#Spill my guts in the tags again but what else is new have done this for years so whatever

[backpackingspace]

Hey this just in? Ptsd sucks balls

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 7

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Chapter summary: Past. Logan has a nightmare. Present. You have a nightmare.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING!!!!: Pretty graphic. Again, I cant and wont tag everything but I dont wanna throw you off.

2.3 words

Before

“Logan?”

Your voice broke through the noise, the sound of machine guns and children screaming and a bomb dropped in the distance but he heard you. Everything was disjointed, every war, just or unjust, melded into others. Nazi’s shot by WWI German troops, a confederate soldier beheading an English man, Indigenous tribes fighting alongside terrorists, a confusing group to say the least. Still, he heard you.

“Logan!”

You, standing in the middle of it all in a modest pink dress. You, pristine as if you were teaching a class but surrounded by blood and bodies and murdered innocents. You, who when he blinked, was covered in blood but not from bullets or beyonets or gunned up airplanes, but slashed up like Freddy Kruger was hopping his way into his dream. You were holding your stomach, scrambling to keep your guts inside yourself. He was trying to reach you, but hands pulled him back. He couldn’t see faces, but Logan knew they were the hands of all those he’d killed. In front of him, separating Logan from you now, were other. Scott, Charles, Jean, everyone who’d told him to stay away from you.

They aren’t helping you, they aren’t even trying. Instead, they just admonish Logan.

“See what you've done?” Jean asks, and Logan tries to push through.

“She’s bleeding! She needs help!” He screams and screams, watching as you fall to your knees, blood beginning to spill out your mouth. “I need to help her!”

Charles now, voice calm. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“No! I didn’t hurt her! I’d never hurt her! Please, Dolly! Dolly I’m coming!”

Scott, for some reason without his glasses. “We knew this would happen, we knew you couldn’t be trusted, Logan.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her! PLEASE! Just- Let me- DOLLY!!!”

You’ve collapsed, convulsing on the ground as you shout his name over and over again. Logan screams for you, using all his strength to try and get away, to help you, get you out of the war zone and to help, but the weight of the hands around him are too much. They pull and grasp and voices moan in agony behind him.

They pull him away from you.

“LOGAN! WAKE UP!”

Then his eyes are open, claws out and he’s scanning his dark bedroom for the danger, the danger he knows has to be there because why else would he be so fucking scared? But then he turns and he sees you, standing in the corner with your arms crossed over yourself and and he thinks back to the scene in his head where you were dying and Logan almost runs to you- but when he moves, he sees you flinch.

There is a long, long moment where the only thing breaking the silence were your ragged breaths and the pounding of blood in his ears, eyes inter looked in mutual fear. Logan looked at you like you were a spooked deer, even though it was him that felt an unyielding terror inside. You stood in PJ’s, and as his eyes adjusted he took in the new side of you, clothing revealing more than skin you didn’t show. You slept in a dress. Not pants and a top, not a dress meaning lingerie or something cute. Logan thinks for a moment of those outfits worn on the Amazonian Islands in the 70’s Wonder Woman show, how it was just lingerie. No, nothing like that. You just wore a dress, something akin to what he’d seen women wear more than 100 years ago, something a grandma would wear now, a skirt that went to the mid-shin.

Even in the privacy of your own bedroom, you weren’t free from the rhetoric. He bet you wore cotton panties.

You were the first to speak, voice soft and careful as if you weren’t the one shaking. “Are you… okay?”

You, sweet beautiful you, were concerned about him. He’d had a nightmare, because of course he had, of course he could never be free from all the before… but he was okay. 

“Yeah, I uh…” Logan ran a finger over his face, shaking off the tremors. “Nightmare.”

A little nod from your head, then your voice, barely audible. “I get them too.”

Of course you did. Of course a sweet wonderful little doll like you was plagued like this. 

Logan relaxes, shoulders slumping and he slides his legs over the side of the bed before burying his face in his hands. “I’ll kill him, you know.” He mumbles. “Just tell me anything, anything about him and I can track him down. Anything about you.”

The name you used wasn’t a real name. You’d chosen from some woman in the bible you admired, a jewish woman who used her beauty to seduce an enemy and slayed him. Judith was the subject of two Artemisia Gentileschi paintings, hence his familiarity. Logan wasn’t an art guy, but being the history teacher he’d had to brush up on his renaissance art. Your last name was fake too, something you and Charles drummed up and probably had some other religious significance, although he wasn’t religious enough to know. Maybe he’d ask Kurt. 

It’d all been faked and slapped on some ID’s no one would ever be able to tell weren’t real. Your new identity was sealed. Even if you left the school, you could go on. Charles had even faked an education degree and high school diploma when you promised to not use it to do anything you weren’t qualified for. Charles didn’t want you to be trapped at the school, and since the school had been your only option at the time, you’d been given a freedom to leave. This was more than your husband had ever done, keeping you trapped and helpless, not even knowing how to drive. 

All he needed was your real name, and he could track your husband down and bring his head on a platter like John the Baptist. Was that a Gentileschi painting, or was that Caravagio?

“I know.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts like you had done with his nightmare. “Which is why I won’t tell you.”

When Logan looks up, he sees you still standing so far away from him, and chuckles dryly. “You scared of me now, doll face?”

You shake your head no, but it’s not as confident as he’d have liked.

“I’m in my pajamas. You’re shirtless in shorts. There’s a bed.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “You think I’d do something to you?”

This time, when you shake your head, it’s much firmer. “No. Absolutely not. It’s just… I was always taught to never be in a man’s bedroom… or I might bring something on myself, or it would lead me to sin, or, or there’s something about the appearance of sin… I dunno, it’s just considered improper.”

He let the words settle into his skin. Sometimes, loving you was like the women he’d loved, bedded, courted so long ago. Such a different time, a different world. Yet you were still so different. Back then, women were just waiting for someone to untether them, give them an out, run away. They craved that freedom, the liberty sex brings. Logan didn’t know what you craved. There was nothing inside you that said you wanted to scream, to be unhinged, to let go. You weren’t a bubble waiting to pop, you were simply happy to be as you were, dresses and all.

“I understand, Dolly. Thank you for uh, for waking me. But you should really just let me be, next time.” Flashes of Rogue all bloodied in his arms flattered across Logan’s memory. Kayla, scratched up before his bones became the weapon they are now.  “I might accidentally hurt you.”

Something he doesn’t recognize flashes on your face before you give a little nod. “Are you alright? I can go make you some tea?”

Part of Logan wanted to say yes, because he loved when you made him tea, but you looked tired. “No, thank you doll. I’m alright. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.”

“Thanks kinda my thing, isn’t it?” You smile just a little, making a bit of a face as you walk sideways towards the door. “Little homeschooled teen marriage weirdo?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at your weird behavior, not turning your back to him, but he decided he didn’t need to question your every move.

“You’re not a weirdo. You’re one of the coolest people I know.”

You laugh at that, eyes bright as always, and slide out the door.

After

You scream. And scream. And scream, over and over again. There’s blood everywhere. Logan tore everyone you loved apart; your students, your fellow teachers, Scott, Jean, Kurt, Emma, Charles. Every single one was hacked to pieces. Logan pinned you to the ground, pounding into your cunt as if you were just a lifeless doll. You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream. Were you screaming before? You can’t remember now.

Lifeless you lay, head lulled to the side as Logan fucked you. There was blood coming out of your cunt, but you didn’t know how you knew that. Spread and prone and stretched you took what Logan gave you, his soft words grunting in your ear.

“Isn’t this better, doll? Not fighting? See, I can make it good for you. I can make you wet. You’re so wet for me, my little submissive dolly.” It wasn’t blood between your legs anymore, it was cum as an uncomfortable orgasm swelled through your body. Still, ever so still, you never moved. Remy lay next to you, unrecognizable outside of intuition as he’s just a pile of slashed flesh now.

��My perfect, lifeless doll.” You’re pliant in his hands.

Suddenly Scott is in front of you, a bodiless head , eyes gouged out of his face, nothing but bloody pits. Still he speaks.

“You did this.”

No. No you’d never-

“You’re dangerous. Violence follows you. You’re a grenade.”

It wasn’t you! It was Logan!

“It hasn’t always been Logan. But it’s always been you. You are the common denominator.”

You blink and it’s no longer the friends and family and children of your new life. It’s your mom and dad, siblings, in laws, everyone who meant something to you before. 

It’s your husband between your legs now, and you think there is nothing possible worse than this, nothing could be worse than him being back. Everything you went through, it’s never going to end. You’re dying. Maybe you’re dead because you’re watching from above now, your body on the ground and cold.

Your husband strokes your lifeless, compliant form. “The perfect wife.”

You’re back in your body, your mother lying next to you now. “Why couldn’t you just be good?”

You wake up to Remy shaking you.

His voice is an immediate calm, a recognition that he isn’t dead, he’s not a mass of gore on the floor while you’re being raped, killed for something you’ve done that you didn’t even know what. He’s alive.

“Remy!” You grab his shirt, pulling him to you and you don’t care that he’s a man half on your bed. He’s alive. Remy has often woken you from nightmares, his room right next to yours. Remy was closer, but Logan could hear you from further. Still, Remy was a light sleeper, so he usually got to you before Logan was aware.

Once you let go, Remy took several steps back, right up against the wall. This was something Remy did to prevent further anxiety. You trusted Remy fully, you never got an inkling that he wanted to fuck you or was playing the long game, just that he wanted to help you.

“They are getting worse again, pistache. It’s more often than when you first came here.”

