#I mean it lets me draw ducked-up characters it's perfect for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainforestakiie · 6 months ago

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AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Scary Movies~

hello everyone! so the lovely @inubaki gave me permission to write this based off their lovely art they made for scary movies! i really loved it and wanted to write it out!

hope you all enjoy it!

@adamsappleweek

In the dim, cozy glow of their makeshift blanket fort, Adam and Lucifer were curled up on a nest of soft blankets and quilts, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, cushions, and chairs precariously stacked on top of piles of books. It was the perfect setup for a cozy, eerie night of horror movies. Lucifer was lounging in his favourite oversized, duck-print pyjama shirt, a plush duck tucked tightly in his arms, a precious handcrafted gift from Adam. Meanwhile, Adam, dressed in the black t-shirt and the other half of the pyjama set with the matching duck-print pants, was deeply engrossed in the flickering screen, his horns, gleaming with a mix of black, gold, and a subtle hint of purple, bristling with agitation.

"Lucifer, that—that’s you, isn’t it?" Adam accused, jabbing a finger toward the screen as a shadowy figure whispered sinister promises to Rosemary.

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow, bemused. "Me? Darling, I'm hardly involved in every shadowy scheme humans dream up."

He glanced from the screen back to Adam, a smirk teasing his lips. “Besides, I’m far too charming for such—predictable devilry.”

Adam’s eyes were wide, fixated on the television, brow furrowed in suspicion. "That’s what you’d say if you were involved, wouldn’t you? And that guy—he looks so… so suspicious!"

Lucifer sighed, drawing a slow circle on the back of Adam’s hand with one finger. "Love, I’d like to think my own plots would have a touch more flair, wouldn’t you? Honestly—look at those drapes. Dismal.”

Adam huffed, torn between horror and fascination. “It’s not about the drapes! You—you did a deal with her husband or something, I know it. Look how she’s terrified, and you’re just sitting there, sipping tea all smug!”

Lucifer’s smirk widened, glancing at the plush duck in Adam’s lap. "I think he believes me, don’t you?”

He reached out, tickling the duck’s tiny fabric wing. “A duck wouldn’t suspect me of such clichés.”

Adam blanched, clutching the duck protectively.

“He’s not here to negotiate with the Prince of Darkness!” he whispered fiercely, eyes darting back to the screen as the music swelled and shadows crept across Rosemary’s face. He looked to Lucifer, a flash of horror mixed with… disappointment? “I thought you were supposed to be on our side now.”

Lucifer chuckled, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. "I am offended! Do you really think I’d waste my time on some third-rate spellbinding?”

His voice dropped low, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “If I wanted to ensnare someone, I’d hardly go after… housewives. Too easy.”

Adam gulped, whispering as if the movie characters might hear him, “But she didn’t know, Lucifer. They lied to her, just like you—"

He cut off, suddenly doubtful, squeezing his duck tightly. "But you wouldn’t do that, right? You’d… you’d warn me?”

Lucifer let out a theatrical sigh and put his arm around Adam, tugging him close. “My dear Adam, if I were ever to hatch such an elaborate scheme, you would be the first to know. I’d need an audience, after all, wouldn’t I?”

Adam glanced up, eyes narrowing suspiciously, but a little relieved. He muttered something under his breath about trusting Lucifer, turning his attention back to the screen. For a moment, Lucifer let him sink back into the movie. But as the music turned dark again, Lucifer leaned in close to Adam’s ear, voice a sinister whisper.

“Or perhaps… I’m just keeping my plans a secret... for now.”

Adam yelped, popcorn falling to the floor as he spun to face Lucifer, scandalized and flustered.

"See? That’s exactly what I mean! I knew you’d do something like that!" But his voice held a trace of laughter, a reluctant smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Lucifer simply smiled back, not a bit repentant.

“Oh, come now, Adam. If I were really in league with… them”—he gestured vaguely at the screen—“Do you think I’d be watching horror movies with you and our brave little duck?”

Adam’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he scooped the bowel back up. “No… but next time, warn me if you’re in the movie, alright?”

Lucifer patted Adam’s shoulder with mock seriousness. “I promise, next time we see a film featuring the Prince of Darkness, you’ll be the first to know.”

Adam’s eyes lingered on Lucifer suspiciously for a second more, and then he turned back to the movie, nestling closer into Lucifer’s side, duck plushie clutched tight. Lucifer leaned back, only half-watching the screen, but now completely entertained by the way Adam’s eyes widened at every shadow.

"Run, bitch! RUN!" Adam yelled, jabbing an accusatory finger toward the screen. "Don’t you DARE gaslight her, you slimy piece of—"

Lucifer chuckled and snuggled closer, eyes glinting with amused exasperation as he took in Adam's intense glare.

"Adam, babe… you know this isn’t real, right?" He tried to reassure him, but Adam was far too invested, his eyes wide with horrified fascination as he screamed encouragement at the terrified protagonist on the screen.

"They’re still married?!" Adam’s voice was a blend of shock and dismay, his gaze snapping to Lucifer with a sudden, fierce suspicion. "Bro… you owe so much damn child support!"

Lucifer choked, his hold on the giant duck plush tightening as his mouth fell open.

"Adam!" he spluttered, scandalized. "It’s just a movie! Rosemary’s Baby is fiction, love. I don’t know any Rosemary. And I definitely didn’t—what did you say? Trade sperm for favours?! I would never!"

Adam’s frown deepened, the fire in his eyes unwavering.

"Yeah, but I see you with your fancy robes and slick words," he muttered, crossing his arms. "It's exactly the kind of scheme you'd pull. I knew there was something off about those horns, Lucifer!"

Lucifer ran a hand over his own horns, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

"Adam," he said as gently as he could manage, fighting back laughter. "I’m literally sitting here in a duck pyjamas. Does this look like the outfit of a guy trying to start a family with Rosemary?"

Adam squinted at him, torn between scepticism and the smallest hint of laughter threatening to bubble up. "Don’t play coy with me, Lucifer! I know how devils work—you make deals, charm people, maybe even hand out sperm vouchers or whatever!"

Lucifer was now shaking with laughter, clutching his duck plush tighter as Adam shot him a suspicious glare.

"Adam, I don’t even know Rosemary!" he insisted, unable to keep a straight face. "I don’t think I’ve ever handed out so much as a coupon, let alone—" he stifled another laugh, "a sperm voucher!"

Adam huffed and turned back to the screen, arms crossed, mumbling under his breath. "Guess it’s a good thing you have the decency to stick around here with me and… explain yourself. If I believe you."

Lucifer grinned and gave Adam a peck on the cheek. "Sweetheart, I’d never abandon you for some random woman in a creepy apartment building—especially not one with… baby-making intentions."

Adam threw a cushion at him, finally breaking into laughter.

"Alright, alright, maybe I got a little carried away." But as he glanced back at the screen, he muttered, "Just so you know, I’m still watching you, dude."

Lucifer rolled his eyes, grinning, as he pulled Adam closer. The fort cocooned them in warmth and laughter as the unsettling soundtrack continued in the background.

Lucifer tilted his head, a playful glint sparking in his eyes.

“Adam, babe,” he purred, leaning in closer until his lips were just an inch from Adam’s ear. “If I were ever going to try for a demonic offspring, you’d be the one I’d choose. Who says I couldn’t defy a few rules… make you the one to carry my little hellspawn?”

Adam’s face went crimson, his eyes wide as saucers.

“W-what?!” he sputtered, scooting back as far as the pillow fort walls would allow, nearly upsetting the precarious stack of books holding it all up.

But Lucifer just grinned wider, inching closer to Adam’s retreating form.

“You heard me.” His fingers trailed teasingly up Adam’s arm. “Forget Rosemary. If I was trading anything for dark favours, it’d be with you. After all…”

He gave Adam a slow, hungry look, “There’s no one more devilishly perfect.”

Adam sputtered, throwing up his hands as Lucifer’s fingertips trailed up his chest.

Adam’s face turned as red as a fire hydrant, his mouth dropping open as Lucifer’s words sank in. “W-wait… you’d—make me what?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Lucifer’s grin widened, inching closer to Adam’s retreating form, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I could probably arrange it. You, me, a little magic… who’s to say we couldn’t defy nature? I bet we’d have the cutest little hellspawn.”

Adam practically threw himself backward into the pillows, arms flailing as he struggled to get some distance. “Lucifer! You can’t just—say stuff like that! Do I look like a—like a damn demon daycare?!”

Lucifer gave a soft, amused hum, shifting forward to close the gap as he leaned over Adam. “You’re right; you’d be much too cute to just watch over one.” His finger traced down Adam’s jaw, his smirk deepening. “But for real… if I were to hand out any, ahem, favors for baby-making purposes, it’d be with you. You’re the only one I’d even consider.”

Adam was now half-laughing, half-gasping, his cheeks still pink as he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous! First Rosemary, now me? Seriously, how many favors are you out there trading?” His tone was teasing, though he found himself unable to fully escape Lucifer’s intense gaze.

Lucifer laughed, his voice rich and warm. “Only one—because you, my dear Adam, are absolutely irreplaceable. And I’ve already pledged my eternal allegiance, remember?” He nuzzled into Adam’s cheek, brushing his lips just below his ear. “I don’t need a movie to prove that to you.”

Adam’s resolve melted a little under that gentle touch, and he finally rolled his eyes, muttering, “Okay, fine, fine… but if you do make any deals, I better be the first to know.”

“Oh, you’ll know, love.” Lucifer gave him a soft peck on the cheek, wrapping his arms around him in a firm embrace as they settled back into their cozy fort, still wrapped in pillows, plushies, and each other.

Adam let out a loud laugh, nudging him. As they cuddled closer, he muttered, “Just… no more baby-making plots, alright?”

Lucifer smirked, giving him a final, teasing glance. “I make no promises.”

“Fine, fine!” Adam finally caved, cheeks flushed as he laughed. “Okay, I get it—you’re incorrigible. And stop with that face!”

Lucifer chuckled, reaching over to grab Adam’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Alright, love. Shall we get more popcorn and prepare for the next terrifying flick?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Just promise me you won’t take this one quite so personally.”

Adam snorted, nudging him with his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it’s my turn to pick, you instigator.”

He narrowed his eyes, his suspicion not entirely gone. “It’s still awfully suspicious that you picked Rosemary’s Baby to start with…”

Lucifer let out an exaggerated pout, puffing his cheeks. “I just wanted to give us the proper spooky vibe!”

He raised his hand, snapping his clawed fingers as a soft shimmer of golden magic filled the blanket fort. Instantly, a massive bowl of sweet and salty popcorn appeared between them, the aroma filling the small space.

Adam’s mouth watered as he reached for a handful, popping a piece into his mouth. “Fine. But next time, don’t pick something so weirdly on-brand, alright?”

Lucifer grinned, plucking a piece of popcorn and tossing it into the air, catching it deftly in his mouth. “Then make sure you’re ready for the next movie. Think you can handle it, Mr. Scaredy Demon?”

Adam rolled his eyes, though a grin tugged at his lips.

“Oh, please. I’ll show you how it’s done. But this time, no creepy baby drama.” He nudged Lucifer again, cozying up with him as they settled in for the next round of frights.

Adam scrolled through the horror selection, finally landing on a devil-themed movie that looked just the right amount of creepy and campy. With a smirk, he selected it, settled back into the mountain of cushions, and stretched out, instantly feeling Lucifer wriggle his way into his arms, clutching his giant duck plushie close.

Lucifer squinted at the title on the screen and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, really, Adam?” He nuzzled into his shoulder, giving him an exaggerated pout. “Any particular reason you picked a movie about the devil?”

Adam’s smirk widened as he shrugged, casually tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “No reason at all.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucifer muttered, clearly unconvinced. He grabbed his own handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth, his eyes narrowing playfully as he caught Adam’s glance.

As the movie unfolded, Adam’s amused expression grew, and he propped his hand up to cup his cheek, watching the screen with barely veiled hilarity.

“Wait, hold on…” he murmured, half-lidded eyes sparkling. “The giveaway here is… sunny-side-up eggs?”

Lucifer bristled, tossing a glare Adam’s way. “Shut up, Adam! It’s not supposed to be me on screen, alright?”

“Oh, no judgment here,” Adam chuckled, glancing down at Lucifer with a smirk. “Though if you ask me, Heaven could take a few notes on that… classic devil egg move.”

Lucifer huffed and buried his face deeper into his duck plushie, hiding a smile. “Say another word and I’ll bite you!”

Adam raised an eyebrow, looking back to the screen with mock seriousness. “Alright, fine. Though if I hear one more line about the ‘sunny-side-up giveaway,’ I’m renaming this movie Ass-Demon of the Face.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened with outrage, and before Adam knew it, he’d leaned up to nip at his chin, sending Adam into a snickering fit. Lucifer grinned mischievously, his teeth grazing just enough to make Adam squirm.

“Alright, alright, point taken!” Adam laughed, pulling Lucifer even closer. “Now shhh. Let’s see if this ‘Devil Egg Mastermind’ can actually scare us.”

With a satisfied huff, Lucifer nestled back into Adam’s arms, content to let the movie run its course… though his fingers traced light patterns on Adam’s arm, promising that he wasn’t quite done teasing for the night.

As the credits rolled on Devil Egg Mastermind (Adam’s newly dubbed title), Adam let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms in mock disappointment.

“That wasn’t scary at all,” he pouted, shaking his head. “Guess even demons don’t know their way around a good horror film.”

Lucifer gave him a playful nudge.

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he declared, his eyebrows drawing together as he started scrolling through the horror selection. “If you want scary, I’ll show you scary.”

But it didn’t take long for Lucifer to falter, his usual confidence melting into a moment of uncertainty. After all, he didn’t exactly have a history with movies himself.

But one classic title caught his eye, and he grinned, feeling oddly proud. “Alright, let’s see if you can handle The Shining.”

The movie started, and almost immediately, both of them were sucked in, leaning forward as the unsettling music set the tone and Jack Torrance’s spiral into madness began. The strange, looming atmosphere of the hotel grew with every passing moment, and they both watched, wide-eyed, barely breathing.

“Oh, hell no!” Adam whispered as Danny wheeled down a silent, ominous hallway, the sound of his Big Wheel echoing through the empty corridors. And then… the camera panned, and there they were: the two girls in those eerie pink dresses, standing motionless.

“Holy shit!” Adam gasped, hands flying to his face, while Lucifer clutched his giant duck plushie tightly, his eyes widening in horror.

“No, no, no, Danny!” Lucifer’s voice wavered with genuine concern as he squeezed his plushie so hard its beak flattened. “My poor baby! Don’t look at them!”

“Don’t do it! Don’t play with them!”

The scene continued, and as the girls invited Danny to “Come play with them forever and ever,” Lucifer and Adam both squeezed their eyes shut, only daring to peek through their fingers. Adam let out a relieved breath when Danny fled the scene, grabbing onto Lucifer's arm as though he were holding him back from bolting.

They barely had a moment to collect themselves before the infamous elevator scene began. The doors creaked open, and they both stared, horrified, as blood gushed out, flooding the hallway in a wave of crimson.

“NOPE!” Adam cried, covering his eyes, while Lucifer gave an actual yelp, pressing his face into his duck plushie to avoid looking.

“WHY is this happening?” Lucifer groaned. “They’re elevators! What’s next, the lamps start bleeding?”

Adam peeked through his fingers, grinning despite himself. “The lamps bleeding is nothing. Just wait till Jack loses it with that axe.”

“Oh, fantastic. Bloody elevators, haunted twins, and now a psycho dad,” Lucifer muttered, shaking his head. But despite his words, he found himself watching with an intense, horrified fascination, half-hidden behind his plushie.

Soon enough, Jack was well into his descent into madness, and Adam was utterly absorbed, leaning forward as Jack muttered about “all work and no play.” He watched, transfixed, as the story turned more terrifying by the minute, only tearing his gaze away to glance at Lucifer’s wide-eyed expression, making him snicker softly.

“Don’t laugh!” Lucifer hissed, his cheeks flushed as he tried to hide his tension. “This is serious horror!”

By the time Jack began stalking through the hotel with an axe, both of them were completely on edge, every creak and clang on screen making them jump. Lucifer clutched Adam’s arm, gripping tighter each time Jack got closer to his family.

“Here’s Johnny!” Jack crowed, and Adam and Lucifer both shrieked, instinctively clutching each other, bracing for what came next.

When the credits finally rolled, they sat in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching each other, hearts racing. Adam broke the silence with a shaky laugh. “Okay. You win. That was real horror.”

Lucifer let out a shaky breath, giving a relieved smile. “Told you. But, uh… maybe next time, we pick something a little less... psychotic?”

Adam chuckled, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Agreed. But first…” He summoned his courage and grinned. “You’re ready for the sequel, right? Doctor Sleep?”

Lucifer groaned, hugging his duck plushie tighter, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “Fine. But only if we stock up on popcorn... and you hold me this time!”

As Doctor Sleep began, the blanket fort was alive with a renewed, eager energy. Adam and Lucifer settled in, popcorn within arm’s reach, their eyes fixed on the screen as they watched the story unfold from that creepy Shining legacy.

When grown-up Danny appeared, looking world-weary yet somehow peaceful, Lucifer let out an immediate, adoring coo.

“Aww, look at him! Little Danny’s all grown up,” he murmured, squeezing his duck plushie affectionately. “I just want to give him a warm meal and a nice nap.”

Adam grinned, nudging Lucifer. “Right? He’s so sweet! But also, look at him. He’s been through hell and back… and now he has to face all this crap again.”

He sighed, knowing well the feeling of life just never letting you catch a break.

Then, Rose the Hat entered, her eerie charm filling the screen as she set out on her wicked mission. Adam watched her with wide, fascinated eyes, his expression a mix of awe and horror. “Oh, she’s… awful.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I kind of love how terrible she is. Like, she’s that perfect mix of ‘please, someone punch her’ and ‘okay, maybe she’s got some style.’”

Lucifer made a face, clearly unimpressed. “Style? Adam, she’s stealing people’s souls, children’s souls like it’s some twisted hobby! Ugh.”

He shook his head, scowling. “How does she still wear that hat like she thinks she’s the main character?”

Adam chuckled, casting a glance at Lucifer. “You’re so jealous of that hat. Look at you.”

“Jealous?!” Lucifer practically sputtered, crossing his arms defensively. “I am offended, truly. I’d never stoop to top-hat levels of villainy.”

He shot a disdainful look at the screen, muttering, “She’s got nothing on my horned charm…or my top hat.”

They continued watching, both horrified and riveted as Rose and her crew pursued Danny and young Abra. Adam clutched Lucifer’s arm, his face torn between admiration for Abra’s courage and anger at Rose’s cruelty.

“She’s so vicious! Ugh, I want Danny and Abra to destroy her.”

Lucifer nodded fiercely. “Absolutely. I mean, she’s after a kid—that’s just disgusting. And that whole soul-sucking ritual? It’s too much.”

“Even for me.” He huffed, clutching his plushie. “Someone needs to take her and that ridiculous hat down.”

As the tension on screen escalated, Danny finally faced off against Rose in the Overlook Hotel, bringing all the horrors of the past back to life. Adam’s eyes were glued to the screen, and he could barely contain his excitement.

“YES, Danny! Show her what a real Shining looks like!” He pumped a fist in the air, then leaned forward as Danny began summoning the ghosts of the hotel.

Lucifer watched, half hiding his face in his plushie. “Oh, this is satisfying. Go, Danny!”

His face softened as he watched Danny confront his fears, rooting for him with every ounce of his demon heart. “He’s come so far. It’s… kind of inspiring, actually.”

When Rose finally met her match, both of them let out a victorious cheer, high-fiving each other in triumph. Adam smirked, finally relaxing back against the pillows. “That’s what you get, Rose the Hat! Consider this your eviction notice from the Overlook.”

Lucifer chuckled, laying his head on Adam’s shoulder. “And Danny gets his peace. Finally.”

He sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer. “But, honestly, if Rose hadn’t been so obnoxious with that hat, I wouldn’t have minded the movie as much. Doctor Sleep did not disappoint.”

Adam snickered. “Maybe next time you can pick a villain with less questionable fashion sense.”

He gave Lucifer a light punch on the arm, grinning. “But you know what? I kind of enjoyed hating her together with you.”

Lucifer smiled, wrapping his arms around him. “Same here, love. As long as I’ve got you, even the creepiest movie nights turn out perfect.”

They settled in under the blanket fort, adjusting the pillows and cushions as The Nun started. The dark, looming shadows and ominous whispers filled the screen, setting a creepy atmosphere, but only a few minutes in, Lucifer’s expression started to sour, his lips twisting in visible annoyance. Adam caught on immediately.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Adam nudged him, trying to stifle a smirk at Lucifer’s look of utter distaste. “You look like someone just insulted your favourite demon band.”

Lucifer let out an irritated huff, puffing his cheeks and crossing his arms. “That nun—what’s his name again? Valium?”

“Valak,” Adam corrected, laughing a little as he eyed the screen. “Yeah, Valak the Nun. What about him?”

Lucifer made a low sound of annoyance from the back of his throat. “Doesn’t he look like someone we know?”

Adam tilted his head, studying the ghostly nun’s face on the screen. “Actually… now that you mention it…”

He squinted, eyes widening as he suddenly recognized what Lucifer was getting at. “Oh my god, he does look like somebody!”

With a deep, dramatic sigh, Lucifer reached over and switched off the TV with a swipe of his hand. The screen blinked to black, and the room fell into sudden silence.

Adam gasped, sitting up and blinking in surprise.

“Hey! Why’d you turn it off? You never quit a movie before it’s over.” He paused, staring at Lucifer’s pouty expression before understanding dawned. “Oh no. Ohhhhh no.”

A grin spread across Adam’s face. “Are you saying Valak reminds you of… him?”

Lucifer buried his face in his hands, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Yes! That annoying, grinning radio demon always buzzing around Charlie. Valak’s got that same smug, sinister face.”

Adam burst into laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh, that’s priceless! And here I thought nothing could get under your skin.”

He leaned over, giving Lucifer a nudge. “But wow, you must really hate that demon, huh?”

Lucifer huffed, flopping onto Adam’s lap with an air of wounded pride.

“It’s not hate. It’s… professional rivalry. You wouldn’t understand. He’s got that same ‘trying-too-hard-to-be-scary’ vibe,” he grumbled, his voice muffled against Adam’s shirt.

Adam tried his hardest not to laugh, his fingers playing through Lucifer’s hair soothingly. “So, you’re saying that he’s Valak-level annoying? That’s a new low, babe.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes playfully, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “Don’t get smart with me. You’re the one who dragged me into watching all these… poser demons.”

