me what I’ve been missing out on. Show me how good it can be with the right person, who can get me wet and wanting without even touching me...” 

He exhaled sharply at that 

“We should probably get-” he moved to get up but i was quicker. . 

Not so fast, Mr. Jeon. 

I scrambled over to him, climbing his lap and grinding down on him, before he could fully realize what I was doing. The impact took him by surprise and he grunted, settling back on the neck and hands gripping my thigh to stop me from toppling over. 

“Sera-what” he looked furious but i pressed a palm to his mouth. 

“Are you going to pretend you don’t understand what I’m asking for?” I demanded, heart pounding against my ribcage as I looped his tie over the wrist of my other hand, once , twice, giving it a yank so he had to bend over, his lips inches away from mine. 

“And exactly what are you asking for, princess ?” He whispered, his breath warm against my lips.

“A teacher. Someone who can show me the ropes.” 

“Ropes? For your first time....oh baby, you sure?” His eyes danced with mirth. 

Not entirely sure what he was implying, I just stared back at him.

“You can do it. You can be my  first. “ I brushed my lips against his, softly. it was barely a touch, hardly a kiss. 

Jungkook stared at me, his hands lightly squeezing my thighs  for one second, before falling to his sides again. 

“The only first I’m going to be,  is the first man to toss you into a fucking river, if you don’t get off me right now , Princess.” He said casually. 

I stared at him, refusing to budge and he stood up anyway 

i yelped, nearly landing on my butt before i managed to catch my balance. 

He made to walk away but i grabbed his arm, pulling him close. And it was ridiculous, the fact that he came closer, the fact that he let me grab his wrist, bring them up to my waist. 

“Please kiss me.” I begged. 

“You don’t want this.” He said softly, hands rising up to brush the hair off my forehead and I gripped his shoulders levering myself up to press a kiss to his lips.

It was quick, over before it even began. 

“That’s the only kind of kiss I’ve ever had. “ I said desperately “ It was a boy in college. He kissed me like that and then he asked me if he could bite me. I refused and he never talked to me again....”

“Sera...” He looked stricken and miserable and I let my fingers flutter to his collar, gripping it hard and yanking on it, feeling angry and upset and altogether miserable. 

How ridiculous...that men all over the country tripped over themselves to be with me and yet here I was, reduced to a pathetic begging mess just for one measly kiss from this man..... 

 “ I want to be kissed. I don’t know how it feels to be kissed..to be wanted for something other than the blood that flows in my veins.... I just want someone to kiss me because they want to...because I’m beautiful and precious and i deserve to be kissed and -” 

Fingers clamped over my arms, gipping me hard and almost lifting me off the ground as Jungkook pulled me up, my eyes fluttering shut just as his lips closed over mine, soft and tender and warm and wet and so delicious I couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. 

I let my hands fall to his chest, the soft smooth silk of his shirt felt like heaven underneath my fingers and through the thin fabric i could feel his heart, pounding against his ribcage. I ran my fingers over his torso, the strong muscles flexing beneath my fingers and my fingers crept up to grip his upper arm, the coiled strength in his bicep making my legs quiver. 

He tasted like mint , his tongue licking the seam of my lips and begging entrance and my lips parted in surprise, the sensation so new and electrifying. 

I gasped when I felt his tongue tangling with mine as he pressed in closer. I groaned , almost forgetting to breathe when Jungkook’s  lower lips brushed mine, his teeth tugging the plump flesh of my lips harshly , biting down gently and my lips parted, giving him better access. He was so warm and strong and big and  i couldn’t get enough of him, my body wanting nothing more than to stay pressed against his for the rest of our lives. 

He used slow, subtle strokes of his tongue to taste me, gentle licks that made my head swim and it felt like I was drowning, in the heady taste of him . I felt weak as a kitten, my fingers scrambling up to grip his hair, tangling in the silky black locks, gripping to ground myself and i accidentally yanked a little too hard making him pull back, a little. 