You pull your blanket close to your chest even though you were fully covered. Remy slept in boxers, but he wore a robe around himself, something he bought after the first time he helped you through a nightmare. He came in in just his underwear and you were only three days into joining the school. Needless to say, seeing a man almost naked had scared the ever living hell out of you, so Remy bought a robe to cover up without having to waste time dressing. He was thoughtful like that. 

“I know, I know. I just… stress… I got the prom coming up, been a lot.”

Remy frowned, “Planning a high school dance shouldn’t trigger nightmares. Is this because of what happened at the ball?”

You wince. That memory was a lot, something that you didn’t like to think about. You doubted Scott did either, and if his jaw was ever the same. 

You took to long to answer, looking down at your blanket, so Remy continued. “I know that you and Logan have had… a falling out.” Your heart clenches at the words, heat flushing over your skin. Your blanket hid what you had been under loose clothing; a bump. You tuck your knees up so the blanket downs fall over your stomach. “I think he can fix it. You and him… well, I thought you’d get along before you ever met him. I brought your down stairs that first day because I’d seen him walking in, sent him to the store with you, sent him to have lunch… I think you two suit each other.” Remy gives you a smile. “You soften him. He protects you. It’s good for you both. Whatever it is, I think you can fix it. That’s all I’ll say.”

Remy stayed true to his word, not continuing about it… but you couldn’t help thinking how horrified he’d be if he found out what Logan did to you. He’s still gone, coming back any day now. Remy thought you softened him, and you suppose you did. For a while. 

You let Remy get you a snack, a little sweet treat to get the sick taste out of your mouth and cheer you up. He was kind, attentive, but the memory of him as nothing but a pile of slosh haunted you. Logan was dangerous. You were already worried about Scott prying where he didn’t need to, worrying about him getting himself killed, but now you think about Remy. What will he do when he learned Logan raped a baby into you?

Logan returns to his dolly next chapter! Next chapter we have 2 dances. Past, a ball Dolly put on because of the pride and prejuduce unit for her lit class, and presant she put on a sort of prom for the teenagers.

That chapter is where we get another HUGE chunk of dolly's past! the final bombwill be nearer to the end. I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on what you think dollys secrets are!!! There was a hint this chapter!

Ideas for a poll is always welcome! as are songs for the playlist

I need to make a better cover pic now that ive gotten a feel for the series and its themes

If you've read Rooms on Fire or The Wrong Way, you know I tend to write a similar type for these dark series. Dolly, Little one and Madonna are all girly, quieter, feminine, submissive types. I hope that those whove read it all, because i know some people have read most things i put out, don find dolly boring. I think all three are unique in their own ways, and Dolly has her own things too, even if she's quiet and nervous

I love all yall and am so thankful for the support ive gotten here!!!!!

please remember, comments keep me writing. It doesnt have to be a compiment, just something that shows engagment like "remy is a good friend"

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[b0nelessdoodles]

Art Summary 2023

shoutout to the one month were i drew fanart and then everything else was just dnd content again lmao (also shoutout to me being late to posting this haaaaa)

2023 wasn't the best year for me personally. between money problems and job searching, health issues, mental health issues, unintentional discomfort at my new job, and the overall issues of the world it just hasn't been great and I felt it heavily in my creativity. I never really had any creative highs this year outside of artfight (and even then i felt like i didn't do well) which only fed into some of the issues I was having.

But looking back I am really happy with most of what I made! Sure I didn't draw much but hey I think I popped off when I did!

So here is to 2024! Already off to a good start in the art department and even if I slow down at least I've had fun so far!

(i was gonna put me gushing about things in tags but its a lot so i'm doing a read more this post is already so damn long lmao i'm sorry)

okay i'm here to gush about two pieces at a time and their contents cause then make me happy to look at so lets get started on that with march and september 'cause hey! look at the relationship development of my little goblin guy!

march was when kk (tic's best friend and now boyfriend) first appeared to the rest of the party outside of just tic talking about him. literally the entire party could see that kk was in love with tic and was just like "oh buddy sorry about that" 'cause tic was a dumbass and romance was just never something he thought about until meeting the party. then we flash forward to september where the two confessed to each other after what really felt like the end of tic's story arc. at least it felt that way to me 'cause he reached his goal of killing groll and becoming the king of goblins but i know he still has shit to do I'M LOOKING AT YOU TRAVELLER AND RIP! but yeah that was the whole reason he left and it was done. he did it! but it almost cost him kk and the two ended up having a really important talk about it. kk chewed tic out and spilled his guts and i still think about it a lot holy shit it was so good omfg but it was in that moment that it clicked for tic. that if he had actually lost kk he had no idea what he would do, that he felt like his whole life would fall apart without him. and just man it was good wholesome content. congrats to the goblins for being the first canon relationship! (even tho they were not the first confession that one goes to rhami!)

now that that block of the text is out of the way we get to more depressing ones, those being january and october with my guy, dr. cecil wilfree.

its just.... man. what do i even say about him. january was probably the last moment before his life went into a full downward spiral, eventually leading into his demise. that piece isn't even anything major but rather something like a reminder going "hey, remember when wilfree had two normal eyes? good times!" and just man (-insert that image of a horse standing on the beach-) compare that to where he's at in october and knowing what happened in those 10 months? january he still had trust and hope, he believed that he was going to get back home and help river out with his plague, maybe even get aster home if she'd let them, maybe find a way to cure himself and help casey. but by the end there was no hope and he found out that he had been used, was nothing more than a tool for someone who he trusted, despite knowing that he really shouldn't have. river was dead and it was his fault (at least in his mind it was), he had failed to protect aster and traumatized both her and willow, and he could do nothing to save an entire population from being wiped off the face of the map. and he caved under the guilt. he gave up. its sad to see him alive and pissy in january and then look at december and see a shell of the same man, no more thoughts in that head as his mind got disconnected from his body and self.

and then for extra sads we've got december which was his birth month, so i drew something from a time before the campaign. back when he was alive and well, no soul curse and unknowing of the horrors yet to come, and receiving a gift from someone whose life he could soon destroy due to his own hubris.

anyway! pay no mind to may! i didn't draw a damn thing that whole month!

[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they’re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin’s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these’. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[mypoisonedvine]

Perks of the Job | dark!Boba Fett x reader x (soft)dark!Din Djarin

summary: the only thing worse than one bounty hunter on your trail is two.  the only thing worse than a bounty hunter who wants to abuse you is a bounty hunter who wants to make you into a lesson for his makeshift apprentice.  the only thing worse than a villain is a villain who thinks he’s a hero.

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut (noncon, including vaginal, oral m receiving, anal, and dp… so you know, basically everything), a specific kink of mine which I have dubbed "no, not there!" or NNT for short (betcha can guess what that means), din catching feelings lowkey, hair pulling, choking, bondage, forced begging, all the good stuff

Boba had proven to be unendingly useful in bounty missions, even if he was a little bit rough around the edges and slightly more ‘shoot first ask questions later’ in his attack style.  Still, Din was grateful for his aid and was happy to tag along when Boba explained he was tracking a target to Florrum— just a smuggler, wanted by the New Republic for trafficking death sticks all across the Outer Rim, nothing too serious or high-profile.

Turned out Din was less useful than he wanted to be, because only Boba was able to get into the club he’d traced your beacon to, so Din was instead left to wait on Slave I and try not to get into any trouble in the meantime.

After less than an hour of resting his eyes in the cockpit, he heard Boba’s voice come in through the comms system.  “Target acquired,” he rasped, and Din instantly noticed the distant sounds of struggle and the destruction he must have left in his wake.  “Be ready to take off when we board.”

Din leaned forward to hold down the blue button; “Roger,” he replied quickly as he kept an eye on the camera feed of the loading platform, opening and extending it so the hunter and his bounty could board easily.  The man appeared on the visual soon after, dragging a woman by the scruff of her neck.

It was you, with your hands tied behind your back and your mouth restrained by a makeshift gag.  You were putting up quite a fight, but not nearly enough to stop a man as ruthless as Fett.  The second the two of you were inside, Din triggered the loading platform to return to its upright resting place as he started the engines, the ship’s gyroscopic insides tilting against the lift-off sequence.  He turned his attention away from the screen as he saw Boba toss you to the ground, focusing instead on his task of exiting the atmosphere and getting the ship into hyperspace so you could be returned to those who sought you.

Hyperspace was quieter, which meant he could hear the sounds of your resistance more easily even with you in another part of the ship entirely.  Wondering what all the fuss was about (and, secretly, a bit curious about this feisty young woman Fett had captured), Din made his way out of the cockpit and towards the cargo bay where Boba was wrestling with you.

It didn’t really seem like a fight, in the traditional sense of the word, since a fight implies two opposing forces— it seemed more like you were giving everything you had to try to wrench out of his grip (and go where?, Din was forced to wonder, we’re in hyperspace) while your captor was merely humoring you by not immediately knocking you out and freezing you in carbonite.

Your desperate grunts and whines were muffled by your gag, screeching to a halt as Boba used one hand to hold your torso and pull your back against his chest, the other gripping your jaw tightly.  “Stop fighting, little girl,” he hissed, “you’re just going to get yourself hurt.”  That deep commanding voice enough to intimidate even Din; thankfully, Din was on Fett’s good side, for the moment, and was pretty sure his own ‘bounty hunter voice’ (as he referred to it only in his own head) was at least 80% as scary.

You made this little motion like you were considering disobeying his instruction, but your rebellion was quelled by a gloved fist tangling into and subsequently tugging your hair.  You winced, but relaxed a bit as you gave in to the reality that you’d been bested.

