#I'm still writing it so sorry it goes nowhere

[ninja-confession-go]

So I'm from Croatia and unsurprisingly I first watched ninjago in the croatian dub. Now for the most part it was was actually pretty decent as far as croatian dubbing goes, but still it had it's moments.

One of them being a rather goofy nonsensical translation that was trying to be funny, but it was so unfunny that it went around and I found it funny again because how dumb it was.

The episode with that translation was the second episode of Possession. The scene in question was when they were in that desert going to Stiix and when they stopped to rest at that mini train station. They hear one of Morros buddies laughing and Cole asks if they heard that, as many of you already know in the original Jay then says 'But we are in the middle of nowhere!' Croatian Jay instead says 'Ali u Čačincima smo!' (But we are in Čačinci!). Čačinci (Chachincee) are a little village in the region I'm from, the first time I heard it on TV little me wasn't even sure if I even heard that right. I was like 'wait what Čačinci? That place I pass trough every time I go to my swimming lessons, whaaaaat?' I rewatched older seasons with the dub not that long ago and yep I did hear that right. Except this time I just found that stupidly funny, like why the hell did that person or people who translated that episode decide to randomly slander a random village in Slavonija (the region I'm from). What is it because hehe haha we needed a random small place to make fun of, guess Čačinci of all places will be our victim. Mind you that place is actually fairly big for Croatian village standards and it's nicely kept so it feels like a mini town when you go trough it. Also that pretty much means that this place is canon in the croatian version of ninjago which I just find stupidly funny. Like you got all these fictional asian based locations and then just a random irl croatian village.

But wait there's more to this! Mom and I actually drove trough that place few times recently and we will probably keep going trough it. And of course every time we passed it I just kept giggling like an idiot and my mom was like, oh here we go again. Also I've nicknamed Jay 'Čačinci hater' because of this.

Ok sorry for me writing an essay about random nonsense have a great day/night goodbye!

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[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Sorry if this seems confrontational, but for the life of me I can’t get into your “Chloe has no growth” point when the show itself retracts growth from everyone and is inconsistent with everyone. You saying “The show just lays down basic character traits in Chloe” doesn’t make sense when her basic character traits are supposed to be her being selfish and spoiled.

S2 built off of that and despite what you say, had Chloe doing things that in S1 she wouldn’t have done. She apologized multiple times to the people she wronged, she willingly put herself in harm’s way to help the people she cares about and she was openly vulnerable to Ladybug in “Malidiktaor”. Something S1 Chloe wouldn’t have done. If there’s a distinct difference between a Chloe back in S1 and a Chloe in S2, then growth HAS taken place. But it doesn’t stay because of the formula (and the writers just don’t want her to keep that growth)

So what I’m asking is…what do you mean “Chloe doesn’t have growth”?

I can understand the “No arc” argument because an unfinished arc feels like there’s no arc at all (even though they are fundamentally not the same)

I wouldn't say that the show retracts growth from everyone. It's more that no one is ever supposed to grow. Every episode resets the cast. That's just how pure formula shows work and Miraculous is being sold as a pure formula show. The characters are meant to be static (one of the writers literally compared Miraculous to Dora the Explorer).

That static nature is why pure formula shows normally avoid giving their good-guy characters major flaws. It's the wrong medium for that type of thing specifically because the characters cannot change in meaningful ways throughout the show. They can learn little lessons that don't really change them and maybe have big change between seasons via a special or movie, but that's about it. Thus things like the season four conflict working so poorly. It's just a terrible choice for a formula show! The conflict is literally not allowed to develop properly because of the chosen format.

But sure, let's talk about Chloe and why I will die on the hill that she never demonstrated meaningful improvement even with the issue of the inconstant writing. In fact, seasons-one-to-three Chloe is one of the most consistent characters in the show. For this discussion to work, we need to start off by discussing character development and the two main forms it can take: character establishment and character growth.

Character Establishment

When the audience meets a character, they know nothing about said character. It's up to the writer to guide the introduction process. To choose when to reveal already existing elements of the character's personality, skills, and backstory. This is called character establishment. It is the writing telling you who the character is on a baseline level. Those reveals don't need to happen at the start of the story, though. They can be - and often are - held back for when the time is right.

When these reveals are delayed, it's important to remember that these elements were always part of the character. The reveal isn't changing who the character actually is. It's just changing how the audience views the character.

For example, we spend a good chunk of season one uncertain why Gabriel is doing what he does. Then, in Origins, we learn that it's all for Emilie. This is new information that adds depth to Gabriel's character, but it doesn't change him in any way. This is who he always was. We just know him better now and can recontextualize past events with our new understanding of his motivation.

Character Growth

Character growth is when writers take a character's personality or world view or even just their skills from point A to point B, allowing the audience to watch the character change and become a new better - or lesser - version of themself. This is usually part of a larger character arc where all the moments of growth add up, but it can take the form of small moments of growth that don't fit into a bigger picture, too. I'd probably still call that an arc, but we'll use the word "growth" a lot in this post, so let's just call it growth to be consistent.

Miraculous doesn't really have either arcs or growth because - once again - formula shows don't allow characters to meaningfully change, so I'm going to have to make up an example here. I'll use one that illustrates how character establishment and character growth can and do intertwine as that's an important thing to acknowledge to help guide this discussion.

Let's say that we have a character who lost their family at a young age. We'll call this character Mary. Mary's loss guides her character throughout the entire story, but the other characters and the audience are never told that this is what's going on. We just know that Mary acts in seemingly illogical ways at times and that she trusts no one.

Throughout the story, Mary learns to trust her costars, leading to a big, dramatic scene where she finally tells them - and the audience - about her past. This big dramatic scene is both the culmination of a character arc and a piece of baseline character establishment that allows us to understand Mary's character better no matter what part of the story we're reading.

Because these combo growth and establishment moments are so common in stories, it can feel like character growth when we learn new things about a character in a dramatic moment, but that's not always what's happening. Sometimes dramatic moments are just there to reveal what was always there by forcing a character to act differently than they usually do through the power of extenuating circumstances. These extenuating-circumstances moments are not character growth because, once the moment is over, the character resets to their normal self. The moment wasn't there to let them grow. It was there for the sake of the plot.

This is actually a really important thing that writers need to know how to do. Figuring out what circumstances will make a character say or do a thing they generally wouldn't say or do is part of how stories work. I have started stories with characters acting wildly "out of character" because I put them in the a situation where the behavior suddenly was in character!

Oh, you don't want to talk to this total stranger because you're an introvert with social anxiety who has yet to learn how to love yourself and open up to others? That's nice. Your leg is broken now and you're stuck in the middle of nowhere. What you gonna do sucker? Lie there in the dirt or talk to the nice lady who wants to help you? Your choice! (Spoiler: he talked to the nice lady. He even let her physically support him when he'd usually never let a stranger touch him!)

As soon as that scene was over, the character reverted because it wasn't growth. He didn't become a more open person. He just did something he normally wouldn't do because the situation demanded it. It was extenuating circumstances so that the freaking plot could start.

This is what happened with Chloe in season two. Everything that people call growth is really just extenuating circumstances that reset by the end of the episode or even by the end of the scene.

Let's Talk About Chloe

Chloe does not have a character arc, aborted or otherwise. She is never taken on a journey where we watch her change. All we get is delayed character establishment via extenuating circumstances, but it's given in ways that make some people feel like she was being given an arc. Let's talk about why that is.

Season one Chloe is a one dimensional mean girl. She has almost no depth. She's just here to be petty and cause akumas. She is not a fully realized character.

Season two takes those traits and keeps them, but also gives Chloe a lot more depth to round her out and make her feel like a real character. She's just as petty and mean as she always was, but we're finally allowed to see her in some moments that make her feel like a well of potential to become something more, which the writers basically had to do if they wanted to let her be a hero. The audience needed to feel like Chloe could be good in the right situation.

The feelings evoked by her newly discovered depth are why people go "oh, she had a character arc! My feelings about her changed in a big way!" But she didn't have an arc. You just got to know her better by seeing her in moments where she was forced to be vulnerable. That's not growth. Growth is meaningful, lasting change, not situational change. Everyone changes based on the situation! It's why the "True Selves" stuff is such nonsense. It implies that there's one set way that we're supposed to act in order to be authentic and anything else is some kind of lie which just isn't how the world works.

Let's look at some examples to drive home what I mean.

Season one established that Chloe idolized Ladybug. It's why we get things like this moment from Evil Illustrator:

Ladybug: Fine! You stay! Later! Cat Noir: What do you mean later? Ladybug: I mean, you're the one who wants to protect her, so you don't need me. So, later! (swings away) Chloé:(looks over balcony) Ahhh! Ladybug! Text me! OK!

And this confession from Antibug:

Ladybug: [Chloe] pretended she was me?! How often does that happen? Armand: She idolizes you.

So Chloe adores Ladybug and wants to impress her/be her best friend. Cool. Got it. That never goes anywhere in season one because season one doesn't see Chloe and Ladybug interact much. The most we get is Ladybug saving Chloe from akumas, which doesn't allow for deep conversations. I don't think that they're ever alone in a moment where they can actually talk.

That changes in season two. In season two, they get to interact a lot and it's often in moments where there's a big threat and no one else is around, letting us see a new side to Chloe. But that's not Chloe changing. It's just the writers revealing that Chloe has more to her than the mean girl stuff because of course she does! Pure mean girls don't exist. Everyone has depth. We simply never saw that depth before because Chloe was never put in a situation where she needed to be open. We can't say that season one Chloe wouldn't confess things to Ladybug or chose to sacrifice herself to let Ladybug win because she never had the chance to do those things!

In fact, I'd go so far as to argue that season one Chloe probably would have done the same things as season two Chloe because season two Chloe doesn't really contradict season one Chloe. Antibug showed us that Chloe was pretty desperate to be loved and welcomed the way that Ladybug is loved and welcomed:

Chloé: Jagged Stone! Jagged: (thinking she's the actual Ladybug) Ladybug! What are you doing here? Chloé: Um… when I find out you were here, I knew you'd wanna see me! I had to come say hello. (Sabrina waves at Jagged)

and Chloe has always been a stubborn girl who stands up for what she wants even if what she wants is something bad. Antibug also showed us that Chloe can be genuinely nice to the people she cares about. Her and Sabrina's relationship is shown to be complex with them often having a lot of fun together.

Similarly, Origins sees Chloe showing her father genuine affection after she's saved from Stoneheart:

[Image description: Chloe and Andre hugging and looking very happy to be together]

Origins is the baseline episode that tells us who the characters are on day one, so I never once doubted that Chloe loved Andre, but Andre didn't get akumatized because of Chloe's actions in season one. He didn't even get akumatized for something that Chloe had nothing to do with! His first akumatization is in season two, so it's not shocking that we don't get a Malidiktaor type scene until Malidiktaor.

Chloe was vulnerable with her personal hero when her beloved parent was in danger, but not before? Shocking! Who would have guessed?

Me. I would have guessed. I didn't even realize that people were reading it as some sort of character growth because it clearly wasn't. Malidiktaor didn't feel like something new for Chloe's character. It just felt like the writers were leaning into things that we'd always known about Chloe and using them to better establish her character as someone who genuinely cares about select people. She just doesn't show most of the time.

The same thing goes for Chloe's sacrifice and apology in Zombizou. Chloe only sacrifices herself when there's no one left but her and Ladybug. When the choice is to let the terrorist win or take the hit and let you personal hero save the day. Brave? Sure, but also not growth. Chloe is team Ladybug for all of seasons one, two, and three! She wants Ladybug to like her! Plus even a petty brat can have moments of goodness where they pick a hero over a literal terrorist.

This honestly would have been a damming moment if Chloe didn't sacrifice herself. She functionally had no other choice here. The entire episode builds itself to the self-sacrifice moment so that Chloe is forced to make that choice even though she's been her petty bratty self throughout the whole attack. It's genuinely solid writing.

Then, in the heightened emotions directly after the Zombizou win, we get this:

Miss Bustier: But I hurt a lot of people... Chloé: No... I did... I forgot your birthday, once again. And when I saw everyone had prepared a gift for you, I totally lost it. Because I, too, would've liked to offer you something. I'm sorry, Miss Bustier. Miss Bustier: Thank you, Chloé. Those words are the best possible gift you could ever give me. (hugs Chloé) (Chloé hugs her back, forgetting herself for a moment.) Chloé: Huh?... Uh, yeah. Okay then, we're all good.

A brief moment of vulnerability that quickly ends and does not stick around because Chloe's change was situational, not true growth. The next scene of that episode starts with Chloe being her usual self:

Chloé: Me? You want me to apologize to the entire class? Ridiculous! They should be thanking me for saving everybody.

And ends with the reveal of Chloe's gift to Miss Bustier, which was given in private via a note.

Once again, nothing new for Chloe's character. She acts as she always has, being mean to everyone while having moments of vulnerability when things get tense. Remember that hug between her and her father that we talked about earlier? Same concept. She had just almost died from an akuma attack and so she needed some emotional support, leading her to act more openly loving than she usually does when he's around. Once the moment is over, she reverts to the petty mean girl default.