“Fine, fine.” Adam stroked his hair, grinning down at him. “You know, it’s kinda cute that the supposed ‘Lord of Darkness’ has arch-nemeses in horror films. Valak the Nun, and the Radio Demon. Who’s next on the list?”

Lucifer groaned but managed a grin. “Keep it up, and I’ll make you the next one on my list.”

Adam laughed, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “Oh, you’d miss me too much.”

Lucifer let out an exaggerated sigh, but he didn’t argue, instead curling closer into Adam’s lap as they both settled into comfortable silence.

n the dim glow of their blanket fort, shadows and warmth wrapping them like a second quilt, Lucifer rolled over with a barely-there sound, his hand brushing against Adam’s arm.

“Adam… are you asleep?” he whispered, his voice softened by the quiet.

Adam stirred, blinking sleepily before turning to face him.

"Hey… you okay?" His voice held a hint of worry as he took in Lucifer’s expression—a strange mix of discomfort and vulnerability.

Lucifer’s face shifted through a few expressions, from frustration to hesitation, until finally, he murmured, “I can’t sleep.”

Adam let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face him fully. "Wait, are you saying… you’re scared? Of a movie? Come on, aren’t they pretty much all about you?”

Lucifer’s cheeks tinted ever-so-slightly as he buried his face against Adam’s chest, trying to stifle a groan.

“No! Of course not! I mean, I—" He paused, his tone lowering to a murmur. "Maybe… maybe a little bit?”

Adam wrapped his arms around Lucifer, pulling him closer, letting him nestle into his chest. "So, you’re telling me that the great Lucifer Morningstar, the supposed King of Hell, can’t sleep because of a few movies?”

He stroked a gentle hand over Lucifer’s hair, the golden strands catching a glint of the soft light. “Don’t worry, love. It’s just movies. Plus, they don’t even do you justice.”

Lucifer sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts heavy as he tucked his face closer against Adam.

"Do… do humans really see me like that? As some deranged, monstrous thing that just wants to hurt people?” His voice was barely above a whisper, a hint of something achingly sad lingering in his tone.

Adam blinked, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question, and his mouth opened and closed a few times as he searched for the right words.

“Lucifer…” He held him tighter, gently brushing his fingers through Lucifer’s hair. “They don’t know you, not like I do. They see… what they’re told to see. Stories passed down and warped over time.” He could feel the slight tremble in Lucifer’s shoulders and moved closer, wrapping him tighter in his arms.

Lucifer let out a shaky breath, a trace of vulnerability peeking through the usually unbreakable confidence.

“But that’s all of mankind, Adam. Hundreds of years. All that time, and they only know me as something to fear, to hate…” His voice caught for a moment, and he forced a soft, hollow laugh. “I’m not even close to the monster they think I am, yet… it doesn’t seem to matter, does it?”

Adam pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along Lucifer’s shoulder. “Hey, they don’t see you like I do. All they know are stories—stories made to scare people. You’re just the shadow they cast their fears onto. If they saw you for real, they’d see… well, this.”

He gave him a squeeze. “The guy who cuddles duck plushies and builds blanket forts. The guy who can’t sleep because he’s so much more human than he even realizes.”

Lucifer sniffled a little, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Adam replied firmly. He tilted Lucifer’s chin up to meet his gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “You’re nothing like those movies make you out to be. You’re so much more.”

He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss across Lucifer’s brow. “So just… be here, with me, and let the rest go.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he looked back at Adam.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the hush of the night. “For seeing me.”

“Always,” Adam whispered, holding him even closer as they drifted off, the shadows of stories past fading into nothingness around them.

As the warmth of the moment enveloped them, Adam and Lucifer settled deeper into each other, the world outside their cozy blanket fort fading away. The soft sounds of their breathing mingled, creating a gentle rhythm that lulled them closer to sleep. Adam nuzzled his face into Lucifer’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of warm spices and faint hints of mischief, while Lucifer shifted slightly, his body relaxing against Adam’s warmth.

Just as they began to drift into the comforting embrace of slumber, a soft patter of tiny paws echoed through the fort. A small, fluffy black cat with one striking green eye and one adorable empty socket peeked in, his tiny head bobbing with curiosity. With an adorable bounce in his step, the cat paddled across the mountains of blankets, his tail held high in the air like a proud flag.

Adam stirred slightly, blinking sleepily as he noticed their little companion. “Look who decided to join us,” he murmured, a smile spreading across his face.

Lucifer cracked an eye open, his features softening at the sight of their one-eyed feline, affection bubbling up inside him.

“Oh, our little demon spawn,” he said with a teasing lilt, watching as the cat made himself at home, curling up snugly between them. The cat let out a soft purr, vibrating contentedly against the blankets.

“Look at him,” Adam chuckled, reaching down to scratch the cat’s chin. “He’s like a tiny, fluffy cuddle monster.”

Lucifer couldn’t help but grin, feeling the weight of the day melt away as he watched Adam interact with their pet.

“He’s the only one who can compete with my charm,” he teased, rolling onto his back, allowing the cat to nestle comfortably against his side.

The little black cat settled in, his purring growing louder, creating a soothing backdrop to the quiet atmosphere of the fort. Adam laughed softly, leaning down to kiss the top of the cat’s head.

“Just another member of the family,” he said, glancing at Lucifer with a warmth that sent a flutter through him.

As they all snuggled closer, the fort cocooned them in a world of warmth and comfort. Lucifer shifted again, pulling Adam in tighter as the three of them formed a cozy, sleepy heap.

“I suppose we’ve got a little hellion to keep us company,” he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

“Just what we needed,” Adam replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “A one-eyed guardian to watch over us while we sleep.”

With that, the trio nestled into the blankets, the rhythm of their hearts synchronizing with the purring cat, forming a small universe of warmth, laughter, and love. Outside, the world was dark and filled with shadows, but within the safety of their blanket fort, everything felt right. As sleep began to claim them, the last flickers of light danced in the corners of their cozy sanctuary, and the faintest whisper of laughter lingered in the air.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #for adamsapple fans!#adamsapple harvest #adamsapple scary movies

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the-acid-pear · 2 years ago

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I'm really bored so this is a perfect opportunity to pick up where i left off

Chapter 4

E(vil) Coli.......

Marcille just got such a reality check Chilchuck i love youu

I'm actually so falling in love w the way this chapters go they really feel like a little kids cartoon but i dont mean that in the condesending way i mean that in the, lighthearted let's focus on this character's issues today way

I fucking adore Senshi's unchanging button eyes. TBH creature eyes, to me

CHILCHUCK I FUCKING ADORE YOU THE WAY HE WENT FROM SYMPATHY TO RAGE IS AKGJBN UYHJBKGYUBB

HE ACTUALLY RECOGNIZED HER ACHIVEMENT AND CALLED HER BY NAME THAT'S SO CUTE 💥💥💥💥

Chapter 5

It's actually kinda fun to see Senshi struggle to like, fit in w these maniacs.

I do actually kinda hope he stops being so, uncooperative i guess? Like chill king ily but chill 🙏

i love how straight foward chil is tho

He just put his finger inside boiling oil he's so built different i love it

"what gorgeous bones" LAIOS. ?!

the little blush...

they're so. 🏳‍🌈

Chapter 6

Thought Laios had his pussy out in the cover

tf2 soldier......

THE WHOLE DEATH SYSTEM HERE IS SO FUCKED UP GOD

Obsessed how Senshi had to draw the line at that metal is too fucking far

this was pretty cool

Chapter 7

This is so freaky ouhwuhuhg

Chilchuck don't be so mean let Laios have his autism moment level catastrophic

"*not actually true" literally calling his ass out

THE MOST EXPRESSION WE'VE BEEN SEEN SENSHI PUT, HE ACTUALLY IS DUBIOUS OF EATING THIS THAT'S AMAIZING

Laios what's wrong w you <3

Chapter 7.5

ARMOR SEX

Chapter 7.6

Alright this setting is just silly + cute tbh.

THEY LET CHILCHUCK BE EATEN BY Hungry Sellers

SENSHI ON MARCILLE VIOLENCE

Chapter 8

Obsessed w Senshi's mancave

The golems have such good designs oh my god

PANTY SHOT

"and exploiting a loophole in the law" based senshi

where are they peeing + shitting........................

he really is a bit of a jerk but that's ok

WKJIJIUIJGU SENSHI LOOKS SO CUTE HERE THO 🥺🥺💞💞 He really said ^_^

ah fair there are built in bathrooms cool :)

essential worker senshi, iconic

okay genuinely cute how he did say IN HIS WAY that he cares about the team i need to study this man under a microscope

Chapter 9

oh no chilchuck accidental criminal................

oh my god this is so cool ACTUAL criminals now i love the worldbuilding

japanese kobolds ough........

also i love these orc designs sm

they're getting jumped...

Senshi you're insane i want you

CHILCHUCK GRABBING HIM BY THE BEARDAJGNBHJGNFKJIH

no sir orc don't teach your kid to continue the cycle of violence created by genearations past..............

ABUSING HIM

I actually cant tell if Senshi is teaching the baby or preventing it from fucking up

Senshi just wants to grill for god's sake...

I'm actually going to cry i'm not joking that baby is gonna push me over the edge

All Laios do is blush

Chapter 10

Laios abandonment........

im literally so in love w that kobold fuckign doggey

DUNGEON WEED HELL YEAH

what 😦

EVIL MONEY... EL PROBLEMA ES EL CAPITALISMO!!!!!!!

This manga is so cool

jewel bug hamburger so cute

Chapter 11

This manga has hooked me up so hard <- he has nothing better to do

Can we eat spirits doe? 🧐

Farlyn i fucking love you goddamn...

Sir i dont think that's particurlarly holy but i trust you anyway

this manga is fucking mental

GKLMKJGNJAHB EVEN SENSHI CALLING OUT LAIOS 😭😭😭😭

Chapter 12

He's so insane it's great ily Laios

this is just like the hit movie with rogers rabbit and duffy duck and, brendan fraser too innit?

oh my god this is gettin really cool

One last chapter for today that plotline was too cool

Chapter 13

I feel so fucking bad for my man Chilchuck

finger guns kissie mouth marcille...

I love how everyone gets pushed to face their fears, i hope Chilchuck gets to do that as safely as Laios could

senshi 👌

NOOO LEAVE MY MAN ALONE HE'S BEEN THRU ENOUGH

i fucking love that Laios is the only one shocked by his age bc he's human 😭😭😭

I'm getting so anxious my legs are going cold so I've decided I'm gonna start reading Dungeon Meshi. Gonna do the classic manga liveblog format too 👍

Chapter 0

It's been so long since I did something like this man goddamn.

Oh this manga is really fucking short! Only 97 chapters goddamn. Might get to finish the whole liveblog in like, 2 rbs.

This is so silly n cute tbh

Catgirl looks HORRIFIED

Wait is, is the dwarf naked? Is he in his fucking underwear??

Thought they were praying for the food for a second

WHY ARE WE JUST RANDOMLY SHOWING A BRUTAL DEATH FROM A DRAGON THIS. THE WHIPLASH

Oh she's alive nvm

Chapter 1

Goofy ahh dragon

Love that it's formatted as a menu that's cute

Well that was a haunting introduction

Capitalism is one hell of a bitch <- pretty sure this has nothing to do with that

I love this short critter's beautiful black eyes

Why is she breakdancing to express discontent?

Man these chapters are long, like 45 pages each. That makes it almost 200 chapters since 20 pages is more of the average length.

THE BLUSH. HUNGRY BASTARD UTSYFSYSEYSRRUD

"who are you?" He was licherally there when the girl was vored what do you Mean who are you . . .

Un capo se trajo un disco.

Holy shit you can die?

Marcille you're such a girl fail it's honestly hot

Oh Chilchuck is a name i though it was an insult

Sabés el asado que te puede hacer el Senshi, te caes de culo

Chapter 2

The settings are beautiful

👍

The way death is handled feels so Weird

Laios I did not wish to learn about your bondage kink

Chilchuck is so real I love him 😭

Chilchuck why were you at the gallows...........

Chapter 3

Already got in the groove of it

He looks so distraught at the unbalanced diet

"reptilian features" "cool" "cool"

I love Laios and Senshi's relationship they're such a good team

Senshi is sooo silly

These are such good ppl tbh

THANK YOU FOR YOUR MOTIVATIONAL APEECH SENSHI

I'm using the same site I did to read Baki and bro there's a clown in the notes who keeps adding the image of Marcille being told elves are good cock sleeves and it's starting to seriously annoy me.

Stopping for now so I can eat and stuff 👍

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albakore · 4 years ago

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Office Adventures

Synopsis: (office!au) Sometimes Kaeya’s ideas can be brilliant. Other times you wonder how this man even made it this far in life. This time, however, the outcome is a little different than you expect…

Characters (together): Diluc, Kaeya, Thoma/Tohma, Childe, and Zhongli (fem!reader)

Warnings: not sfw (18+), like pure unadulterated filth. public-ish sex, voyeurism, unprotected sex, vibrator, masturbation, Diluc fucking you while everyone else watches because i am Diluc’s whore before i am human,

part 2

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

It felt so downright perverted to be acting this way. You tried your hardest to stay focused on the presentation in front of you but your mind kept drifting back to the device that was sitting between your legs. Kaeya had managed to slip a vibrator in your underwear right before this meeting, after he pulled you into an empty office and worked it inside of you. He pulled up the app on his phone and tested it to make sure it worked properly. It did, much to his delight (and your dismay.)

Zhongli was up at the front presenting some information about this months sales. He was flipping through various infographics in the presentation he had prepared, motioning to them every so often to accentuate his point. Diluc was sitting across from Kaeya jotting down notes as he went, next to him was a bored looking Thoma. Childe occupied the seat on the Kaeya’s left and was very keenly watching Zhongli as he presented. The seat to Kaeya’s right was empty, as that’s where Zhongli had been sitting. You watched Kaeya reach for his phone again that was sitting on the table in front of him. He tapped the screen a few times and you felt the vibrations inside of you grow stronger. You pressed your thighs together desperately trying to mask what was taking place. You couldn’t help but chew your bottom lip desperately trying not to let your pokerface drop.

“Ms. (Name), are you alright?” You heard Kaeya call from across the table, interrupting Zhongli. That little shit, you thought. You took a deep breath to help calm you down, putting on the best neutral expression you could muster before glancing up and meeting Kaeya’s mischievous smile.

“Of course. Why do you ask?” You tried to ignore how all of the men’s eyes glanced over in your direction. You could feel your impending orgasm looming as the vibrator continued to buzz inside you still even with all their gazes on you.

Thoma chimed in this time, completely oblivious. “You’re looking a little flustered, do you need to step out for some air?” Your eyes drifted to meet his, a genuinely concerned expression on his face as he scanned over you for signs of sickness or injury.

“I’m fine, really,” you assured him quickly, “I just picked the wrong day to wear this outfit.” You joked, motioning to your matching blazer and skirt that were made out of the same thick material. You added in a smile to really sell your excuse, fanning yourself to make it seem like maybe the heat was just getting to you.

Zhongli, who had been interrupted in the middle of his presentation, cleared his throat to take the attention away from the disruption. “Well, this is the last slide so if you’ll allow me to get through this then you can go back to your office and cool down a little. May I?” You nodded your head quickly and added in a small sorry before you ducked your head back down to focus on the notes in front of you. You were grateful when you felt the attention slowly shift off you and back to Zhongli.

Your mind drifted again with Zhongli’s voice as the perfect background noise for your fantasies that played in your mind. You thought again about Kaeya pulling you into that office right before this meeting with his fingers working you open slowly saying he had a surprise for you. You two had joked about doing something like this before, but you never thought he had the gall to actually go through with it. He was definitely enjoying this entirely too much, you could tell by the way his attention shifted from his notes to study you every so often. Whenever he altered the frequency of the vibrator, your resolve would fall just briefly and you’d allow yourself one shaky breath as your fists clenched and your eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to fight the orgasm that had been creeping up on your for what felt like forever now. You were completely unaware of the vermillion eyes that would drift your way every time your face would scrunch or your hips would shift.

“And with that, we’re done for the day.” Zhongli’s concluding statement cut through your lewd thoughts. You let out a sigh of relief thinking about how you wanted nothing more than to get out of this meeting room and to the privacy of your own office. Zhongli returned to his spot at the table beside Kaeya and began gathering up his papers. The rest of the men also shuffled their stuff together, starting to stand from their seats and stretch.

“Say, Kaeya,” Childe’s voice cut through the shuffling. You watched in slow motion horror as he reached out and grabbed Kaeya’s phone that had been sitting face up on the table while Kaeya had stepped away from his seat to go return something he grabbed before the meeting. “What is this app you kept toying with throughout the meeting?” He asked as he examined Kaeya’s phone. Kaeya’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of a way to draw Childe’s attention away from the phone without being obvious. As Kaeya opened his mouth to reply, Childe tapped something on the screen.

“Wait!” You and Kaeya exclaimed in unison but it was too late, the vibrator in between your legs kicked up a few notches and in a matter of seconds the orgasm that Kaeya had had you dancing around for the last half of this meeting came crashing down. You let out a loud, sultry moan as you ducked your head to keep some sense of your dignity as the men watched you clench your legs and squirm in your seat. Kaeya quickly made his way back to his phone and snatched it away from Childe, cutting off the vibrations. There were a few beats of silence as the men all watched you carefully while you caught your breath, head still lowered and hands still gripping the arms of your chair harshly. The realization of what just happened finally hit you as your head cleared. The fucked out expression on your face shifted to a mortified one as you tried to think of some sort of response.

Childe’s voice rang out hesitantly from the other side of the room, “uh, sorry..”

Instead of addressing his apology you used every ounce of courage in you to spit out a ‘please excuse me’ before getting up from your chair and promptly exiting the room. You ran for the nearest empty bathroom and locked yourself inside, suddenly thankful for the first time ever that your office had single person bathrooms. Your back hit the door as your head reeled from the events that just took place, embarrassment washing over you. I’m gonna get fired, you though bitterly, they probably think I’m disgusting. You slowly reached down and pulled back your underwear to see the soaked mess that had become your panties. You sighed, pulling them up again before your eyes met the mirror. Your appearance was disheveled: your lips were swollen from biting them to stifle your moans and your legs were still shaking from your recent orgasm.

A loud knock sounded on the door behind you. “(Name)?” Kaeya’s voice called out. “…I know you’re in there.” He added after a few moments of waiting for you to respond. You still didn’t answer his calls so he continued, “they’re all waiting for you to come back.” Your heart dropped. What does that mean? Are they going to discuss the consequences of your actions already? Why so soon? Couldn’t they wait and sleep on it?

You turned around hand gripping the door handle as you took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, figuring it best to face this head on. You opened the door with a click only to be met with Kaeya’s fist inches from your face, evident that he was about to knock again. “There you are!” He quickly withdrew his knuckles and gave you a quick concerned once-over.

You glanced around nervously to make sure he was alone before slumping against him. He pulled you into his embrace as his way to apologize for the events that took place. He knows it was his bad to leave his phone out there like that, especially given the fact that Childe knows his passcode. He stroked your back a few times soothingly, allowing you to inhale his scent hoping that it would provide you some comfort.

“C’mon, let’s not keep them waiting.” He spoke after a few moments before gently taking your hand to lead you along behind him through the hallways. You approached the meeting room again in quick strides, your anxiety climbing higher and higher the closer you two got.

Kaeya stopped in front of the meeting room door and turned to face you, sensing your anxiousness. His hands grabbed your shoulders gently. “There’s no need to be nervous. You’re not going to get in trouble or anything of the sort, I’m certain of it.” He leaned forward and let his lips rest against your ear, “I’m also certain that they all had a boner when I left them. I mean who wouldn’t after the show you put on.” A shiver ran up your spine at his words. You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to form some sort of response, but before you could he had turned around and pushed open the meeting room door.

“Where is she?” You heard Childe ask. You peaked over Kaeya’s shoulder into the room. The men had returned to the seats they had been in during the meeting.

“(Name).” Zhongli addressed you firmly when his gaze met yours. You squeaked and ducked behind Kaeya again. The man in front of you chuckled before taking a few steps into the room, motioning for you to follow. You swallowed thickly before taking a few tentative steps.

Kaeya closed the door behind you as you finally straightened your back and addressed the men in front of you. “Um…” you tried to keep eye contact with them to appear more collected than you actually were but quickly found your fleeting confidence fading. Instead, you settled for fixing you gaze on the ground in front of you. “I’m very sorry for what happened.”

“Did he force you into this?” Diluc’s question caught you off guard.

“N-no!” You stammered quickly. "He and I talked about it beforehand." You said assuredly, not wanting your actions to reflect worse on Kaeya than they already had. Your cheeks burned and your shoulders were tense. “I know it was very unprof-“

“(Name), come here.” The firm words from Diluc caught you off guard. You studied him for a second, trying to read his intentions. Kaeya finally took his own seat across the table from Diluc. You made your way past Thoma to where Diluc was sitting before you paused. Diluc patted his thigh to motion for you to sit there. It caught you way off guard. You noted how Kaeya was absolutely right, though you couldn’t see Childe or Zhongli, you could definitely see both Diluc and Thoma were noticeably hard. You went to straddle his thighs but he stopped you. “Other way.” You turned yourself around and settled against him with your back flush with his chest. It took everything in you not to grind against his boner that was even more noticeable now that it was pressed against you.

His lips met the shell of your ear. “Is this alright?” He asked, fingers hovering over you, waiting for your permission for him to touch you. You nodded, swallowing thickly and his hands came into contact with your skin. Diluc’s fingers worked to hike your skirt up. He let his fingertips ghost up and down your outer thigh a few times, pressing a kiss to your neck. He pushed his chair back from the table and spread your legs wide to make sure the other guys could see what he was doing to you. He stopped again briefly as his fingers came to rest on the edge of your panties, waiting for your go ahead before pushing them down your thigh. He paused to admire the string of slick that connected your sex to your underwear. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before Thoma let out a groan beside you at the sight. Diluc continued working your panties down your legs until he slipped them off completely and tossed them on the table in front of you two. Next, his hands reached down and pulled the vibrator out of your cunt that Kaeya had stuffed in there with a quiet squelching noise. He held it up and examined the way it was coated completely in your arousal.

“I can turn it on, if you want.” Kaeya offered as he watched the scene in front of him intently. His signature cocky smirk had returned as he noticed how wet he had gotten you with his vibrator.