Din didn’t understand what was happening when Boba bent your bound-and-gagged form over a console, but he knew it couldn’t be good: not with the way tears were pouring down your face and soaking the cloth tied through your mouth, not with the way you struggled underneath his grip in your hair and on the back of your tunic.

“What are you doing,” Din asked, although it didn’t come out quite like a question without that uptick at the end, his voice firm and steady and deep even as his heart started to race.

“What do you think I’m doing?  I’m taking my bonus,” Boba answered plainly, kicking your flailing legs apart to slot his body between them.

Boba must have seen the younger man’s confusion, even through his helmet, because he took a pause from his work to look back at Din.

“You can fuck ‘em before you chuck ‘em, you know,” Boba informed him, like it was obvious— like this was open secret that he was amazed he hadn’t already acted on.  Truly, the thought hadn’t really crossed Din’s mind before.  His upbringing had been devoid of any sexual education, even to the point of drawing a clear line between right and wrong.  Then again, right and wrong were always a blurry mix in his mind as a bounty hunter: instead of that dichotomy, he was taught that there was the Code and nothing else.  And the Code didn’t have anything to say about this, specifically, even as guilt and fear tingled up his spine along with the sickly addictive feeling burning in his gut— arousal, as he realized with a little gasp.

Fett leaned down to push his helmet against your ear, as if you’d be able to hear him any clearer even though the helmet’s modulator made it all sound mostly the same anyway.  “Don’t try to fight me,” he insisted again.  “Just stay still and keep your mouth shut.”

After a shaky breath, you nodded a little, and Boba sat back up, letting go of you with both of his hands— Din was pretty surprised to see you actually stay still, clearly the threat had gotten to you.  Fear, as the Mandalorian had learned many times, was a much more powerful tool of control than force.  Boba had you beat in both regards.

There was a little grunt from the man behind you as he reached down to fiddle with his trousers, finding the belt and opening which he reached into.  From where he was standing, Din couldn’t really see what exactly his travel companion was doing, but even he wasn’t so naive not to figure it out.

A harsh, cracked sound spilled from your mouth, muffled through the gag, as Boba roughly pulled your trousers down and slid his cock between your legs, teasing you— taunting you.  It wasn’t enough to violate you, apparently; he had to degrade you, siphon every drop of terror as he reminded you what was happening.  You shook your head, and even though your words were objectively unintelligible, it was apparent to Din that you were pleading with your captor to stop.

Din got the sense that he should leave, but his feet were welded to the floor.  His eyes were trained on you, shaking and breathing unsteadily where you were bent over and your head was turned to the side to press on the cold metal.  You closed your eyes tightly, and Din recognized the expression as ‘bracing for impact,’ although in your case, it wasn’t that you were about to be impacted but impaled.  Of course this couldn’t be right, Din knew enough to know that, in fact he was pretty sure it was illegal on some planets, but they weren’t on any planet right now, and Din had done things that are illegal on every planet.  Maybe this really was normal bounty-hunting fare, and he was just too inexperienced to realize that.  Maybe this was a relic of how hunters operated in Boba’s time; and Din, of course, had a lot of respect for tradition.

Maybe, more than anything, Din had lost track of the part of himself that cared if it was right or wrong, overpowered by a much more primal part of himself that had been chained and suppressed for far too long.  The funny thing about monsters is that they get hungrier the longer you keep them caged up.

The way your fists clenched and shook as you were forced to take the hunter’s cock inside you, the way your teeth ground together and a hiss leaked out from between them, the way you whimpered and cried and he could see the shiver run up your spine… Din was obsessed with it, and his chest burned with a foreign emotion that could be described as jealousy, but that wouldn’t explain all of it.  It was more than that, indescribable even to someone much more fluent in the language of feelings than Din was.

You sobbed quietly as your body went limp underneath his tight grip on the back of your tunic, just between your shoulder blades.  He was already moving his hips quickly, chasing the pleasure he stole from your body.  Din could see that he was hurting you, pain unmistakable in the way your expression twisted, even as the rest of your body seemed to have resigned itself.

Din wished, against every instinct of justice still firing wildly in the back of his mind, that he was hurting you like that, and not his companion.  Although, he also fancied himself noble enough that, given the opportunity, he would treat you fairer than Boba would.  And he was right, but then again, to be less cruel than Boba Fett takes little chivalry.

Your cries were sharp, loud enough at times to echo around the ship’s interior, other times completely silent as the brutality of Boba’s movements knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Take her mouth,” Boba offered, “it’ll be a good way to shut her up.”

Din’s head was spinning as he tried to process that.  It was like his body was moving on pure instinct as he stepped closer, his trousers getting tighter as you looked up at him.  Your eyes were pleading for something: mercy, presumably, but he felt helpless to do anything but obey Boba’s order.  It was an order, right?  He had to do it.  

A gloved finger tucked under your gag and pulled it out of your mouth, the fabric falling around your neck as you licked your dry and cracked lips.

“Please,” you whispered.

He kept one hand weaved into your hair as the other opened his pants, his cock bouncing free the moment it was given any space to do so.  He held it at the base tightly, afraid it would all end too soon if he didn’t.  

“Please, don’t do this,” you insisted, whimpering a little as he rubbed his cock around your lips, smearing the clear precum over your cheek.  

The hand he’d tangled into your hair moved to grip your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he gently pushed his cock inside— barely enough to rub his cock on your tongue, to feel the humid moisture of your breathing.  You didn’t close your lips until he pushed his cock deeper, enveloping him in the silky skin of your mouth as he tried to keep his cool.  How it felt was one thing, but how it looked was another entirely— your lips stretching over his girth, your cheeks bulging where the head of his cock pressed against the inside, your eyes blinking up at him as they brimmed with fresh tears.  He hadn’t even been creative enough to imagine something like this those few times he’d gotten himself off with his hand, those few times basic biological need overcame confusion and naivete and ineptitude.  Now it was going to be the thing he thought about every time, which was why he was doing his best to commit it to memory now.  

Every groan and whimper that Boba forced you to make was vibrating through his cock, making Din sigh shakily and hold your head with both hands.

“Maker,” Din whispered as his head fell back, even though he didn’t believe in the Maker.  At least, he hadn’t before.

“Good, isn’t it?” Boba encouraged, his voice tinted with the curl of a grin.  Din couldn’t imagine what Boba was getting out of sharing his spoils with him, but he wasn’t one to question the nature of a gift when it felt like this, like your hot, wet tongue massaging the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” Din agreed hoarsely.

You yelped around his length when Boba brought a gloved hand down to smack your rear, the sound almost as erotic as the way your flesh rippled and shook with his aggressive touch.  “Go on, suck him harder, give ‘im a real show,” Boba instructed to you darkly.  You whimpered but did as he’d said, hollowing your cheeks and creating the most wonderful pressure as you sucked on Din’s swollen head.  

Boba shed himself of his right glove, tossing it aside to palm at where your flesh had turned red in the shape of his hand already.  Din shivered as he watched Boba’s thumb move inward— he couldn’t see where it was, but he had a pretty good idea based on the way your entire body tensed up, a weak whimper of confusion echoing around Din’s cock.

Instinct told him to take his cock out of your mouth, even if the idea of not feeling you for a moment was unpleasant in so many ways.  Still, he figured he needed to hear whatever it was you had to say.

“Don’t,” you pleaded with Boba.  “Not that.”

“Bet you’ll like it,” Boba assured, and he must have pushed in to the first knuckle because your whole body jolted forward, running from the sensation as you winced.  “Relax,” Boba instructed firmly.

“Stop,” you whimpered, and Din’s heart twisted to see you in pain.

“Do what he says,” Din suggested— not a command, just his best proposal of a solution.  In situations of inequitable experience, Din deferred to Boba liberally; certainly, Boba knew more about this than he did, even if that was a very low bar.

“Please, make him stop,” you whispered to him, more of a conversation than the two of you had had before.  He was almost tempted to honor your request, even if he would never consider standing up to Boba, but his body was pulsing with need and it overrode any sense of decency left. 

“I’m sorry,” was his only consolation as he pushed into your mouth again, and though it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t very useful to you, either.

He held your neck as he pushed himself deeper, his sense of shame deteriorating in favor of pleasure.  It was embarrassing enough to be doing this at all, let alone with Boba right there, watching him— well, Boba didn’t really seem to be watching him, too preoccupied with watching you squirm beneath him, but still, he could see it and that was a fact Din preferred to ignore.  He imagined instead that this was a private, intimate moment the way it ought to be, the way that he had deduced these activities were usually conducted.  He also imagined that you wanted to do this to him, that you were on your knees willingly as opposed to bent over a table by force.  It was so easy to picture you wanting it, begging for it, even.  Let me do this for you, I want to taste you, I want to make you feel good, you would offer as you knelt down, and he would still feel guilty for it but he wouldn’t stop you, either.  Din hadn’t previously allowed himself to fantasize about having a companion of that nature, but as he indulged himself in his imagination now, he decided you would be unendingly generous: with your time, with your love, with your body.  In return he would protect you… from exactly the sort of thing he was subjecting you to right now.  

Renewed guilt seared through his chest as reality hit: you’d never care about him, you hated him, he could see that clearly in the way you looked up at him while he used your mouth.  And he didn’t blame you for it at all, although he wished you would appreciate that it was Boba’s idea in the first place and that his crime was far worse than Din’s.  Fett seemed to get off on your reluctance, relish and savor it, while it was just a compromise to Din.