 He laughed gently, right against my lips, the sound sexy and arousing and I groaned, chasing the taste of him and Jungkook obliged, nipping my lips again with his teeth , soft little pin pricks of pain and pleasure,  before laving the abused skin with his tongue. His hand came up to cup my cheek, holding me in place as he kissed me deeper . 

 I could feel myself go weak in the knees, stumbling into him and he wrapped one arm around my waist holding my body up as he nibbled and teased and drove me insane with his touch. 

Jungkook’s hand slipped, from my cheek, down to my neck, his fingers brushing back and forth on my bare shoulder before moving down, lightly gently brushing my breast . 

I melted, gasping as he shaped the swell of my breast with his hand, thumb rubbing gently against the tip till my nipples pebbled up and I felt a sob build up, pulling away from him to catch my breath, gripping him hard and burying my face in his shoulders, overwhelmed and shaking. 

“Darling... you alright?” Jungkook whispered, hands reaching up to stroke the back of my head and i clung to him, wrecked. 

“Please don’t let me go.” I panicked when he made to move away and he froze at once, drawing me closer, hugging me tighter.

“I’m right here princess. You’re going to be okay.” His voice rumbled through my body and I willed myself to stop shaking but i couldn’t. 

“What did you do to me...?” I asked hoarsely, my body thrumming. 

He laughed, voice low and tinkling. 

“I kissed you. You begged me to kiss you and I obliged.” He teased. 

I shook my head against the fabric of his shirt, clutching his waist harder. 

“That was not a kiss.” I snapped. “ That was...That was....attempted murder.”  

 Jungkook laughed harder at that, 

“Take deep breaths, darling. Relax.... You’re going to be okay. Just catch your breath you’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head, gentle and fond and I closed my eyes. 

“I need a few more minutes.” I said softly. 

“ I’m right here. “ He whispered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook turned the car off and we both sat in the silence, staring straight ahead into the murky waters of the river. I was still in shock, my brain rendered entirely useless from one single kiss.

 He had kissed me senseless. 

 Literally. 

“I can’t give you what I want.” He said gently. 

I bit my lips.

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.” I whispered. 

He made a sound, a sharp little exhale.

“Fuck, Sera...you’re killing me.” He swore. 

I clenched my fists. I was so scared, that this would be yet another rejection and I just knew that I couldn’t live without his kisses. Not now, when I knew just how amazing they were. 

“I’m serious. I... I won’t ask you to court me or do any of that serious stuff. Just.. Just want you to touch me. Keep touching me. And kissing me. ” I finished stupidly. 

Jungkook laughed a little.

“God, you’re so young... I feel like the worst kind of man for wanting this so fucking much.” 

I felt my heart soar at that. it was the first time he’d acknowledged wanting me and i reveled in it. 

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to understand exactly what you’re getting into.” He said softly. 

I felt my heart begin to pound, a steady thrum that was so loud in my ears that I couldn’t fathom how he couldn’t hear it. 

“This is going to be physical. Only physical. I don’t want you to dream of something that isn't going to happen. “ He said sternly. 

I nodded. 

It sounded like a recipe for a disastrous heartbreak but if i could get more kisses like the one I’d just had.... well, maybe I could deal with it when it happened. 

“I’m the one who gets to decide when , where and how.” He turned to look at me and I met his gaze. “ i won’t have you trying to climb me in the mansion in front of everyone.” 

i flushed. 

“Fine. “ I snapped. 

“You don’t stop meeting your potential suitors. You don’t turn them down without cause.” 

I groaned.

“Jungkook...” i began but he held a hand up. 

“Not all of them are going to be incompetents fools, Sera. There’s a guy out there good enough for you. “ He insisted ,  “  I’ll warm your bed till you find him, because you’re beautiful and I’m fucking weak” He shook his head, laughing without mirth, “ but... I won’t have you ruining your chances of making a worthy match. “ 

I nodded. 