“Please do.” Diluc answered, turning his attention from the toy back to your cunt. “May I?” He whispered in your ear as the hand not holding the toy traced the skin below your bellybutton down to the area just above your clit and back up again.

“U-uh..” you hesitated, gauging the reactions from the men around you. Zhongli’s gaze was fixated on you. He was leaning forward on his elbows, his fingers locked together resting over his mouth. His irises looked like they were quite literally glowing as he drank in the sight of you. Otherwise, he looked completely calm. His breath was slow and steady and he was relatively still.

Childe had never looked more relaxed in his life. He was slouched against his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His boner couldn’t be any more obvious as his eyes languidly trailed up your body, down your body, and back up again. He was truly basking in the sight in front of him.

When your gaze shifted to Kaeya he made sure to hold eye contact with you. He licked his lips seductively, eyes trailing down your body before snapping back up to your complete the eye contact again as he sent you a wink.

If there were any doubt left in your mind after looking at those three, that was all dispelled when your eyes drifted over to Thoma. He already had his cock free and was pumping himself slowly as his eyes stayed fixated on you. His cheeks were flush and his breath was fast, and the tip of his cock looked deliciously red as you watched his thumb swipe over it.

It had only taken you a few moments to be sure that none of the men in front of you were uncomfortable with what was happening before you gave Diluc the go ahead. A simple, but firm, 'yes' left your lips and in mere seconds the vibrator that he was holding roared to life, courtesy of Kaeya of course. He pressed it to your clit and immediately you mewled, back arching off his chest. You rocked your hips against the device and in turn also rocked yourself against Diluc’s boner that was growing harder by the second.

“D-Diluc,” you whined. “I want you inside of me.” You panted, focusing on grinding against him. He hummed at your request, pressing a few more open mouth kisses up your neck. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth parted slightly.

“Let me prep you first.” He stated, shifting his arm and wrapping it under your thigh so he could insert two fingers into you. Your slick coated them easily, allowing him to add a third finger. He stretched you as much as he could slowly and gently, pumping his fingers in and out of you. After a few moments he pulled them away from your cunt before putting his fingers, now coated in your slick, up to your mouth. You took them in without hesitation, sucking and licking them. “Good.” Diluc praised. You locked eyes with Zhongli first, then you moved to Childe. Childes hand had also found it’s way inside his pants and was pumping himself lazily as he watched you.

You released Diluc’s now clean fingers from your mouth. “Unzip me.” He instructed, one hand working to unbutton your blouse the other one still had the vibrator pressed to your clit. You reached under you and unzipped his pants, hand trailing along his clothed dick eagerly. You pushed down his underwear and leaned forward to allow room for his cock to sprang free. You pushed back and let yourself rub against him eagerly.

He finally withdrew the vibrator from your clit so he could put both his hands on your hips to guide you onto him. He let out a low groan as he sank into you, your walls clenching around him. He bottomed out and allowed you to just sit there like that for a few moments to adjust to the girth he had. Slowly, he lifted your hips before sliding you back down again. You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you. Diluc finally replaced the vibrator on your clit again, causing your thighs to tense around him. You placed your hands on his knees and took the lead lifting yourself up and down, slowly speeding up as the slightly painful stretch was replaced with immense pleasure. Beside you, Thoma moaned your name, matching his pace to yours as he worked himself to his own orgasm. Kaeya upped the speed of the vibrator again, enjoying watching you squirm around Diluc's cock.

Zhongli had even taken to pleasuring himself, his stoic expression fixated on watching as Diluc disappeared into your heat only to come back out again coated in your arousal. You were positively drenching Diluc's cock, leaving a wet spot on the chair underneath you two. Moans — hng, a-ah, mmh~ — left your lips as Diluc's other hand found your nipple, toying with it. Your legs started shaking as you got closer to your orgasm, but you tried to push through it to continue riding Diluc. He picked up on your fatigue quick though, and in return he lifted you up and bent you over the table in front of him, grabbing your hips from behind and pushing back into you. You moaned his name again, cheek squished against the hard tabletop, hands splayed beside your head.

"Diluc! I'm gon- I'm gonna c-" you desperately tried to choke out, feeling another strong orgasm coming on as the man slammed into you over and over. His tip curved perfectly into your sweet spot, making you arch your back. He groaned again at the feeling of your smooth walls throbbing around him.

"Let go, angel." You heard him murmur behind you. With one loud whine, your walls clamped around him as you creamed all over his cock. He let out a low 'fuck' as he was launched into his own orgasm, burying himself inside of you before filling you up with his seed. You glanced behind you to watch as Thoma coated his own hand with his cum, moaning your name loudly. Childe had also made a mess out of his shirt when he shot his semen in spurts all over it. Zhongli's hand was still working himself under his dress pants — and then you noticed Kaeya. Kaeya hadn't bothered to touch himself at all, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he stood up from his chair while you and Diluc caught your breaths.

"Is it my turn now?" Kaeya mused as he took slow deliberate strides toward you. This was going to be a long night.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc oneshot #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #childe x reader #childe smut #tohma x reader #thoma x reader #thoma smut #tohma smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #office au

2K notes · View notes

mrpenguinpants · 4 years ago

Text

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “Lovers”

Aww, thank you 💕💕 All of you are so lovely ;-; Coming out from the bushes and attacking me.

Have you guy’s seen the Childe trailer? It’s in Chinese but holy shit I want him?? Who is Xiao anymore? WHAT ARE LOYALTIES??? I’m gonna ATTEMPT to roll for Childe. I love snake two faced characters so much.

I’ve never written for Childe before and there’s not a lot to go off on but I will try my best. Honestly, he’s like Dazai 2.0 for me lol.

I’m not sure what scenario you wanted but since I’m hard simping for this man, I made this a lot a bit self indulgent. I actually had a completely different idea so that’s where the enemies to lovers title comes from before I scrapped it. Now if you’ll excuse me, here’s your 2k words of food.

Update: Guess what? You’re getting a part 2. Don’t know when but now I have a taglist if you want to be added and tagged when it comes out

---

Childe/Tartaglia: “Enemies” to “[Lovers]”

Childe silently hops over the wall and onto the roof in the dead of night. The moon was shining high, casting dark shadows that he slips in between them as he eyes his destination. An open window leading to an important personnel. Usually, he would send an agent to observe, but once he learned who this secret person was, he decided to take it into his own hands. To stretch his muscles a bit. His hand quickly caught the edge of the window sill as he raises himself and drops into the spacious room. He whistles lowly as he looks around. This was a big room but it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering who was staying here.

“Thank you, have a good night.”

His head perks up as he hears a voice and steps into the shadows of the room. He can faintly make out an outline of a body behind the sliding doors and stands back, out of sight. He watches as the doors slowly open and the person he’s been looking for steps in. One of the leaders of the Qixing. As soon as the door’s close behind you, your shoulder’s finally relaxed before turning around to walk to the other end of the room where a large mirror was placed. You loosen the pin holding your clothes up, finally ready to get rid of these heavy clothes. He quickly averts his eyes but your voice once again breaks the silence.

“Do you make it a habit of watching others without their knowledge or are you going to say something?” you ask as you turn around as your eyes roam around what appeared to be an empty room. He weighs his options before shrugging and stepping out into the moonlight with his arms raised in mock surrender.

“I swear I would look away. I’m a bad guy but I’m not one of those types. I promise!” He laughs casually despite the circumstance, “I’m surprised you noticed me. But I suppose one of the Qixing would be capable of such an act.”

“Oh no, you were perfect. You just came at a bad time. But who are you? You don’t act like an agent” you eyed him carefully as you fiddled with your pin.

“I’m Childe, one of the Fatui’s Eleven Harbingers,” he replies giving a mock bow in your direction. He watches your reaction to see if you’ll panic and call for the Millelith. Instead, you simply nod along and you’ve stopped fiddling with the pin on your clothing.

“Ah, I’ve met a few of you Harbingers. You don’t look like one” you remarked as you turn around once again to finally undo the pin. Childe quickly turns his gaze away as you settle the heavy clothes on the table to fold. You pull your inner clothes closer to yourself to keep warm in the chilly room.

“I’m a bit too young to see their way of thinking. So I don’t fit in well with them,” he shrugs unbothered. He’s never liked the other Harbingers anyways, “I wasn’t aware that the Qixing had other leaders present.”

“Well, the Qixing prefer to keep things somewhat discreet-”

“Yaoguang? Is everything alright? We heard voices,” one of the Millelith cuts you off as both Childe and your eyes dart to the paper screen door. Childe steps silently towards the window sill, ready to escape if needed. He would have to do a lot of unnecessary explaining if he were caught and the Qixing were already suspicious of the Fatui.

“Yes, I’m alright. I haven’t heard anything at all. Are you sure you are alright? Maybe you should rest,” you quickly walk to the door and slide it open just enough for the Millelith to see your face. The Millelith shakes his head and quietly apologizes for disturbing you before leaving.

“That looks like my cue to go, it’s getting pretty late anyway,” Childe smiles as he ducks under the window sill and gives a small wave back to you.

“Have a good night Childe.”

“You too, Yaoguang.”

---

“Don’t you think the Qixing are a bit too secretive?”

You turn around to see Childe sitting on the window sill as he ponders the thought. His right leg is resting on his left knee as his arm hold’s his chin as he stares at the wall in front of him. You give him a quick once over before going back to what you were doing, polishing your pin.

“Are you sure one of the Fatui should be saying that? Your organization plays with deceit and trickery” you laugh quietly to yourself as you place your pin in a old wooden box. It looked out of place in the room with the crude drawings and chipped paint, but Childe thought it suited you.

“Hey, I don’t agree with those methods at least! I’m here in front of you, aren’t I? But what about you? Aren’t you keeping me a secret from the Qixing?” he grins mischievously as he directs his attention onto you. Your back to still to him but he can watch your face in the reflection of the mirror. He’s not sure if he should commend you on your relaxed expression or the fact that he could easily kill you with your back turned.

“Mm, perhaps. But I enjoy this. You may not believe me but I think of you as a friend Childe. A personal secret of mine.” you say amused as you look up into the reflection of the mirror and manage to catch his surprised expression before it disappears.

“A friend? We’ve barely known each other,” he looked at you incredulously but with a wry smile, “I might seem nice but I’m still a bad guy.”

“A lot of people in Liyue don’t appear as they seem. But I don’t consider all of them as bad people. Don’t you think so Childe?”

He doesn’t say anything. You never mention it again.

---

“I have a younger sister who is an astrologist,” you say as you’re lying back on the bed while he sits on the window sill, “she’s the one that gave me this pin except her pin is red with the star and moon.”

You held the pin up for him to take and look for himself. He slips off the window sill and walks to your lying figure to take hold of it. It was a blue pin with a star in the center and the sun’s rays lining the edges of the rim. It was a bit worn but it was in incredibly good condition. He’s seen how you look at the pin so he’s not surprised.

“Astrology huh? Aren’t you Qixing named after the Big Dipper’s stars?” he asks as he hands the pin back to you and watches your eyes take a childlike gleam. He huffs a bit amused under his breath, you always seem to get like this whenever he let’s you ramble about stars.

“Yes, Yaoguang is translated from the Alkaid star. Alkaid derives from the Arabic phrase meaning "The leader of the daughters of the bier". The daughters of the bier are the three stars of the handle of the Big Dipper, Alkaid, Mizar, and Alioth. While the four stars of the bowl, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, and Dubhe, are the bie,” you ramble on making different gesture as you continue your mini lecture, “Tianquan and Yuheng are the stars Megrez and Alioth. They are here in Liyue too but Tianquan will be the one that preforms the Rite of Descension. It feels as if I’m attending my sister’s talent show even if Tianquan is older than me.”

“Hm, I’ve never looked into studying the stars. I’m more of a fighter,” Childe comments as he hears you laugh that you’re not surprised. He looks towards the moon and see’s it’s his time to leave. You give him a small wave as he starts back to the window sill before giving a small comment over his shoulder.

“You know I also have a younger sister.”

“Is she aware of what you do Childe?”

“No, of course not. Does your sister know what you do?”

“No, she doesn’t know either.”

---

“Can I see your mask?”

He unstraps it from his head and hands it to you as he watches you run your finger around the intricate details before moving it over your face. You’re both seated on the bed this time beside each other.

“I don’t understand how you can fight wearing this,” you say as you squint your eyes through the opening of the mask. He chuckles softly at the weird expression before plucking his mask out of your hands.

“Hm? I thought the Qixing were capable fighters?” he asks as he reattaches the mask to the side of his head. He rest’s his chin back onto his hand and settles back into his comfortable position.

“Yes, Tianquan uses the geo element while Yuheng uses electro,” you list off on one hand.

“What do you use?” he asks.

“Who knows” you answer.

He pouts a bit which you have to stifle your laugh at. It’s somewhat amazing how far he’s gone with this. He’s pretty busy managing business behind the scenes and getting on friendly terms with that funeral parlor man, Zhongli was it? Yet, he finds himself back here whenever he get’s a free night.

“I’m sorry for laughing but I never thought you could make such an expression. But I’m being honest. I can’t use a vision so I don’t know,” you shrug as you lie back down and close your eyes. Childe nods along even though you can’t see him. He had always thought the pin you carried was your vision until you let him hold it for himself.

“If you joined the Fatui. We could give you a vision,” he says as his gaze almost pierces through you but you continue to look unbothered. Your eye’s still remained peacefully closed.

“It’s the night before the Rite of Descension. It will be a busy day so you should get some rest before then Childe”

---

It was the day of the Rite of Descension and he had yet to see you. He knew you would be observing but wouldn’t you at least be at a vantage point where you could view the entire ritual?

“Excuse me, have you seen the Yaoguang?” he asks one of the Qixing attendants but she only looks at him confused. He’s not that surprised about that either.

“Yaoguang? I’m sorry but that leader isn’t here in Liyue right now. Did you mean to ask for Tianquan Lady Ningguang perhaps?” she attempts to correct as she gestures to the middle of the stage, where the white haired woman was standing.

“Yaoguang isn’t here? They haven’t appeared at all these past few weeks for the Rite of Descension to observe?” he asks again but the lady shook her head as he chuckled. So not even people closest to the Qixing knew that one of their leaders was being impersonated.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I meant for Tianquan Ningguang. Sorry, these star names are a bit hard to wrap my head around” he laughs it off before walking away before the lady has time to respond.

“She is busy preparing for the Rite of Descension so she won’t be seeing anyone anytime soon. Perhaps after the ceremony if it’s urgent?” she still calls out to him before going back to her responsibilities.

Tartaglia nods as he waves goodbye before continuing on. He never cared for the Rite of Descension but maybe today will be interesting. He spots two familiar faces in the crowd trying to get to the front to see the Rite of Descension. They seem to be friends. He laughs to himself as he reminisces all your past interactions with him. He’ll find out sooner or later who this mysterious Yaoguang impersonator is. After all, the walls have ears.

---

Part 2 perhaps? Depends on the feedback I get on this. I read about the big dipper for this fic.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe imagine #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #childe headcanons #childe imagines

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scuttling · 4 years ago

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Heatwave

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 2,854 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Temperature play, Oral sex, Dom/sub, Unprotected sex, Hand jobs, Sex toys, Thirsty Hotch Summary: The East Coast is currently experiencing a heatwave, and so is Aaron Hotchner.

The East Coast is currently experiencing a heatwave, and so is Aaron Hotchner.

Temperatures are in the nineties in the daytime, seventies at night, and Sophie has taken to wearing the shortest shorts and skirts anywhere she can get away with it—tight spandex shorts at the park, black denim skirt at the bar, pretty embroidered shorts when they go out on a date, high-waisted pajama shorts around the house… Even the cocktail dress she wears when he takes her out to dinner is absolutely minuscule. (He absently wonders if he could get away with fingering her under the table cloth, but he doesn’t want to end up on the nightly news, so he doesn’t test the theory.)

Her hair has been almost exclusively up, too—he knows she’s self-conscious when the humidity makes it frizzy, but he loves it because that’s part of her—and he gets to nip and nibble at her throat more often than usual throughout the day, lick it and bite it in bed… the point is, he’s hot and horny all the time, and according to channel 4, there’s no end in sight.

That night, they eat cold leftover Chinese for dinner because they don’t want to cook anything, heat anything, or touch anything hot, and then they strip down and lay on top of their bed with the fan blowing on them, because even with AC, the bedroom is a nightmare.

That, of course, inevitably leads to sex, because he’s been insatiable, eyes always on her bare, toned legs, which lead up to her perfect ass, which is almost always threatening to peek out of whatever pair of shorts she’s wearing—honestly, he should be commended for even continuing to go to work everyday and not just keeping her home so he can have his way with her 24/7. He’s fairly certain that anyone who’s seen her would understand if he did.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs as she moves on top of him, rubbing her pussy over the length of his dick, her fingertips pressing back against his thighs. She’s very wet, sliding over him easily, and he aches with the urge to lift her up, slip inside, and let her fuck him until she can’t support herself for a second longer, until her thighs quake with effort.

She wants slow, though, this evening, and he’s gotten his way a lot lately, so he just rubs her knees and studies the way her mouth falls open when she grinds against the head.

“Feels so good,” she breathes, rolling her hips, flexing her fingers. One long, curly strand of hair has broken free of her messy bun, and he reaches up to tuck it behind her ear, then runs his palms over her damp throat, her breasts, her stomach, earning a groan. “Feels good but you’re like, 200 degrees,” she says, closing her eyes with a soft laugh.

“Aw, baby’s too hot,” he pouts, teasing her, and she opens her eyes, tilts her head playfully.

“At least the heat is only affecting my body; I’m pretty sure it’s melting your brain.”

He’s pretty sure she’s right, but there are at least one or two good ideas still rattling around in there; he moves his hands to her back, rolls them over, presses her arms down against the bed.

“Be right back. Don’t move.”

When he returns with two glasses—one with ice water, one with ice cubes—she’s lying just where he left her, and her tongue sweeps over her lips at the sight of him.

(Maybe her brain is a little bit melted, after all.)

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” she asks, a little breathless, and he takes a sip of water, grins, leans down for a kiss that makes her shiver. “Mmm. My brilliant man.”

“Even when the rest of my brain is useless, you can rest assured I’ll figure out a way to get you off happily,” he murmurs in her ear, and she grins for him, so sexy.

Since she wants slow, he starts by trailing an ice cube from the inside of her wrist to the inside of her elbow, then up to her shoulder. Her breath hitches, and she looks up at him like she wants to skip the foreplay and be pinned down by him—which he would happily oblige, any other time, but he really wants to watch her squirm.

He slides his ice over her collarbone, then up the long line of her throat; his mouth follows that trail, and she moans, turns her face toward his for a kiss. He repeats it all on her other side—throat, shoulder, arm, wrist—and then pops what’s left into his mouth and leans in for a kiss.

“Think I’m gonna come just from that,” she pants against his lips, and he smirks a little, pleased with himself.

“You can, if you want to, but I’d pace yourself.” She tips her head back, groans, and he nips at her chin.

The next piece of ice is just for teasing: he draws a line down between her breasts, her stomach, but doesn’t slip it over her nipples like he knows she’s aching for. He drags it over her left hip bone, down her thigh, all the way to her foot, and then finishes the circuit along the right side of her body. There’s just a little left, and he sits her up, presses it to her lips, pushes it inside her mouth, and kisses her until it’s gone.

When he pulls back to look into her eyes, it’s clear she’s become completely submissive, without him even trying. His cock is so fucking hard.

He nestles a cube into her bellybutton—her stomach muscles are trembling—and they both just wait, breathing, until the heat of her skin melts it; it drips down her pussy, one long line of icy cold sensation that’s enough to make her shudder and come, clutching at his arm. “Oh, god,” she gasps softly, looking up at him, and he gently presses his lips to hers.

“I’m just getting started, baby girl. I warned you to pace yourself.” He grabs a pillow, lays it behind her back, and guides her against it so she can be a little more comfortable; when she’s settled in, he takes another ice cube, slowly traces it around her breast, drawing a spiral that gets tighter until he’s sliding it over the ridge of her nipple. She moans, loud.

He does the same to the other breast, but rubs the ice roughly back and forth over her straining bud; her knees come up, and her hips move like she’s looking for friction down there, but he’s not ready to give it just yet. He dips down, sucks the nipple into his mouth, and her whole body tenses, and she comes again, body bowing off the bed, gripping his hair tightly in her fist. He could almost get off just looking at her: her open mouth, heaving chest, flushed face, bitten lip. She squeezes her eyes shut, shivers, and he holds her body tightly in his hands.

“Gorgeous girl, that was incredible. So sensitive for me, and you like the cold.” She nods, and he softly kisses at her neck, the sweat at her hairline. “I want one more thing, okay? Can I do one more thing?”

“You... can do anything.” Oh, yeah, that’s one of his absolute favorite phrases. He takes a minute, exhales against her throat, and she shivers again.

He lays her back down, grabs one last piece of ice, and crawls between her legs, drags it over her pubic mound, her clit, slowly between her lips; his other hand gently squeezes her ass, and she swallows, runs a hand over her chest like she’s soothing herself.

“Does that feel good?” She nods, looks a little overwhelmed, but okay, and he rubs the ice over her lips, then glides his tongue along them. Her stomach and pussy are quivering, and he groans, a little overwhelmed himself. He presses the ice to her clit again, slides it down to her soft, slick opening, and rubs it up and down between the two until it melts to nothing. He follows that with his tongue, inserts one finger about halfway inside her, and she grinds against him and comes, quiet and gentle. He sighs, leans up, and roughly jerks his cock, spilling hot onto her pussy and making them both groan.

He snuggles in beside her, pulls her close, and they kiss steamy and sweet, her hands in his hair. A couple days later, he’s sitting on the couch, in his boxers, reading a book, and she comes up behind him, takes it out of his hands, and leans in to nibble his earlobe. It makes for an instant hard-on, and he licks his lips, wonders what she’s got up her sleeve; it’s clear she’s trying to initiate something, but she hasn’t dropped any hints throughout the day, so he’s left curious.

“Are you still hot?” she asks, her voice wrapping around him like a sultry caress, and he thinks dumbly, um, yes, want to feel it? Then he realizes she means temperature-wise, and since it’s their eighth straight day of record highs, he nods his head. “Hmm. Good. Can I try something?” He nods in response to that, too.

She leaves, heads to the kitchen, opens up the fridge or freezer; when she pads back into the room, sinks down beside him on the couch, she’s got a soft ice pack in her hand. She gestures to his boxers.