You closed your eyes with a little sigh through your nose, relaxing your mouth further for him to thrust his hips forward into.  He realized that you were trying to relax like Boba had told you, and for good reason— Fett had replaced his thumb for two fingers, and Din was almost curious enough to lean forward and try to get a glimpse of your puckered hole opening up to him.  You looked pretty with your eyes fallen shut, those eyelashes delicately resting on your cheeks, but it wasn’t as good as being able to gaze right at you.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Din instructed quickly.  When they opened again, he saw your stare dart around his helmet, seeking somewhere to latch onto.  “Right here,” he clarified, releasing one hand from your throat to tap on the tinted visor.  When you looked at where he had told you to, it was almost like you were really looking him in the eyes— although, truthfully, he was sort of glad that you couldn’t because he was sure you would find more there than he wanted you to see.  It would be impossible to hide his nervousness, his inexperience, his fear if it weren’t for the beskar in the way.  Even now, your bright eyes threatened to pierce right through him.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, girl?” Boba rasped, the closest Din had ever heard him to beaming with pride.

You shook your head against the intrusion in your mouth, and Din pulled out to give you a chance to talk.  (Perhaps it also served the secondary purpose of delaying Din’s orgasm, which he had been holding back for so long now as he found himself oddly insecure about his stamina, but that’s neither here nor there.)  “No,” you denied, but your voice was wavering as your eyes darted to the floor.

“She’s lying,” Din announced.

“I know,” Boba replied.  “I can feel it— on the inside,” he hissed, and Din wasn’t sure if he was addressing him or you but it made a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine either way.  You seemed to react strongly to that, too, although any verbal reaction was lost to him shoving his cock into your mouth one last time— yes, this time he had no intentions of stopping until he pumped his come right into your throat.  

It was all happening so much faster than he intended, due in part to your moans shooting right down through his shaft to his balls, which grew tight with his impending release.  He’d never felt anything like this— he hadn’t realized before that it would feel different when it wasn’t his hand.  I mean, of course everything before the orgasm would feel different, but he imagined that the peak itself was the same.  That assumption was beyond inaccurate— he’d never fucked his own hand the way he was fucking your throat, he’d never moaned the way you were making him moan now, he’d never tightened his fists like he was now, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have meant choking you and hearing all your cries come to a sudden halt.

Without your noises it was only the slapping of flesh and the occasional filtered breath through a helmet.  He missed your moans, and yet he relished his power to take them away so suddenly.

He could feel the shape of his own cock through the thick skin of your throat, bulging into his hand, accentuated by your pulse just nearby.  He could feel you fighting for air.  He understood now why Boba had more fun with this than he did with hookers in cantinas— your helplessness was his power.  Your weakness was his strength.  And Din had never felt so strong.

He relaxed his grip to give you a chance to swallow as he came, pumping into your throat, grunting with each pulse of his cock filling your mouth.

Suddenly the sensation felt like it would become too much, forcing Din to pull his cock out of you and step back.  At the same time, Fett stepped back too, which was odd because Din was pretty sure he hadn't finished: if he had, he was a lot more subtle about it than Din was.

“You want your turn, don’t you?” Boba addressed Din, making the latter feel awkwardly exposed.

“I thought this was my turn,” Din answered.

“With her pussy,” Boba clarified, and Din was sure that he had managed to blush hard enough that it was somehow visible through the helmet.

"And you?" Din asked, not wanting to impose.

"I'll be attending to… another matter," Boba explained with that audible smirk in his tone, and Din had a few ideas of what that could mean, all of which caused him to swallow thickly as Fett grabbed you and pulled you up to stand before unceremoniously dropping you to the floor.  Din joined you there, not quite sure what he should be doing but figuring he should get on with it as the other man knelt down behind you.

Pulling you onto his lap, you spread your legs to straddle him in an unexpected show of submission which Din thoroughly appreciated.  One arm held you up while the other grasped his cock, still hard and hopefully not too sensitive so he could actually do this— he could actually fuck you.  It felt unreal; it felt beyond real, hyperreal as he started to slide his cock through the soaked and swollen intricacies of your sex.  You must have come like Fett said you would, otherwise he couldn't imagine how you'd become so wet… he could even see it glistening on the inside of your thighs. 

When he found the opening he was looking for, all Din had to do was lower you down onto him, gasping slightly as he watched and felt you sink down onto and around him, a little grunt coming out of you as your hips met his.

It was lucky that he’d already come once, in your mouth, because otherwise he would’ve lost it right then and there— you were so warm inside, soaked thoroughly such that his movements were smooth and easy as he instantly started to fuck you, groaning at how perfectly your body accepted him.

“Slow down,” Boba grunted, “I need to get in.”

You cried and shivered as the other man pushed into your available entrance, your head falling exhaustedly onto Din’s shoulder.  He looked down at your face, then, and brushed your hair away so he could see it better, peeling strands from where they had been stuck to your forehead and neck by the thin layer of sweat that covered you.  He wanted to comfort you, to promise that the pain would ease soon, but he couldn’t really think of anything to say; so, he just held you tight as he began to move within you again, and saw the other hunter do the same.

He made a conscious effort to not look at Boba’s cock, for fear of comparing it to his own.  It was disturbing enough to be able to feel it, slightly, through the thin barrier your body provided.  How inconceivable that Din had woken up a virgin and would fall asleep tonight with the memory of this lodged in his mind forever.  In one day of sexual activity he’d gotten more done than many would in a lifetime, and yet he still lacked the most common things: love, passion, consent… perhaps someday he’d find those, even if it could never be from you.

Not worried anymore about an attempt to fight or flee, Din reached back and untied your wrists from each other, hoping he wouldn't get scolded for it by Fett who thankfully remained silent aside from his own restrained sounds of pleasure.  You clung to him instantly, your freshly-freed hands clutching at his back, and he decided to interpret it as a token of affection even if he knew that was a bit of a stretch.  If nothing else, maybe you recognized him as the lesser of two evils.  

He opted to take credit for the way your moans were different from before; even in his wildest fantasies could he not convince himself that he was better at this than Boba was, but he could swing at the idea that you preferred him because you were meant for him.  It was probably more outlandish, yes, but it was so easy to believe that you were made to be his when you felt so good around him.  Din hadn’t even known anything could feel this good.

Something Boba had said earlier gained clearer meaning when Din felt your inner walls seize up and shift around him.  Trying not to be too loud, he resorted to coping with the feeling by gripping your waist tightly.  The idea that he could leave bruises on your skin excited him more than he would have anticipated (if, of course, he had anticipated any of this).

Another tug on your hair from Boba wrenched your head back.  "Gonna come," he grunted at you lowly, "in this tight little ass.  You want it?"

"Please," you whispered, not quite sounding enthusiastic but managing to give him whatever he was looking for, apparently, as another choked noise signalled his release.  Your body reacted strongly to that, clenching down hard on Din's cock.

"You like it," Din posited.  "I can feel it," he reminded you when you tried to deny it with a shake of your head, "from the inside."

Boba took his time pulling out, the most peculiar sensation that made Din shudder a bit.  As tight as you were when you were full in that way, Din preferred having you to himself.

"I'll be in the fresher," Boba announced as he stood up and tucked himself back into his uniform, looking so composed in a way Din envied; he was sure, somehow, that he looked a complete mess even with the armor covering him.  "I'll leave you to your fun.  Don't take too long."

“I— I won’t last much longer,” Din stammered, wondering immediately if it was too much information.

“Not inside,” you begged suddenly.  

Boba chuckled a little as he left, and Din wondered if it was what he said or what you said that made him laugh.  The thought was forgotten as the hunter left, and he suddenly felt a wave of nerves wash over him— the way he always felt when he was alone with a pretty girl.  Not that he'd ever been alone with a pretty girl quite like this.

Not sure what to say, he opted to just not say anything as he held you tight and bucked his hips up into you.  You wouldn't let him off that easy, apparently, as you reiterated yourself: "You can't come inside, please don't—"

"This isn't a negotiation," Din reminded you firmly.

He was too close to imagine stopping now, anyway; the snug grip of your insides was too good to be ignored, his body was incapable of slowing down as he fucked you deeper and faster than ever.  He noticed which angle of his hips made you moan loudest, hoping to feel you come around him just like Boba had.  

“Come for me,” he instructed, hearing an impression of Fett in his own voice as he tried to come across as dominating, “I wanna feel it.”

You shivered a little, whimpering into the crook of his neck before he lifted you by the jaw to look at your face.  You looked exhausted, eyes blown wide and dark, lips swollen and bitten red, hair tangled and unruly from being used essentially as reigns.

“Can you do that?  Can you come?” he pressed, grinding his hips up into yours and watching you whine at the sensation of being filled so deeply.  You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him.  “Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered, “I’ll— I’ll come.”

“Good,” he praised plainly, doing his best to hold himself back until he got his chance to feel you reach your peak.  

Your head fell back as your hands weakly tugged at his shoulders, and Din hoped that tearing your tunic down the front to grope your breasts would speed things along for you.  He hadn’t taken off his gloves, but even so he relished the weight of them in his palms, curiously pinching at a hardened nipple which made you flex around him again.

“Are you close,” he asked, losing that intonation of a question again, focusing instead on trying not to sound exasperated.

“Yes,” you hissed, “I’m gonna— fuck,” you interrupted yourself.