Giving gifts to placate people is also something that we've seen before. A pretty similar thing happens at the end of Evil Illustrator, it's just played less sympathetic towards Chloe because the writers weren't giving her depth back then:

Sabrina: Too late. Chloé and I are doing the project together. Marinette: You mean, you're doing the project? Sabrina: Well, of course! After all she's been through... Marinette: Ughhh.... Nice new beret, by the way. Sabrina: I know, right! Chloé lent it to me. She really is my BFF! Chloé! Your geography homework's ready!

For any of this to be character growth, we need to see Chloe act differently over time. For her to be put in similar situations and get different outcomes, but we don't see that in part because Chloe didn't change and in part because season one didn't do much to develop Chloe's deeper side. We rarely see her alone or in moments of extreme vulnerability, but you need those moments to show her depth. That's why Despair Bear had Chloe crying alone after Adrien threatened to end her friendship and not before. Chloe is very reluctant to openly show depth. You have to force it out of her, which perfectly fits the character we met in season one.

Even her standing up to Hawkmoth and rejecting the akuma isn't character growth in my opinion. Chloe has always stood up to authority and demanded whatever she wants. She has wanted to be Ladybug's friend and be seen as a hero since season one, so it's not shocking that her extremely strong will would allow her to defy a terrorist. If there is anyone in this show who can stand up to a terrorist on shear "no!" power alone, it's little miss I-always-get-what-I-want. I could see a variation of this happening at any point in the show, just change Chloe's reason for defying Gabriel to match the situation. Rework these lines to be about a party that she wanted to go to and I'd still totally buy it:

Chloé: No, Hawk Moth! I am a superheroine! I am Queen Bee! Ladybug will come and get me when she needs me! I WILL NEVER JOIN YOU! (throws her photo onto the ground as the akuma exits it... and pants)

Chloe acted like a hero here because she wants all the perks of being a hero and can't believe that Ladybug would actually bench her. That's impossible! Ladybug wouldn't do that!

As soon as Chloe accepts that she won't be a hero again, Chloe stops acting heroic because acting heroic wasn't growth. It was her playing a part the same way she played a part in Despair Bear. She was doing what she needed to do to be Queen Bee again and not because it's the right thing to do. This would only be real growth if she rejected the akuma after accepting that she wouldn't be Queen Bee again, but that's not what happens. As soon as she accepts that she's out, she no longer has any reason to play nice. She never grew into a character who did what's right for the sake of doing the right thing. It's always been about getting what she wants or being seen how she wants to be seen. Until that changes, she hasn't changed.

So no, Chloe didn't have an aborted arc. They didn't start to redeem her and then change their minds. All they did was make Chloe one of the most complex characters in the show only to then not do anything with the character they wasted our time establishing, ignoring the complexity they gave her while also cranking her mean dial up to the point of absurdity where she's not even fun in her original role anymore.

I get why it feels like she had an aborted arc. The fact that the character establishment was delayed makes it feel like something shiny and new about Chloe. There's also the fact that the character establishment we get in season two is the kind of character establishment that you'd do if you were setting up for a redemption arc, but that doesn't change the fact that it was all establishment work. None of it was a true arc where we watched Chloe grow. We just saw her put in situations that revealed hidden depths.

Her showing depth is not her growing because when in the world does she show off this supposed growth? She only acts differently in the type of scenes that we've never seen her in before or around characters that we've never seen her truly interact with before. When she's around the established teen characters or in her usual scenes, then she acts the same way that she always has. We never see her be genuinely nice to Marinette or something like that. She's only nice to Ladybug and she's still rude to Chat Noir. That's not character growth! That's character establishment that can then be used to guide character growth!

Same thing goes for the stuff in Despair Bear. We learn that Adrien can push Chloe to be better, but he never does it again and she reverts as soon as he lets her off the hook, so it wasn't character growth! It was just Chloe establishing that she can play nice when she needs to. This means that she could grow if the story chose to take her down that path because we've established that she knows what being nice looks like. Fake it til you make it plot go, go, go! But the plot never went, went, went so meh?

Add in the fact that season one was a bit of a test season with lots of elements that got dropped and the fact that characterization in this show has always been wildly inconsistent from episode to episode and I'm really not seeing a strong argument for Chloe having an intentional arc that somehow got aborted. People just saw the potential for her to have one and argue that potential is the same as an aborted arc when it really, really isn't.

To give an analogy, Chloe's story is like walking into the kitchen and seeing grandma laying out the ingredients for her famous chocolate chip cookies. We get excited because, hey, cookies! Then we come back an hour later and there are no cookies. Nor is there some other sweet that uses the same ingredients. There's just ingredients, sitting unused in their original packaging, making us wonder what the heck grandma was up to. At the same time, she never really started making cookies. She just set out ingredients. They're still there, totally unused, waiting to be made into something, so we can't call them a failed cookie attempt. That implies a level of commitment that was never there. She didn't even say that she was making cookies! We just assumed she was because we, understandably, wanted cookies and wanted to believe that grandma had a purpose to her actions.

[jerejerejere]

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I need a pause button on the obsession, i don't get anything done all my brain wants ot to be fed käärijä-shaped sugar 😭

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘"

read part 2 here!

pairing: tsukishima x reader & suna x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: sorry i got carried away writing these ahh i sort of twisted the prompt of "when they call you clingy" into my own sort of thing idk how to explain but hopefully this turned out well :,) also not proofread so sorry about the mistakes! and as always feel free to send me requests and tell me ur thoughts on my writing!

tsukishima kei

tsukishima, you, and a few of the former karsuno volleyball players decided to have a small little reunion dinner after not seeing each other for so long.

everyone's embracing each other with hugs and to be frank, it's really nice of him to invite you to meet his friends from high school! you're really looking forward to getting to know them and maybe even getting to know your boyfriend a bit more.

as all of you are sitting at the table debating what to order, there's much chit chat between everyone and you swear you haven't seen kei so carefree in a while. sure, he's still throwing his sarcastic, snarky comments but they don't hit too harshly towards his teammates.

they are most definitely used to this.

the food has arrived and way too much wine has been ordered. with their slurred words and pink cheeks, you can tell all of them are going to blackout the moment they all get home.

"kei, so how'd you pull this gorgeous girl?" tanaka asks out of nowhere "ain't no way she fell for your snarky ass personality."

you and him both let out a chuckle and he replied with, "nah, they're just clingy as fuck and i guess they were fun to keep around."

you go quiet and the laughter has sort of died out. but the drinks keep pouring and nishinoya speaks.

"god, you're a fucking asshole," nishinoya chimes. "she's way too good for you.

although the conversation begins to take a turn in a different direction, you can't seem to get his words out of your mind.

clingy. he thinks i'm clingy.

a ball of insecurity starts to form in your stomach and his comment starts the train of overthinking. you keep telling yourself that he's had too many drinks.

yet a part of you is telling you that drunk thoughts are sober words.

how long has he thought of me as "clingy?"

the small chuckles and laughs that escape your lips have come to a halt and now you're feeling incredibly insecure. you begin to zone out and start chugging down a few glasses of wine to drown out your surroundings.

after a few eventful hours, you and tsukishima decide to grab a taxi and head home for the night. he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and you immediately head into the bedroom to change your clothes, not sparing him a second glance.

tsukishima enters the bed after cleaning up and his arm drapes over your chest. your body goes completely stiff and you're super uncomfortable with his touch, especially after his comment about you being clingy.

the moment you hear his light snores, you slowly remove his arm off your body and turn to face away from him. a feeling of numbness begins to overtake your body and you feel a sense of emptiness within.

the next morning, tsukishima woke up with a horrible headache and he instantly regretted drinking so much last night. he groans and pats your side of the bed and is greeted by just the bedsheets and not you.

grumbling, he got out of bed in search of you and finds you standing by the balcony with a cup of coffee in your hand. in that moment, his heart skips a beat and he's reminded of how much he loves you.

you yelp in surprise when you feel two arms slither around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder. "good morning baby," he kisses your cheek.

"hi kei," you say curtly.

"what's for breakfast?"

"i just made myself toasted bread with jam. you can just make some cereal or something. i think we still have your lucky charms in the pantry," you tell him.

he pulls away from you and he feels something is off with you. you feel distant.

the feeling is confirmed when the both of you are sitting on the living room sofa while watching the new episode of your favorite reality tv show. kei expects you to come close to him and rest your head on his shoulder like you usually do yet there you are, in his vicinity, but sitting on the other end of the couch, clinging to a throw pillow.

he can't seem to concentrate on the movie when the only thing he can see is you sitting to yourself, gone completely quiet. he doesn't know what's wrong and he can't rack his mind as to what might have happened that made you so distant.

after the movie ends, he kisses your forehead and he feels your body stiffen.

what's going on? i don't know what i did?

he pulls away and looks at you. "y/n, something's wrong," he states.

you refuse to meet his gaze now and your twiddling with your fingers. he seems to have no recollection of what he's said to you last night. although, he might not recall what he said, it's the only thing you can recall in your mind. ever since this morning, whenever, you look at him, the only thing running in your mind is his words, "nah, she's just clingy as fuck and i guess she was fun to keep around."

"we're good," you reply promptly. "don't worry about it."

he grabs your hands and puts them in his which catches you off guard. you love the feeling of his hand in yours but the rational part of your brain wants to pull away, thinking about how he thought you were so clingy.

"listen, i'm not good at this. i'm not good at communicating my feelings but for you, i want to do better. so please, it would mean a lot if you could tell me what's wrong so i can help you and... us."

this is the most genuine you've seen him in a while and although to most, it may have seemed like some half-assed speech but to you, it felt raw and vulnerable.

"ok well," you began. "last night, when we were out with your friends, you were talking with your friends and well, you mentioned something about me. and it made me wonder if you think i'm clingy?"

he was confused. "no, i don't think you're clingy anymore? i don't know what you're talking about?"

the "anymore" in his response to you was something that saddened you a little. he found me clingy yet never told me?

"so you did think i was clingy, right?"

with a deep breath, he began to explain himself, "when we got together, i wasn't really used to... being so close to someone. you would always hold my hand or loop your arm in mine or something. you would always be holding me or touching me and i wasn't sure how i felt it about it at first. i was never one for physical touch so when you began to show that to me, i just... it felt... suffocating."

you're looking into his eyes, swimming with sadness and searching for answers, and he feels a mixture of sadness and guilt as he continues to explain himself.

"but being with you, i've grown to love your touch and honestly, now that i think about it, i don't know what i'd do if you just stopped being yourself and clinging on to me. i would go insane if you stopped."

kei leans in for a hug and you hug him back. you missed holding him like this and well, you just miss him. but now that kei has said all this, you're not sure about anything anymore.

you pull away and tell him, "i'm sorry you couldn't tell me that you were uncomfortable with my touches. i should have asked you how fast or slow you wanted to go and i shouldn't have forced my affection on to you."

"if you want, we can slow down. i understand," you say with a tone of finality in your voice.

"no!" he immediately replied. "it's.. it's not that. you don't force your affection on to me. you never have. i just am awkward with affection and growing up, i've never had it so i'd get super fidgety and that's why i think i felt like you were being clingy. but i love it."

"i love it when you hold my hand when we're walking to the grocery store. i love it when you doodle on my hand with your fingers when we're waiting for the food to come when we eat out. i love it when you tell me about the little stories from work while you're cooking dinner. i love it when you mumble in your sleep and snuggle close to me when it gets cold at night. i love everything about you."

kei was very much out of his comfort zone as he told you all these things and it surprised you that he noticed all these little details. you could tell he was getting embarrassed, considering how his cheeks were turning pink. you couldn't help but let a little smile seep through your facial features.

"you're so sappy," you reply.

"oh shut up."

you both laugh and then he cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. "don't ever think you force your affection on me because you never do, okay?"

"okay, kei."

the both of you spend the rest of the day with one another, making comforting memories together that the both of you will fondly remember in the future.

suna rintaro

you're not even sure how this argument even started. all you can remember is asking suna if he could accompany you to a work party that you were invited to. it was supposed to be a relatively relaxing event with not too much worries yet suna was once again trying to bail out.

"come on rin! it's one party and we never get to go out anymore," you try again for the nth time.

"y/n, jesus, i told you this, i don't want to fucking go! practice is draining me out and the one day i get off, you want me to go to some stupid fucking work party. can't you see that i want to be home?"

"we won't even have to be there that long! i just want you to come with me so you can meet some of my friends and support me. i'm really not asking for much," you counter. "i'm always trying to go to your games to support you from the stands and i'm asking you to do this one thing for me."