“Can you take those off for me?” She bites her bottom lip, knows he likes when she looks innocent and slutty at the same time and that that’s a great way to achieve it. He ducks his head to kiss her there, and then does as she asked, pulls them off, sits back with an extremely hard cock at attention for her. Her eyes flick over his body, back up to his face, and she puts her hand on him, pumps her fist a handful of times, making him groan. Then she switches hands, rubs the head with the cold one, and he moans a lot louder than he normally does, his hips twitching up for more.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, and she continues to tug for few seconds before switching back to the warm hand.

“Does that feel good?” He brings her close for a rough, wet kiss that answers her question and then some, and she smiles against his mouth. “I saw this online, thought it was worth trying out. I know you liked teasing me the other day,” she accuses, switching hands without warning and making him grunt in surprise, “so I wanted to reciprocate.”

He leans his head back against the couch, because it does feel really good; the transition from very cold hand to less cold hand to very warm hand—especially now, as she tucks her warm hand under her thigh for extra warmth—is pleasurable, and not knowing when she’s going to switch keeps him on edge, his muscles tense. She scoots closer to him, kisses the bare skin of his arm, since that's really all she can reach, wraps her cold hand around him, and looks down at his lap like she finds his dick fascinating.

He doesn’t know why that’s so arousing—maybe because of his melted heatwave brain, or just because it’s her—but he groans, ready to come; she quickly looks up at his face, then takes her hand off of him and replaces it with her hot mouth, sucking tight until he spills.

Running a hand through his hair, he exhales long, and she touches his body, kisses it; the difference in the temperatures makes him shiver. “You should put that in me while it’s still hard,” she murmurs, pushing down her shorts and panties, and he pulls her into his lap, happy to oblige. “Mmh. I’ll be quick, promise.”

She kisses him, wraps her fingers in his hair, and rides him hard, rubbing her breast through her tank top with the other hand. “God, you’re sexy,” he breathes, and he quickly realizes he should be helping her get off and not just staring at her like a creep; he squeezes her ass, drops a couple of fingers to lazily rub her clit, and she tosses her head back, grinds down on him. “Fuck. Come on my cock, baby girl. It’s all yours.” She rotates her hips faster, leans in for a kiss, and she does come, moaning against his throat and tugging on his hair.

He lays her back on the couch, pulls out, because now that she’s gotten what she needed he’s sensitive, soft; they cuddle very briefly, but then they’re both too hot, so they force themselves up and take a cold shower instead. Saturday night, they each mention a couple things they could go do to get out of the house, but it’s still so fucking stifling that he doesn’t even want to. What’s the point in putting on clothes, suffering, sweating with the rest of the damn city, when they could not do that, and suffer in the comfort of their own home? At least they could be naked, and it’s always good when she’s naked.

(Apparently, the heatwave has made him thirsty. He thinks that sounds too stupid to say out loud, but it’s also probably true.)

Ultimately, they don’t go anywhere, just lounge around the house—Sophie reads, he watches the news halfheartedly, rubs her feet in his lap—until she eventually sighs, drops her book onto the table.

“Do you want to have sex?”

“Yep.”

They’re halfway to the bedroom, her in his arms, when he stops, pivots, and heads for the kitchen. He’d actually planned on something for later, but he forgot all about it when she asked him about the sex. Stupid, melted brain.

“Wrong way, big guy,” she says, laughing, but when he deposits her on the kitchen island and opens the fridge, pulls out the slim glass dildo he’d tucked away for the sake of surprise, she looks serious and turned on instead. “That’s for me, huh?” she says, sounding kind of melted herself, and he kisses her lips, her neck, her breasts, and lays her back on the counter.

“Technically, yes, but it’s also for me, when I get to do this.” He spreads her open with a thumb, presses it inside—it’s chilled, cold to his touch, but it’s got to be an extreme sensation for her when he slides it deep, because she starts moving her hips right away, like she’s desperate for it, even though she’d only suggested sex in the first place because she was bored.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck.” She releases a moan that’s almost a squeak, and her hands scrabble about the counter, knocking a notepad onto the floor, a couple of reusable grocery bags. He moves it inside of her at an easy, steady pace, watches, a little dazed, as she fucks herself on it as well, forcing it deeper than he would have himself. He’s going to have to remember about this one even after the heatwave has passed. “Yeah, oh, yeah.”

It’s not long before she’s coming around it, slamming her hips, squeezing her breast so hard it has to hurt—if the sounds she’s making are any indication, it hurts very good. He pulls it out of her and replaces it with his cock, and she calls his name, so sexy it makes his toes curl. He leans down for a kiss, and she leans up, her hands on his neck so she can keep him close. Both of his palms are flat against the countertop for leverage, and he kisses her, pounds her, and they come within seconds of each other, hips still frantically crashing together until they’re both satisfied, until he’s panting against her lips. She flops back against the counter, and he rests his head on her stomach; her nails feel so good as they scrape over his scalp.

“The weather’s supposed to break soon,” he says a couple of minutes later. The kitchen is the coolest room in the house, and the marble counter doesn’t feel half bad, so they’re making up for lost cuddles, holding each other closely. “Heard it on the news.”

"Aww. That kind of sucks.” He looks up at her like she’s crazy, because she’s been complaining about the heat as much as he has, but she only shrugs. “I’ve liked you being this thirsty for me. It’s hot. Soon, your brain won’t be soupy anymore, and I’ll miss it.” He rolls his eyes, leans up, presses several soft kisses to her face and mouth, and then slides down so his head is between her legs.

“I’ve always been... thirsty for you,” he says with a swipe of his tongue—he can taste them both, and he doesn’t hate it. “And I promise, I always will be.”

She says aww again, but it’s not long before he has her screaming his name.

#aaron hotchner/original female character #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #heatwave #latina original female character

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syndianites · 4 years ago

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A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter Two

Last Chapter --> Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Twenty four hours went by excruciatingly slow for Pollen.

First, she had to wait through the night. Chloe hadn’t unboxed her until late in the day, when the sun was almost gone. That left little time in the day for much interaction with others.

But she didn’t spend this time twiddling her thumbs. She did what research she could. After observing Chloe- who she learned the name of moments after their deal- meander on her phone and laptop for a few hours, she had a dubious grasp on how the current technology worked.

It was quite the adventure.

But after trial and error, she managed to look Chloe up on the internet. (And what a fascinating thing!). The results gave her a basic background; Daughter of the Mayor of Paris, Mother is a renowned expert in the fashion industry, and so on. She seemed clean, for all Pollen could tell.

So she searched her room. Most of what she could see was clearly expensive, from shiny new gadgets to prim and proper clothes. Beyond some Ladybug merchandise- and oh boy was this girl a fan of Ladybug- nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

A sneak around the hotel didn’t reveal much about Chloe, herself, but her parents on the other hand….

What disasters!

Calling their relationship dysfunctional would be a complement. They were completely polarized opposites, and not in the good, healthy way. Her mother was derisive and cruel, refusing to associate with those she believed were below her and didn’t meet her exceptional standards. Her father was, despite his position, a lapdog. He would bend over backwards to please his wife, acting like a doormat.

Together, they were the perfect image of an Evil Queen and her loyal Servant.

It didn’t give Pollen any good feelings about how Chloe herself would act. Would she take after her parents? Or would she be her own person?

Day time did not ease her fears. Chloe was brash and rude, clearly taking after her mother. She didn’t remember anyone’s names, was haughty and snappy towards her staff, and clearly was comfortable acting above everyone else.

Not a good sign at all.

The way she treated her ‘friend’ was yet another bad sign. Just like her mother had her father as a lapdog she, too, had her friend as a lapdog. However, Pollen took note of how she did remember her name. That must count for something, she considered doubtfully.

School was a disaster for Pollen.

Chloe started out just as haughty as she had in the hotel. Somehow, she got worse. Rude to other students, sneering at and belittling them, and outright mean. Treating her ‘friend’ as a servant. Disregarding other’s feelings. Causing chaos in the class.

There was little Pollen saw as redeemable for Chloe. Between her attitude towards those who worked for her and her family and those who she spent most of her time around, acts of kindness were nigh impossible to find.

As they made their way home, Pollen mulled over how to find Ladybug or Master Fu. In theory, she could try and call out to the other kwami, but such an act took a lot of power and could draw the attention of Hawkmoth or worse. She could camp out until Ladybug and Chat Noir had to come out for another akuma, but how would she manage to transport her miraculous across the city without getting snatched by said akuma?

But as Chloe walked into the lobby of the hotel, her mother’s voice caught her attention.

“Clara!” Audrey strutted up to her daughter, typing away at her phone with one hand. “I need you to fetch me something dear.”

‘Clara?’ Pollen mused, ‘Her name’s Chloe.’

Chloe perked up. “Of course mother. And my name’s Chloe. What can I do for you?”

Audrey waved her hand, “Whatever you say, Cindy. I heard that Adrien Agreste, Gabriel’s son, is in your class. I need you to ensure that Gabriel seated me in the correct location this time. The reshoot of the fashion show is today and I will not be in the second row again.”

From where she could just see Chloe from the gap in her purse, Pollen watched her face fall before she straightened back up with a nod. “Of course! Putting you in the second row is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“Yes, yes, now please leave. I have business to attend to Carrie.” Audrey dismissed Chloe with a wave before heading deeper into the hotel.

Chloe, despite being misnamed three times in a row, seemed determined to please her mother. She gripped the handle of her bag tighter before rummaging in it to fish out her phone. Barely looking up, she wandered towards the elevator that would take her to her penthouse suite.

When the doors closed and left Chloe alone in the elevator, Pollen poked her head out of the bag. “Is it often your mother gets your name wrong?”

Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “Yes.” Chloe’s response was short and clipped.

Pollen mulled this response over. Pieces of the puzzle that was Chloe were falling into place. As the doors opened again, Pollen ducked back down into the purse.

Chloe continued to text until a smile lit her face up. “Oh, Adrikins! I can always count on you.”

She skipped into her room, shooting a text to her mother- who didn’t respond- that her seat was guaranteed to be in the front row. Chloe went to toss her bag before remembering that it was occupied and lowering it down on a chair gently.

“Alright, Pollen, how was I? As great as you imagined I would be?” Chloe placed the back of her hand under her chin proudly.

In lieu of an answer, Pollen merely replied,”It hasn’t been twenty four hours yet, Chloe.”

Chloe groaned, grumbling complaints about how her heroic qualities should be obvious by now, but ultimately let it go. They had made a deal, after all.

“Oh,” Chloe said suddenly, “Sabrina will be coming over soon, so you’ll want to hide out for a while.”

A perfect opportunity to see what Chloe was like behind closed doors.

Turns out, she was strangely sweet.

Sabrina and Chloe played together like any teens would; watching shows together, gossiping- albeit in a less than kind way- doing each others’ make-up, and most embarrassingly playing ‘Ladybug and Chat Noir’. Despite herself, Pollen found it endearing.

Still, it was not enough to sway her. Endearing or not, Chloe was not fit for being a superhero.

///////

The fashion show was cute. True to word, Chloe and her family were sat in the front row where Audrey critiqued- quite loudly for such an event- each outfit that came about. A few she praised, but they were few and far between.

When Adrien Agreste appeared, the Style Queen gave an appreciative hum. “What quality craftsmanship. Surely an exceptional designer made that hat.”

It wasn’t until after the show that things went south.

Audrey had approached Adrien and, to many’s surprise, Gabriel Agreste in the flesh to discuss the fashion.

“My dear, it seems you’ve set up yet another exceptional line of clothing. That hat dear Adrien is wearing is quite the gem among them.” Audrey gushed to a polite but stone-faced Gabriel.

“Ah,” Gabriel began, “That hat is not a design of my own.”

Adrien piped up here, “It was actually made by a friend of mine! Marianette,” he called over his shoulder, locking eyes with a shocked dark haired girl. “Come show Audrey this hat you made!”

Nervous and stuttering, Marianette explained the logistics of her hat and its design, from the synthetic feather to the careful craftsmanship. Audrey, a known harsh critic, glowed as she listened.

“Fabulous, my dear!” she crowed, “I simply must see more of your work. How would you like to come to New York with me to design more fashion for a line of mine?”

Pollen, invested in the conversation, was pulled out of it by a shaking sensation. She looked up to see Chloe outright trembling as she pulled her hands into fists.

“Mother! Why would you take her of all people!” Chloe burst out. All eyes turned to her.

“Why, Connie, it’s because she is quite exceptional! I would recognize such talent a country away,” Audrey replied with a dismissive wave.

“So am I!”

A laugh. “Dear, the only exceptional thing about you is your mother.”

Had it not been for the hubbub of people around them, you could have heard a pin drop. Chloe stared resolutely at the floor, teeth grinding together and tears threatening to fall. Marianette, for her part, looked like a deer in headlights, stuck between a sharp drop off a cliff and an incoming car.

“Now Audrey,” Gabriel started, before getting cut off.

“I am exceptional!” Chloe shouted. “I will show you! I’m going to be a super heroine! Just you wait, I’ll be better than this girl will ever be!”

Audrey outright cackled. “Oh honey, keep dreaming. There is not a heroic bone in your body.”

Eyes watering and lips trembling, Chloe turned on a dime and stormed off. Pollen caught Marianette make an aborted move towards her, but was stopped by Adrien putting a hand on her arm.

Fuming and ready to bawl, Chloe bust out the front doors and began running down the sidewalk. For minutes, safely tucked into Chloe’s bag, all Pollen can hear is hard footsteps, people shouting, and Chloe’s heavy breathing.

After hearing doors slam open and closed repeatedly, Chloe and Pollen are left in silence. When Pollen braved a look out the purse, she sees that they have found their way back to the locker room at Chloe’s school. Seeing that they were alone, she moved out into the open.

“Fuck!” Chloe exploded. “How dare she!”

Feeling the rage roiling off Chloe, Pollen rushed to calm her. “Chloe, take a deep breath. Give yourself a minute to let it simmer.”

Icy eyes shot up to look at Pollen. “Take a breath? Let it simmer? Are you kidding! I have done my best to make my mother see I am exceptional, so show her that I am good enough, and what does she do? Invites Dupain-Cheng of all people to go with her to New York.”

Pacing back and forth in front of the benches, Chloe growled. “Do you know when the last time I saw my mother for more than a day was? Years ago! Years, Pollen!” Tears trickled down her cheeks as Chloe caved in on herself. “I’ve done my best to be just like her, to show her I can be great too. Why won’t she ever look at me?”

With a hesitant pause, Pollen reached a paw out to Chloe’s shoulder. “Some people can’t be pleased, Chloe. You shouldn’t base your self worth on the word of another.”

Chloe jerked her shoulder away, turning her back to Pollen. “You don’t understand.”

“My mother left when I was young.” She walked forward towards the door so that she could peer out the window. “I didn’t understand why. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“But,” Chloe continued, “If I can just get her to see that I’m worth staying for, she’ll stay here. Maybe, just maybe, I can convince her to be part of our family again.”

Red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks turned back to Pollen. “It’s just so hard. She hardly cares for me at all.”

A pause. “Pollen?” Chloe bit her lip. “Am I unlovable?”

“Of course not. Chloe, no one is beyond love. Not even the worst of people.” Pollen could feel the tides shifting. Before, she was determined to leave Chloe behind. But now? Her heart ached at the thought of abandoning her.

Chloe starts to say something else, but all Pollen could hear was the flap of wings. Her eyes flicked to behind Chloe to where the locker room door was just set ajar. A delicate butterfly of deep, cracked purple squeezed its way inside.

“Chloe!” Pollen yelled. But it was too late. The butterfly touched down on her white sunglasses and disappeared without a sound.

A sudden blank look came across Chloe’s face. A purple butterfly mask appeared across her eyes. Every part of Pollen screamed that she was in danger. Not just from an akumatized Chloe, but from Hawkmoth knowing that she was with Chloe.

Her eyes darted around the room. She needed to hide. It would be safer for the both of them if she kept herself unknown.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #pollen #pollen (ladybug)#kwami pollen #bee miraculous #bee!chloe #original akuma #shit mom Audrey #im bad at tagging on tumblr #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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imherongraystairstrash · 4 years ago

Note

Hello there you beautfiul blog user and writer! If you are open to accept prompts or to get ideas to future fics may I suggest a fic of lil Christopher Lightwood and when their parents found out he needed some glasses? I love how well you write him

Hello beautiful Anon!! Thank you so much for the request! It's called August for literally no reason whatsoever, btw. Anyway here’s little Kit getting his first pair of distance glasses (as a user of said glasses, I’m drawing from personal experiences).

August

Characters: Christopher Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood & Cecily Lightwood/Herondale

...

“Good, Kit,” Gabriel said from where he was kneeling beside the small boy.

His son smiled up at him with wide, blue eyes—that looked lilac purple in the sunlight—and put down his bow. “Did I get it in the centre?”

“Almo—” Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean? Can’t you see the target?”

Kit squinted his eyes. “A tiny bit. But I can’t see the arrow.”

Gabriel’s confusion grew. “Son,” he said, standing and walking a couple of metres away from where he was standing. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

Gabriel was indeed holding up three fingers. “Hm.” He said. “I guess you couldn’t possibly need new glasses.”

Christopher shrugged.

“Perhaps your current glasses are interfering. Here, take them off.”

Kit obliged. He looked at the arrow and fumbled with the string, trying to see where the arrow’s tail was.

“Papa, I’m getting dizzy.” He said.

“Oh, then never mind, put them back on.” Gabriel said, quickly, not wanting Christopher to get a headache.

Once Kit adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, both of them stood there, thinking about what they should do.

“Can we just continue training?” Kit asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, a relieved smile on his face.

…

“Are you teaching our five-year-old son how to shoot a bow and arrow?” Cecily asked from the doorway, a while later.

Gabriel glanced at her momentarily and nodded.

Cecily leaned her hip against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Is he good?”

“His form is exceptional, but he can’t seem to shoot it to the center.”

“Well,” Cecily said, walking inside and kneeling down beside her son. He did, in fact, have perfect form, something he somehow must have inherited from his father. “He doesn’t have to excel at it.”

“Of course not.” Gabriel said. “I’m just confused.”

Kit shot the arrow and skipped over to the target. “It’s closer!” He said turning to his parents excitedly.

“Wonderfully done, Kit bach,” Cecily said, smiling widely.

Gabriel sighed at how naturally Cecily could speak to their children and encourage them. Whenever he tried it, he felt awkward. Will sometimes teased him at times over how he couldn’t train children. Cecily told him to just treat them as though he were training adolescents or adults, that his children won’t think anything of him being less enthusiastic.

“Why is he walking up to the target?” Cecily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“He says he can’t see it well.”

Cecily craned her head to look at him. “He probably needs glasses.”

“He already has glasses.” Gabriel pointed out.

“Other types of glasses, you nitwit. Ones for long distances. Didn’t that cross your mind?”

“It did! I even checked to see if he needed them.”

“How?”

“I held up some fingers and he could see them just fine.” Gabriel said, defensively.

Cecily gave him the you’re-a-fool face. “Of course he can bloody see your fingers! That’s not a proper test as to whether he can see or not!” she said, exasperated.

“Then how do we test it?” Gabriel asked.

Cecily set Kit’s bow and took hold of his hand, pulling him along. “We leave it to the experts.”

…

He has Myopia as well as Hyperopia. I’d even say he is more nearsighted than farsighted.

“What does that mean?” Gabriel whispered to Cecily.

“I don’t know,” Cecily mouthed.

Brother Jeremiah looked into Christopher’s eyes, and Gabriel had the urge to go to his son and spare him the sight. Christopher shifted from where he was sitting, trying to look at his parents. Jeremiah put a hand on his chin to keep his gaze on him, so that he could see his eyes better. Cecily took Gabriel’s hand as if to say, calm down; he’ll be alright.

Gabriel squeezed it back and watched as Jeremiah closed the lids of Kit’s eyes and hovered his fingers over them.

He must have told Kit to open his eyes, because suddenly they flew open.

Gabriel didn’t understand the procedure The Brothers used for checking eyesight. All he knew was that after a while, Brother Jeremiah took Kit’s glasses and turned to Gabriel and Cecily, waiting for one of them to follow him.

Cecily used Gabriel’s knee to get up and went with Brother Jeremiah to get the glasses fixed while Gabriel stayed with Christopher.

Gabriel walked over to his son and sat down next to him.

“Well, son, I’ll admit that I have no idea what’s wrong with your glasses.” He said with a half smile.

“I can’t see far away.” Kit said. “Myopia means my eyes are curved differently, so they can’t focus the light normally. So, I can’t see from far away as well as up close.”

Gabriel turned to him, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“Uncle Henry explained it to me.” He said, shrugging. “I wanted to know why I needed glasses in the first place.”

Gabriel ruffled his hair. “You always know the right questions to ask, don’t you, ducks?”

He didn’t know how he ended up with a son like Christopher, who had such a sharp mind at so young. The reason as to why some people needed glasses had never crossed his mind, but Kit’s mind seemed to always be working, questioning why things and people were the way they were. Some people thought that Christopher was absent-minded, but Gabriel knew that it was because his brain was constantly working, not engaging in the current conversation, because it paled in comparison to what he was thinking about, or because there were too many things going on at once.

He looked at his son, who was looking up at him with wide eyes and his head tilted to the side. He looked like his beautiful mother in that small gesture.

“Can you even see me?” Gabriel asked, with a smile.

“Not really. You’re a little blurry.”

“Blurry.”

“A Papa-looking blur.”

Gabriel laughed out loud as Cecily came inside.

“We’re in luck,” She announced. “The Brother’s have temporary glasses with Christopher’s exact prescription that he can use while his are being fixed.” She came over with said glasses and carefully put them on Kit.

They immediately slipped down his nose.

“I think they’re a bit too big.” Gabriel said.

“Well, it’s that or he doesn’t see.” Cecily said, laughing.

…

“Do you like Kit’s temporary glasses, Cecy?” Gabriel asked, knowing perfectly well that she adored them.

“He is the most adorable little thing that’s walked the planet.” Cecily said, glancing at Christopher, who was lagging a bit behind them, staring at the witchlight stones as they passed by them, walking out of the Basilias.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Gabriel said, opening the doors for the others to go out, “next week he gets his actual glasses back.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cecily said mournfully.

Gabriel held out his hand for Christopher to take, and was surprised when he didn’t take it.

Gabriel looked down and realized that he wasn’t even there. “Kit?” he asked.

Cecily and Gabriel both stopped and turned around. Christopher stood frozen a couple of steps behind them, his jaw hanging open as he stared up at the trees.

“What’s the matter, Kit?” Cecily asked.

“I can see each individual leaf.” He mumbled. “If I wanted to, I could count them all!” He looked up at his mother with a huge grin on his face.