“Alright. Anything you say.” 

He gave me another long look before starting the car. 

“Okay. My room, tomorrow. After 11.00PM. Wear something I can take off easily.” He said drily. 

I felt the grin creeping into my face, wide and shameless and he groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Jeon Junkook ssi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A chapter inspired entirely by jeon jungkook’s nipple in that blue shirt. 

[kashimos-hajime]

homestretch of the hard times | g.t.

summary: the eve days of your potential death kinda spurns things to move forward: for takemura, it means confessions. for you, it means making exceptions. and drinks. ‘cause takemura’s the pickiest fucking eater you’ve ever met.

WARNINGS: small spoilers for act 1 of cyberpunk 2077 and references to non-spoiler texts between takemura and v, just fluff, small angst, swearing, idk what else is going on so if there are actual spoilers thats completely coincedental ndlnskfsldnf pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.6k

a/n: so cdpr did us dirty for not allowing us to romance him (to my knowledge) but he has my mind, heart and everything else so :) listened to the bones by maren morris w/ hozier

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

It starts with something straight out of a romance movie: A car crash, saving each other’s lives (well, him more than you) and “Wait, V, I need you.”

You don’t know how you got here, to be precise. There were a chain of events, some absolutely stand up fucking moments on your part, and just… fuckery. So much fuckery and life went to shit.

All you know is the ticking time bomb’s only ticking louder and at this point, the only thing that can silence it at all is the man beside you. Not even the meds Misty gave you can help you now. 

You’re sitting in his car because you called him and he had answered and now… now they’re on one of the off ramps looking over Night City like they own the fucking place.

Maybe you did, once. Ha, maybe back when everything seemed more job to job and not life to life. For a moment, maybe you were in the big leagues.

Takemura doesn’t say anything, even though you can tell he wants to. His hair still pulled into that man bun, collared shirt with not a single wrinkle in sight. Weird how he never looks out of place, not really. Not even with the car crash. Shit, he always looked good.

You think you’re actually gonna miss that. That one semblance of someone being put together that gave you the hope that maybe you could stick it too.

You think you’re gonna miss a lot of things about him—from his stupid complaints about the food here, to his stupid random philosophy texts in the day, to the fact that he eats the ramen you buy anyway without complaint, even though it’ll never compare to what he has in Japan.

The thought that counts.

They don’t even have the radio on, just the dim lights of the car, a window rolled down. You don’t smoke but you feel like you should be tapping a cig either way. You haven’t had the time to just fucking breathe—not with Silverhand breathing down your neck, corpo rats swarming you on all sides. 

Everyone wants a piece of you, it feels like. 

You look at Takemura.

Almost everyone.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, with difficulty. It’s hard to get through your words without thinking Silverhand’s behind your back, mocking you. You’re so fucking tired. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy looking at one of the cars nearly collide with a pedestrian. You could’ve laughed. You used to make fun of the shitty drivers in Night City, knowing full well you’re one of them.

You get chased by a couple of cops, rules start to bend.

You used to wonder why you never left.

Then, you actually left, and you realized that hell, you can take the person out of Night City—can’t take the Night City out of a person.

Atlanta fucking sucked, but maybe you should’ve stayed there.

But then, a tiny voice whispers as you look out the window to the fresh night wind. You never would’ve met him.

It’s funny, you think. To come back and get a brain tumour in the shape of a rocker who can’t fucking touch anyone who loves him, who he loved, only for you to fall in love with a corpo you can’t fucking touch at all because… because there is no time left. It just isn’t fair.

“I used to be a corpo kid,” you confess, looking at him with a wry smile again. That catches his attention. He looks at you with those eyes that scrutinize you, interrogate you, peel you apart to your bare essentials and you have to look away before you can’t control your face anymore. God fucking damn it. “Not when it mattered, obviously, but… I remember what it was like. Grew up hating every single on of them.”

“Your parents were Arasaka?”