You were moving a bit on your own now, instead of him holding you still and letting you limply take it like a ragdoll— no, you were rocking your hips in time with him, pushing down against him.  You wanted it, obviously, and Din was more than happy to give it to you.  He slammed into you with each thrust, held you down so you couldn’t squirm, groaned when he felt your body pulse around him.  A new surge of wetness gushed between your bodies, your broken cry echoed right against his ear— if this wasn’t a dead giveaway that you were coming, he wasn’t sure what was.  Unable to hold back anymore as you sobbed and shivered on top of him, he finally released into you, everything building up so fast only to snap in a moment, an embarrassingly weak moan slipping from his lips.  

He was sure he had never been so exhausted, but it was the most incredible feeling as well.  A little tear fell down your cheek— from terror, maybe, or disgust, or even pleasure… he had no real way to tell.

As he began to catch his breath, he wondered if he should say something; and, if he should, what that would be.  Thankfully, he felt the lurch of the ship leaving hyperspace— the weight of gravity sinking a little heavier as you slumped down on top of him.

He picked you up and set you down on the floor, standing as he delicately stuffed his cock back into his trousers.  “Looks like he’ll bring you in soon,” Din mumbled, but you didn’t really seem to care much, just laying on the floor and staring into nothingness.  He watched his seed leak out of you and onto the steel, making a mental note to clean that up later, hoping you weren’t too angry with him for disobeying your request that he finish elsewhere.  “You’ll need a new tunic,” he noticed as he realized it was probably less than ideal to bring in a target who had been so obviously violated.  “I’ll bring you something to cover yourself with,” he decided.  

Heading for his sack to search for an old cape or blanket that you could wear, he passed by the cockpit where Boba was steering the ship.

“I’m keeping the reward,” Boba interjected suddenly without turning back to look towards him, making Din stop walking, “since I was generous enough to share the… fringe benefits.”

“Of course,” Din nodded, not having expected a share of the bounty in the first place since all he’d done was keep lookout during the actual hunt.  He was ready to walk away, but Boba spoke again as he turned the captain’s chair and faced Din, finally.

“Did you do what she asked?” Boba pressed.

“What?” Din choked, taking a moment to remember what he was even talking about— when you asked him not to come inside, apparently.  “Oh, um, no.”  His face warmed beneath the beskar as Fett chuckled to himself.

“Good,” he nodded.  “Never take commands from a target, or a whore.”

Din shuffled nervously but said nothing, considering he had no idea how to respond to that.

“Besides,” Boba continued as he turned back to the controls of the ship, “if she’s pregnant that’ll be the New Republic’s problem.”

Din figured he was free to go now, taking a moment to glance over Boba’s shoulder at the planet ahead before continuing ahead.  His quest for a cloak for you was nearly forgotten as he tried to clear his mind of what Boba had said so casually.  He needed a shower, desperately, but he didn’t have time before the ship landed— and Fett probably intended on making Din complete the transfer and bring the credits back, since the older hunter wasn’t exactly a friend of the Republic.  

He ended up grabbing an old shirt of his, tossing it at you when he entered the room where he’d left you, finding you standing with your trousers pulled back up.  Silently he wondered if you had made any effort to clean yourself of his come or if it was still there between your legs, but neither of you said a word as he put you in more formal shackles than the rags that Boba had tied you with originally.

The New Republic officer definitely reacted to your appearance when Din brought you forward, all but dragging you as he gripped your arm.  “When’d she get so roughed up?” the young officer interrogated as he handed Din the credits he was owed.  

“Found her like this,” Din shrugged.

He didn’t seem to buy it, with the way he scanned your form and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything else as he motioned for two guards to take you away.  Din considered looking back but decided against it, returning to the ship and immediately surrendering the credits to their rightful owner in Boba.

“Next job’s on Dantooine,” Boba informed him gruffly as he piloted the ship out of the atmosphere.  But Din wasn’t listening, instead watching your new prison shrink and disappear into a dot, hoping to find in himself the carelessness that Boba had already mastered.  He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his hunting partner— Is this how it always goes?  Will it happen again?  Do you really think she could be pregnant? — but he wouldn’t even consider speaking any of them aloud.  It was almost funny that they had shared something so disturbingly intimate and Din still felt unable to be direct with him, although neither of them had the sense of humor to appreciate it.

“Thank you,” Din blurted out.  “For teaching me about the job.”

“My pleasure,” Boba replied gruffly, and with a jump back into hyperspace, the ship was submerged once again into silence.

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 3 – Kids' Games To Pass The Time

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5,399

New day, new problems. Sure things aren't the worst they could be, but that new hire isn't making things all that easy at work.

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

An annoying, rhythmic buzz cut through silence. Light seeped its way in, chasing away the shadows of sleep. You groaned and rolled. It was too early to face the new day.

Compounding your groggy state was the fact you didn't sleep for shit last night. The chilly October night sucked the warmth from your room, and you had only a few blankets to shield yourself from it. And the chill didn't stop your mind racing most of the night. When sleep came to you, it brought restless dreams.

The first wasn't terrible, just strange. A weird bug followed you home wanting to be friends. The other dream, however... A vile pit formed in your stomach.

Your thoughts drifted to the dream. You couldn't move. Arms, legs, head, nothing. You couldn't budge an inch no matter how hard you fought. Something wanted you to stay still. And it wasn't as if your surroundings gave you any clues either. Darkness blanketed the room. No details, just a barren inky void. The only thing you found with you was a set of pinprick lights.

A voice spoke. It whispered beautiful words coated in honey. Your guts twisted. A warm touch held your face, and the voice asked you a question. Your words caught in your throat. The entity glared at you with icy eyes, and the sweet words soured to a nasty venom.

You clutched your chest as the memory of searing heat replayed. It sank blazing claws into your waist and arm, blistering and cooking the flesh.

You drew in shaky breaths and wiped away the leftover tears. It was just a dream. It was just a bad dream. You're safe.

You took in one more breath before getting up to start your day.

Normally you would go straight to the bathroom, but you wanted to check something. You stepped out into the main living space and found it empty. A DVD case sat on the coffee table, but the TV screen was dark. The couch laid devoid of any unexpected house guests. No sign anyone else was ever there. Your heart sank as you realized the encounter you remembered was just another dream cooked up by your tired brain. A frown pulled at your lips and you sighed. No time to mope. You needed to get ready for work.

You opened the bathroom door and peered inside. Rigel napped on the top of the toilet's water tank, surrounded by shredded toilet paper. At least it was less of a mess than yesterday. You clean up the ribbons and tossed them in the garbage under the sink. After you topped off his food and water, you hopped in the shower.

The water in your apartment only ever got up to lukewarm on a good day. And that was not a good day. Frigged rain pelted you, giving you goosebumps. Not wanting to linger, you got out and dressed a few minutes later.

You combed your fingers through your hair as you looted the kitchen. Damn cat, why'd it have to throw up on your hairbrush? You grumbled to yourself and pulled out the off-brand cereal to fix breakfast.

"What 'cha doing, babes?" A voice from nowhere spoke in your ear.

Your knees buckle and you collapse, taking the bag of cereal with you. You gripped at your chest to still your heart, and rolled to sit with your back to the cabinets. A man in a rotting striped suit floated in your kitchen, clutching his rounder stomach as he cackled.

"Oh sweets, that's great! I wasn't even trying!"

As the shock fades, your features scrunched up. You got to your feet and tossed the bag on the counter. With crossed arms you pivot to glare at the ghost, still laughing his ass off.

"Giving me a heart attack first thing in the morning," you said with a huff, "I came out here and you were gone. I thought I had dreamed the whole thing, you jerk."

"So you're saying you missed me?" He batted his eyes at you, setting your cheeks on fire. You would not dignify that with a response. Instead, you turned back to the counter and fixed your breakfast.

"Where did you go then?" you asked and riffled through the silverware drawer for a spoon.

"I was checking on your neighbors. Did you know the guys a few doors down have a shit-ton of electronics?"

"Yeah, and old lady Smith has a garden in her closet."

"Really? Which one is she in? I didn't find that."

"She's on the third floor, but don't bug her too much. She's nice. Plus she bakes amazing cookies for me whenever I help her."

You scarfed your breakfast, and double checked you had everything done. Rigel was in the bathroom with his things. You had your wallet and phone. After you finished the last bite, you set the bowl in the sink along with the one from last night.

You rinsed out the bowl and hummed to yourself before you glanced over your shoulder to the ghost. He grinned at you with a tilt of his head. You gave him a small smile, only to frown.

"I have to head to work."

That simple sentence wiped the grin from his face. His shoulders sank, and the color of his hair shifted. A dull purple seeped in and overtook the green. That couldn't be a good sign. "You're leaving me here?"

"Well, you could stay here, or..."

"Or?"

"If you can be out of the way and let me focus on my work when I need to, then you could tag along with me. It’d be nice having someone other than my boss to talk to during the downtime."

His grin stretched across his face again, and he spun up to you, batting his eyes. "Oh babes, you do care! Of course I'll go with you! Not my idea for a first date, but I'll take it."

You pressed your lips tight. Was this a mistake? Not like you can take back the offer, though. That would crush him. You let out a long sigh and rubbed at your temple.

"Not a date, dude."

"If you say so," he purred.

You shook your head and grabbed the keys before heading to the car. The ghost trailed you, with an ever present chill at your side. On the way to the car, he pointed out each of the apartments and spilled whatever secrets he found out. You had an inkling of some of your neighbors' crimes, but you weren't one to go tattling. It was best to let them deal with their lives and you deal with yours. So you ended up nodding along to what the ghost told you.

When you got to your car, you sat behind the wheel for a moment. Once your ghostly friend floated into the passenger seat, you took in a breath.