"i never fucking asked you to come to my games!" suna's voice began to rise and you felt yourself shrink. you had never seen him so intensely angry before. he was always so nonchalant so seeing this side of him made you nervous. "god, you're just so suffocating with everything. you always wanna do shit together, like jeez, give me a break. you're so fucking clingy sometimes; i just want space."

your mouth snaps shut and you can't find it in yourself to even reply. suna leaves the bedroom and you can head the jangle of his keys and the front door opens and then slams shut. a tear escapes from one eye and then all of a sudden, it's a full blown mental breakdown. you're sitting on the bed, crying off all your makeup.

after your cries turn into sniffles, you call up one of your colleagues, telling them you won't be attending the party. that night, you end up crying yourself to sleep.

suna had come home quite late that night after storming out.

in his head, he admits that the argument had blown up for no reason. but he just really didn't want to see your coworkers. he was cranky, annoyed, and irritated, making him deeply irrational.

as he walks into the bedroom, he sees you fast asleep in your clothes that you were planning to go out in and your makeup smudged all over your face. he felt incredibly guilty.

he messed up big time and he had to fix this. he hoped in the morning, the both of you would wake up together so he could talk it out and apologize.

you wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than last night. you turn to see suna lying in bed and a part of you just wants to run your fingers through your hair. as your fingers hover above his head, you're reminded of his words from last night.

you're so fucking clingy sometimes. i just want space.

your fingers immediately retracted and you decided to get up to start the rest of your day. you didn't want to let his words get to you. he said his opinion and there's nothing much you could do other than give him space. you'd be doing him a favor by giving him that space that he wanted, right?

suna shifts in bed, arm reaching out to your side of the bed, subconsciously. as he pats down your side of the bed, he feels the emptiness and he jolts up out of bed.

he's walking out of the bedroom and he sees you sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.

a sigh of relief escapes his mouth, thanking whatever deity out there that you hadn't left. even if you did, he couldn't blame you for it. he hurt you and there was no denying that.

"hi babe," he casually says alouds and plops on the couch next to you.

"hey."

your tone is cold and to be frank, you could care less than speak to him right now. seeing him is just a constant reminder of how clingy you are and you really don't want to be confronted with the feeling of sadness again.

in an attempt to smooth things over with you, he tries to start conversation in hopes that things will get back to normal naturally and maybe.. just maybe you'll know that he's sorry without him saying it.

"osamu was talking about some new onigiri thing he made and he wanted to drop some off for us to try. should i say yes?" he asked.

"sure."

your responses to his efforts are completely shut down and he's just praying that things get better with time. he reassures himself that things will go back to normal, it's just a matter of time. within a few days, things will be back to normal!

that's what he thought until his first volleyball match of the season came about. as he was standing in the court, his eyes scanned the rest of the stadium for your figure in hopes of finding you wearing his jersey but to no avail, he couldn't find you.

he assumed you were running late or stuck in traffic. no matter what you would be here, right?

but the first set is already over and you're nowhere to be seen. taking a quick break, he texts you:

suna: r u here?

suna: i don't see u in the stands.

it's delivered and suna's back in the court. he's misreading all of the opponent's attacks and his blocks are all being haphazardly done. the only thing on his mind is you.

the EJP coach calls for a timeout and sits him out for the rest of the match. "i don't know what's going on with you but you need to pull it together. your slacking is messing up with the rest of the team," coach berated him and all suna could do was nod his head.

he sat on the bench and immediately grabs his phone to text you.

suna: can you please answer?

suna: or call me? please?

suna: fuck y/n

suna: r u ok?

with no response, concern is etched onto his face. he tells his coach that he has to go and although he's about to suffer hell when he goes to practice tomorrow for dipping, he needs to see you.

you're seeing all of his messages.

you've seen all of them.

and you don't want to respond to a single one of them.

you know he's coming home and he's about to bombard you with questions and you don't want to respond to him. you don't want to come off as clingy again.

you hear the jangle of the keys and prepare yourself.

he opens the door and finds you in the kitchen, making yourself some snacks.

"so where were you today?" he begins.

"at home."

his hands find their way to your waist and he slowly turns you around to look him in the eye. "why didn't you come?"

you sigh in frustration. "i don't know what you want from me. you say i'm clingy and you want some space and on top of that you mentioned how you've never asked me to go to any of your games so here i am respecting your wishes like you asked yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me where i was and why i wasn't with you?"

his hands let go of your waist and he steps back to fully look at you.

"rin, i don't know what you want from me anymore."

suna's mouth opens and then shuts, not sure as to what to say to you. you were more upset about his comment than you let on and now all your anger and frustration was coming out.

"listen, i-"

"no, you listen to me," you interrupt, immediately shutting him up. "all i wanted that night was for you to come to my work party. it's all i wanted. that party was mainly for me because i helped our company reach this new milestone! and i wanted you to come and celebrate with me and my colleagues. is it so much to ask for my boyfriend to come support me?"

"and then you go on to say i'm clingy and do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you said that? when you would talk to me about anything, the only thing going through my head would be the fact that you called me clingy and god, i just wanted to vanish in thin air because i hated knowing that you thought that of me which is why i gave you your space. i kept thinking you just didn't want my affection."

you rest your elbows on the kitchen countertop and put your face in your hands. you finally burst out with all the feelings that have been suffocating your mind. it felt good to finally relieve it all but you could only imagine what was going through his mind. was he mad or upset or did he just not care about my feelings?

all of a sudden, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and kisses to the top of your head.

"love, you're not clingy. if anything, i'm the clingy one. i always want you by my side like at my games or when i go out with my friends or even if i'm just lying in bed. i want you."

he strokes your hair and now you're turning around to look at him again. his eyes are wide and a bit glassy. this is probably one of the first times you've seen emotion on his face aside from his regular snarky remarks.

"i wish i could take back what i said that night but i can't. but please know that i don't know what i'd do without you. i was really upset that night and all i wanted to was just sleep it off. but your insistence to go got me aggravated and i lashed out. you don't deserve that. you never deserve that."

"i want to be the one you wake up to in the morning. i want to be the one you take to all your work parties and events. i want to be the one you tell you gossip with. i want to be the one you have your late night talks with. i want to be the one you end your nights with. i want to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. i want to be yours."

tears started to escape your eyes and your heart was swollen. suna was never one to be so open with his emotions yet here he was opening so much to you. you hug his torso and sob into his chest.

"i love you, i'm sorry," you say.

"i love you too, and i'm sorry too," he replies, kissing the top of your forehead.

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 7-Aphrodisiac-Chrollo/Reader

notes: Chrollo is hard to write. Sry if this is ooc lol

title is from 'Stop' by Sam Brown

...

You're in the middle of curling your hair, when your phone rings. You curse, dropping the strand of hair you were preparing to curl, carefully placing the curling iron on the stone beneath your feet, and grab your phone. 

“Hisoka, where the actual fuck are you? We’ve gotta go soon!” You say angrily, your voice echoing against the stone of the stupid church the troupe had decided to hide out in. You're wearing pajama pants and a large oversized t-shirt, bending awkwardly in front of a small mirror you have propped up against the wall, frantically pinning your hair into rollers. You and Hisoka are supposed to leave for the mission in about ten minutes, and the damn clown is nowhere to be seen. Most of the other people have left for their missions already, leaving just you, Chrollo, and Machi in the large caverness room. 

Hisoka chuckles. “I'm sorry dear, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave you on your own!” He says. You almost dropped your phone.

“You’ve got to be joking,” You say, deadpan in your delivery. Maybe this is one of his stupid jokes. You tilt your phone, propping it up against your ear and picking up your curling iron again. Might as well finish setting your hair while Hisoka goes on.

“I'm not,” Hisoka says, sounding much too pleased for your liking. “As much as I would love to accompany you, I got caught up in something.”

A beat of silence fills the speakers, as you absorb what he had just told you. Then, the anger starts the flow. 

“You got caught up in something?” You hiss, annoyance clear in your voice. Machi looks up from her own mission preparations. Of course she got the easy one, while you were stuck at a stuffy high class event, with Hisoka to entertain. You pin your roller into place, moving onto the next strand of hair, yelling as you go.

You hear Chrollo shut his book with a snap. 

“You can't just, like, abandon me!” You yell into the speaker. “I literally can't do this mission by myself, you know that!”

“I'm afraid it's out of my hands,” Hisoka says. You can hear his smile through the phone, and you almost pop a blood vessel. “I wish you luck!”

“Hey, you can't just—” Hisoka disconnects with a beep. You stair at your phone in shock for a moment, and then raise your arm to chuck it across the room in frustration.

“Fucking damnit!” You shriek, then hiss as you burn your finger on your curler. Machi chuckles in sympathy.

“Hisoka?” She asks, shooting a wry smile in your direction. You nod.

“The fucker says he cant come,” You groan, pinning your last hot curl into a roller, away from your tender neck and put away your curling iron. “He says he's caught up in something or whatever.”

Machi stiffles a giggle, and you shoot her a look of betrayal. 

“Maaaachi,” You whine, sinking against the rock floor with a groan, your hair still in rollers. No sense to take them out, after it took you so long. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You could go by yourself,” She says.

“I caaaant, I'm a noncombatant,” You whine, “And besides their expecting husband and wife, they'd totally suspect me if I showed up alone.”

“You could say your ‘husband’ flaked on you.” Machi says, “it isn't technically a lie.”

“If Hisoka was my husband I just might throw myself off a cliff,” You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, careful not to jog your rollers. 

“He's hot though,” Machi says, gathering up her things.

“True,” You say, “that's literally the only thing he has going for him.”

Machi hums contentedly, as you stew in annoyance on the cold ground, rolling carefully back and forth, keeping your neck at an awkward angle so you don't jog the rollers in your hair. 

“So what's the plan, Boss?” Machi asks, packing her supplies in her go back. You frown, and then swiftly remember that Chrollo is here as well. You tend to forget, he doesn't talk that much. 

Chrollo gently sets the book he was reading next to him, stacking it neatly on top of the other books that sit beside him. 

“I guess it can't be helped,” He says, standing up from his position on the big boss rock, and jumping down to the ground floor where the mortals sit. “I'll take his place.”

You stare at him in surprise.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely a bit confused. You didn't really know Chrollo all that well, even though he was technically your boss. He didn't really interact with you much, and he never went on missions. 

“Yes, if I must.” Chrollo says, standing a few feet away from you as you start mindlessly on your makeup. 

“Oh,” You say, a bit thrown off and confused. Machi chuckles

“You sound so surprised and confused,” She says, hoisting her bag over her shoulder and shooting you a small smile. “Chrollo does do missions occasionally.”

“Not with me,” You mutter, then cover it up with a nervous giggle. “I mean I'm just not used to doing missions with anyone but you, Machi. And Hisoka.”

“My condolences,” Machi grins, slipping her sandals onto her feet. “You work so hard for us, Name.”

“I know,” You whine, carefully contouring your nose. Chrollo coughs, and you jostle in surprise. 

“Oh! I forgot you were still here.” You laugh, whipping away the excess contour you had accidentally smudged, and shooting a smile over your shoulder. Chrollo makes an odd face, tilting his head slightly.

“You forgot I was here?” He asks, sounding a bit offended. You shrug.

“You don't really talk that much,” You chuckle, highlighting your nose. “Do you have a suite?”

“I can find one,” he says, still standing a bit back from you. You try not to be too conscious of his eyes on you as you finish your makeup, spraying it generously with setting spray. This shit better not budge all night, or you're officially losing it.

Machi giggles, tossing you a wink as she heads towards the door. “Good luck, name.” She says, and you wave in her direction as she steps out of the shelter and into the rain. Thunder booms and lightning cuts through the sky, and when it recedes you can't make out her figure anymore. You sigh. Tonight is going to be awkward. 

♱♱♱

The taxi ride is dead silent. You sit in the back, Chrollo sitting a foot away, a book sitting open on his crossed legs. You stare out the window, hair pillowing softly over your shoulders, dress pooling over your crossed legs. The Taxi driver is unbothered, airpods sitting firm in his ears as he drives on, not a care in the world that the people he's driving are sitting in awkward silence in the back of his car. You heave a deep sigh, and catch yourself wishing Hisoka were here instead. At least he never shut up. 

Hurriedly, you kick yourself, and try to make conversation.

“What are you reading?” You ask, desperately trying to fill the awkward silence. Chrollo looks up, closing his book with a snap.

“Simply cataloging my abilities,” he says, slipping the book into his pocket. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing interesting,”

“I thought you read actual books,” You say, one of your heels scraping your ankle as you cross your legs. “Is that all you read?”

Chrolllo coughs, muffling what you think might be a laugh. 

“No, my dear.” He says, turning to look at you fully. “Are you feeling prepared for the mission?”

“I guess,” You sigh, restlessly uncrossing your legs again. “We practiced and stuff, but…”

“You practiced?” Chrollo asks curiously, and you turn to face him fully. He has his hair down for once, and a piece of fabric covering his forehead marking. You catch yourself thinking he looks handsome. He should wear his hair down more often.

“Yeah, Hisoka and I,” You say, “We mostly just memorized our characters' names and stuff like that.”

Chrollo nods. 

“I see,” He says, reaching into his coat jacket for the wedding invitation. “You didn't practice being newlyweds?”

You laugh, tilting your head back and pulling your freshly curled hair over your shoulders so it doesn't get smushed. 