“Mhm. Security division.” It’s like your eyes are magnetic to his because when you blink, you find yourself regarding him again. Your fingers play at your lips. “Counterintelligence. I was supposed to go into that, too. Big dreams.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, then my parents were tried for treason and murdered, so I got thrown out. That’s it.” Your hand falls away. You pick at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. “Never told anyone that. ‘Cept…” Jackie. Well, he’s fucking dead, now. “‘Cept you, now, I guess. Guess some corpos aren’t so bad.”

The corner of his mouth pinches up like he’s flattered and you can’t help the pleased warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Should I be honoured I am one of the few exceptions you have made?”

“Well, I don’t make exceptions often, so…” You grin slyly. He looks away just as you catch a flash of his smile growing. It’s a nice smile. You wish you saw it more often before the end of the road. Maybe it’s one of the regrets you have, too. “Yeah, maybe you should feel special.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Takemura. Humour the walking dead, yeah?” You stretch against the leather of his car seat with a pleased sound. “I’m spending what time I have left with who I want to. Can’t ask for much better than that.” A quiet hangs in the air as you melt against the black leather and you look at Takemura who’s staring at the wheel with an intensity you don’t often see. It makes your gut squirm. 

“And I? I am one of those people?”

You lean on one hip and look at him, bending a knee and resting an ankle on your thigh. He looks at you with an uncertainty—an uncertainty you’re sure echoes in your eyes.

It was business, then it wasn’t. Maybe it never was.

“Yeah. You’re one of the few on the short list.”

“Exceptions again.”

You laugh. “Yeah. You’re an exception to most things, I think. Weird, that.”

“How so?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’ve had family—still do, ones that matter, you know. Just… no one ever like you, Takemura. Drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual. Your mocking brings you onto thin ice, V.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel. The engine’s off so it seems more fidgety than anything. Weird. You never noticed he fidgeted before. Maybe he’s nervous?

About what?

“I must ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“If you have a future, what do you see for yourself?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You frown and pick at your flecking nail polish even more, looking at your hand and focusing more on that so you don’t have to answer your question. His eyes burn into you and you swallow, trying not to act like you haven’t thought, in regret, at night, about a hundred million fucking times the possibilities they could’ve had together.

You’re not about to say all that.

Instead: “Settling down with the family. Mama Welles, people at the Coyote.” You blatantly don’t look at him when you add, “Others. This has been enough action for a lifetime.” You rest your hands on your lap and chance a glimpse at him. He’s looking away from you, out the window on his side, and you shift in your seat. “How about you? You must’ve… had dreams. Before all this shit went down. You make it out of here and then what?”

When he looks at you, your heart nearly cracks at the sadness in his eyes. He smiles, but there is no strength, and his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

“I would go to the countryside, just as I’ve always wanted. Leave this, all of this, behind. Rural Japan is beautiful, so a small town would suffice where everyone knows everyone. We do favours for one another. It is community. Nothing like here.” His lips pull into a tiny frown. “When I was a younger man, I wanted a daughter,” is all he says. “I believe I could have been a great father, so perhaps… perhaps one day.”

“A daughter? Not a son?” you ask curiously, and he almost chuckles. You can’t help the faint smile on your face. 

“If my daughter grew up anything like her mother,” he explains with a slight glance towards you, “I would have more hope than a son who was like me.”

You frown.  “You’re not a bad man, Takemura. Any son like you—with your code of honour, your shitty selfie skills—no one’s gotta a chance.”

He merely scoffs in response. Again, with the you mocking him. It’s a wonder he lets you.

“But really, that sounds… nice. A daughter, a wife.” You drum your fingers against your knee and his eyes dart to yours, click like they were always destined to meet, and your lips part. Words stall on your tongue and you want to speak but in the dim lights, you are lost in the darkness of his eyes. Something comes, something goes, and you barely croak out, “Whoever marries you will have to deal with so much of your shit that the kids have to turn out alright. The complaining, for one. Picky eater for another.”