Cecily had always had a soft spot for her son, but with the oversized frames on his small head, the bridge slipping down his nose occasionally, Cecily felt her heart melting.��

“You could,” she said, holding out a hand for him to take. “But then you’d miss all of the other beautiful things you can now see.”

Christopher took her hand, casting a long look at the tree before following her.

There was a slight skip to his step as he looked around, taking in the world, his gaze always returning to the trees, which seemed to be the most fascinating revelation.

“Are you going to go back home and practice archery with your father?” Cecily asked.

Kit nodded happily.

Cecily didn’t think Gabriel really understood that Kit only really liked archery because it was time he could spend with his father. He was always nervous in anything that had to do with fatherhood, terrified that he’d end up like Benedict.

Cecily had told him time and time again that his children will love him unconditionally, unless he gave them reason not to, but she also knew that it was hard for Gabriel. His relationship with his father was a mixture of love and abuse, the line between the two becoming so unnoticeable, that Gabriel had a hard time telling the difference.

Cecily had faith in him, however. Especially as she looked at Gabriel and Kit in front of her, the latter sitting on the former’s shoulders, taking his glasses on and off, comparing the way he could see without glasses and the way he could see with them on.

Christopher turned around. “Mama, I can see the entire world!” He held his arms out wide, a wide grin on his face, as though he were presenting its beauty.

Cecily laughed and put a hand on his back, “Yes, bach, the world is a beautiful place, isn’t it?” She looked at Gabriel. He took her hand, kissing the back of it and let their interlaced hands swing between them as they walked back home.

...

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir ��@youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#christopher lightwood #gabriel lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily x gabriel #tsc #gabrily #tlh #tlh fanfiction #tid #tid fanfiction #tsc fanfiction

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some-kindofgnome · 5 years ago

Text

Kinktober #13: can we always be this close? - Mirio Togata

In which you and Mirio spend a very romantic birthday evening together.

Characters: Mirio Togata / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) Quirkless Mirio, aged up characters, fluffy smut, fluffy fluff, this is tooth-achingly syrupy, with the barest edge of heartfelt angst. Boxed-birthday cake sweet.

Notes: It’s my birthday today. This is extremely feelsy and self-indulgent. I offer no apology.

Title inspired by this song.

Kinktober Masterlist

“Are you almost ready? Seriously gonna explode out here.”

You’re putting the last finishing touches on your hair as Mirio knocks on the bathroom door. Bless his heart, he’s been nice enough to give you full reign of the bathroom for the last hour and a half for the sake of your big reveal when you’re finally ready to go.

But you know Mirio well- big heart, small bladder.

“I’m coming!” You promise. “Thirty seconds and I’m outta here.” You take one last spritz of hairspray through your style, tousling the strands gently with your fingers. Then you unplug your styling tools, smooth on your favourite lipstick (the one that makes you look ‘the most kissable,’ according to Mirio) and pivot toward the door.

Your fingers hover over the handle for an instant. You take a deep breath.

When you pull the door open, Mirio’s standing directly on the other side of it. He looks polished as hell in a pair of well-fitting dark wash jeans and a turtleneck sweater that you bought him last winter. Your heart goes squish as you brace one hand in the frame of the door and watch his expression light at the sight of you.

“Aw, man,” he hums. His eyelashes flick downward as he takes you in. You’re dressed in the same fashion that he is- casual but polished, in a way that makes you feel the most comfortable and beautiful in your own skin.

“You sure it’s not my birthday?” He reaches for you, pulling you closer by the wrist. “’Cause lemme tell ya, that was worth waiting for.” He leans down and goes for a kiss, ducking sideways at the last moment to catch the corner of your mouth instead.

“Get in there,” you giggle, gently brushing past him and ushering him into the bathroom. “I’m hungry.”

Tonight’s dinner is something that Mirio insisted on. While the company you work for normally gives you a day off for your birthday, this year, yours happened to fall in the middle of the week. You decided to defer your day off until Friday, giving you a long weekend to enjoy instead. It means you still had to work on the actual day, but… you don’t mind. Not when Mirio’s been treating you like a princess from the moment you woke up.

He even stopped by your office earlier to drop off your favourite takeout for lunch. All your coworkers know him- he visits you at work a lot- and they’re completely smitten. You can’t help but adore how likeable he is, even if it tries your envious nerve every once in a while.

Your friends joke that he’s more like a golden retriever than a partner. But you know it goes both ways. You would do anything in the world for him.

You hold hands on the train like a new couple all over again, leaning against the doors and kissing between stops. You don’t care who sees. Mirio’s thrilled to be getting away with so much PDA. And when your stop finally comes up, you’re still grinning as you tug him onto the platform.

He takes you to your favourite restaurant, a ramen place downtown. You get potato dashi ramen, which comes with chewy egg noodles and a scoop of sour cream. It’s like a baked potato in a bowl of noodles. You know it’s not exactly the romantic evening that most couples would have planned, but there’s nothing that brings you more joy than cozying up in a little table by the window and slurping away on hot broth and noodles with Mirio smiling across at you.

As you’re finishing up, a slice of white chocolate cheesecake with a sparkler (and two forks) comes to your table. Mirio swears he had nothing to do with it, but he adores embarrassing you on your birthday. And the sparkle behind his navy gaze is a dead giveaway.

It’s not until after you’ve both scraped the plate clean and you’re holding hands across the table that you decide to forgive him.

He’s brushing his thumb over your ring finger, toying back and forth with the sparkly diamond that sits there.

“Y’know,” he muses, “I was actually planning on saving that for tonight.”

You’re resting your chin in your other hand, but that doesn’t stop you from grinning. “Really?”

He nods, licking his lips to hide an indulgent smile. “I carried that thing around in my pocket for weeks. But then, when you said there was gonna be an eclipse…” He trails off and shrugs, smiling brighter. “It’s like it all fell into place.”

A couple of weeks ago, the moon fell into the Earth’s shadow for the first time in years. It was a beautiful clear night and just warm enough that the two of you could climb to the roof of your apartment building and huddle together under a couple of blankets.

It was there, under the dim glow of the eclipsed moon, that he’d dropped to one knee and promised you forever. To you, it was a complete surprise.

You’re still moony about it now. If you close your eyes, you can picture every single detail. But when you open them again, the look on Mirio’s face is not so different as he admires you across the table.

“It was perfect,” you told him. “That night was perfect.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your ring. “C’mon,” he mumbles. “Let’s get outta here.”

He takes you home and skirts you in the front door. Your apartment is still dark when he strokes your cheeks and kisses you, lingering and sweet in the hallway.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers to you, soft and vulnerable in the low light.

“I love you,” you murmur, holding him tight. He gets like this sometimes. He’s lost so much, it’s easy to imagine you slipping through his fingers, too. You know he’s trying hard not to let it show tonight but you’re not about to let that stop you. You reach for him, cupping his cheek and pulling his shadowy gaze to yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he huffs, stealing another kiss as he scoops you into his arms. He whisks you into the bedroom, laying you across the sheets. He flicks on the lamp by your bedside and it casts a warm blanket of light across your body.

His weight descends on top of you and you catch yourself thinking if this is it, if nothing comes after this life with him, I’ll be okay.

He strips you down, piece by piece, kissing every inch of the skin he’s exposing. Every moment you spend together feels precious- you’ve both been reminded, time and time again, how quickly it can all be stolen from you. Not this, you pray when the night is at its darkest, take anything, but let me have him.

“Let me love you,” he whispers to you, sliding down your bare body, “with everything I have tonight.”

He loops his arms under your thighs, nuzzling the soft skin where your leg joins your body. His eyes stray to your face as he licks up your slit. He watches you sigh, watches you shiver, watches you fall.

But he’s always there to catch you.

He licks until you’re begging him to stop and comes back to you bare. His body is strong and sculpted but scarred, serving as a solemn reminder of the life he was forced to give up. Just another dream that had been stolen from him.

But you, the life that you’re capable of building together- that’s become his new dream. He’s promised to love you completely. He wants to raise your children. He wants to build you a home. Maybe he’ll never save a million souls, but if he can bring you happiness, if he can be good for you, that’ll be enough.

When you’re finally ready for him, he keeps his body as close to yours as possible while he pushes inside you. One of his hands grips your thigh, but the other is intertwined with yours, smoothing across the bedsheets as his thumb strokes your knuckles.

He’s steady and strong, but tender as a lamb, whispering his love for you as he fucks you slow and rhythmic. You clutch at his back and grab his ass, urging his rhythm forward. But he keeps it easy until he can’t take it anymore.

And when he breaks, he breaks hard.

He thrusts into you with a brutal rhythm, letting all the words die between you. The harsh breath that you share is punctuated by the slap of his thighs against yours. He slips a hand between your bodies, driving you to the edge one more time- whimpering and sighing and quivering through your climax- before he can’t hold out and slips into ecstasy alongside you.

When he loses himself against you, you hold him tight and savour every moment. The tremor of his thighs against yours. The way his voice jumps from his chest to his throat as his expression scrunches into one of sheer ecstasy. The spill of sloppy warmth inside you-sinfully satisfying. But more precious than anything is the way that he collapses on top of you and peppers slow, sweaty kisses across your skin before he’s ready to pull out.

When he finally rolls off of you, you’re quick to shift onto your side, reaching for him. You wind your arms around one another, and he draws you in close, letting you rest your chin on top of his head as your legs tangle.

“Happy Birthday,” he mumbles into your neck, for only the dozenth time that day. You close your eyes and try to suppress your laugh, but you know he can feel it vibrating in your chest.

“What a time to remind me,” you tease. “I’m getting old.”

“Oh!” He bolts upright, suddenly alert. “Your present, baby.”

“No way. Give it to me tomorrow,” you hum. “I’m not letting you out of bed.”

“But…” He turns back to you, pouting. “I can’t give it to you a day late. That’s like… like I missed it.”

“How about…” you trail off, “I open it first thing in the morning. You’ll know and I’ll know. Nobody else will. Please? I’m so comfy.”

Satisfied, he settles down again. This time it’s your head he tucks under his chin, kissing the top of your head.

Later that night, moments from sleep, you feel him stir in your arms. He kisses your head again, wraps his fingers gently around your palm. You don’t move.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers to you. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, y’know that?”

You drop off a few minutes later in total peace. It’s not something you ever thought you would have, but… with him, it comes as easy as the morning.

#mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #mirio x you #mirio togata x you #kinktober #mirio togata #lemillion #my hero academia #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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katelyn--renee · 4 years ago

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Out of the Fire (Part two)

Title: Out Of The Fire (Part two)

Fandom: Supernatural AU

Main Characters series: Reader, Lieutenant Firefighter!Dean Winchester, Lawyer!Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester (Moore), Nurse!Lisa Braeden (Formerly Winchester), Ben Braeden-Winchester, Harper Winchester (OFC), Charlie Bradbury, Firefighter!Benny Lafitte, Firefighter!Jo Harvelle, Firefighter!Castiel Novak, Claire Novak, Mechanic!John Winchester, Firefighter Captain!Ellen Harvelle, Mechanic!Bobby Singer, Doctor!Arthur Ketch, Nick Vaught and many more!

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventual), Dean x Lisa (past), Reader x Nick (past), Lisa x Ketch (current), Sam x Jessica (current)

Word count: ±2200 words

Series summary: A slow burn romance. Reader is trying to get away from her troubled past and start fresh; a new name, new town, new friends, and a new job. A clean slate. After years of planning and saving, she is able to open her own business. With the help of her best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury, and her new flirty firefighter friend, she is hopeful, even when disaster strikes and her past threatens to catch up with her years later.

Part two summary: Flashback to when you first met your green eyed hero and their budding romance.

Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fire or mentions of fire, fluff (so much fluff), angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, alcohol abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of domestic abuse (physical, verbal), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of adultery/cheating, mentions of death, dangerous or life threatening situations, stress, descriptions of injuries, blood, hospital scenes, character death.

Author’s note: Here is part two! I hope you enjoy this chapter and all it’s fluffy goodness! :)

A special thank you to @that-one-gay-girl and @deanwanddamons for being the wonderful beta’s that you are! Your feedback is always appreciated! Check out their awesome work and spread some love!

All graphics and dividers done by me! :)

If you like this story, please don’t hesitate to leave a like, comment and if you’re feeling extra generous, share! Your feedback gives me live and motivation! If you would like to be tagged in the series, please don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you and let’s enjoy this ride together!

<<-- Read part one, here!

Out of the Fire Masterlist!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

About five weeks ago.

The shop was busier than usual, but being the final days of summer, it was expected. It wasn't anything you or Charlie couldn't handle, of course, but it sure did make for long days and even longer nights of cleanup.

"Charlie, table two needs refills, table six never got their vanilla lattes, and table four is ready to pay." You announced as you joined your partner behind the counter with a handful of dirty mugs and plates, having just made one of many rounds through the seating area.

The two of you danced around each other gracefully, moving in harmony as you switched from one task to another. “On it.” She acknowledged, already preparing the missing drinks and throwing in a complimentary pastry for the mistake.

You set the pile of dishes down into the sink before turning to the next customer in line, flashing him a friendly smile. “Yes, hi, how can I help you?” You greeted urgently, looking up to meet a set of stunning green eyes. You faltered slightly, taken by surprise by his strikingly good looks.

He smiled, almost bashfully, as he began to place his order, seeming not to notice your hesitation. “A round of coffees, black, for me and my buddies ,” He motioned toward the booth near the large bay window which was occupied by three other bodies; two men and one woman, all of whom adorned matching uniforms. “Cream and sugar on the side. Oh, uh, larges… or eh, talls?” He added with a sheepish chuckle, clearly unfamiliar with the coffee house lingo.

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from smiling more and potentially embarrassing him. “Venti.” You corrected him playfully. You saw the confused look on his face, his head cocking like a confused puppy, before adding, “For our ‘large,’”

You used air quotes to emphasize your point, rolling your eyes at the technical terminology. “It’s venti.” You saw it the moment he understood what you were telling him, and he chuckled again, not missing the way he ducked his head to hide the slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“Never too old to learn something new.” He chuckled again and winked at you, the gesture setting butterflies loose inside of your stomach. It was your turn to look away this time, your face hot with a blush. He fished his wallet from his dark blue cargo pants, looking at the assortment of baked goods.

“Throw in a few of those bagels and croissants, too, please.” He added, casting his gaze down at the display case once again. “Oh, and a piece of that cherry pie.” He added almost dreamily, pulling out a couple of twenties.

Upon further inspection, you took notice of the soot and ash that dirtied his face and darkened his hair in certain places. He had dark circles under his gorgeous eyes, too, clearly exhausted after a long shift. You glanced in the direction of his crew members, finding much of the same. “Long night?” You asked, trying to be friendly as much as you were curious.

“I look that rough, huh?” He teased, a look of mock offense accompanying his handsome features.

You shook your head, a smile still curving your lips at the corners, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You clarified hastily as you calculated his order into the register, making a point to leave off the coffees; it was the least you could do for him… eh, them, right?

He winked again and laughed, the sound deep in his chest, assuring you that he was only teasing. “I know you didn’t,” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, watching your face and the way you tried to suppress your smile. “How much do I owe you, sweetheart?” He asked, glancing down at the display screen.

The term of endearment made your heart flutter slightly, and you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto your face again. You swallowed the feeling down, pressing the enter key before you read aloud his total.

“That’ll be $19.94, Mr. Firefighter.” He rose a questioning brow at the total, glancing up at the menu prices. “Coffee’s on the house.” You added quickly with a closed-lip smile, your eyes sincere. “It’s the least I can do for your services.”

Several emotions seemed to make their way across his face, contorting it briefly before settling on gratitude. “Thank you.” He said, his voice genuine. He held out one of the twenty-dollar bills, paying for his order. “That was really kind of you, truly.” He smiled softly, glancing down at the name tag attached to your apron. “(Y/N).”

A smile formed on your lips before you could stop it, and your cheeks flushed at the way he said your name, your eyes finding the name embroidered onto the left side of his dark blue button-up shirt, opposite of a silver badge over his heart. Red patches were on either sleeve, proudly showing off the station they serve. “It’s no trouble, Lieutenant Winchester...” You promised with a sly smile.

He laughed, appreciating your observation. “Dean.” He insisted as you accepted the bill. Your fingers touched, brushing against each other softly. The touch, however slight, was like an electric shock, igniting every part of your body.

There was an annoyed grunt behind the firefighter, but the two of you paid little attention to it. You put the money into the till and collected his change, but Dean insisted that he didn’t need it. He walked backwards to his table, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth. The two of you couldn’t seem to stop watching each other, nor did you want to, silently flirting with your eyes.

You giggled when he bumped into an unoccupied table, watching as he almost knocked over its contents and awkwardly fumbled with the accompanying chair that nearly fell over. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled self-consciously, trying to conceal his embarrassment. He ducked his head when he got back to his table, his friends giving him a hard time.

He hid his face in his palms as a dark-haired man with scruff and blue eyes clapped a hand against Dean’s shoulder, booming with laughter. “Smooth,” You heard the blonde female tease, snickering at her partner. You watched them as you gathered up their order, blushing when you caught him stealing a few glances your way. When finished, you brought their order out to them personally, earning you another wink from the fireman.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur, unable to get those emerald eyes out of your head. Charlie had seemed to notice your distraction and, in perfect Charlie fashion, commented on it as you were closing up shop. “That fireman sure left his mark on you, huh?” She teased, a knowing smile drawing her lips up.

You scoffed at her and tried to play it off like you didn’t know what she was talking about… and failing. “W-What? No - No, I - Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlie.” You muttered, locking the doors and placing the keys into your pocket.

She looked skeptical and cocked her hip, propping a hand there. “Uh-huh, sure.” She stated, waving her hands. “And I’m not the Queen of Mordor.” She said sarcastically, “Oh wait, I am.” She said exaggeratedly with her hands thrown in the air, referencing her extracurricular activity of LARPing.

You rolled your eyes fondly at your best friend; she’d dragged you along to her LARPing weekends on more than one occasion, and you’d humored her, going along with it because it made Charlie happy. “You can’t fool me, sista, now spill the beans.” She insisted, following behind you with the broom as the pair of you cleaned up.

You sighed, wiping down one of the tables and the chairs that joined it, already knowing that you wouldn't win this battle against the feisty redhead. “I don’t know…” You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought about the encounter. “I can't explain it, I don’t know how to explain it… but there was just something about him… y'know?" You recalled, picking up one of the chairs and putting it on the table. "I just… I can’t quite put my finger on it…"

Charlie giggled, "Bet you wish you could." She teased, clearly hinting at more than she said. You gasped and feigned innocence, throwing the towel at her. Charlie laughed more, catching the soiled cleaning cloth before it collided with her face. "Oh, come on (Y/N)! I know that look in a woman's eye. I’ve seen it dozens of times! You want him. Bad!"

She threw the cloth back, and you caught it with ease. "Jeez, you make me sound so desperate." You grumbled, not denying Charlie's observation, despite the dramatics.

Charlie hadn't missed a beat, and she grinned, a cocky sparkle in her eyes. "So you do like him." She chimed accusingly, clearly happy to be right.

You rolled your eyes again, moving onto the next table as Charlie continued sweeping under the one you'd just cleared. "Okay. Yeah, fine." You admitted, "I thought he was cute and charming and sexy in that uniform,"

Charlie made an ‘I-knew-it’ face, but you continued before she could make a sly remark, "But it doesn't matter. It's not like I'm ever gonna see him again." You stated with a reluctant sigh, spraying down the next table with the cleaning agent, trying to hide the disappointment lingering in your voice. You began to scrub at a stubborn spot on the table, trying to distract yourself.

Charlie frowned sadly, reading into your mood, and leaned the broom down against the table before closing the space between you. "I'm sorry for being pushy. It's just that you work all the time. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?" You were about to answer when she held up a finger, "Other than this café. This doesn't count, this is work."

She had a point. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done anything that didn't involve this little shop. "Exactly. I just wanna see you have some fun and that," She thumbed over her shoulder toward the door, referring to Dean, "was fun." You chuckled softly, your cheeks getting warm at the thought.

"You deserve to live a little,” She put her arms on your shoulders and squeezed affectionately, “Especially after what that snake put you through." You frowned at the reminder, dread coiling inside of your stomach and a frown pulled at your lips at the mention of your ex, Nick.

Like always, Charlie didn’t let you get too lost in your thoughts, "And who knows, maybe he has an equally attractive sister for me." She added with a playful shrug and a giggle, effectively distracting you. "Fate works in mysterious ways, sista; you never know what she might throw your way." She added mysteriously, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect.

As it turns out, Charlie was right. Fate did work in mysterious ways because, in the weeks that followed, Dean continued to show up, sometimes with his crew, but mostly by himself. The times he showed up varied, depending on his work scheduled, which you soon noticed was quite busy. Regardless of the hour, he always showed.

It wasn't long before you memorized his order by heart; a venti coffee, black, and a slice of pie; whichever flavor was baked for the day's special. The flavor never seemed to be an issue for the firefighter, but it didn’t take you long to realize that cherry was clearly his favorite, with pecan a close second.

The pair of you flirted and subtly got to know each other as time went on, teetering somewhere between acquaintances and friends. He’d flirt. You’d flirt. But it never went any further than that.

Charlie teased you about it the whole time, of course. She wouldn’t be your best friend if she hadn’t. You’d just roll your eyes or shake your head every time she’d urge you to "grow a pair and ask him out already."

You wanted to. Of course, you wanted to; you’d be an idiot not to want that.

But you didn't, of course, because you were too embarrassed and too afraid to act on your feelings. You'd done that once before already, and you paid one hell of a price for it. Hell, in a way, you still were. Nick left such a nasty scar on your heart; you weren't sure if you could ever love again. You were in a constant state of fear, afraid of being hurt again.

Charlie, being the wonderful best friend that she is, always tried to remind you that love… true love… would never hurt you. That real love was the stuff of magic and fairy tales. That what you had with Nick wasn’t love. It helped, a little, but that fear never truly went away, you just sort of learned to live with it.

Maybe someday you’ll feel differently.

And there you have it. Part two is complete. I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I did. Awkward/adorable Dean is one of my favs. Haha.

As always, thanks for reading!

Read part three, here! -->>

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278

Out of the Fire (series)

@vicmc624 // @anotherspnfanfic // @krazykelly // @compresshischest09 // @thefamilybusiness

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 years ago

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What I Thought About "What If...T'Challa Became a Star-Lord?" from Marvel Studios' What If...