"Okay. A few things before we get there," You said as you fought to start the car, "If either my boss or a customer comes up and needs to talk to me, I would appreciate it if you hang back for a minute and let me handle them. Otherwise, I mostly just front-face merchandise and I can talk with you so long as I'm quiet. Also, I take my lunches in the cemetery, so I can talk a bit more freely there."

"Sounds good to me, toots."

You rolled your eyes and got the hunk of junk started. The car protested with clangs, but you drove off with a little more of a fight. On the scenic drive to work he asked you to turn on the radio, which got a dry laugh from you.

"What's so funny?"

"Radio's broke. Most things in this car are broken. Radio, heater, a/c. All of them are broken."

"Can't you get a new one? There's cars all over the place, just take one."

"Th-this isn't Grand Theft Auto,"

"It will be once you take a car!"

"Okay, technically true. I meant this isn't the game GTA, this is real life. And I would get arrested."

"Not if you had help from the ghost with the most!"

You rolled your eyes and turned onto the main road, heading for work. The rest of the drive, the "ghost with the most" filled the air with his own voice, singing a medley of songs. Some of them you recognized, others you suspected he made up on the spot.

You pulled into the employee parking and parked your car alongside the two much nicer ones there. As you collected your things, Beetlejuice pointed to the sleek mustang.

"That car looks fun! We should steal a car like that!"

"I'm pretty sure that's Brandon's car. I'm not stealing my coworker's car to take for a joyride."

"But it would be so cool!"

"Maybe later," you said, stepping out of your junker.

The bell chimed as you entered the store and caught your boss's attention. He came over to greet you and made sure you were doing better. You gave a small laugh and rubbed at the back of your neck.

"Yeah, I'm doing better." You glanced sidelong to the ghost wandering over to the front counter.

"Good. Now hopefully I can focus on training Brandon without as many interruptions. He keeps breaking away to chat with every customer that comes into the store. So I need you to handle the customers so he doesn't have an excuse."

"Got it. And if you need help with him, I can always smack some sense into him. The new order of mallets is in the back, right?"

Mr. Turner laughed and turned to go back to teaching Brandon. You smiled to yourself and meandered over to the counter. Your ghost pal sat on the countertop next to the computer.

"You never mentioned you get to hit people at your job, any openings?"

"Sorry, spot's filled. For now, anyway. But who knows, maybe we'll need a replacement soon."

"Save it for me. I would kill to get to hang around a pretty little breather like you all day and get paid for it. But doing that for free is nice too."

"You're a shameless flirt."

"How can a sexy beast like me not be with you around and able to see me?"

You shook your head and glanced at the computer. There was something you wanted to look up, you were sure of it. But what was it? You stepped closer and opened a new tab for the search. It sat blank for a moment as you retraced what the topic could have been.

"What are ya doing, babes?"

"I can't remember what I wanted to search for."

"One hundred great ways to skin a cat?"

You raised a brow and frowned at him. "I'm not hurting Rigel." A light flicked on in your head.

You typed in the cat's name and clicked on the page for the star. A picture of the Orion constellation to the side of the page showed off the stars. Most of them had fancy looking letters next to them, with a few having numbers attached. Rigel marked the lower right star, while the upper left was the only other star with a word.

"Beh-tell? Goose? Wait..." You jerked your head over to the ghost, who wore a Cheshire grin. "That's how you spell your name?"

"Yep. That's me. Behtellgoose."

You read the name once more. Betelgeuse. Such a strange spelling to sound like beetle-juice. Kind of cool though. You smiled and closed out of the tab when an unfamiliar voice called out to you.

"Good morning, Art. Great to see you doing better!"

"Heh, yeah. Feeling better." You forced a tight-lipped smile to prevent yourself from frowning. Brandon stayed still with his own fake smile plastered on his face. After a beat of him not saying anything, you asked, "Do you need something?"

"You forgot to go grab your apron. What if a customer came in? That would look very unprofessional. Here, I'll watch the counter and you can go grab your apron."

The corner of your mouth twitched, and you took in a deep breath. You stepped away and grabbed your stupid apron. As you threw it on, the bell chimed. You rushed back out, hoping to catch the customer before Brandon.

The counter stood unattended and you found Brandon down one aisle with a woman discussing products. You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Isn't that what your boss wanted you to stop him from doing?"

"Yes, Beetle, it is."

You hissed out a sigh and shook your head. As you walked over to them, you prepared yourself to speak in your chipper customer service voice. Brandon insisted he could take care of the customer, only for Mr. Turner to order him to get back to training. Brandon grimaced and stepped away to let you take over.

Your smile was easier to keep on your face after that. You helped the customer find what she needed and rang up her items. She left with a wave and you went back to the computer.

"What the hell is that guy's deal?" Betelgeuse asked, gesturing with a thumb to Brandon.

"I don't know. I don't know if I really care." You leaned back onto your heels and let your mind wander. Whenever you were alone, stuck at the counter, you always pulled up simple web games on the computer to pass the time. But with Betelgeuse there, you couldn't ignore him to play games.

"What are ya thinking about, sweets? How hot it would be to make out right now?"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "No, you flirt. I'm thinking of what we can do to pass the time. All I'm coming up with are twenty questions and I spy."

"I'm fine with that," he said as he flashed you a sharp grin. "Okay, I'll start. I spy with my rotten eye, something... metal."

"Well, that narrows it down."

The two of you spent the rest of the morning going, taking turns playing those silly kids' games. Betelgeuse huffed and whined whenever a customer, or worse, Brandon, pulled you away to help them. Any time you called him out on his grumbling, he denied it as the color in his hair shifted.

He caught you staring at his hair once or twice, which exacerbated the shifting colors. Each time that happened, Betelgeuse quickly picked up whichever game you two had been playing. You left the topic alone for the moment, but stashed it away to ask about later.

Halfway into a difficult game of twenty questions, Mr. Turner came up to the counter. You ignored Betelgeuse's smug punchable face and greeted your boss, hoping your frustration didn't bleed into your tone.

"Cass, I'm stepping out for a bit to pick up something. I should be back for you to take your lunch break. Keep an eye on the store and Brandon for me, while I'm gone, okay?"

"Got it. Burn down the place and leave no evidence. Can do."

He shook his head with a laugh. Mr. Turner said, "you turd," before he waved goodbye and left the shop.

"Ooh baby, I love you talking about crimes like that! Tell me how you'd light up the place."

You turned back to the ghost. He floated with his stomach parallel to the ground as he held his scruffy chin in his hands and swung his legs pointed upward. You laughed at the dork and smiled.

"Well, the kerosene is over there, and the rolls of rags are an aisle over. There's a blow torch with some of the other tools."

"Artemis!" You whipped your attention to the stick in the mud, frowning at you. You didn't even get the chance to speak. "That kind of talk is highly unprofessional! Going over ways to burn down the store, shame on you."

"I was joking dude, it's not—"

"Well, I don't find that funny. And you shouldn't address your elders as 'dude', it is very disrespectful."

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"Good. Now I need your help."

You gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. Brandon motioned for you to follow him, and once he turned back, you brought two fingers to your temple and jerked your head away.

In the middle of a tedious and painful walkthrough of creating an order of paint, the bell rang. Brandon broke away the second it chimed and went straight to helping the customer. That was irritating enough, but after the regular said they didn't need any help, Brandon insisted on assisting them.

You took in a deep breath and let the man dig his own grave. If he doesn't value your help, then he's not getting it. You marched back to the counter and found Betelgeuse picking his teeth.

He licked a striped tongue over his sharp teeth then said, "What a douchebag."

"Tell me about it."

The customer came up to the counter a minute later, followed by Brandon. You greeted the regular and switched the computer over to its register display. Your new coworker nudged you aside and insisted on being the one to ring up the customer.

"Artemis, you should have stayed at the paint desk. I'll meet you back there in a minute, after I help this gentleman."

You wanted nothing more than to slap that man. Who the hell does he think he is? Calling you unprofessional and pulling stunts like that? You grit your teeth and forced a smile before excusing yourself to head back to the paint desk.

Betelgeuse floated after you and lounged on top of the desk. You spared him a glance, but stuck to pacing the small paint pit, waiting for that douche-canoe to get back there. The customer didn't even have a lot of things to buy, so it shouldn't take Brandon that long.

"That freaking jerk," you said under your breath, "I can't believe Mr. Turner hired a guy like that."

"Want me to kill him?"

"Tempting, but no. I'm just going to talk to my boss when he gets back." You checked your phone for the time. A quarter after one, which means only fifteen more minutes until your lunch break. "God, I hope he's here soon."

You tapped your nails against the metal top of the tint machine, the speed of which accelerated the longer you waited. What the hell was taking him so long? Did another customer show up? This was getting infuriating.

"You sure you don't want me to kill the guy?"

"No, Beetle, I don't want you to do that."

"Art, who are you talking to?"

You turned around to the voice. Brandon stood at the threshold of the paint pit with his hand on his hips and raised a brow at you. Your face burned as you laughed, attempting to cover up your embarrassment.

"Oh, just this annoying little beetle. It was crawling under the tint dispenser."

"Do you regularly talk to disgusting bugs?" he asked. You opened your mouth to speak, only for Brandon to keep talking. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't act so childish. How old are you? Late teens?"

"No, Brandon, I'm closer to my thirties than my teens."

"And you're talking to bugs, where any customer can come up and see that behavior. You ought to grow up and act your age, Artemis."

The bell chimed again, and you shuffled to the side to get an unobstructed view of the front. Mr. Turner stepped in with a smile and a wave. You waved back and checked the clock on the computer. One twenty-seven, perfect. You pulled your apron's strings and took it off in a swift motion.