This time, he does chuckle and you swallow a breath at the sound. “Dealing with it comes with practice, V.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I—“ For once, no funny retort, no witty quip shoots out of your mouth, and you realize that there is an implication—an intricate dance where they’re struggling not to step on each other’s toes and nearly failing at every turn, yet somehow, it works because they’re dancing, and it’s quiet, and it’s… it’s peaceful.

Shit, you’re getting a load of this. When’d you become a poet?

“I guess I should know,” you finally say. “Never understood why I got so giddy whenever I saw your texts, you know, seein’ your name flash on my phone.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess I know why, now.” He’s silent and you don’t look at him. You look at the dashboard where you’ve kicked your feet up a dozen times, the glove compartment that still has your sunglasses inside.

Shit.

“Thank you for everything. Shit’s a little… more bearable, I guess. When you’re around, that is.” The words come out stilted, awkward, but your heart is so heavy in your throat you feel like you’re going to choke. You look into your lap, your whole body incinerating under what you’re sure is the most judgemental glare of your life and you just hope to fucking God this man says something, does something.

Holy shit. You’re going to die of embarrassment. Didn’t even think that was possible.

Then, a loud sigh. A sigh you’ve heard often enough beside you right before a gunfight or when he has to eat the food you ordered for him or even the nights when they’re exhausted, bruised, and just plain tired right before going to sleep where they lay on the floor.

It’s exasperated, a how on earth did we get here, a very annoyed again, you’re so fucking stupid, and you’re still running through your list on what this particular sigh can mean before a hand gently takes hold of yours. Your eyes dart to his, blinking and he stares at you like you’ve just stabbed him. Your heart is fucking racing in your chest, pounding like thunder. His fingers fold over and you realize, as you interlace fingers, that his skin is burning at your touch. 

Or maybe, it’s the other way around.

They sit there in silence, not looking at one another, looking out windows, parts of the car, everything but each other, and when he squeezes your hand, you close your eyes and swallow your heart.

It’s over.

“V,” he murmurs, voice so deathly quiet and raspy in your ears that your gut clenches. You turn to watch him. “Tell me that you will not stop fighting.” You swallow your breath as his eyes flicker from your own to your parted lips. He inhales quietly and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers in your grip. “That this is not all for nothing.”

“It isn’t.“

“Then I was right.” His eyes flutter back to your gaze and he tilts his head. Wisps of fine hair escaping his manbun brush over his nose and you reach up on your own accord, swiping it behind your ear. You lean over the console, your elbow digging into the leather and, tentatively, you trail your fingers down his jaw, hold his face in your hand. “I am… what is that phrase you use so often?”

“SNAFU?”

“No.”

“Assblasted.”

“No.”

“Royally fucked?”

“We need to expand your vocabulary.” You smile nefariously as his other hand reaches for your chin. He pinches it lightly, thumb stretching up to brush over your lips and your face freezes at his touch. “But yes. Royally fucked. I wasn’t wrong when I said I needed you.”

“I think that meant a whole something else back then,” you whisper rawly and he smiles sombrely. His thumb leaves your mouth to brush your cheek, his eyes fixing on you as if he’s trying to memorize aspects of your face: the arch of your nose, the bow of your smile, the way your brow wrinkles. “Meant more business-like.”

“I did. And now, I believe the terms have changed.” He arches an eyebrow. “Are we at a mutual understanding, V?”

“Yes.” And I hate that we are. Your hand along his jaw lifts to wrap around his wrist. “Consider that feeling mutual, yeah? It goes both ways.”

“I will.” Another small smile graces his lips. It makes him look younger every time and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before you drive me back home for some shuteye?”

“The choices here are atrocious, V.”

“Then, drinks,” you propose, letting go of his wrist. He lets go of your chin, and turning to face the front, you kick up your feet on his dash. He stares at you for a moment then sighs because there really isn’t anything he can do about it. Nor, do you think, he wants to. You squeeze his hand and send him a silly smile. “How about drinks? I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Are you paying?”