“We didn't really need to,” You say, watching the driver's screen through the plastic window separating the driver from the back seats. His map says you’ll arrive at your destination in fifteen minutes. “We’ve done a lot of missions together, and besides, Hisoka can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

“Ah, I see.” Chrollo says, flipping the invitation open and reading it carefully. “So we are Mr and Ms Benton, then?”

You nod, recalling the information along with him in your mind.

“We’ve been married for two weeks, and we're so in love everyone is annoyed and disgusted with us.” You say, watching the blue dot that symbolizes the car your riding in move closer and closer to your destination. 

“Right, and our mission?”

“Get in, steal the necklace and get out without causing a fuss.” You reply, sighing. “It's this a lot of hassle for one necklace?”

Chrollo chuckles, slipping the invitation back into his suit jacket with a small smile.

“Maybe,” He says, “But we all have our part to play.”

♱♱♱

The part is a boring one. You nod, smiling through your teeth as this man talks on and on, throwing in the occasional ‘Uh Huh’ to be safe. Chrollo, hand wrapped around your waist, smiles widely, his eyes glazed over. 

You shift closer to him, leaning over to whisper through your teeth.

“Can we go now?” You ask, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach as he squeezes your waist comfortingly. 

“We haven't done what we’ve come here for yet,” He whispers back quietly, barely moving his lips. 

You roll your eyes, and tune back into the conversation. One man has cornered the two of you in the corner and is talking at you about his money and how many cars he has and how his last wife was a model and blah blah blah. You aren't paying attention at all. 

“And i have just added a new Bugatti to my collection,” The man says, pausing like you should clap or something.

“Oh cool,” You say, deadpan. The man chuckles, seeming to not at all get the sarcasm in your tone. 

“If you want to see them, pretty lady, you can come over to my place after—”

“You have some impressive cars,” Chrollo says, squeezing your waist twice. The signal. You take a swig of your champain, then set it gently on the table beside you. You want to come back to that. 

“Oh hubby, I think I'm feeling a bit faint!” You whine dramatically, bring a hand up to your forehead, closing your eyes and tilting your head dramatically. Chrollo gasps, abruptly sweeping you off your feet and into his arms.

“If you’ll excuse us, I'll be taking my wife to lie down for a bit,” Chrollo says to the man in front of you guys. Your eyes still closed, you peek out of the corner of one eye to find the man eyeing you with disappointment. Quickly, you close your eyes again.

“Hurry Baby,” You whimper dramatically. “I feel faint!”

Chrollo's hands tighten against your body and you feel his chest vibrate against your side. He must be laughing. But he speeds away at your instruction, moving towards the powder room, which just happens to be in a long hallway off the main room the party was situated in. the perfect place for the two of you to disappear to for about two minutes. Just enough time to get your hands on the necklace. 

“How did it go?” Chrollo asks as you return to his guard position, situated a few feet away from the door of the women's bathroom. You grin, flashing him a thumbs up.

“A brief scrap with a security guard, but i hide in a closet,” You say, taking off your plastic gloves and dumping them into your small clutch purse. It was almost laughably how easy stealing the necklace had been. After Chrollo had let you down from his arms all you did was walk the ten feet to the storage room and hide from the lone security guard in the nearby closet. Then you just swiped the necklace and placed it in the plastic bag you had prepared, and dropped it out the window. Now all that was left was to go around the house and retrieve it. 

“Now we just need to get out of here,” You say, wiping the sweat off your hands and onto your dress. “You think we can escape without car guy yelling at us again?”

Chrollo chuckles. “Not likely, I'm afraid.” He says, grabbing your waist as the two of you walk back towards the brightly lit entrance room. 

“Oh well,” You sigh, “I wanted to finish my champain anyway.”

Sure enough, it takes you all of five minutes for the car guy to find the two of you again, walking with you as you beeline for your champain. You're going to need all of it to survive even five minutes of this guy talking.

“...and just yesterday, I added to my new Rolex collection…”

“Oh really.” You say, downing your champain. It tastes a little weird. Maybe it's gone a little flat in the short amount of time you were gone. You place the empty cup down on the table beside with a clank. The man looks at it, his brown eyes sliding to you in a way that makes your skin crawl, and you shiver. Chrollo squeezes your waist gently, hand sending butterflies frolicking around your stomach. 

A beat of silence passes. Then the man speaks.

“Do you feel alright, miss?”

You raise and eyebrow, tilting your head to the side. 

“I'm fine?” you question, and then after a beat an escape plan starts to form. “You know what, I'm tired. Can we go home now baby?”

Chrollo springs into action, gripping your waist and spinning you towards the exit with a grin. 

“Of course dear, whatever you want.” He says, voice fakely sweet as the two of you march towards the exit at a brisk pace. You wind through the small circles of people, about seven to five people in each round, talking of this and that. They spare the two of you a passing glance before returning to their conversations. You catch snippets of them as you wind by, nothing of any interest or note. You feel a bit hot, longing for the cold air of the night. You can't wait to go home and take a shower. 

Finally, the two of you escape into the night, the cold air enveloping you. You still feel a bit hot. Chrollo leans in, whispering in your air as the two of you stop a few feet away from the front doors of the manor. 

“I'll get the necklace.” he whispers, pulling away from you with a brief kiss to your forehead. Then louder he continues, “Stay right here baby, I'll be right back.”

You nod, hand tracing the spot he had kissed as you watch him disappear into the night. Your skin tingles where his lips had touched it, and your heart pounds a bit fast in your chest. You still feel hot, even though you’ve escaped into the cold air. You sit down on a small bench, feeling a bit out of breath, and stair at the manor you had just exited. It's really a lovely building, the gothic architecture hiding in the shadows of the night. Light pours out from most of the windows of the multi story building, casting panes of yellow light onto the cobblestone driveway. The manor is on the main road, but set back to give the illusion of exclusivity. You yawn, sinking back against the small bench.

“There you are, pretty lady.”

You jump, opening your eyes abruptly. The car guy from earlier is standing over you, his legs only a few inches from your crossed legs. You glare up at him, much too tired to deal with his nonsense. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, your annoyance leaking out in your tone. Where the hell is Chrollo?

The man scoffs. 

“Why so rude, girly,” He simpers, “you should be loosening up to me soon.”

“You're bothering me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes. You feel a bit weak for some reason, muscles refusing to cooperate as you force yourself to stand. You totter a bit and the man catches you. His hands feel unpleasant, and you recoil quickly. 

The man considers, tilting his head to the side in confusion. 

“It should be kicking in about now,” He mutters to himself, hand on his chin as he eyes you up and down. His eyes feel slimy, goosebumps run against your skin as he grips your biceps, holding your arms against your side. “No matter, I'll just have to start early.”

He licks his lips, and your skin runs cold as what he intends to do to you becomes clear. You struggle, but feel strangely sluggish. Your body feels like jelly, hot and cold at the same time, and your limbs feel weak. The man laughs unpleasantly, grinning down at you, his eyes focused on your boobs.

“Not so tough now, aren't you?” He simpers. 

You try to struggle, trying desperately to pull your arms from his grip, to twist away, to escape. But you can't. You should be able to, this man is not more physically fit than you, but for some reason your body feels so weak. You bite back a whimper of fear, desperate not to show any emotion. It's been a while since you were afraid. 

“Your husband left you all alone, did he? Don't worry, i'll take good care of yo—”

He stills, his body going straight and tight. And then his eyes roll back and you watch him topple sideways, his hands leaving your arms as he crumples to the ground. You bite back a sob of relief as Chrollo grins at you, patting his hands of any free dust. 

“I've got the necklace, so let's head out.” He says, and then as he takes you in, trembling slightly like a leaf in the wind he continues, “are you alright?”

You shake yourself, forcing a grin as you fight through the liquid in your brain and the jelly in your limbs. You shoot him a smile.

“Just lovely!” you say, trying to convince yourself as you force your legs to move, propelling yourself towards the gate. “Let's head home.”

You assume Chrollo is following you, but you can't be sure. You can barely focus on anything, only propelling your legs forward, and ignoring the searing heat that is boiling in your blood, under your skin, in your gut. You feel like you're going to dissolve, melt into a puddle onto the ground. You can smell Chrollo behind you, a mix of citrus cologne and sweat, and a heavy musk that you can't place. You bite back a whimper, suppressing the urge to move closer to that scent, to curl into his body. You stumble a bit, quickly regaining your balance as you move out of the gate and back onto the street. Chrollo catches up, shooting you glances as he walks beside you.

“You sure you're alright, name?” he asks. The streets are empty at this time of night, but light streams down around you, from windows overhead to the pools of light below the street lamps. You no longer have any trouble walking, strowing confidently across the pavement, your hips swaying. You feel hungry.

“Oh, I'm doing just fine~” You sing-song, feeling a bit giddy with happiness. A singular man walks by and you have the sudden urge to chase after him, and make him kiss you. It's gone as soon as it has come, but it makes you snap out of your fearver, coming to a sudden stop on the concrete. 

“Ok wait, maybe something is wrong,” You say, bringing a hand up to your forehead. You feel no fever, but your hand shakes as you bring it away. Your body is still pulsing with heat, thrumming from your toes to the tips of your fingers and back down. And then the pain strikes. Blinding white pain running in tandem with the pleasure, mixing into a terrible cocktail of agony. You suppress a whimper, as your knees buckle, sending you tumbling towards the hard concrete.

Chrollo catches you before you can fall, reaching out to grip your waist, catching you a few feet from the ground. You bit back another whimper, this one threatening to rise from your throat as you feel his warm hand around your waist. You feel like crying.

“Name?” Chrollo says, gently bring his hand up to your chin and turn your face to look at him. “Can you tell me what's going on?

You whimper, unconsciously nuzzling into his hand as the burning pain recedes a bit to the edges of your body, and your consciousness returns slightly.

“I don't know,” You whimper, fully relaxing against him. He's the only thing between you and the cold hard concrete. “Why are you asking me like it's my fault?”

“Ok,” Chrollo says, grabbing your waist tightly and pulling the both of you to your feet. “Let's get you inside.”

“Mhm,” You murmur, nuzzling into his shoulder and breathing in his lovely scent. “Whatever you say.”

♱♱♱

The receptionist of the hotel sends him a scornful look as he walks up to the front desk, helping you walk.

It's a rather gaudy hotel, clearly a love hotel but it was the first one Chrollo spotted so it would have to do. It was better to get you into a hotel as soon as possible, you're clearly on some type of drugs.

The receptionist seems to agree, with the way she glares tiredly at him. 

“I switch jobs and it's always the same, huh.” She mutters, hitting the keys loudly. “Name, sir?”

“Benton,” Chrollo says, sliding the fake identification card across the counter. “This is my wife, Name Benton.”

“Uh huh,” The receptionist, Fumiko, sighs deeply through her teeth. “What kind of room do you want?” 

“Ah, I'll take the cheapest option please.” Chrollo says.

Fumiko raises an eyebrow, pinning him to the spot with her stare and letting silence fill the mostly empty lobby. Slowly, she slides her eyes to you, clearly drugged on his shoulder, and back to him. Chrollo feels more ashamed than he's ever felt before. 

“Cheapass,” Fumiko whispers, returning to the keyboard loudly. “Id?”

“Oh it–”

“Yeah,” Fumiko says, swiping it from the countertop. She looks at it for too long, holding it up to the light. Chrollo fears for a moment that she'll kick them out. He really doesn't want to find another love hotel, and you're getting more and more limp by the moment. Thankfully, she just sighs, going back to the computer with a sigh.

“Why do I even bother?” She mutters to herself, sliding the id back across the counter at him. “It's always worse, every time I ask. From barely legal to barely conscious…”

She continues muttering to herself, tapping away at the keys of the computer as Chrollo stands there, your body draped ungracefully against his side, breath coming in uneven little bursts. There's definitely something wrong with you.

“Cash or card?” Fumiko says. Chrollo slides the money over the counter. For some reason, he feels like this was the wrong move as Fumiko regards him with more suspicion as she hands over the room key.

“Enjoy your stay,” She bites out. 

“Thank you.” Chrollo says, moving towards the elevator of the pink and red lobby. He feels her hard stare on his back until the elevator doors close behind them. He hoists you up, cradling you in his arms for the second time tonight as your head lolls back, faint little pants exiting your mouth. Your eyes are hazy, your pretty curled hair tangling with his arms, hanging towards the ground in a waterfall of color. You look very pretty, but then again you always do.

It's a bit of a struggle to get you into the room, but he manages it, juggling you and the door as it shuts behind him with a solid heavy thud. He places you gently on the bed, sighing in relief and turning away to shed his own coat. When he turns around, you blink slowly at him. 

“Ah, you're awake?” he says, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “How are you feeling?”

You dont reply, blinking slowly at him, eyes hazy. Chrollo feels a bit more worried. You're not really conscious, you’ve barely spoken full sentences since that man put his dirty hands all over your arms. He had assumed your lack of fighting had been to avoid a scene, but maybe it was something else. 

“Name, I need you to tell me what's wrong.” Chrollo begs you, more worry than strictly necessary leaking into his voice. Finally, your pink lips part.