"Where do you think you're going, Artemis?"

"Lunch."

Brandon frowned, and you folded up your apron with a smile. He probably wanted to stop you from leaving, but that shit would not fly with the boss back. Betelgeuse hopped down from his spot on the counter and followed. You tossed your apron behind the front counter and greeted Mr. Turner. After a quick rundown of what had happened, you left for your break, with a quick stop to your car to grab your food.

On the walk to the cemetery, Betelgeuse mocked the stupid things Brandon said. He was dead on with his impression, too.

"Artemis, do you think I give a shit? I'm a giant douche with a stick up my ass! There's no fun allowed in the store."

You did your best to hold back your laughter, but that only caused you to snort. A laugh roared out next to you in Betelgeuse's voice. You covered your mouth with your free hand, but that couldn't stop your shoulders from bouncing. As the two of you crossed into the graveyard, you glanced sidelong at the ghost, who shot you a grin.

In the cemetery, devoid of any other visitors, you veered towards your usual spot, off in the corner and near the front gate. You sat on the stone bench, setting your lunch beside you. Betelgeuse, however, sat on a gravestone, with his feet propped up on the one next to it.

You opened up your small bag of chips and started snacking on them. Betelgeuse looked over from picking at his nails and raised a brow at you.

"That's all you're going to eat, babes?"

"I have a granola bar too."

You grabbed the other half of your lunch and showed him. He tilted his head with a frown, but said nothing. It grew quiet, save for your munching on the chips. Your mind wandered, and you zoned out, staring unfocused in a random direction. Betelgeuse moved, catching your eye, and you studied him.

He gnawed at his black nails with jagged yellow teeth. Stubble covered his round chin, matching the same green mixed in his hair. Has his stubble changed color like his hair has? And why did his hair change color to begin with?

You hummed to yourself after finishing the last of your chips.

"What's up, sweets?"

"I... was hoping to ask you something."

Betelgeuse tilted his head to the other side and raised a brow and pursed his lips. You gave a half smile and laughed. He looked like a curious puppy. How could this ghost-demon look so cute?

"What is it?"

"I've noticed that your hair isn't always green." 

As soon as the sentence left your mouth, the color of his hair shifted to a deep purple. You shrank back as your stomach twisted into knots. Even without knowing what the colors meant, the frown on his face and sudden dodging of eye contact weren't good signs. On no. You messed up, didn't you? Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything. Forget I ever mentioned it."

You dug your nails into your palms and turned your gaze to your knees. Betelgeuse produced a mix of a growl and a groan, and you peered up at him through your hair. His lips pulled into an almost smile as he kept sharp eyes pointed at his hands, where he raked his nails through the hair of one.

"I might as well tell you, you'd figure it out eventually. My hair changes color with my mood."

You dared to lift your head more. Your lips parted as your brain processed the new information.

"Like a chameleon?"

"Like what?"

He tilted his head and raised a brow as his nose wrinkled. You forced out a small laugh and smile as you wrung your wrists. "A chameleon, the little lizards that change color. It's to communicate their mood. Darker colors like black are when it's stressed, neutral tones are when it's calm, and vibrant greens, or reds can be excitement or aggression."

Betelgeuse lurched forward with a growl and ran his hands through his hair, shielding the deepening purple from view. Your stomach twisted into knots. This wasn't getting better. You parted your lips only to press them shut a second later. Why did you have to screw up and bring up his hair in the first place?

Your nails dug deeper into your palms. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"If you're going to strip a guy naked like that, babes, you could at least buy me dinner first."

Your face wrinkled as you tilted your head at him. Betelgeuse still held himself curled and closed off, but he wore a weak crooked smile. Your lips twitched, and you huffed out a dry laugh.

"Alright, we can go through the drive thru to get a few things off the dollar menu."

"Ooh! I wanna try one of those green sludgy shake things from that Old MacDonald place."

"Sorry to break this to you, but they only sell those in March."

"What? That's lame!"

"Everything is pumpkin spice right now."

He pouted and crossed his arms with a huff. Despite the childish act, the purple in his hair faded back to a muted green. You chuckled to yourself as relief washed over you. With a soft smile, you grabbed the other half of your lunch and hummed before you opened it.

"Hey Beetle."

"Hmm?"

"I won't bring it up again if you don't want me to, but I wanted to say I think your chameleon hair is pretty cool. Like, is it magic? Or is it a demon thing? Or—sorry. I'm sorry. I'll shut up about it now. Sorry."

Your eyes darted to focus on your granola bar. You fumbled with tearing open the packaging for a second, only for the wrapper to give. The force sent your food tumbling to the ground. You stared at the broken bar and heaved out a sigh. Just wonderful.

Your pocket buzzed, veering your attention to it. You pulled out your phone and checked the caller id. Unknown number. Chills cascaded down as you stared at the phone.

"Something wrong, babes?"

"Nope. Everything's fine. Just some spam call."

You shoved it back into your pocket and let it ring. If the caller wanted anything, they can leave a voicemail. Besides, you needed to get back to work.

You picked up your trash and nodded your head to the gate. Betelgeuse hopped up and floated alongside you. After a few steps out of the cemetery, your phone rang again. Every fiber in you tensed up, but you left your phone in your pocket. The third time your phone rang, Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Who the hell keeps calling you?"

You shrugged and laughed despite your dry throat. "Who knows? I have to get back to work though."

With a hurried pace, you made it back to the store in a few minutes. The bell swung, chiming away as you beeline for your apron behind the counter. Brandon stood at the register with a phone up to his ear.

"There you are, Art! I've been calling you and you never once answered!" Brandon frowned at you and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. "You're obligated to pick up if I or Mr. Turner ever need to call you."

"O-oh, that was you calling." A small breath escapes passed your lips and you relax, only to register what he said. "Wait, how did you even get my number? I've only ever given this number to Sam and Mr. Turner."

"Why does it matter how I got your number? The issue is; if work calls you, especially if you have a shift that day, you need to answer."

"Fine, okay. I'll save your number so I don't panic again when I'm called three times in a row."

"Oh please, three phone calls make you panic? Artemis, you're an adult. You should know better than to be worried about something as simple as a phone call."

You grit your teeth and smiled. This conversation wasn't going anywhere you wanted, and you didn't plan on sticking around. You threw on your apron and marched to a far corner of the store to get away from everyone. Well, save for the ghost haunting you.

"Wow, babes, that guy is a major piece of work."

"Piece of shit is more like it."

You grabbed at products on the shelf and pulled them forward, turning the labels when needed. If you looked busy, maybe Brandon would mind his own fucking business. You clenched your jaw and growled as you brought more things forward.

"I shouldn't be worried about phone calls? What the fuck does he know? He's never had to put up with the shit I have!"

"And what shit would that be, babes?"

You glanced up to the ghost laying on his stomach across the top of the aisle shelving. Betelgeuse tilted his head. Soft and earnest curiosity graced his features. The corner of your mouth twitched before you closed your eyes and let out a hiss.

"I don't want to get into it," you said, keeping your voice quiet, "but I've had someone call me over and over before. It wasn't fun."

You pulled the rest of the items forward within arm's reach before sidestepping to get more. Betelgeuse floated after you as you inched down the aisle. He picked the games back up, and you welcomed the distraction.

There were one or two rounds of I spy, several goes at twenty questions—which you're positive Betelgeuse cheated and switched his topic multiple times. Towards the end of your shift, well after Brandon left for the day, you two asked a few "would you rather" questions. While he asked a few risque questions at the start—bite or be bitten, top or bottom—his questions took a tamer turn, similar to the ones you asked.

"Okay babe, would you rather find a rat in the kitchen or a roach in your bed?"

"I mean... I guess I'd prefer seeing another rat in the kitchen over finding more roaches?"

"M-more?"

"Donna hires her incompetent nephew to do the pest control for the apartments." You swept the line of dirt into the pan and tossed it into the trash. "Actually, speaking of, I should double check the traps and make sure something isn't rotting somewhere in the apartment."

Betelgeuse watched you finish the last of the closing routine. You clicked the pan back around the neck of the broom and stuffed it into a corner behind the counter. The only thing left was Mr. Turner to finish locking up the cash and heading out. You leaned against the counter and rolled your head back to look at the ceiling.

A quiet stillness overtook the store. It lasted a few seconds before Betelgeuse spoke up again.

"Would you rather have a nicer place but the same landlady, or the same apartment with a nicer landlady—"

"Alright Cass, you ready to leave?"

You turned your attention from the unseen ghost to your boss. He smiled and gestured to the door. You returned a half smile before exiting. Mr. Turner locked up, and you waved goodbye. A minute later you sank into the car seat and rested your hands on the wheel.

"Well babes, this certainly seems familiar."

You glanced his way and rolled your eyes before getting the car started.

"Yep, it's been an entire day since a demon followed my home, like a lost puppy."

"I'm way cuter than any puppy. Plus, you can keep me in your apartment all you want and your shitty landlady can't do anything about it!"

"Nicer landlady, by the way," you said as the car sputtered to life.

"What?"

"I'd rather have a nicer landlady than a nicer place. Donna would just let a nicer place fall to ruin."

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. At the first red light, you tapped your finger on the wheel and hummed.

"Hey Beetle, would you rather stay in a comfortable and familiar place with people that don't believe half of what you say, or cut all contact with them and be alone if it meant freedom?"

Betelgeuse tilted his head from one side to the other, closing his eyes as he mulled over your question. As he thought, the light changed, and you continued on your way home. A sharp grin stretched across his face a moment later.