You eye him incredulously. “Who do you take me for? You?”

He snorts and the engine roars to life with a flick of his wrist. He grabs the wheel dominantly and you swallow at the way his fingers wrap around the handle. “The Afterlife, then?”

“Or, we could make it rustic.” You pull his hand into your lap playfully and run a thumb over his knuckles. His eyes flit over and you send him a smirk. “I know Mama Welles doesn’t like you, but the Coyote’s serving cheap. Happen to like me there.” He begins to pull out of their little overhang and he nudges their joined hands into your abdomen, silently telling you to buckle in. Rolling your eyes, you mumble out a ‘boomer’ underneath your breath before letting go of him and following orders.

He settles a hand on your thigh and squeezes. You hang an arm out the window. 

The wind’s running through the car, he has the radio on low, and they’re easing through onto the highway.

Your chest is lighter than a feather, mind’s quieter than a ghost.

You’ve seen scarier deaths, dealt a lot more. You know that silence is a bigger killer than most bullets.

But here you are now…

“I’m changing this,” Takemura says. “This music is terrible.”

…Shit, maybe life isn’t so bad, ending the way it is.

[simeonisalesbian]

Hey so how would the obey me demon bros deal with a s/o who’s been a bit distant all week and if the demon boy asks what is wrong, s/o tells him “I’ll let you know when I’m done thinking about it”. They’re thinking hard about whether to take this potion they obtained or not. A week goes by and s/o confesses that they made a decision about something and they’ve took a potion to expand their lifespan a couple thousands of years instead of just living to be 100, s/o wants to spent more time with their demon boy, but they also realised 100 years is such a short amount of time for a demon, they’d be all alone after just 100 years for thousands of years?

Lmao you're filling up my ask box with so many big brain ideas all at once! This isn't a complaint at all btw so thank you ^.^

Lucifer:

He notices you been a bit more spaced out through the day and asks you about it later in his office

he's content with your answer. There are times when he needs a bit of space to reorganize his thoughts so he doesn’t mind

Of course, he is curious what you could possibly be thinking about. It couldn't have possibly been something he's done, right?

He does try not to dwell on it however he does start snapping at his brothers more often and for the smallest of things.

He also seems to be working later than usual. You can't help but wonder if he's slept at all actually.

He looked half asleep when you came into his office to explain what you were thinking about the past week.

When you tell him what you decided he visibly relaxes.

"You know you could have discussed this with me, love. That's a large decision to make on your own, though I am very pleased with the outcome."

He hadn't realized how worried he was about losing you until you were so distant this past week.

Now he just held you in his arms glad to have you with him longer than what would have originally been.

Mammon:

when you start being a bit more distant and don't seem to be paying as much attention to him he immediately panics

your response doesn't help him much either

Thinking about what? Did he do something wrong? He stole a couple of your sweatshirts but that can't be it, right?

If you suddenly start finding objects that you thought you lost well Mammon doesn't have much to say about it.

it's not like he took em or anything so you can't be mad at him for it. Please don't be mad at him

you acting weird and distant makes him act all weird and he ends up sucking up to everyone trying to figure out where he fucked up.

Now you have all of the brothers worried because Mammon doesn't pay off his debts for any random reason.

when you do finally explain he just hugs you

"Just tell me this shit, you stupid human. I was worried you hated me." The last part was mumbled.

It then sinks in what you finally said.

He's thrilled that he has longer to be with you. He's hugging you even tighter now telling you just how much he loves you.

He didn't ever want to bring it up but your mortality did weigh on his mind everyone and a while.

Insist you two go to a casino to celebrate. You just made him the luckiest demon in the world Mc he's gotta take advantage of this luck while it lasts!

Leviathan:

he notices your more distant when you weren't paying nearly as much attention while you two were playing a game

he pauses to ask what's up and nods as you give him the answer

He's fine with it at first. Then he starts getting in his head about it.