“Hot,” You mutter, jumping to your fighting with the top of your dress. “Help me out of this.”

Chrollo obeys, turning you around and undoing the zipper of your black dress with a sigh. He ignores the swaths of skin on display from him, pointing his eyes strictly over your shoulder. You sigh, slipping out of your dress. Chrollo watches it pool below you on the floor, black slinky material sitting in a pile. You smile up at him for a moment, a twinkle of innocence in your hazy eyes, your hair sitting messily upon your shoulders, the straps of your bra tempting his eyes to look a little further. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asks instead, keeping his eyes strictly above your collarbones. You do have nice collarbones. He'd like to kiss them, if you would let him. You don't seem to like him much. Chrollo acknowledges that you must consider him boring, compared to the louder and more eccentric mission partner you were assigned. But he could be interesting. If you’d let him.  

“Mm,” You humm, turning away to crawl onto the bed. Chrollo's eyes take in your body as you crawl back, your ass on display for him to view. You're wearing matching black underwear. Heat runs through his body, and Chrollo feels his dick jump against his thigh. It's probably been too long. 

You’ve propped yourself up on your knees, your face pressed against the white bedsheets, your ass still high in the air, presented like a present. Chrollo is beginning to understand what exactly that man had slipped you. It must have been an Aphrodisiac of some sort. It's clear as you wind your hand down, and Chrollo watches you stroke your pussy through your panties. He clears his throat.

“What are you doing, Name?” He asks, undoing another button on his shirt. It's too hot here. 

“I feel so hot,” You whimper, and Chrollo watches as you push your panties aside, slipping a finger into yourself with a squelch. Chrollo bites his lip, hard. 

“Do you need my help?” He asks. You need to say yes. What will he do if you don't. He might lose his mind.

“Yeah,” You whimper, the white sheets stark against your pink lips. “Hurry.”

Chrollo moves embarrassingly fast, tossing his belt and shoes onto the floor with his jacket, and thrusting himself inside of you.

Your back arches, your toes curling in the white fabric as you clench deliciously around him. Chrollo bites back a groan, embarrassed of his eager behavior. He would have linked to work you up normally, maybe eat your pretty pussy. But that would have to wait for another day. And it seems you don't mind as you buck against him, urging him to move. 

“Ugh, you're big.” You whimper, hands knotting prettily in the white sheets. You look so pretty like this, turned on your back and grinning hazily up at him. He wonders how long this will last. He wonders if when you awaken tomorrow, you’ll regard him with the same cautious contempt you always do. 

Chrollo grips your waist with his hands, thrusting himself deep inside your clenching walls, setting a slow deep pace. You move with each thrust, pretty pink mouth letting out breathy pants and groans. If he's lucky, a pant of his name. The world around you is hazy, the gap of window shown by the curtains is fogged up, condensation and sweat muddling the world beyond. Your back arches, your body trembling as you grow closer to your orgasms.

“I'm close,” You whimper, muffled against the sheets. Chrollo presses his body against yours, pressing the two of you deep into the bed. You're laying flat now, your but reaching up to meet his short, deep thrusts. Your walls are clenching around him, driving him giddy.

Chrollo doesn't know how to feel. And so he focuses all of his energy on pleasing you. On watching the shudders and shivers of your shoulders, the clenching of your fingers, the gasping breaths spilling from your pink lips. He presses little kisses to your neck, leaving a pretty scatters of hickeys across your shoulders. The red spots make him swell with pride as you clench around him. 

“I'm cumming.” You groan, body tensing and walls suctioning him deep inside you. Chrollo obeys your body's command, thrusting himself deep inside of you one more time and letting himself go. Your moans are pretty as you come, and Chrollo muffles his own sounds in your shoulders, as stars the color of your eyes spill across his eyelids. 

He doesn't know what's going to happen after this. But at least for now, as he pulls himself out of you and curls up beside you, the world is content.

...

Endnotes: sry this ones kinda short i had a lot going on today lol

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[strangesthirdeye]

I'M HIS- {SEVERUS SNAPE X WIFE! READER}

Summary: When cat is finally out of the bag Warning: IT'S SEVERUS SNAPE! WE'RE ALL LOVE HIM! Fluff, low angst, gentle, wounds, blood, not so major injuries, Order of the Phoenix, mentioned of kill, Death Eater, swearing, LOVELY man, OOC Severus Snape? Fluff, love, marriage, As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"The Death Eater is getting more violent"

"They just want to show that they are back.. The Dark Lord is back" Said Sirius, hands crossed in front of him. He looked at Remus.

"And yet they are trying to bring back some old Death Eaters and recruiting some new Death Eaters." Remus muttered.

"The Dark Lord wants to make sure that they will win the war this time. They want the power to conquer the whole Wizarding World" Said Sirius.

Severus remained silent as he had nothing to say in this matter. He knows that they are outnumbered regarding how many Death Eaters there are. Although Severus was only a spy on both sides, that didn't mean he didn't have split feelings. Concerned and nervous.  But despite all those feelings, he managed to masked them all.

"Despite all that, Sirius. We can't let Harry join The Order. He's still a child" Said Remus to Sirius. He knows what Sirius is thinking regarding he has known Sirius for a long time.

"But we can't just let him be left behind. He needs to know everything. He's been through a lot before why can't we just let him join the Order if that's what he wants" Sirius reasoned.

"He's not your son, Sirius" Molly replied as she stared at Sirius intently.

"He's good to be one." Sirius insisted.

"Harry is not James" Molly stated.

Severus scoffed at the name of James Potter. His old arch enemy. He despises that man with all his life. His old bully that he will never forgive. It might sound selfish but that's the truth. He hates him just like he hates that Potter's son. Harry reminds Severus about James and he hates that his old bitter memories are opened whenever he sees Harry's face.

"He's good. Can't you see his spirit?" Sirius replied.

"Even if we see his spirit, Sirius. That doesn't mean he can join the Order. He's still a child. Who else has he got?" Remus muttered firmly, hands clasped on the table as he stared at Sirius in front of him.

"He's got me. He's already like my son" Sirius replied.

"How sentimental that is, Black. It makes me want to puke" Severus said sarcastically.

"Stay out of this, Snivellius" Sirius glared at him. "Mind your own business"

Severus rolled his eyes at him. With insults thrown at him, Severus tended to ignore them as usual. He has been used to the insults thrown at him since school, which he dealt with by ignoring it. He has been called many names and been called many things that shouldn't be even though he has been through many things that shouldn't be.

But sometimes there are times when he starts to fight back but it ends up hurting him. Throughout his school years at Hogwarts, for him is a place that can be called home and hell. Why? first it is called home is because he can distance himself from his abusive father and why he calls it hell is with all these bullying he went through while he was at Hogwarts.

But some things never change. He still goes through that phase even as an adult. Severus just remained silent at the table. Silently hoping that this meeting ends early. He doesn't want to be here but Dumbledore insisted him to join the meeting.

"Bastard" Severus silently cursed as he fidgeted his fingers under the table.

As the whole Order of the Phoenix was bickering, suddenly out of nowhere a loud crack appeared in front of the door 12 Grimmauld Place making everyone silent. They looked at each other in alarm before they rushed to the front door.

It is quite impossible for people to apparate into 12 Grimmauld place easily because they have put some spells to prevent people from apparating or entering at will. Hearing that familiar sound made them rush to the front door.

Severus was not far behind. What they found was a middle-aged woman, dressed in a black robe from top to bottom, her combat boots dirty with fresh mud, her clothes dirty with mud and moss while her face was hidden by her hood. The woman seemed to be leaning heavily on the wall. Her chest fell and rose to draw in and exhale her gasping breath as she groaned with fatigue and pain. The woman looked up to them weakly.

She then smiled genuinely. The Order of The Phoenix members who had drawn their wands on the woman frowned in confusion. Molly looked at her with concern.

The woman opened her mouth. "I believe Dumbledore said that Severus Snape is here" the woman weakly said.

Severus frowned as he walked past them to see the mysterious woman. The woman, upon seeing Severus in her line of sight, smiled weakly at him.

"They got me" The woman said. A sense of sorrow in her voice as she began to lose consciousness.

Severus widened his eyes upon hearing that as he suddenly bolted towards the woman who was almost sliding to the ground and managed to catch her from stomping to the ground.

Severus held up her head in his hands, one hand opened the woman's hood and revealed the woman's face to the other members of the Order of Phoenix.

They frowned with a hint of unfamiliarity at the woman. Her face is full of bruises and cuts that are still covered in blood. They slowly lowered their wands when they sensed that this woman was not harmed.

Severus whispered her name under his breath, trying to wake her up but she didn't respond. When Severus tried to adjust his hold on the woman, he then noticed that the shoulders of the woman's robes were wet. His hand supported her head while the other tapped her cheek to wake her up and started to touch the woman's shoulder carefully.

He pulled his hand that was holding her shoulder. There were blood stains on his palm. He furrowed his eyebrow with worry before he picked up the woman in a bridal style and walked past the other members who were watching the scene suspiciously.

"Snape wh-"

"don't get involved in this, Black" Severus hissed.

"who is she? How does she know about this place?" Remus asked.

Severus ignored them as he took the woman in his arms to one of the rooms in 12 Grimmauld place. Hearing some noises from downstairs, Harry, Hermione, Ron and the others who were hanging out in one of the rooms upstairs started to go out to see the source of the noise.

They all had confused expressions when they heard the bickering between the adults there. But then their expressions changed as Severus walked in front of them to enter one of the rooms in Grimmauld place. They never saw their Pofessor whom they despised go upstairs as long as he attended the Order of The Pheonix meeting let alone using one of the rooms here.

Harry noticed his godfather behind Severus who was still asking questions about the unconscious woman but then Sirius was silent when Severus shut the door in his face. Sirius turned the doorknob a few times knowing that the door had been locked by Severus. He scoffed before he turned his gaze to another place but then his eyes caught his godson's gaze.

Harry raised his eyebrows as if asking a question which Sirius pursed his lips and shook his head.

"You should all be in bed. It's late" Sirius muttered as he strode down to the downstairs.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Severus Kneeled beside the unconscious woman's bed. His eyebrows furrowed with concentration as he washed several wounds and cuts on the woman's face with a wet cloth to prevent infection. The woman's shirt was flipped aside for Severus to treat the wound on the woman's shoulder easily. He then put the wet cloth into a container filled with water before reaching for some potion bottles that he had brought incase something like this happened between The Order of the Phoenix.

Severus then applied the ointment he made on the woman's cuts and wounds, especially on the woman's shoulder. The woman was still unconscious which made Severus slightly worried. He then looked towards the woman's hand. His eyes seemed focused on the ring finger. There resides a simple silver ring on the woman's finger. Severus narrowed his eyes.

The same ring he was wearing. Severus diverted his gaze on the woman's face which was clean of blood. He moved closer to her then moved the strands of hair from the woman's face gently. Severus sighed lowly as he sat back against the wall beside the bed. Waiting for this mysterious woman to wake up. His hand held the woman's hand, thumb rubbed the back of the woman's hand tenderly.

As he seems to zoned out, he didn't notice the woman's eyebrows twitched indicating that the woman had begun to regain consciousness. The woman turned her head weakly as she let out a soft breath. Pain is still felt in her body. Eyes still closing but she is still aware of the warmth in her hands. Severus turned his attention from space to the woman alarmingly.

"Sev-"

"shh" Severus shushed her as he stroked the woman's face softly.

The woman sighed. "They got me"

"I know.." Severus replied.

"They know I'm a double agent"

Severus remained silent. His hand still stroking the woman's face as the woman finally opened her eyes and looked at Severus.

"I failed the mission" She whimpered.

"no, you're not, Y/n" Severus moved his body to take the woman into his arms.

"Voldemort knows that I work for Dumbledore. He knows that I am loyal to Dumbledore and not him." You paused to swallow. "He said that in the end I will betray him. Severus.. He's been suspecting me all this time. He knows. I'm scared that he will come to you too" you whimpered into his chest.

Hearing Voldemort's name made Severus' spine shiver. He remained silent as he kept embracing you.

"Don't worry about me, Love. I know what I should do." Severus assured.

You are still hugging his body. Face looked up looking at Severus' face with cheeks wet with tears. Your eyes are red from crying.

"But I'm scared Severus, that he will suspect you too. He knows that we-"

"I know.. " Severus said lowly as he stroked your hair gently. "I'll make sure he doesn't suspect anything about me"

You just nodded as you hugged his torso tightly as if your life depended on him. Severus didn't care about how tightly you hugged him but instead he hugged you tightly too. He put his chin on top of your head as he rubbed your back reassuringly.

After a few minutes of embracing each other, you both finally parted away. You bow your head as you sniffles. Severus looked at you with concern before he took your face to look at him. He palmed your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that wet your cheeks.

"You're going to be okay. He won't do anything to you as long as I'm with you" Severus whispered as he kissed your forehead. "you're safe here"

"I'm sorry if I suddenly apparated here. Dumbledore gave me the address of this place because he said you would be here with the Order" You muttered. "They must be surprised to see people they don't know suddenly appear"

"nonsense. That's not what you need to worry about." Severus replied. "Besides they must be wondering who are you to me"

"They will definitely be surprised upon hearing what we are to each other" You said, smiling fondly.