Salutations, random people on the internet who already scrolled past this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

You know, a lot of people lost so much when Chadwick Boseman died. His family has lost a husband and a father, his fans lost an inspiration, and to fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, we lost both a hero and a king. His performance as T'Challa/Black Panther is by far the best the character has ever had, nailing the essence of the character while delivering so much more. So with the second episode of Marvel Studios' What If... one has to ask: Was Chadwick Boseman's final performance his best, or did the series failed to honor his legacy? Only spoilers can answer that question, so be wary as we analyze the second entry into Marvel's most ambitious series.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

T’Challa himself: I enjoy that because his story has changed, so did T'Challa's personality. There's this sly cockiness that we've never seen from the character before, showing how much influence Yondu and his Ravagers had on him. And it's actually pretty fun seeing a character who was so calm and collected now act so...not that. With that said, just T'Challa is now Star-Lord, that doesn't mean he's a copy of Peter Quill.

The major differences lie in the impact that T'Challa left on the galaxy. Instead of stealing for himself, he chose to steal for planets in need as his own version of Robin Hood. And that, in turn, is a way more intriguing and compelling character to me than Peter Quill ever could be. There's just something about the nobleness of choosing to be a heroic outlaw instead of being strictly an outlaw. It proves that despite having his history altered drastically, there is no erasing that perfect and intelligent King that we all know and dearly miss. It sucks that we'll probably never see him again, but at least the last time we did it was to leave one epic impression for the fans.

Korath is T’Challa’s #1 Fan: Not what I would have expected, primarily since the character never acted so goofy, but I appreciate this change nonetheless. Because it's oddly wholesome seeing how much Korath admires T'Challa, to the point where he honestly believes that they're best friends. Also, it's funny. Like, really funny. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that this version of Korath is the funniest character in this episode. He's just too good.

It’s All Funny: Hey, we're on the Guardians of the Galaxy side of the universe. I'd personally be offended if it didn't have a sense of humor.

Yondu: Yondu seems to be the only one who hasn't changed that much through T'Challa's presence. Sure, he went straight because of it, but personality-wise, he's still the same. He still gives off the energy as this king of the idiots when dealing with his Ravagers, and you how he's this thief with a heart of gold. It's just that only T'Challa brought it out more than Peter did. Other than that, I personally don't mind that not much has changed. Yondu was already a fun character, to begin with, so I'm more than alright seeing him unaltered if it means we get to witness more of him.

The Galaxy is Better Because of T’Challa’s Influence: No, really, it is. Drax still has his family, Thanos renounced his genocidal ways, and Nebula not only remained in one piece but even has hair...somehow. It's impressive to see just how better everything turned out, and, in a way, it's also kind of funny when you think about it. Like, I wouldn't go so far as to say that the universe was in shambles because of Peter's existence...but it wasn't really better either, and I can't help my chuckles when witnessing how better off things were because he stayed on Earth.

Thanos: Not much to say here. It's fun seeing how chilled out Thanos is when he's not hellbent on wiping out half the universe. And I definitely chuckled a couple times when people called him out on his genocidal bulls**t. It's pretty enjoyable and made me glad we got to see his very surprising return.

Nebula: But this shocked me more. Korath becoming a T'Challa stan? Sure. Thanos acting as a respectful ally? Whatever. But Nebula becoming T'Challa's sexy thieve-in-arms girlfriend?! I don't think anybody in their right mind would have predicted that!

But putting aside the shock, this version of Nebula was surprisingly entertaining. It's nice seeing what she would've acted like without the tragedy as she acts like she's free as a bird but still a little devious. Although, despite having a much better life, that doesn't mean there isn't animosity between her and Thanos. He may not have torn Nebula apart as much as he did in the universe we know, but take notice of how she still has cybernetics in her left eye. That shows that T'Challa didn't get to fix everything, and I appreciate that the writers hadn't glossed over how much of a bad father the Mad Titan is, just because he's all sunshine and rainbows now. It allows a chance for Thanos to prove he really did change and gives Nebula an arc to forgive him. And while the pacing for that could have been better, it's still somewhat believable for me to get behind it. Thus surprising me even more with how not only did Nebula make a phenomenal appearance, but one that left quite the impact on the story.

The Collector: It's not just better heroes that T'Challa created. The Collector, for example, somehow became a genuine threat in this timeline instead of that pathetic dweeb in Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers: Infinity War. This again amazes me with how T'Challa miraculously created a buff-supervillain in his universe, where Peter did jack all. Maybe the galaxy really would have been better off without him...

Howard the Duck: This is the best way to utilize Howard the Duck if you ask me. He's a character that doesn't really scream "leading character" to me (unless given the correct type of writers), so it's better to let him stick to brief cameos and occasional supporting roles. It allows a goofy type of character to shine without causing audiences to roll their eyes over the idea of a talking duck saving the day.

Wakanda Theme Playing when T’Challa Found the Ship: It's just a cool callback. That's all.

Yondu Lying About Wakanda’s Destruction: A pretty solid reveal that shows how even though Yondu loves the kids he steals, he doesn't have the best intentions. What more can I add?

The Collector’s Wall of Weapons: The callbacks are nice, but I like implications from seeing Captain America's shield and Thor's hammer on that wall. It could mean that while the universe is a better place from T'Challa's influence, not everybody made it out alright.

Yondu’s Speech to T’Challa: I'm sure these beautiful and sentimental words have some implications toward Chadwick Boseman as an actor, but I was too busy being emotional to notice them. Well done.

What Happened to Peter Quill: Ok...I think we can just stop beating Peter down for dooming half the universe. Because how much lower can you get when finding out that this other guy practically saved everything with very little effort, only for you to end up as a worker at Dairy Queen? I'd honestly feel bad if I kept doing it at this point. The poor bastard…

(Sidenote: Love the implications that the world is still in danger because Ego still gets to Peter. It shows that despite the more interesting changes, not everything turns out all hunky-dory.)

The Tribute to Chadwick Boseman: A well-appreciated sentiment to cap off a perfect episode...or what would've been a perfect episode. 'Cause ya boy's got some nitpicks!

WHAT I DISLIKED

T’Challa Being Called Star-Lord: A small thing, but the reason why Peter called himself Star-Lord was because it was a nickname his mom called him. What's even the reasoning here? Because it makes no sense when you sit down and think.

The Black Order are still Boring: Out of all the improvements we've seen, it is still disappointing that these four remain as nothing more than cannon fodder for our heroes to go through before fighting the main boss. And pathetic. Immensely pathetic. I mean, for f**ks sake, THE MAW GOT KILLED BY THE PINK GIRL FROM GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY! Psychic powers and he still goes out like a b**ch!

Thanos Got Nerfed: The guy nearly killed the Avengers, with and without Infinity Stones, yet he can barely hold his own against these people who worked for him. C'MON NOW!

IN CONCLUSION

But those were just nitpicks. Despite them, I'd still consider this episode a solid A with 9.5/10. It was fun getting to see the changes T'Challa made to the galaxy, added with some pretty entertaining moments with other iconic characters. You couldn't have asked for a better final performance from Chadwick Boseman, and here's hoping that wherever he is, he knows that he shined brighter than any star in the galaxy.

#marvel studios' what if...?#marvel cinematic universe #mcu reviews #t'challa #t'challa star lord #yondu udonta #nebula #thanos #korath #what i thought about #what if reviews

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nyoschief · 4 years ago

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Heart Of The Darkness

This was a Secret Santa that I never posted for @Nikki!

Rating: Mature Characters: John | KryozGaming/Jaren | SMii7Y, Eddie Gluskin Tags: Outlast, Panic Kisses, Secret Santa Warnings: Violence, Minor Character Death, Creepy Motherfuckers Words: 2,135

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.”

{Read here on AO3}

Three simple words keep Jaren quiet. They repeat like a broken record, a mantra that increases with every blood-curdling scream and fresh wave of iron-laden air that floods the damp room. He’ll return once the exit is clear. Shaky hands flatten against rusted metal, taking comfort in the cool chill as he peers into the gloomy area, straining to see human-shaped demons in the shadows.

“Darling!” a sultry voice crows from the right, singing sweet lullabies.

‘No, fuck, not him.’

Every muscle tightens, lungs clenched and breath held, but frantic eyes refuse to close. Pleading cries respond to unnervingly saccharine words. A dull thump preludes a sobbing groan, hoarse and crying with desperation as nails scrabble against moldy tiles.

“What did I say about keeping your stress levels down? No child can be borne like this.”

The stomach-churning memory of mangled bodies cut apart and sewn together, a mockery of a carrying woman, has Jaren silently gagging, a palm covering his mouth and nails cutting into his cheek.

They should never have come here. ‘Abandoned’ mental asylum, his ass! No power doesn’t mean the crazies inside are gone.

“No, no, no, please, please!”

“I warned you and you didn’t listen!”

A wet squelch spills into the air, Jaren choking at the possibilities. His eyes grow wet, face turned against his torn and muddied sleeve.

“Oh?” the man purrs, a childish laugh bubbling beneath. Jaren freezes, swallowing and peering between the metal slits of the locker. “Have my followers… brought me another bride?”

He’s a deer in headlights, a hare hypnotized by a stoat, a hen frozen in fear of a fox. Fingers twitch, useless when his arms can’t even push the door open.

He has no chance when a body slams against the front, jostling him within. Manic eyes stare back at him, lips pulled into a grin. Can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t move.

“There you are, dear! The perfect gift after… a terrible tragedy.” Yeah, tragedy. He can only imagine the leftovers, the body slit and covered in gore and blood, still warm. Something metal tracks across the front of the locker. “But don’t worry, I’ll fix you up, make your body a welcoming vessel.”

Voice cracking, he lets out a shaky, “Fuck you.” A crazed laugh echoes through the grotesque room, head thrown back as he smacks the rusty locker. Barely illuminated, he looks like a dirtied man from the mall, covered in blood and grime, bowtie falling off. Palms sweating, Jaren smacks his hands against the door, only for the rattle of metal to trap him within. “Let me out!”

“Nooo, no, no, my love, I can’t let you out in this state, you’ll only hurt yourself!” Blood pounds within his ears, rushing like a torrent, an uncontrollable stream. Jaren slams his fist harder against the metal, the growl in his throat fading into a desperate whine.

He’s not getting out of here alive.

A blade scrapes across the locker, barely glistening in the light shining through the window. Jaren shrinks away, knees buckling, ducking down from the slits in the door. He’d rather not have a scalpel in the eye.

“Now, I don’t want to ruin your perfect body,” he begins, voice dropping with warning, “but I will if you keep fighting me.”

Tongue dead weight, Jaren swallows and scrunches his eyes shut. ‘Where is he?’

“Why would I fight you?”

A coo spills forth, hair standing on end and spine rigid. “Much better, sweetheart,” he hums, taking a step backwards. Metal scrapes again on the locker, hinges squealing and revealing the crazed man’s horrifying appearance. It takes every single ounce of self-restraint to stop from running, hands shaking and gaze darting, searching for an escape route. “Look at you, the perfect vessel, don’t you think?”

Jaren’s stomach twists over itself, tightening up like a knotted rope. A shake to every word, he whispers, “Okay.” His stare lingers on the blade in the other’s raw-knuckled grasp, the weapon raising when he takes a shaky step forth.

“You want this, don’t you? Want to become beautiful, to pave the way for our loving family.”

‘No,’ he thinks, ‘I want to leave with John.’

He refuses to let this psycho know of the other’s presence. Fingers crossing behind his back, Jaren hopes to at least have his body recovered before it’s mutilated beyond recognition like the corpses of earlier.

“Okay…”

The hand against his elbow has him jumping, strung taught and on edge. “Come, my love, I’ll show you the way, the truth…”

Movement catches his eye, moonlight glistening against silver.

Jaren snaps his gaze away, movements slow and steady, gaze tracked onto the blade. He needs to get the weapon away, get the scalpel out of his white-knuckled grasp, so John has a winning chance. They won’t get out of this alive if this fucking maniac still has his weapon.

He stumbles.

The man’s face twists into a grimace and he lunges.

Jaren yelps and finds himself slammed backwards against the wall. His head pulses, skull smacking against the tiles as metal stings at his throat.

“Wait!”

“You scared me, darling, you shouldn’t try to escape like that,” he pants, leaning in closer. Nostrils flared, dark eyes soak in his appearance, leaning closer. His stench alone has Jaren swallowing bile, flinching at the hand caressing his cheek. Shaky hands grab hold of the man’s elbow, struggling to keep him at bay, to squirm his way to freedom. The blade digs into his throat, bringing him to a halt as a strangled cry spills forth. “Maybe it’d be better if I just cut out your voice box. Wives are supposed to be seen, not heard.”

Frantic, Jaren rushes to say, “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet, please, I promise.”

There’s a flicker of movement over the man’s shoulder.

Jaren looks for a moment too long.

“What—”

The man twists in time for a grazed elbow to slam into his unsightly face, flinging him aside.

Jaren jumps away, grabbing his own throat, feeling a thin line of blood beneath his palm.

The stumbling form snaps his head up, scowling and frothing with broiling hatred. “How dare you—”

“How dare me?” John spits, backing up and glancing over a shoulder at Jaren. Upon realizing the other isn’t in immediate danger, he glares at the crazy man and huffs, “Stay the fuck away from him!”

“You can’t come between us!” he shouts, posture menacing and looming. The blade in his hand draws attention like a magnet, dragging their eyes towards it as he flicks the weapon within gnarled fingers.

Jaren flinches when the man steps closer, hip bumping into a table laden with jars of intestines. A whimper slips out, capturing both of their attention for a split second.

John positions himself between them, shoulders hunched and fingers clenched, shielding Jaren. The blade raises. John flinches, balancing on the balls of his feet, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No, no, nothing is as strong as… as the bond we form—”

A boot slams into the man’s shin, dragging a shriek from raw, bloodied lips. Jaren’s head whips to the side, spotting a door and quickly running towards it. He freezes in the crooked doorframe, looking back, spotting John grappling with the bedraggled man, mouth pulled back into a sneer. The silver scalpel wavers, tip nicking at John’s clothing, held back like a snarling dog.

No warning, the man yanks himself away, pulling his arm free, only to slam the blade downwards.

A scream tears free of Jaren’s hoarse throat, the metal sinking into John’s arm, drinking rich scarlet blood.

Wild eyes scan the room, flicking between the garishly cut body on his right to the mess of broken furniture to his left.

Jaren latches onto a metal rod, breath rapid and uneven, yanking it free from the wooden debris.

No hesitation, he runs closer and swings, a sickening crunch filling the air as it connects with the man’s skull. He tumbles to the side, leaving John scrambling free. When he freezes up again, staring at the blood already dripping from the damage he’d caused, John takes the weapon from him and wastes no time in bringing it down directly on the deranged man’s neck.

He falls to the ground and goes limp. Air slides free from rattling lungs as haunted eyes grow dull.

‘Oh god.’

Jaren hiccups, eyes locking onto John, on the fucking handle still embedded in his bicep. Tears well within green-blue eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted. “Your arm,” he gasps, stepping closer, hands raising, only to freeze when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do.

A yell reverberates through the dusty air, a low growl following, filled with hunger and desperation.

John grabs him by the elbow, already yanking him away. It doesn’t matter where they’re going, as long as John’s with him, they’ll be fine.

They’re red-faced and panting by the time the shouting dies down, inaudible. John shoves them both into a shadowed room and slams the rattling door shut. A metal cabinet serves as the perfect blockade, stopping any unwanted visitors from entering their makeshift safe room.

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he whines, stepping closer and staring through bleary eyes at the weapon still in John’s arm. “Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.” Every inch of John is tensed, frozen as he keeps glancing at the door, breathing through his nose. He flinches at the hand on his shoulder, finally meeting Jaren’s watery stare. He’s still ready for a battle, on edge, antsy to keep them both safe. “Fuck, John, your arm, oh god…”

“It’s fine,” he grits out, still standing there with a doctor’s scalpel sticking out of his sleeve, careless of the blood soaking his shirt. Jaren’s instincts are screaming to run, to get away, John’s a threat. But every other part of him is desperate to help, to ease his pain, make him better, and repay his kindness.

Jaren takes hold of his good arm, leading him towards the unsteady table against the wall. “Let’s just… fix it up, yeah? Make it better. We can fix this—” A loud crash from outside has John jolting, pushing himself to his feet, despite Jaren’s attempts to get him seated. “It’s fine, they can’t get in, let me—”

“They’re close—”

“Don’t worry about them—”

“How can I not worry when they’re—”

“You’re bleeding!”

“I can make more blood.”

Fingers snatch hold of greasy hair, snapping John’s gaze towards him for long enough that he can press a desperate kiss against his bloodied mouth. The wildness in his eyes fades, returning to his familiar stare.

Jaren relaxes his hold, eyes flickering to the side.

“You can’t make another you,” he counters.

John licks his lips. “What was that for?”

Jaren backs up, mouth twisting to the side, failing to hide his embarrassment. “You weren’t listening and I—” He swallows. “I’m scared we won’t get out of here and I just—I just wanted to, just once, sorry, I shouldn’t have…” The silence that ensues has Jaren’s fingers itching, staring at the blade which, now that he looks at, isn’t all that deeply embedded into John’s arm. Swallowing, he clears his throat and says, “Let’s get this—”

“Better be more than just once.”

A frown embeds itself on Jaren’s face, blinking at John. He’s met with surprising determination.

He doesn’t even ask before John’s explaining, “We are getting out of here. That better not just have been a once off haha joke.” Jaren doesn’t have a response to that, letting slip a confused little noise followed by an awkward laugh. When he says nothing else, John asks, “You gettin’ this knife outta me or what?”

“Wh—Yes! Yeah, hold on, I…” Jaren fumbles for a moment before shedding his overshirt, figuring it’s cleaner than anything in this place. “Can you—” John grabs hold of the scalpel and yanks it out, a grunt and hiss following. Crimson spurts out, seeping quickly. Jaren gasps and hurries to wrap the fabric around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Fucks’ sake, John.”

A bloodied hand against his chin has Jaren freezing, allowing his head to be tilted upwards until he can meet the other’s gaze. “We’re gonna get out of here,” he states firmly. His hold shifts, resting against the side of Jaren’s face. Warm concern and conviction replace the earlier rage. “We will, I promise.”

The knot of unease wrapped vice-like around Jaren’s heart unwinds, loosened by trust and belief. On his own, no, he wouldn’t believe that, but with John here…

“I know we will.”

#krii7y #kryozgaming #kryoz #smii7y #bbs #writing #fanfiction #outlast #secret santa #nikkitheduck #listen i love horror and stressy times!!!#:D

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fantastic-rambles · 4 years ago

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Shades of Love [1]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Shindo Ainosuke (Adam), Ainosuke’s aunts

Warnings: Child abuse (emotional, physical)

Word Count: <1k

Summary: In which a young Ainosuke receives a gift from the “wrong” type of friend and his aunts find out. [I wanted to write something happy for his birthday, but my mind decided, "Fuck you, here's some angst." 😭 His aunts' names are my invention because I needed to call them something besides "bitches" (derogatory).] [Adam Appreciation Week 2021 | May 1: gift / party / wrapping paper]

"Ainosuke-sama. Your presence is requested in the drawing room. Immediately."

Confused, Ainosuke looked up at his tutor, who nodded, before getting out of his chair and following the maid who had come to fetch him. When she stopped just outside the doorway, he hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping over the threshold. Instantly, his aunts looked up from their tea, their eyes fixing upon him accusingly and making him tempted to take a step back, to turn his back on them and run to his room. Instead, he simply smiled and took another step forward, bowing to them respectfully.

"You wished to see me?" he asked, and Masako extended a hand to gesture to the chair across from them.

"Please, sit down, Ainosuke."

Obediently, he took a seat, watching as Hanako reached out to place something on the table between them. When he recognized the object, his fingers twitched, as if they were tempted to curl up into fists, before he forced them flat against his thighs.

"We found this in your room. Where did you get it?" Hanako asked as one of her perfectly manicured fingers tapped against the Super Sentai figurine. Ainosuke wanted to avert his eyes, but instead, he sat straighter in the chair, meeting his eldest aunt's eyes.

"Akira-kun gave it to me yesterday."

"As a gift?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends."

"What connections does his family have?"

Ainosuke hesitated, and she repeated the question more sharply.

"What connections does his family have?"

"None that I know of," Ainosuke admitted reluctantly, though he still enunciated clearly.

"Does this 'Akira-kun' demonstrate any particular talents or aptitude?"

"... no."

"Then, do you understand what you have done wrong?"

A muscle tensed in Ainosuke's jaw, and he ducked his head into a nod to hide it. Only after the moment had passed did he raise his head again, staring back at Hanako. "Yes."

"Explain."

"I should not have accepted a gift from Akira-kun. Fostering a relationship with someone who possesses little or no social connections and who does not possess exceptional merit or future potential would do nothing to elevate the Shindo name. It may also be possible that in the future, he might seek to use our friendship in order to take advantage of me in order to benefit himself. This could easily be done by invoking a debt of gratitude and become a vulnerability that might even harm the prestige of our family."

Except Akira wasn't that kind of person. Sure, he might not be "valuable" by the standards of their family, but he was a really good guy. He was popular among all of their classmates for his kindness and generosity: when he'd seen Ainosuke watching them, but unable to join in on their game, he'd given him one of his figurines without hesitation. Sure, it wasn't new, and even if it was, it would probably have been cheap, but his father and aunts would never have let him spend money on something so frivolous.

But they wouldn't understand, even if he tried to explain. So he didn't even try as Hanako continued her lecture.

"Very good. So what must you do to rectify this error?"

"Tomorrow, I will return this to Akira-kun with gratitude and then cut off all further contact," Ainosuke recited, and his aunt nodded decisively.

"Perfect answers. Which means that you should have been aware of how to conduct yourself properly, and yet you chose not to. Hold out your hands."

Very slowly, Ainosuke obeyed, turning his wrists so that his forearms were exposed as Hanako handed the wooden ruler to Kanako.

"You understand, Ainosuke, that we do not enjoy doing this, right?" Hanako asked as she leaned back on the couch, raising a cup of tea to her lips. "But your father has tasked us with raising you to become an outstanding young man, and that includes disciplining you when it is necessary. All that we do, we do it out of love."

And Ainosuke smiled at them, an open smile entirely devoid of guile.

"I am very sorry for my mistake; it won't happen again. Thank you very much for your guidance."

But even so, he couldn't help flinching as the ruler came whistling down.