What were you thinking about that you didn't want to tell him? Did he forget a date again? He did get really into a new game the other day it's possible he forgot. Oh shit, what if he forgot too many dates and you were thinking about breaking up with him. Maybe your sick of being with a gross otaku like him...

Levi's mind really is his own worst enemy here.

He becomes more reclusive and stays in his room the entire week just kinda moping about.

When you finally do come to tell him what you were thinking about he completely interrupts you crying his eyes out

"Please don't break up with Mc. I- I- I know I'm not the be-best at dating or even being your boy- boyfriend b-but I can try harder! I can give up video games for-uhh- for a few hours- no wait days and- and-"

you have to stop him and reassure him that you are definitely not breaking up with him.

When you finally do explain what you were thinking about and that you chose to take the potion he starts tearing up again

Don't worry they're happy tears this time He's just so overwhelmed. In fact, he's so excited he just hugs you crying into you mumbling 'I love you's between breaths

Satan:

he notices you were staring at the same page of a book for far too long to actually be reading so he asks what wrong

He's fine with your answer but makes sure he's there to listen if you want to talk about whatever it is you're thinking about

He does keep an eye on you just to make sure you don't seem unhappy with him or anything

and you don't seem upset. Just lost in thought. He is still slightly concerned though. You've been think for a while now. You'll talk to him if you need to, right?

He definitely seems a bit more irritable this past week and Lucifer is growing really sick of how many pranks have been played on him.

When you do finally explain why you were so distant he's speechless. He's just so filled with love and adoration he can't find words to express it.

He just holds you close thrilled he'll have more time than planned for with you.

If you notice his eyes are a bit wet well he found some dusty books is all. He's not crying don't be ridiculous.

Asmodeus:

He's very concerned when you start acting a bit distant.

He smiles telling you not to "think too hard it will give you wrinkles!"

He does worry a bit though. Is he being too clingy? Is he not being attentive enough?

He's so good when it comes to short flings or one-night stands that he worries he's not good enough to be in a long-term relationship.

he does try to push the thoughts out of his mind. He does trust you enough to tell him straight out if he did something wrong. Communication is key after all.

That doesn't stop him from having a self-care day every single day. The stress of you thinking is going to ruin his natural glow!

When you do finally tell him he practically screams out of excitement before attacking you with kisses

"Oh, darling this is so exciting! I'll make sure you never regret your choice ever I love you so much!"

Beelzebub:

He is worried as soon as he notices you eating a bit slower than usual and seems a bit spaced out.

He asks if he did something wrong first, before asking what's wrong in general.

he doesn't mind that your thinking about something. He's just worried that something happened that has you thinking this hard.

Are you certain he didn't do something wrong? Did his brothers do something wrong? Was a random demon mean to you? He can just eat them if that's the case.

He does eat a bit more than usual causing everyone else to get annoyed that they have to refill the fridge 3 times in one day

when you do finally come forward and tell him you drank the potion he just engulfs you in a bear hug. He's so very happy he doesn't have to worry about losing you anytime soon. You might have to tap out of the hug though since he'll start breaking bones if he hugs you any tighter

Belphegor:

Asks you when you zone out instead of actually napping with him.

He grumbles joking that you should think quieter since it woke him up.

He doesn't actually fall asleep afterward though.

He's concerned he did something that made you upset again. You'd tell him if he did right? He doesn't want to go through the effort of pushing you if you aren't going to tell him. If you're upset you should just yell at him instead of saying you thinking or whatever.

He'll act all petty until you tell him what's up. Your best pillows are magically going to disappear and the soft blanket you love so much is now always being used by the sleepy demon

When you finally do tell him he feels like a bit of an asshole for stealing your entire bedspread.

He's not the best at expressing his feelings so he'll just cling to you mumbling how he loves you to the moon and back.

Not only have all your pillows reappeared but you have the best dreams for a few months straight.

[likeshipsonthesea]

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)