"Obviously" Severus muttered. "Are you okay now?" Severus added.

You hummed as you rested your head on his chest. "I'm fine as long as you're by my side"

Severus faintly smiled at that as he kissed your crown of hair. "Good, now we have to explain to them about the outburst earlier"

You huffed. "Is it necessary?"

"Yes" Severus replied.

You sighed before nodding in agreement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"So what you said is that she is your... Wife?" Arthur mumbled in disbelief. Eyes looked at you and Severus.

Severus hummed as he kept himself close to your side as a way to support you to stand. You glanced at him gratefully before diverting your gaze to Arthur.

"We have a reason to hide this. But we can't hide this for long, can we?" you replied.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Can't believe that Snivellius got this beautiful woman"

"and you don't? " You furrowed your eyebrows as Severus glared at him, lips faintly smirked at your statement.

Remus sent his warning look at Sirius. "We don't need to inflame the situation, Sirius"

"What? It's true. Don't tell me you're on his side" Sirius crossed his arms.

"I'm not on anyone's side" Remus said firmly.

"She's a Death Eater! We can't trust her" Sirius snapped.

"She's a double agent just like Snape" Remus replied.

"Gentlemen, please... Take this matter seriously. We don't need any arguments here." Arthur interjected as he glared at the two men. He sighed. Molly looked at him with concern as she rubbed her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Look. What Severus did about keeping his relationship a secret was a reasonable thing due to the situation we're going through right now... Yes, she is a double agent. Dumbledore himself gave her and Severus that qualification. I understand these days no one can be trusted but for once, please investigate it first. Like Severus explained earlier, his wife is a double agent of the Order of the Phoenix and a Death Eater. But that doesn't mean she is loyal to the Death Eater as she herself wants to bring down the Death Eater. She's been through a lot in risking her life in that position. Same goes too Severus but that doesn't mean you all can act like that towards her. Snape has a reason to hide his relationship from everyone because everyone will know that is his weak point. They don't want to risk their loved ones, neither do we, but here we are in the same situation as them. Risking the lives of our loved ones. You just can't be so quick to judge someone easily. They're human too" Arthur shook his head.

All the members there were silent with what Arthur said. There's a truth in what he said, never judge someone easily and don't easily accuse someone based on background.

Sirius sighed in defeat. "Fine.. Sorry about that, Snape's wife"

Severus rolled his eyes at that. You sighed.

You nodded. " And the name Y/n Snape actually." you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Sirius Black, though you knew who am i" Sirius said, leaning against the walls behind him with hands crossing over his chest.

"My husband's bully" you stated coldly.

Sirius and Remus were silent. Severus' lips twitched in a faint smile. Only you can make someone question themselves on the spot. Making them speechless.

"I believe we have both explained everything to you. I'm afraid I need to take my wife home to get enough rest. She's been through a lot. Farewell" Severus took your hand and slowly led you out of Grimmauld Place to apparated.

As soon as the two of you left the place, you took a breath of fresh air that night. A cold temperature slapped your skins, you brought your body closer to Severus for warmth. Severus put his hand on your uninjured shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Severus asked in concerned.

You nodded. "Brilliant. Those men really make me tired. Mentally." you said in amusement. "Though it was quite satisfying to silence Sirius Black"

Severus faintly smirked. "He deserves what he asked for" Severus murmured.

"And I won't let it slide easily" You added.

Severus brought your body closer to his. "Thank you.. For being with me"

You smiled genuinely at him as you side hugged him. "Always"

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Eternal flame of the heart

Rollo Flamme x reader because it's Glorious Masquerade season!!

Tbh I wasn't even planning on writing this but the idea just hit me out of nowhere so what was I supposed to do?

Warning(s): fainting/unconsciousness, Rollo is a bit of a creep, drugging, this is a short one but I still hope you like it!

Slight disclaimer: I'm very sorry if I mischaraterise Rollo, it has been a while since I actually read through the event, and I have not had time to reread it. As well as this, I'm sorry if I have forgotten or misremembered any important details of the Glorious Masquerade story. Okay, that's all, enjoy!

You climbed the bell tower, you made it through all the firelotuses... everyone has sacrificed for you to get here... everyone is counting on you.

Malleus, Idia, Azul, and you have made it successfully to the top floor, but... but then... then... something goes wrong.

Everyone... everyone except for you and Rollo just collapse... and now, you are alone with him.

You are alone with him.

What do you do.

"Hello, (Y/N)." Rollo greets you simply. You start to panic and grab a small, stray plank of wood off the floor, intending to attack him with it. You don't have magic, so this is the best self-defense you have right now... "Ah, there's no need for that. Put it down."

"Y-you don't tell me what to do." You try your hardest to stay confident, fully intending to whack him with the wood plank.

"You don't truly intend on hurting me, do you?" He smirks at you... so uncomfortable to look at. "Of course you don't. How would you expect yourself, a magicless human with no knowledge of this world, to get rid of all the firelotuses?"

"QUIET!!" You yell, preparing to swing the plank. "You... you, get rid of the flowers! All of them! Now! Y-you're the cause of this, so... you must know how to get rid of them!"

He moves so quick, it's almost like he glides across the floor...

"You are magicless. You are..." He leans in close to you, and whispers in you ear, "beautiful."

You were about to h him with your wood plank, but it very suddenly lit on fire?! You dropped the wood as it burnt your hand and Rollo stomped out the flame, leaning even closer to you... damn it, you should really pick that up again when he gives you the chance.

"So different from everyone else... so... pure..." He takes a deep breath before whispering to you again. "Your hair smells so wonderful."

You push him away from you, disgusted.

"What is wrong with you?! Why the hell would you do something like this, you... DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS WILL DO TO YOUR WORL-!?"

As you begin to yell, something is forced onto your mouth and nose... hang on... wait... what's happening...

"This is known mostly as poor man's sleeping poison, at least here, though I prefer to use the proper name for it." Rollo grabs you by the back of the head as well, in order to keep you from just avoiding what he does to you. That's not to say you don't struggle, you absolutely do, it's just that it doesn't do much for you... "That proper name of course being chloroform."

...shit...

"You'll be okay. The firelotuses won't hurt you. I won't hurt you."

...everything is starting to go dark...

"I'll put you somewhere nobody will find you. You won't have to deal with the troubles of this world, well, not that you would have had to anyways after I succeed."

...

"Good night."

[babyleostuff]

Absolutely love your OT13 reactions!! Do you mind writing one about how seventeen would react at an award show if their so (also an idol) forgot about the whole “no one is meant to know we are dating” thing and did smth like sit on their lap or run up to them and hugged them on instinct when they won an award so it’s j all cute and fluffy?? Hope you’re having a wonderful day btw **showers you in happiness and baked goods**

so happy to hear you enjoy my work love! I'm not sure if it's as fluffy as I'd like it to be, but I had no other idea for this request, so sorry for that. Still, I hope you enjoy this one as well <3

s/o comes up to them at an award show and forgets about “no one is meant to know we are dating” | ot13

☾₊ ⊹ currently playing: hot by seventeen

𓆩♡𓆪 SEUNGCHEOL

In the heat of the moment he’d also forget about all of the cameras surrounding you. Only after Jeonghan forcefully shoves his shoulder he kind of realises where he is and what has just happened. It's too late to deny anything, so he just goes back to hugging you. 

𓆩♡𓆪 JEONGHAN 

He kind of stares at you weirdly and you begin to worry that something bad has happened. You have kissed his cheek a hundred times before, but never has he reacted like that. Only when you notice his big eyes and the silence that surrounds you, you realise what has happened. 

𓆩♡𓆪  JOSHUA

When you run up to him to tackle him in a hug he panics, because he knows that you are surrounded by multiple cameras. So instead of catching you - he steps away. And you fall. Let’s say that he had a lot of apologising to do later that night. 

𓆩♡𓆪 JUN

Filled with joy about your first win, you run behind Jun and hug him from behind. He gets startled when he feels someone suddenly hugging him and gets even more startled when he sees that it's you. He quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed and thank god everyone was busy looking at the stage. 

𓆩♡𓆪 HOSHI 

He runs away. He literally runs aways. You don’t even get to touch him, before he takes all his stuff and hurries away with a scream. At first you don’t really know what has gotten into him, but then you look at the boys as they give you a disapproving look. 

𓆩♡𓆪 WONWOO

You’re both up on the stage as the MCs. As a reflex you put your hand on his arm, stroking it softly, as you usually do. At first he kind of malfunctionates, before giving you a side eye. He tries to laugh it off and turn it into a joke, to not cause any rumours. 

𓆩♡𓆪 WOOZI 

He just smiles awkwardly and tries to shake your hand from his arm. At first you want to scold him, but then you quickly realise what you had done. Petrified by the whole situation, he looks around him, before laughing and giving thumbs up to the camera. 

𓆩♡𓆪 DK 

As you approach him, he kind of realises what is about to happen, but he doesn’t react. He lets you hug him and place a sweet kiss on his cheek. That is when you realise what has happened. You just stand and stare at each other, wishing that you could disappear. 

𓆩♡𓆪 MINGYU 

He’s probably the one that actually came up to you first. He picks you up and spins you around, before placing a kiss on your forehead. That’s when he sees people giving you weird stares. Not knowing what to do, he picks up a person next to you and spins them around as well, before leaving with an awkward smile and tears in his eyes. 

𓆩♡𓆪 MINGHAO 

One second Minghao was sitting calmly in his seat and the next you appeared out of nowhere on his lap. He quickly gave you a knowing look, before letting out a soft squeak and knocking you off his lap. 

𓆩♡𓆪 SEUNGKWAN 

You were all on stage receiving flowers for your win. Unfortunately, the person who was supposed to give you your flowers was Seungkwan. As he was passing them to you, he gave you a quick peck on your cheek. You both froze, looking at each other. Then, Seungkwan fainted. 

𓆩♡𓆪 VERNON

He freezes. You ran up to him to give him a quick hug and he simply froze. All eyes were on you. All cameras were on you. His mind went blank and he just stood there with his arms awkwardly dangling by his side. 

𓆩♡𓆪 DINO 

The moment you enter his personal space, he lets out his famous HAHAHA laugh. You just look at him weirdly, because that was so out of his character. But then you realise what he was trying to tell you through his super awkward laugh. There’s literally a camera next to him and if you’d made even one more step toward him, you’d be in big trouble.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[queenendless]

😂Ticklish Remedy(Student!SatoSuguxStudent!Fem!Reader)😂

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to get out! I gotta write more JJK tk fics in the future. This one I rushed, it's true.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, more exposition than tickles but obvious tickles, mention of reader gaining seer vision cursed technique powers for possible future plot development, Shoko Ieiri cameo, and SatoSugu poly loving.

Credit for characters and art used goes to Gege sensei.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy.

Why were you in such a pathetic mood?

Waking up from a messed up dream in a cold sweat?

Coming back from a mission where more damage than saving was done?

Or a hard downpour out of nowhere soaked you and would be around for the remainder of the evening?

All of the above.

In this life, you are the quiet, sweet protective being. But it takes certain things to set you off. All of the above, for instance.

Another big one would be the only friends turned found family you ever had and known getting harmed in any way, whether from slander from those foolish higher ups or certain corrupted humans you were obligated to save and not harm for retribution despite getting injured on the job because of them. Those indeed pissed you off.

That wasn't the case this time.

Nah, you're just having one of those days.

You had just left the shower, clad in a dry tee shirt and short shorts, going stomach first flopping on your dorm room bed in a downtrodden sense, when a loud knock on your door made you moan in refusal, smothering your face in your pillow.

"L/n? Sweetie? Y/n-chaaaaaan~?!"

Satoru's loud rambles; his voice always making you smile, now sounded irritating to you. "Go away." Your muffled yell made a new voice join in.

"Y/n? Honey? Are you alright?"

Suguru's concerned voice made you feel bad at behaving this way towards them when it wasn't their fault at all. "Not really."

"Excuse us. We're coming in." Suguru's warning was followed by your dorm room door sliding opening as their heads popped up through behind the door, your weak wave giving them the prompt to just come in.

They were both still in uniform but also in socks and slippers, as Satoru flopped down, jostling the bed, before spooning you from behind and Suguru sliding your door closed before sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you and held your hand in his; rubbing comforting circles on your knuckles with his thumb when he asked.

"How bad?"

Your hesitant sigh didn't bode well. "I was sent alone to exorcize a second-grade curse spirit after it ended several regulars working at a cemetery."

"Yaga-sensei told us." Suguru's pitying gaze made you whine weakly. "We're sorry we couldn't go with you."

Flashes of your nightmare from early morning resurfaced; your pinched expression being a sign of your discomfort. "The same nightmare happened again. Just … bloodied corpses … of those I care for …that shadowed, stitched forehead bastard's smile ... and I'm unable to move or scream or do anything …" Your voice wavered as your form trembled with a deep-rooted frustration and pain on this particular dilemma.