#adamappreciationweek2021 #sk8 #SK8 the Infinity #skate the infinity #fanfic #fan fic #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #ainosuke shindo #mine

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septic-skele · 4 years ago

Text

UF - Out of Reach

Summary: Classic and Blue have it good with their brothers. They make displays of love and affection look so easy. Red can’t help but feel bitter about it. He stands no chance of ever having anything like that with his boss.

Well, not with that attitude about it, Blue says.

Red couldn’t understand it. Logically he figured it was because Classic and Blue came from drastically different backgrounds. They weren’t living with eye sockets in the back of their heads or half-formed, sharpened bones under their pillows like he and Boss did. They were probably just as baffled about him and his behavior, but there was something Blue had said once that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Red had walked in on a private moment and for reasons beyond him, he hadn’t taken a hasty shortcut back out. He stopped and stared and couldn’t help being taken aback when he saw Blue cradling his Papyrus’ skull against his shoulder, murmuring comforts to him. Red had never seen that casual, laidback Papyrus so drunk, weak and vulnerable, much less Blue so solemn.

“I love you, Papy,” he soothed. “I’d love you no matter the ‘reset’, whatever that may be—no matter the world, no matter the universe. A good, proper Sans would never give up on his brother, and I am just that.”

Good, proper. Red had no illusions of propriety but the idea of it nagged and frustrated him. Any time he had tried to console Papyrus in recent memory, it had ended with all the wrong things being said and door hinges buckling under the strain of being slammed.

Red already knew what Blue would say if he heard of this. “You can always try again! I believe in you, pal! You simply need to persevere! You’ll get through to him, I know it!” Disgusting.

The worst part of it, however, was that even Classic did it better than he could. Classic—depressed, cynical, apathetic, a liar to Papyrus’ face more often than not—still loved his brother better.

Somehow the six of them had survived a night in together, though the argument over the TV remote had almost come to blows and the throw pillows may have sacrificed some of their stuffing. Now that they were all retiring, Red wandered down the hall to hear strains of Classic’s voice from one of the nearby bedrooms. He didn’t sound anything like the blasé character Red usually knew; he was lighter, actually putting effort into this.

“…Peekaboo had become a game of hide-and-seek! Where could her friends have gone? Fluffy Bunny wondered, bounding across the green, green field to look for them. She searched high! She searched low!”

“She searched near and far,” Papyrus chimed in.

“You bet she did. She searched east and west, under rocks and up in trees. But Fluffy Bunny couldn’t find her friends anywhere! Wherever could they be?”

Maybe they ditched her for wantin’ to play such stupid games, Red mused with a snort, although as Classic continued he was distracted by an old, old memory fluttering forth.

He had spent hours poring over the dump, fishing out as many old, damaged books as he could find. Drained and shivering, he’d lugged them back to the nook where he’d left Papyrus, safely out of sight. Before he could find sleep, Papyrus had thrown himself over Red’s back and pitched a fit about learning how to read.

“Show me, brother! I want to do it like you do, I want to try! It doesn’t have to be the long one! Just show me how, please! Please, please, please, plea-a-a-ase!”

Red had capitulated only because he didn’t want the tantrum to draw unwanted attention, but that wasn’t the part that stuck with him. Papyrus had curled up against him, half-tucked under his coat, watching him trace letters with intent focus. As he haltingly sounded out the words, every small success made him light up like a star, clutching eagerly at Red’s ribs for his approval.

“Did you see that, Sans?! Did you hear me?! I did it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Pipe down, kid, I saw. Nice one.”

Red’s opinion and praise had still meant something to Papyrus back then. Stars, he was still willing to cuddle with him, despite the filth and the damp clinging to his clothes from the river.

Had Boss ever really been that hopeful, clingy little baby bones or was Red trying to convince himself that was how it had happened? It was so long ago. Pap could have just fished those books out and taught himself while Sans was away, trying to find work. That sounded far more likely.

“G’night, bro,” Classic concluded, sliding the book onto the nightstand and giving his Papyrus an affectionate squeeze of the hand.

Balking, Red ducked back toward the stairs before he could be found snooping, all too well aware of what Boss might do if he ever dared reach out that way. He’d probably end up losing a few fingers.

It wasn’t fair, something small and spiteful in the back of his mind huffed. The idea nearly made him miss one of the steps, torn between shock and scornful amusement. Since when had fairness ever been part of the equation? If things were fair…

If things were fair, they would probably look a lot like the scene he had just left, as well as the scene he was walking into now. Blue perched prim and proper on the end of the couch, surfing idly through channels. His brother was stretched across the rest of the cushions, head propped against Blue’s lap, swaddled up in blankets, the whole nine yards.

Jerks. They were intent on showing off now; they knew exactly how good they had it. Sparks of irrational anger crackled along Red's jaw and spine. If he had something immediately on hand to hurl at them, he would have, but he had already shucked off his boots and summoning a bone would be a waste of magic.

“Edgy me?” Blue called in a faux whisper, making him tense. “I would have thought you’d be asleep already.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kinda hard to rest easy with Classic jabbering on about fluffy bunnies through the wall!” Red snarked, louder and sharper than necessary. He took little satisfaction in the way Blue winced, resting a hand on Papy’s skull as if to muffle the noise.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” So genteel, so polite, he still offered an inviting smile. “If you’d care to come and join us, any of the chairs from the dinner table are free! Mweheh, I honestly have no idea how Papy sleeps like this; the side I sit on is the only one without mangled, broken springs. It’s probably all of his tossing and turning that’s done it. I’ve been meaning to get them repaired, but he hardly ever leaves the couch to let me at it! He really ought to—”

“Shut up already, would’ja? I don’t care! Besides—Tch, wouldn’t want to interrupt your cute little ‘brother bonding’ time.”

“Oh, no, y-you’re not interrupting anything! Did I imply that somehow? I’m sorry! If you want part of the couch, I can wake him and ask him to scoot over—”

“How d’you make it look so easy?” It broke free before Red could fully comprehend how irrational it would be to ask. Jaw clenching so tightly that his teeth squeaked, he drew back from his own brash demand. Blue tilted his head.

“I’m sorry?” That counted three times in this conversation that he’d apologized for nothing. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He should have retreated. He should have spat, “Never mind!” and transported to his room to seethe in privacy. Instead his foolish, fat mouth blundered on. “How d’you get him to do that?” He threw an irritated gesture at the sleeping lump on his lap. “How d’you make him…relax, with you there? It’s as if he likes having you around!”

Even that was saying too much and yet just enough. Realization dawned in Blue’s eyes, followed by—oh, stars, there was pity.

“Well, I…I’m not really sure. If there are no other comfortable surfaces around for him while he sleeps, I’m happy to help! The last thing he needs is a cramp in his neck. Heh, I’m not tall enough to fix that for him so why not try to prevent it entirely? We’ve huddled up ever since we were baby bones; it’s always been this way.”

Of course. Cheekbones flaming, Red ducked his head. They never had raging fights that lasted until dawn (or until they started losing their voices, whichever came first.) Blue and Stretch had it all sorted out from birth, cozy and coddled.

“…Papy always caught cold too easily. I’d make up some rather impressive beds for him with grass and water sausages so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the rock, but the dew would leave him shivering all night! I couldn’t let that stand! Those chattering teeth of his kept me awake too so I made the noble sacrifice and slept on the damp side while he nestled up to me.” Blue chuckled, an uncharacteristic note of something laced through it. “With our two shirts tucked together, we could almost imagine a full hoodie like he has now!”

“Wh—You? That’s rich.” That was decidedly not what Red had been picturing as a life that could spit out someone as sickeningly sweet as Blue. “You’re not tellin’ me you two were homeless.”

“I preferred to think of us as explorers!” Blue corrected. “I told Papy that we were on an adventure to find the perfect place for a new start. We experienced all that the Underground had to offer a couple of wandering baby bones: scavenging, hide-and-seek, games of chase with older monsters, who were rather poor sports when they couldn’t catch us. I grew strong and magnificent thanks to all of that exercise and my brother…well, he tried very hard!”

Red shuffled uncomfortably in place. Funny, how familiar all of those experiences sounded—but from someone else’s mouth?

“Then Papy fell terribly ill. He was poisoned, in fact. It was the first time I really wondered if I’d lose him.” Ignoring how Red startled, Blue glanced pensively down at his snoring brother, smoothing his fingers more gently over his skull. “It may have been an accident, but I was responsible for his safety; I should have been paying closer attention. In part it was my fault.”

“And he…forgave you for that?” An accident like that, caused by a slip in Sans’ attention, could probably get him disowned.

“On the contrary, he blamed himself! He blames himself for a great many things and he thinks most of them can’t be helped. I try, I always try to help. What’s infuriating is that he acts as if he doesn’t deserve it. Despite what you may think, there are plenty of times he doesn’t want me around. He shuts down, he pushes me away, he tells me I’m wasting my time.”

Red’s eyelights flicked off.

“Shut up, Sans. I don’t want to discuss it.”

“You idiot! Get away from me!”

“Useless. What a waste of time.”

“I think he’s scared of what might happen if he lets his guard down…Perhaps he thinks I’m not strong enough to face whatever is underneath,” Blue continued. “Perhaps he thinks that if he lets me too close, it will be the thing to drive me away for good. Nevertheless! With time and patience, I know I’ll convince him.”

“But how?! How am I supposed to—I mean, how do you keep trying when it never does any good?”

“It does do some good, I’m sure of it! I keep pushing to help him so he knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that I won’t be driven away so easily. Maybe Papy just isn’t ready to show me the good it’s done yet. He has to learn to trust himself before he can trust me, but he can never say that I don’t care about him. I’ll show love to every part of him, even the bad, and it will be an influence for the better. I will break down those barriers!” Blue concluded with a fiercer grin.

A good Sans would never give up on his brother.

“Doesn’t it…suck?” Red ground out, hoping it wouldn’t be interpreted as an admission of weakness. Doesn’t it hurt? “When he shuts you out all the time?”

“Of course. I never said it was an easy task but it’s not within me to accept defeat!” Blue stopped up short then, holding his breath as Papyrus shifted against him. Neither Red nor Blue had been particularly careful about their volume.

After a few moments of adjustment, Stretch settled deeper into his blankets with a sleepy hum of contentment. Blue softened, eyelights aglow with such fondness that Red could almost feel a ripple of it in the air between them. It made his soul turn.

“He’s my only brother. We only have each other in the end. Isn’t that worth the effort?”

_____________________________________

If Red hadn’t been passing his boss’s room at precisely the right moment, he never would have heard it: a string of low, ragged gasps, followed by a rumble that could have been a groan or a growl. Sans grimaced at the sound, already aware of what was happening. Boss never made noise in his sleep unless he was injured, pain slipping through the cracks of his subconscious, or he was fighting a nightmare. Seeing as the last few days had been highly uneventful, it would be the latter.

Welp, that’s his problem. I’m not about to get impaled ’cause he mistakes me for his sleep paralysis demon.

That was habit speaking. Better reasoning caught him a few steps later, slowing him to a halt.

It would be easy to swan off, mind his own business and let Papyrus suffer on his own. It would have been easy to do it years ago too, when Pap was nothing but a scrawny baby bones who couldn’t have done anything about it.

If he hadn’t then, why should he now? It was Boss’s shouts in the morning that often woke him from dark dreams…He could return the favor and feel less indebted to him for it.

It was only fair.

Cursing his newly planted seed of a conscience, Sans pivoted with great difficulty and kicked a foot at the door with a small thump. No answer. He kicked again. The gruff breaths from within quickened.

“…Boss?” he ventured, clearing his throat roughly. “Hey. Boss.” Belatedly he realized that he had no proper excuse ready if Papyrus awoke and asked what he wanted. That might not go over well, but the circumstances were making it hard to focus. Those strangled groans were slowly but surely chipping away his first instinct of self-preservation.

He was definitely going to get impaled. One shot, -9999 damage and his life would be over, all for an attempt to be considerate, but he could hear it now in Papyrus’ voice. There was a scared little brat trapped inside the intimidating commander and that brat clearly still needed a big brother to drag him out of trouble.

Steeled for his impending doom, Sans jostled open the door. “Boss,” he began again as he poked his head in. “You’re makin’ noise, alright? You gotta—Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s not good—”

Papyrus was a writhing, tangled mess in his blankets, some already torn where his claws had caught. Sweat and magic bled down his face, eye sockets sputtering and smoking in a flurry of colors as he choked for traction to cry out.

“Ngnnh—No, no—stop!”

“Boss?!” Sans stammered, surging forward. Of their own volition his hands got busy, dragging at the blankets to rend them free of Papyrus’ kicking legs. “Bro, hey! It’s okay, it’s just a dream!”

From there it must have only been a few seconds but to Sans it felt like an eternity before Papyrus lurched upright, already scrambling. He didn’t lunge to attack as Sans had expected but recoiled; it was only when he smacked his skull against the wall behind him that he came to a lurching stop.

“I-It’s just me, Pap,” Sans stated cautiously. He wouldn’t have dared use the old nickname under any other circumstances, but it seemed to clear some of the wild haze in his brother’s eyes. It took a beat for him to formulate an appropriate response.

“Get out,” he rasped. It didn’t hold a candle to its usual bite. He was still panting, disoriented. “What are you doing here?”

Which d’you want, an answer or me getting out? “I heard you…Well, I didn’t know if somethin’ was up. Maybe someone…broke in or somethin’, trying to get to you.”

“Oh?” Shoulders shuddering in what could barely be masked as a laugh, Papyrus shook his head minutely. “And what could you do to save me? L-Look at you. You’re not even armed.”

“And look who didn’t even wake up when I barged in here! The big, bad boss could’ve gotten killed in his sleep because he was too busy cryin’ like a—” By the greatest restraint he cut himself off, foreseeing how that would be received, but he’d said enough already.

“Get. Out,” Papyrus snarled, rediscovering vitriol enough for Sans to cringe.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Get out, you fool, this instant, or I’ll—!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was worried!” That word felt taboo aloud. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright and you weren’t so I stayed to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do here, Sans; as always, you—you prove to be utterly inadequate! Your best course of action will be to close the door behind you.” Judging by the way his chin jutted out, he was clearly expecting that to be the last word.

“…No.” Tossing the blanket’s edge back to the floor, Sans squared up. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” The incredulity that flashed in Pap’s eyes should have cowed him but he had resigned himself to that already at the door. “I’m not just gonna leave you here, all jittery and crunched up against the wall. I can’t leave you like this. You’re not fine and I know if I try to say somethin’ to make it better, I’ll screw it up. Like you said, I always do. So let’s just skip that part where I do it wrong and get to the bit where you tell me what you need. What d’you need to feel better and get back to sleep okay?”

The following silence caught him off guard. Papyrus was never at a loss for further scathing remarks so why was he just staring at him? Moreover, where had his anger gone? He looked smaller without it, less like the Great and Terrible Papyrus and more like…

Papyrus. Red’s only brother. Hunched down, hands fisted into the mattress, micro-tremors trailing down his ribs as he breathed, he looked exhausted.

A minute passed. Maybe it was two.

Sans fidgeted, his nerve failing. “Boss, listen, I—”

“Tea,” he muttered, hooded eyes darting away. “If you really want to make yourself useful.” Sans hadn’t expected his soul to fill his throat at that response; something must have shown in his face, as Papyrus’ next grumble was even quieter. “You’re acting uncharacteristically generous with your work ethic. Why would I pass up this opportunity to make you work in the kitchen for once?”

Sans felt oddly light at the words as he nodded, turning for the door. “Gotcha.” He had never thought this day would come. For once in his life, he saw doing more work as a victory.

If it did some small modicum of good, if it made one miniscule chip in those walls between them, it would be worth the effort.

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pasteljeon · 5 years ago

Text

handcrafted | heartbeat 1

When you put out a roommates ad for your newly purchased house, the only requirement you set out had been cleanliness.

The last thing you’d expected was for the 7 most eligible bachelors of your university to come calling.

Throw in school, crazy fan girls and the most sought for men suddenly chasing after you with heart eyes, comes a college experience of a lifetime.

Would it be so wrong to want them all?

1: handcrafted

summary | they needed a place to stay. You needed money. You are so fucking screwed. They want you to screw them instead.

series index.

“I’m sorry,” comes a high-pitched, exasperated whine for the umpteenth time.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say, suitcase dropping unceremoniously onto the gravel floor with a sad thud. You stare up at the building with dread, a knot forming in your stomach. Now that you think of it, it does seem to loom overhead rather ominously. And you liked the design so much, too.

“You’re telling me that I just dropped half a million into a house and now I have no one to room with and no way to pay off my mortgage?”

“It was last minute,” Ahri tries to explain feebly, but you close your eyes.

“So let me get this straight,” you say slowly, sucking in a long breath, “All seven of you magically got offered the very same jobs you have right now … in the same city?”

“…Yes?” She coughs. “Same company, just a different branch. And, uh, just not this city.”

Silence.

You tap your foot impatiently.

“___?” You can already imagine the way your best friend is cringing, voice meek as she asks mildly, “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag your luggage to the front.

With the autumn leaves stirring in your wake, every step is heavy and dredged with defeat as you make your way to the coffee shop on campus.

“I’m sure there are still plenty of people looking for rent,” Ahri says sympathetically, rubbing your shoulder as you slump over the table.

“How am I going to find seven people to fill the spaces before the semester starts?” You wail, banging your head against the glass. “Classes start in a week and I need people now so I can pay the obnoxiously inflated mortgage.”

“Are you sure—” Jisoo starts, but you throw up a hand instantly. “Never gonna go down that alley. If I have to, I’ll sell the house and live on the streets. Since you’re all basically abandoning me anyway.”

“Not all of us,” Ryujin reminds you as she takes a seat, sliding your signature drink across.

“Yeah, just 90% of us,” Ahri supplies helpfully. You glare at her playfully as you sit up, taking a tentative sip from the cup. Letting out a sigh, you lean back into your seat.

“No, but in all seriousness. How am I going to find replacement roommates in time?” You trace the lid absently, propping your chin up with the other hand.

“We still have a week before we leave for our co-op terms. We can help you out until then. We’ll find people,” Jisoo promises. She’s already pulled out her phone, tapping away at the multitude of chats she’s in to put out word for you.

“I’ll ask a friend to make a mock up of an ad,” Ryujin offers. Ahri nods vigorously.

“Okay. Thanks guys, you’re the realest,” you say gratefully. Perhaps all hope is not yet lost, you conclude rather miserably.

Despite the collective efforts of all your braincells, skills and networking circles pooled together, the week is drawing to a close. Every decline is for the same reason: it’s just too late.

Between your unpacking, shopping, arranging furniture and rearranging décor (with the help of Dara, the interior design major, of course), suddenly it’s Thursday and you’re looking pretty fucking doomed.

“How is it everything fell through so fast?”

“Mhmm. You tell me,” you say absentmindedly as you straighten a painting.

You can feel Dara’s amusement as she readjusts the frame you were fiddling with. “Stop touching. It’s fine.”

“It’s crooked,” you protest.

“You know, that reminds me,” she says thoughtfully as she steps back. “Jiyong’s been working on his new album, and there’s these new singers he’s scouted out. It might be a long shot since classes are about to start, but he’s talked about how much they complain about their residence. I can ask if they’re still up to moving.”

“Yes, please,” you nod. “It honestly doesn’t matter anymore. I just need money. I don’t even know why this was a good idea in the first place.”

“It was a good idea. When we were all going to be here,” Dara amends.

You exhale. “Fuck me in the ass.”

“Uh … who are you?” You blink, cocking your head to the side curiously.

There’s a … person standing at your door, awkwardly gripping a suspiciously familiar flyer. He’s … someone you’ve never spoken to before. He’s grown his hair out this summer, brushing away the curls as they frame his big, doe eyes. The scar on his cheek is hidden by the makeshift ebony curtain. He’s clearly been busy, veins and muscles rippling under golden skin virtually straining to explode from that tight pair of black jeans he’s wearing.

You are not charmed. You are not charmed. You are not fucking charmed.

“Um … are you ___?”

You nod, waiting for an explanation. The bags in your hands are getting heavier with every passing second and you silently beg him to hurry it along before your arms snap clean off.

“M-my hyungs asked me to check you out,” he stutters.

A beat, and then –

“Ah! I-I mean check the place out, not you, that would be weird, why would I ever check you out,” he corrects quickly. You raise an eyebrow warily. The sheet crumples in his whitening fist.

“I-I mean I check you out all the time so that’s not really new, i-it’s just y-you have vacancy right,” he’s word-vomiting, cheeks ripening furiously and he looks like he’s about ready for the ground to swallow him up.

“We want to move in,” he practically screams. You recoil, the bags hitting your thigh painfully.

Huh.

This is … unexpected. Every time you’ve ever encountered him on campus, he’s never been so … clumsy. Is clumsy the right word to describe this?

“Oooookay,” you say. “Yeah, I can give you a tour and answer any questions you have, just let me unload first.”

“O-oh, I can take those for you,” he stumbles over to relieve you of your physical burden. He ducks his head, scores of pink still marring his expression as you unlock the door.

“Come in.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he says shyly, slipping off his sneakers and trailing behind you to set the groceries on the counter as you indicated.

You shrug off your jacket before rummaging in one of the bags to pull out a bottle of banana milk. His eyes light up instantly when you slide it over the counter to him.

“Thank you, noona!” He tears open the lid and gulps down the concoction eagerly.

Noona? You squint. Are you really older than him? You’ll have to check later.

“So will your … hyungs be joining us today, or would you guys like to book another time to come altogether?”

Just as he’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to reply, the doorbell rings.

“Dara,” you hiss into the phone, cupping the microphone close to you as you huddle in one of the upper floor bathrooms. “You didn’t tell me there were seven of them.”

“Huh? But wasn’t seven the exact number you needed?” She answers innocently.

“You said some and singers! None of them are singers or new! They’re the fucking guys from the Calvin Klein underwear ads and that one Gucci perfume commercial!”

“Technically, they are singers. A couple of them are composers and they all have really good voices. According to Jiyong anyway, no one else has had the privilege of hearing them,” she states.

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly. You’re pacing, practically wearing the new carpet you just bought. “I am going to die a horrible, horrible death. Fangirls will hunt me down, I’m going to get death threats and I’ll have to live in the shadows for the rest of my life. There are a lot of rich people here, and they’re going to hire hitmen and I’ll –”

“– Die a horrible death, yes, I heard the first time,” Dara cuts you off dryly.

Your eyes widen. “You knew!” You accuse. “How could you do this to me?!”

“___,” she sighs suddenly, sounding disappointed. “This was the best I could do, okay? It was the perfect opportunity. Look, just go downstairs, gauge their characters and all that jazz, and if you still think it’s not a good fit, just tell them that and keep looking. You’re not locked in on this.”