You still had no freaking idea who or what it was; human or cursed spirit, let alone why you kept having these dreams. A warning? Perhaps. You were slowly climbing up the ranks in terms of developing your Innate technique; as odd as it was in getting impactful visions followed by side effecting migraines. And this was yet another unknown future threat standing in your way.

"Plus I got rained down hard coming back here. So there." You pouted, taking Suguru's hand in your own, just to splat it over your face, amusing the latter despite the gloomy vibe.

"That bad, huh? God, quite the depressing mood bundle you are!" Satoru sighed loudly.

You jammed your thumb over your shoulder into Satoru's cheek, dryly retorting. "Obnoxious creep." You thrusted your pointer finger of the same hand forward in Suguru's face. "Weird bangs guy."

"Now sweetie, I know you're just saying those things because you're down in the dumps… but it still wounds me!" Satoru mockingly cried out, ruffling your hair, further driving the point of getting stabbed in the feels.

"Honey, you're wrong. About my bangs, I mean. Satoru … nah that's right on the mark." Geto poked your nose, smirking like the smart ass he is, rubbing salt in the wound.

"Hey!" Gojo flared up, dagger eyes on his bestie at the betrayal.

You snorted at their interaction. Satoru's face stubbornly set in a pouting expression, when the sound you just made gave him quite the amusing idea as he kissed your forehead down from up above you. "So, what you need right now is some serious cheering up, 101."

A twisted smile suddenly wormed up on his face. It makes your gut squirm with nerves.

"Suguru~" The sing-song tone to his name snatched the younger man's attention. "It seems our lovely girlfriend is too grumpy for our liking~!"

The same twisted feeling inside you doubled as Suguru smiled at you in the same manner.

"Yes … we should remedy that right away."

Able to read each other's thoughts down pat; synced as the best friends they are, meant they were both on board for their evil agenda.

"Uh, chotto matte," Your Nihongo Jouzu reflexes came spilling out as nervous giggles did as well, fidgeting as your attempts to get up and pull away from Satoru's hold were futile for his arms tightened around your waist and pulled quick enough to flush your back against his front. "Not that. Anything but that!"

"Y/n-chan … if you plead more, I'll consider it." Suguru calmly mused as he climbed up on your bed, trapping your legs in between his knees, coyly smiling. "Maybe~"

A squeal sprung free from your lips as the spider-like fingers of Satoru squeezed your sides before wriggling into your ribs. "I'd rather she beg. After all, she wants this so much~!" Satoru smugly taunted, that fat ass smirk plastered on his face when you jabbed your elbow hard in his side.

"Liar liar pants on fire – AAH~!" Your retort was cut off by your own shriek as Satoru's fingertips slithered around to deeply drag across your belly.

"Oh ho, you're gonna get it now!" Satoru's deepened tone spoke doom for you. Suguru's snickers only added to it.

Your spastic, laughing form was kicking, flailing, and bouncing to both their inner amusement and glee; the bed squeaking and the headboard hitting the wall many times in the process.

"Cootchie cootchie coo~!" Satoru's fingers slid through your shirt sleeves to pinch and wring the bare skin of your armpits.

"Tohohohohoru you ahahahahahass~!" You slam your shoulders into his in another attempt to push him off, but that lean skinny bode hid such strength beneath.

"Hey! I have a fine ass, I'll have you know!" Gojo's pursed lips were made to good use as he began doing raspberries from the crook of your neck to the base of it to under your ear, speaking in between every tingling blow. "Very. Fine. Indeed!" His snowy hair added to the ticklish sensation as his puffy locks brushed your cheek.

"You twohoohoo beheheheheter stahahahap or I swehehehear I'll – EEK~!" You squeaked harder as Suguru exchanges wiggling squeezes between your shaking kneecaps and your thighs. "Suhuhuhuhugu qu – quihihihit it~!!"

Geto snorted. "Jackass is more like it."

"Your face up my ass the other day spoke otherwise, if you recall~" Satoru's buzzing wet lips pulled from your neck to give bedroom eyes to Suguru.

Who returns the look, just as gluttonous for another go. "The face you made proves you enjoyed it just as much~"

Their raunchy talk was halted as a pillow got whacked in Suguru's face, followed by said pillow being thrown to Satoru's, who barely caught it in one hand. But that enough commotion lets you slip free from his loosened grasp.

Though the truth was he let you go free for now, laughing slowly at the look of sheer disbelief on his raven haired lover's face at what you just pulled, the more bangs loosely gracing his forehead from the commotion.

"Ooh, you're in trouble~!" Gojo singing spoke of doom.

Your panting, pink cheeked self could only have a moment's reprieve as chills raked your skin at the dark edge tainting Suguru's almond eyes. Unlike the smile in your nightmares, bearing callousness and insanity, Suguru's bore a more eerily calm smiling face.

"Indeed … it's on."

He dodged the kick to his face by your freed foot, toothily smiling as he caught your ankle, viewed your squirming foot with scrutinizing intrigue, before dragging his finger up and down your sole lightly enough to have you become a cute chortling mess.

Your other foot moved to kick his arm to free yourself when Gojo snatched it straight away, clicking his tongue to scold you. "Naughty, naughty~"

The two looming devils you love jumped you!

Shoko Ieiri, twirling her non lite cigarette between her fingers, jumped at the ear-piercing scream striking the air of the dorm, high tailing to the source as curiosity beckoned her.

Discovering the loud slamming ruckus jumbled in as well, it all is coming from your room followed by your jumbled cackling wordplay in the mix had her sliding the door open, her cigarette nearly slipping from her grasp at the sight she just witnessed.

You were flipped to lay on your stomach, laughing your sweaty red face off, as both those bastards each straddled a thigh of yours, with a footsie for each to tickle savagely.

"And this is why I stopped questioning why this is your norm now." Shoko shrugged.

"She whacked us with her pillow!" Suguru gruffly complained as his fingers wringed through your toes.

"Hilarious move on her part but she did wound my pride." Satoru's mirthful grin then drooped as his pride did deflate. "So, retribution!" Killing your restraint as he nibbled on your padded piggies.

"SHOHOHOHOHOHOHOKO~!!! MAHAHAHAHAHAKE THEHEHEHEHEHEM STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP~!!!"

Your flailing calves nearly whacking them were immediately taken care of as their forearms wrapped around them to hold them in place, their hands squeezing your ankles in their ironclad grip. Suguru nibbled and dragged his teeth and tongue down your wrinkled sole while Satoru's lips and tongue suckled and wriggled between your toes.

"PLEHEHEHEHEHESE HAHAHAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEHEHERCY~!!!"

"Yeah, as the resident healer of our group, I see the telltale signs she's gonna pass out at this rate." Shoko nearly toppled over you as your hands needed some support to dig and squeeze your fingers in something to keep your unhinged self-grounded.

Suguru hummed in contemplation. "Hmmm … while seeing and hearing our love in this state does please me greatly, this overall was supposed to cheer her up."

"Your cheering up brand is quite savage indeed." Shoko's apathetic tone made them both stifle a groan; Satoru's vibrating through your foot made you squeal louder, as he finally popped his mouth off your saliva covered minies.

"Alright, alright! We will," Satoru gave a big wet smooch to your topside. "I'd say we're even now."

Suguru kissed your other topside in the same manner, before their arms released your calves, moving off your thighs so they could lay your legs fully down on your rustled sheeted bed.

You breathed in and out your relief as tranquility came at last; giggles from ghost tickles slipping in, releasing your hold on Shoko's arm to fold yours and use them as your personal resting pillow. "Ah … f … freedom … thank you." You were now more exhausted but less depressing. Pro? Perhaps. For now, anyway.

"Y/n." You leaned your head into Satoru's smooth warm hand as he brushed your hair strands sticking to your forehead aside, rubbing your forehead before brushing your hair back in gentle motions, as he flopped down on his stomach on your right side, resting his cheek on his free forearm, the vibrant Six Eyes looking at you over his lowered shades, straightforward truth teeming in them. "In this life, you can't save everyone."

You frowned at that, blunt and to the point, when Suguru also flopped down the same way on your left side, his giant firm hand rubbing massaging circles on your back, surging with tender care, bringing blessed sighs out of you, as his eyes met yours next, teemed with solace. "Nor will the fear of the unknown go away just like that."

"We can't promise that nothing will happen to all of us later on down the line, either." Satoru's distaste for it showed.

"But we can promise that when they do, come what may, we'll give it our all." Suguru's empathy shined through in his beautiful almond eyes.

"We have to in order to be the strongest duo, after all." Satoru chuckled as his cheek nuzzled yours.

"Eh? And me?" You pouted.

"Then trio." Suguru pecked your lips just to see that smile of yours blossom.

"Ahem!" Shoko fake coughed, sitting against the front of the bed on the floor, plopping her head back, lips puckered and batting eyes at you all in fake sadness.

"Okay, squad then! Point being! Whatever comes our way, we face it together, as best we can. We are there for each other. None of us should be alone. Right?" Satoru's sincere toothy smile sealed the deal.

You sighed deeply. "Fine … but any more savage tickling cheering up schemes in the future are off the table! I swear to God –!"

"Hai hai." The duo agreed in unison as they each pressed a deep noisy smooch to your cheeks.

"Ehem." Shoko pointed at her own face, wanting smooches too. That brought laughs out of all three of you before you kissed her forehead, and the guys kissed her cheeks.

The downpour had finally ceased, and you fell asleep from the tiring experience that toppled the rest.

"Too precious for this kind of life, she is." Shoko smiled faintly as the guys kept their eyes on yourself, softly breathing, slowly lifting and lowering your slumbering self.

"Suguru? Those dreams of hers …"

"Premonitions, you mean?"

Satoru nodded. "It's been happening for weeks now."

"She could be a cursed Seer of sorts. See the future and all that." Shoko interjected.

"Her cursed energy has been increasing. Her output as well. Still … I say we keep close to her. Keep our guard up." Suguru suggested.

"And if Yaga-sensei sends her out solo tasking again?" Satoru dreaded that possible outcome.

"We should inform him of this. If a possible dire threat does arrive in our future, I'd suggest one of us go with her on missions just in case. We both can handle solo missions just fine."

"Then I call dibs~!"

Suguru's eyes narrowed intensely. "My idea, my dibs."

Satoru flared up. "Eh~?!"

Your groggy stirring mumbles alerted the bois to keep it down, your settling down leaving them puffing out their reliefs.

"Compromise then, Satoru~?"

Said man groaned. "You're lucky you're you."

Suguru chuckled at that before smooching his snowy haired lover over your resting head.

"Your throuple is a cursed miracle in and of itself, alright." Shoko murmured, toying with the cig between her lips.

Your throuple life story.

Cursed miracle indeed.

[aesthetictarlos]

Tbh I tried not to let the negativity get to me but I'm a big lone star fan and I'm unfortunately familiar with the way Tim Minear handles things sometimes.

Tommy and Trevor broke up out of nowhere and it was (in my opinion) not a great storyline. Mateo and Nancy barely have scenes together, and the same goes for Paul and Asha, and for Marjan and her boyfriend (we literally saw him just once so I can't really remember his name). Not even talking about Owen's relationships.

And yeah, I love tarlos and they're one of my favourite couples EVER but I'm still mad for the way Tim ended their break up in season three, and I'm still mad because I feel like there are a few plot holes in their story.

All this to say that yeah, I was convinced that Buck and Tommy could be endgame, I wanted them to be endgame but when I read the synopsis for this episode a part of me was scared because sometimes I trust Tim, but sometimes I don't. Turns out I shouldn't have trusted him this time.

I'm really feeling fooled. I said this a few months ago: I didn't want to watch season 7 because I was so pissed for Buck and Natalia's storyline but then I decided to do it and they brought Tommy back, they gave me BuckTommy and I was like: okay, maybe this time they're writing Buck's storyline the way he deserves.

And now? All gone.

Well, I'm not having this. I'm sorry.

(don't mind mistakes, I'm just rambling over breakfast before work)

[suzukiblu]

Beginning of another old YJ animated WIP I just dug back up; cut for length. I had this fic idea back when the first season was still airing (AND IT TURNED OUT TO BE A VERY IRONIC ONE LATER ON, hahaha), and I never got very far with it, buuuuut . . . well, I still kinda wanna write it, so hey, why not revisit the concept!

“We need to talk,” Batman says abruptly, sweeping into the living room like the black crack of night, dark and foreboding and completely out of place during a Saturday afternoon video game marathon. M'gann squeaks and Wally yelps and they both fall off the couch in surprise, taking the popcorn and nearly Artemis with them. Robin startles up so fast anyone who didn't know better would think he was the speedster, Superboy jerks hard enough to make the steel sofa frame creak in protest, and Kaldur stands to careful attention and looks to Batman.

That’s his job, after all. 

“Is there a problem with last night's reports?” he asks reflexively, but the aura Batman is cloaked in . . . no. That feeling is not about reports, or their last mission, or anything less than utmost disaster. Robin's fingers scrape along the part of his glove that his computer's holographic screen pops out of in an obvious nervous tic, which Robin is not supposed to have–which Robin goes to great lengths to never have, especially in front of Batman.