You rest your head on the wall. “… Yeah. Okay. True. Thanks a lot, Dara.”

“Of course. I always got your back. Let me know how things go and what you decide,” she reassures you.

“I will.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, phone gripped tightly in your hand, before groaning aloud. Splashing water on your face and smoothing out your disgruntled locks, you make your way back to the living room.

It’s awkward. Oh fuck, it’s so awkward you think you’ll die of sheer awkwardness instead.

There are seven men smiling up at you, all crammed in the three sets of sofas you’d recently purchased. They have such long legs. One of them has really broad shoulders.

“I know you,” you say stupidly, pointing at the man with dimples. He waves.

“___,” he says pleasantly. “How has your summer been?”

“You were my TA,” you continue, finger quivering. You’re downright flabbergasted. “Isn’t there like a … like a rule or something against TAs moving in with previous students?”

“We never officially met,” he replies smoothly. Why the fuck is he still smiling?! This is so freaky. You can’t do this. Holy shit.

“In fact, the TAs for that course were never formally introduced. We only marked your exams in random groups, nothing more. I can’t say I’ve had the privilege of marking your work.”

Liar. You know he’s marked one of your essays. You can easily tell his thick strokes and thoughtful feedback scrawled in the margins apart from all the other cursive nonsense the others liked to write.

You move on. “You,” you say, examining the peculiar orange locks and disappearing eye smile. “You’re one of the dancers. You and … you,” the one next to him nods, his grin heart-shaped.

“You make music,” the one with mint hair and catlike eyes. What is with them and their rainbow styled colours? He shrugs noncommittally.

“Photos,” the one with a boxy beam. The camera looped around his neck was pretty self-explanatory, but you’ve seen him around.

“You … are old,” his plush lips instantly downturn.

“Excuse me?” He harrumphs. “Is that how you speak to your elders?” There’s no real bite to his tone, just a tinge of annoyance. The rest of the boys are hiding laughs.

“Didn’t you graduate a while ago?” You ask instead.

He uncrosses his arms, slumping. “… Yes,” he says guiltily. “I’m getting my Masters.”

“Hyung doesn’t like being called old,” the one still clutching the milk explains, mirth dancing in his eyes. “He’s old, but not obsolete. Not yet, anyway.”

“Shut it,” he snaps, pouting. He certainly doesn’t act old, you remark silently, stifling a giggle.

“We should do formal introductions,” the dimpled boy offers.

“My name is Kim Namjoon. I’m a Philosophy and History double major. I do TA for a couple courses.”

“Kim Taehyung! I like taking photos, so photography. Obviously. I’m thinking about picking up media arts or something on the side, though.”

“Jeon Jungkook. Graphic design and Photography.”

“Contemporary dance, Park Jimin.”

“Performing dance, Jung Hoseok! My stage name is J-Hope.”

“Music composition. Min Yoongi.”

“I’m Kim Seokjin, though you’ve probably already heard of me,” he smirks, puffing his chest out proudly. “Film and Acting.”

“Oh!” You say, nodding very seriously. “You were in that one fried chicken commercial, right?”

Seokjin stares, unimpressed even as the boys are falling into pieces beside him. “It was for the new Palisade.”

“Oh. They’re cool, too,” you agree. You don’t know much about cars.

“I’m ___. Do you guys want a tour?”

“So? Spill the beans!”

“On what?” You quirk an eyebrow as you flick through the menu. Ahri looks like she’s almost bouncing from her seat in excitement.

“Were they as handsome as they say?”

“What do people say about them, now?” The menu hasn’t changed, this restaurant is just as overpriced and basic as it’s been the past two years. You don’t even know why you bothered opening the damn thing. With a sigh, you toss it to the side.

“I heard Jimin looks like an angel when he sleeps. Rumour has it, once you’ve kissed Jin once, you can never go back. Have you seen his lips? God, they’re to die for,” Ahri moans.

You give her a look. “You’re kidding. And you believe that crap? They look like regular people. Albeit yes, handsome, really good looking people.”

“Hi, are you ready to order?” A soft, timid voice interrupts your gossip session.

“Jungkook,” you say, surprised. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Okay, fuck, you have to admit he looks so very delicious with that rumpled look of his, ruffled chestnut hair, the return of those killer black jeans, paired with a fitted black turtleneck. A red apron is tied around his unfairly thin waist.

“Ah,” he says, scratching his neck. Already reddening as he fiddles with the pad in his hand. “Um. I just started today, actually. I needed money … you know, for-for rent and stuff.”

“Oh no,” you say immediately, concern colouring your tone. “Was the rate too high? If it’s unaffordable for you, we can always figure something else out—”

“No, no!” Jungkook says hastily. “It’s not that. I was planning on getting another job anyway, regardless of where I ended up. I’d have to pay rent no matter where I lived.”

“Oh,” you nod. “In that case …”

Jungkook excuses himself as soon as your orders are scrawled down, still seemingly unable to meet your gaze for long.

“He’s just so cute,” Ahri swoons. You choke down the bile that threatens to hurl itself up from the mere sight of her exaggerated love struck expression. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, so what did you do? The tea, the tea,” she demands.

“There is no tea,” you throw your hands up. “I gave them the standard tour, copies of the lease to take home, but they said they wanted it so they signed them on the spot, paid the deposit and everything. It was super quick and they all just left right after. That’s it.”

“Wow, they must’ve been desperate,” she comments. “Though the house is really nice. It’s huge, totally worth the price you paid. I’m glad they came through, though. It would’ve been a death sentence to pay it all off yourself.”

“Yeah, especially since I don’t start my own co-op term till next year,” you grouch.

“Mhm. All that aside, it’s time you started living above that rock of yours,” Ahri says seriously. She pulls out her phone as the food arrives.

You push aside the trickle of disappointment that filters in when the waiter that delivers your respective meals isn’t Jungkook.

“Crash course on your hot new roommates,” she starts, passing the device to you. An unfamiliar YouTube page is opened to a video.

“Jung Hoseok and Park Jimin. Hoseok’s stage name is J-Hope, named after his sunny disposition. He has a YouTube series called Hope on the Street. Jimin runs it with him, and the two do all kinds of dance challenges and covers. They’re also the Co-Presidents of the school’s dance committee. They join the national competitions every year since they took over and have been winning ever since.”

You would think it would be a bit disconcerting seeing the two very diverse dance styles on two very different people on stage, but they don’t fight. They complement each other so brilliantly, it’s hard to tear your eyes away. You can’t decide who to watch, just sitting back to observe the entire frame.

“Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung. They have a vlog series called House of Bangtan. Mostly just random shit with the other guys, but it’s super entertaining and hilarious. Like the kind of content you know is genuine and makes you willing to die just for a chance to be a part of it. That’s how you know the seven of them are really good friends despite the age gaps. They also do challenges and giveaways.”

You’re watching Jin lose a game of charades, and he looks like he’s about to blow a fuse. The camera shakes uncontrollably as Jungkook runs way from his hyung, who’s screaming bloody murder behind him, chasing with the rubber duck he used to cheat with. Sore loser, the youngest mouths to the camera with a grin.

“Jungkook also owns a personal channel called Golden Closet Films. Pretty self-explanatory, but he makes movie clips of stuff like Hoseok and Jimin practising for the showcase and the like. He used to be part of the varsity volleyball team, but had to give it up when he tore his Achilles’ heel. It was pretty devastating for the school, too, since he was one of the best players. Taehyung has an Instagram page full of pictures for his photography collection. They’re super aesthetic. He goes under Vante.”

You scroll through the page, and you can definitely see why he’s so sought for by students and so famous in the department. He has a wicked eye and thinks so vividly outside the box. You also vaguely remember Jungkook’s impromptu early retirement being a huge deal when it happened. You were never really caught up with the school’s news, more academic driven, but you had your share of intramural sports. You imagine ‘devastating’ is a rather underwhelming way of describing that kind of pain.

“Kim Seokjin, or Jin he likes to be called, is a Films major and he’s done a bunch of commercials and modelling gigs. He loves food though, and he has a cooking channel plus an Instagram page. He’s the campus Heartthrob. He’s had that title for over five years. I mean, who can blame him? Do you see the man? He’s fucking cut from the image of perfection!”

Yeah, okay. He does look fucking good. And his cooking looks amazing. You rub your mouth discreetly, making sure you’re not actually physically drooling. You have food right in front of you, for fuck’s sake!

“Min Yoongi, he’s actually the same age as Jin but started late. He used to be an underground rapper by the name of Gloss. Now he works at the studio here with Jiyong and Slow Rabbit. Rumour has it he has a composing deal lined up with BigHit when he graduates. He goes by Suga now. He has a Soundcloud for distributing his self-composed music. I heard he also raps, but no one knows his stage name for that.”

This man is talented. His lyricism is fucking beautiful. Your heart constricts a bit, even though it’s not his voice, it doesn’t soften the hurt. It’s real.

“Kim Namjoon, he was one of our TAs for Business History last semester. He’s really smart. I’m talking grade A book smart. Heard his IQ is somewhere between 140 to 160. He’s crazy intelligent. Okay, but get this – he also composes on the side. He works with Yoongi and they’ve produced some stuff together. Here, listen to this.”

Put two galaxies together, and what do you get? A fucking supercluster and that shit is no joke. Together, they are something else. Someone who sees the world beyond its manmade barriers, someone who criticises, someone who is unflinchingly honest in what lies in the heart. Someone that feels, empathizes. Dreamers.

“So basically, the next year is just going to be me feeling all useless and untalented in a house full of very attractive and single men,” you surmise flatly.

“Yep,” Ahri says cheerfully, stabbing at a lettuce leaf.

“Fucking awesome.”

It’s the incessant knocking that wakes you. The doorbell follows soon after, buzzing loudly as you groan, rolling over.

“Who the f – oh.” You squint, the sunlight merrily blinding you as you open the door.

“___-noona, is now not a good time?” It’s Jimin that speaks, expression worried.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your temples. Fuck, you definitely drank too much last night. Dara dragged you to some frat party to celebrate your new roommates, who are, ironically enough, now all looking at you with palpable concern.

“It’s twelve,” Namjoon says, eyebrows furrowing. “But we can always come back later if it’s inconvenient for you.”

Oh, shit. Your gaze trails down to the multiple bags and suitcases they’re holding.

“No, no, of course not,” you croak. “Come in. Sorry. I had a long night.” Clearly.

You step to the side, allowing them to file in one by one, before locking the door behind them.

“Cute PJs,” Jin winks as he passes. You look down, horrified. Your pug print pajama pants and flimsy tee are on full display.

You slap your forehead, thoroughly embarrassed. You probably have awful bed head, too.

Running your fingers through the tangled locks, you follow them as they crowd around the living room. Grabbing a box you had the insight to leave on the counter much earlier this week, they tell you what room they’ve picked and you hand them their respective keys.

“Feel free to settle in and do whatever,” you call as you head back to your own room to get ready. “My only rule is that you clean after yourselves. This house is big enough as it is, so cleaning is a hassle. I don’t want to add personal trash into that.”

They make noises of agreement and you shut the door quickly, making your way to the bathroom to take a shower and to scream into a towel for five minutes.

The semester returns with a full swing. You’re nearly knocked over on the first punch, when the syllabus for each class is dropped and you realize you have six assignments due on the same day two weeks from now.

You’ve managed to avoid any further embarrassing interactions with your new roommates, having been bouncing around the city with your soon-to-be-AWOL friends before the term began.

From what you can tell, though, they’re fairly polite and greet you whenever there’s an opportunity. Some try for small talk, like Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok. Jungkook is still skittish and practically flies out the room if you’re in it for too long. Yoongi tends to disappear to his room for long periods of time, but Hoseok had told you it was because he was stacking up on sleep. You guessed his work would soon require much out of him, though how the hibernation storage thing worked was beyond you.

Jin was often out; Namjoon had informed you it was because he had a few other contracts to lock down for modelling and whatnot. Taehyung’s schedule was a bit flaky, since he liked taking impromptu trips around campus and the city whenever inspiration struck.

You said farewells to some of your friends, all boxed and hugged, they promised to call often and FaceTime, to which you knew they would hold their end of the bargain to. You weren’t worried, and wished them well.

Your real point of anxiety was how you were going to survive this year. Word had apparently spread like wildfire that the most eligible bachelors of your university had moved in … together … with you.

You’ve already gotten several rather disturbing messages from unknown numbers. You’re unsurprised but still annoyed. The content gets more disconcerting every time, and at this rate, you’re going to end up having to switch numbers. You’re broke, damn it! Broke. Why can’t people just focus on their own lives for once and chill the fuck out? Your wallet wails.

“Good morning, noona.” His smile is so warm for someone who’s just woken up. How does he look so good doing it, too? He’s got a pair of loose sweats and an oversized shirt on, hair mussed and eyes silted adorably as he yawns. It’s 8:30 in the fucking morning and you already want to run yourself over with a school bus.

“Jimin, hello,” you say distractedly, stuffing your laptop into your bag and snatching your keys from the bowl. “Can’t talk, got class.”

“Wait!” He says, rushing up to meet you. He’s holding a piece of buttered toast in his hand. “Eat something while you go. It’s bad to sit in lecture without a breakfast. You won’t be able to focus.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Thank you.” Your smile softens. Jimin scuffs his bare feet shyly in response. “You’re welcome, noona. Stay safe.”

You never eat breakfast. You either never wake up in time to make anything, or you’re too lazy. This is kind of nice, you admit. Have someone take care of you, or think of you. It’s sweet.

You could get used to this, you decide. But you don’t want to get too comfortable. You’ll only end up missing it when they’re gone.

The toast is oddly delicious.

“There’s a showcase coming up.”

“Yes, and?” You say, phone squished to your cheek as you check the course code of the wrapped textbook you’re holding.

“So you’re going, right?” Ahri demands. You can hear her heels clicking against the concrete as she makes her way to her car.

You stand, huffing as you survey the neat stacks of books you’ve spent the last hour organizing. “You’re joking, right? What reason do I have to be at that showcase? I’ve never gone before and there’s no way I’m going this year,” you answer matter-of-factly as you dust yourself off.

“___, we need you at the front,” your manager calls, poking her head in to flash you an apologetic smile.

You give her a thumbs up before returning to the call. “Look, just because Hoseok and Jimin now share a living accommodation with me and we talk casually does not mean I’m suddenly their best friend. Have fun at work!”

You cut off her protests as you pocket your device decisively.

Of course.

“___!” He beams. “Hi! I didn’t know you worked here.”

“That’s because I usually work the tech section. What can I do for you today, Hoseok-sunbae?” Speak of the devil, you crack a polite smile.

“Just Hoseok, please. I was wondering if you guys sell the code for a digital copy of behavioural economics?” Why are his eyes practically sparkling? How can he be so cheerful?

“Hoseok, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why are you taking a senior economics course as a dance major?” You ask bluntly.

Hoseok splutters, rubbing his neck. “Um. Namjoon said it would be good for me?” He tries.

You look at him strangely, but shrug. It’s not your business anyway. His loss. Though you’re certain he doesn’t care much about his GPA, considering he’s pretty much got a bunch of prestigious studios vying for him already.

“Anything else I can help you with today?” You say as you scan the code.

“Actually … I was wondering if you were coming to the showcase,” Hoseok says, sounding almost shy.

You eye him suspiciously. “Do you want me there to support you or something? I thought this was only the preliminaries or something.”

“I … We’d really like it if you could make it. Jimin and I … we haven’t had much inspiration lately, to be honest,” he admits. His head hangs, like he’s on the verge of defeat. It doesn’t suit him, and you find yourself frowning.

“The last thing we want is to repeat stuff we’ve done before, but I’ve been stumped all summer. Usually I’d be done choreographing everything, but this year … I dunno,” he trails off.

“I understand that, but why would me being there help?” You tap your fingers against the counter. The campus bookstore is fairly empty today, given that you’re closing in half an hour.

“I just … I thought maybe you could be an unbiased third party, that’s all,” Hoseok says awkwardly. “If you don’t, I totally understand! It was just a suggestion, I guess.”

You sigh, pushing the terminal to him as he fumbles for his wallet. “What time is your practice?”

Hoseok’s grin is blinding and you can’t decide if you’re going to greatly regret or thank yourself for this later on.

“Thank you! Friday, at four in AR Studios. You know where the music department is, right? The practise rooms are on the hallway to the left.”

You manage a weak smile. “I’ll be there.”

It’s a Tuesday, and Taehyung’s fallen asleep on the couch.

You’re exhausted, running yourself a bit thin with the amount of work you’ve been putting in already. You perch on the edge, the soft material sinking slightly under your weight, but the angel doesn’t stir.

And you concede he might as well be one, given how ethereal he appears. He hugs a pillow to his chest, expression serene and limbs lax as he slumbers on. His dark-coloured curls obscure his forehead, pink lips parted lightly as he exhales slowly.

Before you can quench the urge, you reach over and brush his fringe from his eyes.

You’re tired. That’s the only explanation you can offer for what happens next.

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to grab your wrist tightly.

And you find yourself falling as he tugs you on top of him. A quiet oomph escapes you as you bracket his body, arms trembling faintly at the sheer proximity.

His expression, half-lidded and hazy, tells you he’s still flitting in and out of consciousness. Suspended, like he’s replaying his dream in real life.

His smile is lopsided as he cups your cheek, thumbing your cheekbones tenderly. His touch is feverish, so warm it startles you when he guides your palm to his chest, two buttons undone already.

“Heart,” he whispers, and you inhale sharply. His voice breaks, tone anguished and defeated. It both shocks and scares you.

“Taehyung,” you say shakily, ignoring the fluttering beat of his heart and the blood rushing in your ears to press your forehead against his. “Taehyung, you’re burning up.”

“I finally found you,” he sighs, and it alarms you to see he’s fading fast, eyes flickering as he sinks into the couch. “Where did you go, heart? You promised …”

“Promised? Promised what? Tae, what are you talking about?” You say frantically, shaking him lightly. His head rolls and he manages a weak chuckle. “You finally called me Tae again …”

Your eyebrows knit. “What …?” Before you manage anything more, Taehyung collapses.

“He’ll be alright. He’s got a pretty high fever, but it should break by tonight.” Seokjin sounds so self-assured and calm that you find yourself relaxing.

You’ve been fretting, pacing restlessly as you waited for the eldest to return. You contacted him the moment Taehyung knocked out, anxious and unsure of what to do next. The room filled with his laboured breathing, and you tried to alleviate some of the heat by resting a cool towel on his forehead.

The house was typically empty for the day, everyone off to their respective classes and work. The boys usually congregated at night, for dinner and the movies or games that followed. They’ve invited you several times, but you declined each time. You’ve been … busy.

You hesitated on doing more, considering how little you truly knew of Taehyung. You weren’t sure he’d appreciate you accidentally poisoning him with the wrong dose of medication. That, and invading his personal space.

Seokjin opted to buy some medication on his way back instead, and the photography major seems to sleep a bit easier now.

The eldest gives the patient one last once-over before rising to his feet.

“I might as well make dinner, then. Want to come along?” He asks lightly. You follow him to kitchen, shaking your head guiltily. “I’m sorry for making you come back so early. I just didn’t know what else to do. Everyone else was so busy, and—”

“—And I’m the only real adult, I know,” Seokjin says, chuckling. “I’m glad you called. I was about done with my shoot anyway.”

You linger at the island counter awkwardly as you watch him tie an apron to his waist and comb through the fridge for ingredients.

“Sunbae …,” you falter, but he beckons you forward with an encouraging smile. You’re relieved to see he doesn’t seem upset the slightest, though you honestly can’t say you know him enough to determine whether it was sincere or merely a practised mask.

“Jin, please. I’m not that much older, truth be told,” he tells you as you wash the rice.

“Then, Jin … Is Taehyung … with someone right now?” You keep your gaze trained to your task, draining the murky water so carefully you miss the way Seokjin tenses.

“Why? Do you have your sights set on our baby?” Seokjin says lightly, but his voice hints of strain, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You snort unintentionally, coughing quickly to cover it up. “Hardly. I was just wondering.”

“Did he do something weird? Taehyung can act pretty strange when he’s out of it like that. He’ll say or do pretty weird things when he’s drunk or has a really high fever,” Seokjin explains as he pours the vegetables he’s cut into the pot on the stove.

“Oh,” you say as you plug the machine in. “I see.” The rice maker beeps, and you excuse yourself politely.

Thursday is a disaster. You’d hoped he’d keep his distance, given you’d been quite clear the last time you spoke. But of course -

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been dodging me since we moved in. Why?”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me. You’re the only person that’s been lying since we met. You made your point very clear that day, and you moving in? It doesn’t change a damn thing. Now tell me what you want or get out. I’m done with your shit.”

“You can’t mean that. You know I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did have a choice. Me, or that damn reputation of yours. You told me to go to hell. What more do you want?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know what? That it would mean I would lose everything? I didn’t mean shit to you. I don’t know why I ever thought I could trust you.”

“If I had known, I would’ve—”

“Would have what? Tried harder? Bull. Shit. You don’t care about anything but yourself and your career. You can tell yourself different, but you and I both know if I hadn’t trusted you, I wouldn’t be in this position. You did this to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your weakass excuse for an apology. I said I was done with you and I am. This is the last time I’m going to sit here and listen to you pretend you’re the victim. For the sake of peace, I will play niceties with you in front of your friends, but make no mistake: You can’t turn back time. You cannot change what happened, you cannot fix it, you cannot make it better. So go away. Don’t talk to me. Don’t seek me out. We’re not friends. We’ll never be anything ever again. I hope, in time, I can forget you ever existed at all.”

“I’m going to make this right, I swear. I love you more than anything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life if I have to proving it to you.”

“Please just go.”

You stare out the window, the city lights blinding in the night skyline. The glass reflects the emptiness in your eyes, and there’s only deafening silence that’s shattered in the next beat by the slamming of your door.

Hugging your arms to your chest, you refuse to acknowledge the sharp sting in your eye.

You wish you’d never met him.

“Just … be careful,” Yoongi says quietly. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him outside of their initial tour. “Housing wasn’t the only reason some of us are here.”

You stifle a sigh. All you wanted was some water, not another 2 am detox on everything wrong in your life.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask carefully. His hand pauses on the doorknob.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” is all he says.

You’re left to ponder his warning as he disappears into his room. Your phone lights up in your hand.

[01:25] Unknown: I need to see you. Can we talk?

#jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #ot7 x reader #ggukienet #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #btsguild #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #heartbeat

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