But Batman is looking at them with a chilling expression and Kaldur understands that tic better than he wants to, because Batman and bad news that makes him wear an expression . . . 

“I'm so sorry,” Batman says as he steps forward and crouches down and sweeps Robin into an embrace, and that fast Robin looks shocked and terrified, and Wally falls right back off the couch he'd just gotten back onto, and M'gann's shaking hands clap over her ears like she's trying to muffle a sound–or trying to block something out of her head, some distant and clinical part of Kaldur thinks. And with Batman out of the way, he sees his king standing in the hall just outside the doorway with the Flash, his own expression tight and just barely pained. 

Kaldur’s heart sinks like a stone.

“Who died,” Robin says, panic in his voice, small and just thirteen, fingers digging in against Batman's shoulders. The Flash darts into the room and looks down at Wally with this horrible, sorrowful look on his face and pulls him to his feet, gripping his hands tightly in his own. 

King Orin does not move from the hallway and does not change that blade-sharp pained expression that cuts into the core of everything that Kaldur has ever served or believed in, and does not stop looking at him with it.

It is not difficult to understand Robin's reaction, with his king looking at him like that.

“Batman?” Robin says, young and afraid, and Batman is still holding him smother-tight and does not speak. “Batman, what–Br–say something!” he yells, but Batman just shifts and drags him even tighter against himself, tight enough so Robin vanishes inside his cape. If not for the low whimper he hears from beneath its dark folds, Kaldur would almost think he wasn't there at all; that Batman was simply injured and curled in around himself to protect the wound. 

And Batman still does not say anything. Neither does the Flash, even as he grips Wally's hands tighter in his own, even as he stays horrible and sorrowful, and Kaldur can only look to his king because there is nowhere else.

But his king says nothing either.

“Guardian called from Cadmus,” the Flash says finally, quietly, watching Wally as he speaks. Kaldur feels very young, suddenly and irrationally; as young as his teammates all look right now, as young as Robin sounds. He has enough time to feel a flash of alarm for Superboy–what if there was a flaw in the cloning process, what if something is wrong with–“They found something on sublevel 53.” 

“There wasn't a sublevel 53,” Robin says, voice cracked and sharp like a broken toy, and Batman . . .

Kaldur will swear it on his own life: Batman flinches.

“There wasn't!” Robin snaps, struggling in Batman's grip and breaking out from beneath his cape, defiant and still terrified and oh, he is so small, Kaldur thinks as he watches the other boy stumble back, hit the sofa and try to disappear into his own much too small cape. “I would've seen it, I would've found it–” 

“Most likely Desmond had that memory adjusted,” King Orin cuts in shortly, and Robin grins in horror.

“Wh–but Supey got the G-gnomes to let us go, they were barely in our heads at all!” Wally protests, yanking his hands out of the Flash's. His edges look blurred–Kaldur thinks he might be trembling. He feels as if he should be himself. They have faced terrible things in their lives, all of them, but the way that his king is looking at him in this moment . . . 

It’s a very, very terrible thing, that look. 

“Superboy lost line of sight on the targets before acquiring them,” Batman says, short and sharp. Kaldur blinks, slowly, thinking, that's strange, why should that matter? Thinking, WHAT targets? Superboy didn't have targets in Cadmus. The only thing he had to do was help them fight Desmond and help them . . . get . . .

“I don't get it,” Artemis says, frowning warily, and Batman's lips thin and M'gann covers her too-pale face with hands that won't stay quite the right shape.

“The source material for Project Sidekick was put in stasis and transferred to storage. There was a power surge this morning that interrupted the sedative dose,” King Orin says as he finally steps into the room, quiet and grief-sharpened. “The genomorphs heard Kaldur'ahm trying to wake up half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” not-Kaldur realizes, and sits back down.

[yumeaoka-chan]

Hunger Pains

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Ghoul! Hobie x Human! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Tokyo Ghoul au, Blood, Ghoulified Hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as gender neutral reader, scared reader, badass Hobie (I'm really not good at writing fight scenes, ugh), cursing, death (not as bad as you think), lovesick reader, lovesick Hobie, hungry boi Hobie, "The lion falls in love with the lamb" basically

Summary: You go to visit Hobie after not hearing from him for weeks.

A/N: Credit for the lovely banners goes to @the-shroom-garden !!! Late entry for week 3 of Octobie, I'm sorry @the-kr8tor 😭🤚 I got sick outta nowhere, so I'm currently laying in bed as I post this😔 I was going to write a Baldur's Gate 3 au but, the angst potential of Tokyo Ghoul kept screaming at me😭🤚

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door, the houseboat calmly rocking on the water.

“Hobie? Are you in there?” You call out, a frown forming on your lips as you notice no lights are on inside. It's eerily quiet, especially at this time of night. You knew you should've waited until the morning. Tears sting your eyes and you inhale shakily, trying to will the feeling away. Hobie has been distant lately, almost as if he was avoiding you. If you call, he doesn't pick up. When you went to his band practice, his bandmates claimed he wasn't there. And when you went to his favorite hiding spot, the rooftop of a small local music shop that overlooks the city, he was nowhere to be seen.

Just when things were going so well, you thought to yourself as you slowly made your way off of his boat. You and Hobie had been friends for what felt like forever, being together through most of Primary school and all throughout Secondary. Even now, while you are enrolled in college, you two are thick as thieves. Throughout the years, your fondness and admiration of him had slowly formed into adoration and, dare you say it, love. You were in love with him, had been in love with him for quite a while. And just when you had worked up the courage to tell him how you feel, he practically ghosts you.

Walking through the shortcut through the alleyway to get to your dorm, you don't notice the set of eyes watching you from the rooftops, too busy lamenting over Hobie and what you could have done to push him away. The late night streets are silent, not a single soul out due to the frigid cold of the winter breeze. Shivering, you pull your jacket tighter around your body, sniffling from the cold or tears, perhaps. As you trudge on, you suddenly hear something behind you. The faintest of footsteps, the most quiet of chuckles. The very sound makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps raising on your arms. Taking a steadying breath, you keep walking, albeit quicker than before. No good would come of acknowledging the sound, that much you knew.

The footsteps draw nearer still, making your heart begin to pound in your chest. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitches, and you suddenly forget to remain calm. Zipping and darting through the deserted streets of London, you try to lose your pursuer through the series of backstreets. Fear grips your chest as you hear the footsteps grow even closer, the chuckles now turned into cackles. How could you be so stupid? Walking around this late, knowing full well that they lurked in the shadows. You want to cry when you slam into a tall metal gate, hurriedly looking over your shoulder. That's when you see him. Tall and broad and practically frothing at the mouth, the long blue appendage coiled around his arm gleaming under the light of the moon. His grin is unhinged, eyes glowing red with pulsing veins surrounding them. When they meet your gaze, you can see the eagerness in them. It makes you let out a fearful cry as you scramble to climb over the gate.

A hand suddenly grips your foot, making you slip and cut your palm open on the sharp metal. You let out a hiss and you struggle to free your foot, fear clawing its way into your chest. The ghoul behind you inhales deeply, salivating at the scent of your blood oozing down your arm.

“Been so long since I had such a good looking meal. I'll savor you, little lambchop.” He cackles as he wrenches you away from the gate with one strong tug. You yelp as you fall down harshly onto the ground, your nose the first to collide onto the asphalt. Head swimming from the impact, you hardly register the crimson dripping from your nose, eyes blearily looking up at your captor with horror. And as he pried open his dripping maw, you could see your life flashing before your eyes. Every joyous moment, every harsh disappointment. And yet, no memory shined brighter than those that involved Hobie. You were going to die before ever getting to reveal your feelings to him. Lips wobbling and tears falling, you gazed at the face of your demise and whispered the one you wanted to see most.

“Hobie…” Just as quick as those words left your lips, the ghoul in front of you was viciously ripped away. Eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the sudden rescue, you blink up at the figure suddenly standing above you. His back was turned to you and sprouting from it were eight long, sharp, spider leg like tendrils. They were as red as the darkest of wines and glowed brightly, illuminating the alleyway. Squinting your eyes, you could see the faint outline of his head, the hair on his head making you gasp. Not just the hair, the clothes too. The leather jacket on his back and the boots that adorned him were all too familiar. Sitting up a bit, your lips tremble as you utter his name.

“I-Is that you… Hobie…?” Hearing his name on your lips is like a godsend everytime, but not this time. Not when you're shaking like a leaf from fear. Hobie grits his teeth as he turns to look down at you, hearing the sharp intake of breath you make when you see his eyes. One brown and one a glowing red, angry red veins surrounding it. He gives you a placating smile before turning his head back to glare at the ghoul that's now standing across from him. The taller man snarls, spit flying from his lips as his coiled appendage glows brighter.

“You filthy One-Eyed! That's my dinner! I called dibs!” Crouching low and spider-like appendages curling around his form, Hobie glares harshly at the other.

“Touch a hair on this one's head and I'll fuckin’ kill you”, he utters lowly, voice on the edge of a growl. The taller ghoul cackles and points his finger at Hobie, eyes wild and sharp with mania.

“That right? I'll just devour you before I feast on the lambchop's flesh then!” With a roaring shout, the crazed ghoul rushes at Hobie, his sharp coiled appendage aimed straight for his chest. Fury rumbles in his chest as Hobie dashes forward to meet him, his deadly appendages shooting forward to harshly stab the ghoul's shoulder. The broad man howls with pain before twisting his body free of them, arm moving to swipe at the other's chest. Wincing as he feels it slice through his shirt and graze his skin, Hobie uses his appendages to propel himself into the air, before viciously bringing them down onto the man's head.

The fight goes on for several minutes, your eyes darting to and fro as you try to spot Hobie in all the madness. They're both quick and every blow you see him take makes you grip your chest, scared that he'll die in this violent whirlwind. Your heart hammers in your ears and it feels like the bloody battle drones on for nearly an hour. There's dust as they kick up and crack the asphalt beneath their feet, making it impossible to see through. Stumbling on your feet, your ears pick up the sudden wail of pain that rings in the air. It's silent then, the dust slowly clearing.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly walk forward, stepping closer to where you can hear the sounds of harsh panting. Just as you step into the circle of dust, you see a glowing red eye staring back at you.

“Don't!” Hobie's booming command rings in your ear and your body seizes up almost automatically. As the dust finally starts to settle, you can see how he grips his right side, blood flowing through his fingers. His other hand is held out in your direction, palm facing you in a clear indication for you not to come any closer. Hobie's face is scrunched up in a painful grimace as he watches concern flit across your features. He adamantly shakes his head, feet slowly backing away from you.

“Don't”, he says, softer this time, like he can't mask the agony that colors his voice. “P-Please just… don't…” He can't take it, can't take how good you smell. How good your blood smells. Skin that he knows would be so soft beneath his fingers, so giving as his nails dig into your arm, leaving marks that would never fade as his lips descend onto your neck. Hobie closes his eyes as the very image seers inside of his brain. It's so vivid that he can almost taste it, taste the way your skin gives beneath his teeth as he gorges himself on the divine banquet that is your flesh.

“No, no, fuck, no…”, he mumbles to himself, hand that was held out to you now gripping his hair. He tugs on the coarse hair, biting his lip so hard that he breaks the skin. “Not Star… Not my Star…” Because how could he ever think to harm you, his Star, his light in this oppressed world? Just the fact that he even imagined tainting you, defiling your body with his disgusting, atrocious hunger… Tears slip down his cheeks as he feels the gaping blackhole in his stomach nag at him, begging him to feast on you, the one he loved most. Because what is love if not to consume and be consumed in return?

You weren't blind to his internal conflict, seeing the way he leered at you before stumbling back, farther away from you. Taking a step forward, you're careful to avoid stepping on the body of the dead ghoul in front of him. Hobie's head shoots up and it makes your heart ache, seeing the waterfall of tears cascading down his cheeks. He's shaking his head furiously as he stumbles back slowly and you steel your resolve, even as he yells and curses at you. Shouts of “No, stay back” and “I'll hurt you, please stay back” ring in your ears and with a heavy heart, you press on. Hobie's back is pressed against a brick wall by the time you come face to face with him, his lips trembling and long legs shaking slightly.

“Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you press a shaky hand against his cheek, making him shudder. “Hobes… Is this why you've been avoiding me…?” His face twists into a visibly pained scowl as he clenches his eyes shut. Taking a careful breath, he slowly nods his head. Fear releases its icy claws from your heart, leaving only tenderness and concern for the man before you. You wait patiently as he calms his frantic breathing, the appendages surrounding him slowly retreating into his back. When he looks at you again, you see his brown eyes glistening, the hunger still lurking beneath the depths of his lipid pools. You give him a small smile, acceptance shining in your soft gaze.

“Tell me everything. From the beginning, okay?” Is what you whisper to him. Hobie can't help but bask in the bright light, the shining beacon that is you. It's then and there that he's determined to find a way to put that sickening hunger to sleep for good, his love for you stronger than his beast.

“It's… a long story, love…”