"Easy. I'd take my freedom."

Your lips twitched up. "Yeah... me too."

[ginanosakka]

I Hate it Here

Masterlist

We Were Kids | Next

Moving you into Katsuki’s apartment across town took mere minutes, but everyday you spent there felt like years that you’d never get back. Everything felt too big and nostalgic, and the only thing grounding you to keep you from a panic attack, was Ryu being himself despite being pulled from school and transitioning to home school. He was just happy to be around his father all the time, immediately bombarding him with questions about his day the moment that he stepped through the door.

It wasn’t news that Katsuki wasn’t fond of comforting people, and the thought of him begging for forgiveness was laughable — but that brick wall you put up the moment you stepped through his threshold for the second time was driving him insane. When he was around, you were somewhere else in the house on the phone, or on the laptop you purchased and had shipped to his home as soon as possible. On the rare occasion he did see you for more than a few seconds, you looked drained of life. . and scared.

You were tough even when you two were young — the constant picking at you being quirkless might have made you think he thought otherwise, and he wondered if that contributed to your hardened shell now — but there was the rare occasion when something would break through your tough skin.

And it was always your father that did it.

Katsuki practiced his jabs that he tried out in training with Kirishima on the air, trying to make sure every moment was precise to recreate the amount of damage he dealt everytime. You had tagged along after phoning him and asking what he was doing, receiving the usual ‘I’m training and don’t give a shit if you come or not’ that you always took as a very hostile ‘yes’.

Usually, you’d make small noises of approval as he trained, and after yelling about you messing up his concentration but only getting a tongue stuck out at him in response, he had grown use to your annoying presence. Which is why he stole glances at you today when you were completely silent, and he found himself curious about why you didn’t even look at him as he trained. Bakugou was more aware of your every moment than you’d ever know, and he wanted it to stay that way, so he continued to only steal glances instead of confronting you.

“My dad didn’t tell me happy birthday.” There it was. The moment you’d break the silence and spill your guts to him with no coaxing needed from him.

That’s what drove him crazy about you; how you adapted to his pride and made being there for you so easy.

“He had Jun give me my necklace and money when I woke up, and I asked her if he made any plans to see me today. . She said he’s a busy man and I need to grow up. . Am I asking for too much?”

You looked up at him with every ounce of insecurity on full display, the kind of look he hated seeing on your face more than he hated seeing you in those stupid get-ups your mom bought you. Even he had said happy birthday to you, granted it was though text and there was no gift with it, but at least he had the decency to listen when you said that all you wanted was to hear two simple words from the people you cared about. It pissed Katsuki off even more that he knew you told your dad that’s all you wanted, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he didn’t do it on purpose. Now Katsuki had to be the one to pick up your broken pieces.

“Idiot, it’s not your fault that your old man is trash.” He grunted, turning away from you to stare at nothing so he didn’t have to see that stupid sparkle in your eyes when he said something nice.

That damn sparkle made his heart squeeze.

He was relieved to hear your soft laughter, “I guess you’re right. He’s better at bribing people than caring for them.”

If only he could tell you how true those words were.

“Shit.” Katsuki mumbled under his breathe, the realization of what was happening hitting him like a brick.

That day he went to your office, he hadn’t been there just to get a look at what you had accomplished, and the reason he got so riled up by your secretary was more than just being told he couldn’t see you. He had gotten a tip from Tokoyami that morning about a yakuza organization that was deeply involved in many missing people cases, and also suspects for the assasination of small business companies that were expected to outgrow large corporations.

That organization had your picture on the wall, along with pictures of those who were missing, and ones who had not gone missing but were on police watch due to the likelihood of them being taken next. Katsuki chalked it up to you being seen with him when he was a target for many villains due to his success in taking down and capturing villains with ease, and he let the most obvious point go over his head. He had just immediately wen to go see you to calm his nerves, not even second guessing his own answer that tied this back to the one man he had his own hit on.

The organization that had you targeted, acted under powerful businessmen in Japan. .

Your father was one of those powerful businessmen.

‘It all comes full fucking circle,’ Katsuki thought angrily as he picked up his office phone, knowing that he had to get his least favorite heroes on the case.

“I’m not asking you to take sides, I’m asking you to tell me the truth!” You hissed into the phone, and you could feel every ounce of your patience draining from your body and your tone.

It had been three days. Three days since you moved in with the father of your child, three days of feeling anxious and livid, and three days of trying to get in contact with your mother. For once, you could say that the least of your worries was Katsuki, and now it happened to be the life of your child again. You weren’t stupid — the moment Katsuki mentioned your safety specifically being threatened you knew who had put the hit out on you, and he wanted you to know.

It was your father’s way of warning you that if you even thought of exposing that you were his daughter that ‘went missing’,or tell them what he had done, you and Ryu will never know peace again. The knowledge that you were in his sights again and he still was just as ruthless as ever couldn’t even fully register in your brain, but you knew you had to do something. This was your baby’s life that was in danger again, and this time he isn’t living inside of you so you could have him with you at all times. You didn’t even know how to have this conversation with Katsuki when he didn’t even have the decency to tell you there was someone after your son while he sat in school. In fact, you were doing your best to avoid his presence so you didn’t cause a scene and scare Ryu half to death.

And your mother had the fucking ability to help you, and she decided this was the time to wave the white flag to involving herself in you and your father’s war.

“This isn’t something that I can tell you and your father not disown me too for, Y/N! Do you really expect me to risk my life too?” Your mother responded, and your grip on the phone tightened so much that you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have before it shattered.

“Yes! I expect you to risk your life for me, mom! I expect you to be a mother for just one damn moment in your life to save your grandson! If you can’t tell me what he knows and what you’ve told him, this will not only get ugly for him, but for you too!” You threatened with full intention of making it a reality.

“I can-“ as she spoke you heard a male voice in the background that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach before the phone went dead.

You paced the floor with a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming with Ryu napping in the other room, but this situation could only be fully resolved with risks being taken. The company you put blood sweat and tears into — you had long since realized you never wanted to start an entire company, but it was the best thing you knew how to do to make money to give your son the life he deserved — was going to have to be put in jeopardy. Your life, and more importantly your son’s life, would be in immediate danger once you decide to wage this war.

It’s father against daughter, and loser loses everything.

“You were really going to go through this again alone? You really piss me off sometimes.”

You whirled around to the door of the guest bedroom you were in to see not only Katsuki, but Eiji also standing there. It didn’t shock you in the slightest how pissed Katsuki looked, but Kirishima’s deathly stare had you frozen in place. Even though you knew in the back of your mind that their anger was towards your father, you couldn’t help but feel weak when two very famous pro heroes had their murderous gazes on full display for you.

“You don’t have to worry,” Kirishima said and flashed you a hardened arm. “No one is going to touch you or Ryu on my watch.”

Katsuki grunted, “I’ll kill anyone that tries.”

(A\N: So who’s ready to see full on angst, romance, and a badass reader? Cause I am ^_^! Also the amount of love and insight you guys give me on this story is insane and I still can’t than you enough 🥺 I hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki i @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

[comfortwriting]

A Summer Secret Part 2 - F.W

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Part 2 of my 'A Summers Secret' mini-series, please read Part 1, want to be tagged? let me know!

Warnings: 18+, Penetrative and unprotective sex, fingering, loss of virginity, swearing, mention of food and eating.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied shyly.

Now dressed and less red in the face, Fred sat down on the sofa, he sighed "well, my house flooded and the muggle plumber is useless."

You smirked, finding it strange that a grown wizard couldn't fix a plumbing problem, you laughed and sat beside him on the sofa, feeling your eyes land on the veins in his hands, making you want them around your neck.

You quickly plunged yourself back into reality and stared into his deep brown eyes, the hope they gave you just by looking into them...

"My parents arranged a marriage for me, I didn't want to do it, they wouldn't take no for an answer so I left."

Fred stayed quiet for a moment, the idea of you being married so young made him feel sick, he wanted to shield and protect you from the world, from your parents who saw you as an object - not as a living being.

"Gideon and Fabian told me I could crash here if things went wrong, I just didn't know you would be here." You pushed the stray hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"I won't tell George and Angelina you're here if you don't tell them about..." Fred went red again, the sight of his naked body flashing in your head again.

You smirked, licking your lips and pursing them.

Stop. Y/N stop.

You know you can't do this! He's your best friends uncle!

"I promise I won't tell," you replied shyly.

"I promise I won't either" Fred smirked.

At first, things were awkward, dodging one another down the hall, running to your room with the towel wrapped around you after a shower - but as the weeks progressed, and the heat outside increased, you and Fred got closer and closer.

You didn't avoid each other - instead, the two of you danced to music, helped one another cook when you weren't throwing flour on one another or chasing each other around the kitchen, you went for walks in the garden, and you even kept up on reading and criticising the daily prophet.

One morning, you and Fred were criticising the newspaper over breakfast, the two of you burst out in laughter, Fred's hand brushed against yours and the two of you stopped laughing at once, your eyes hovering over his soft brush, red flushing your cheeks.

His eyes gave you hope at first, but now when you stared into them, you found yourself falling head over heels for him.

Fred wanted to take you under his wing, to protect you and take care of you - he didn't know why at first, the feelings that danced and shook inside of him he couldn't quite understand, until you were back in the kitchen, dancing to the same playlist, in the same pyjama shorts and vest, when one of the songs skipped to the one you had never danced to before.

Slow.

You were now slow dancing with your best friends uncle.

Fred took your hand in his, the other resting on your waist, your eyes swimming in each other's, your steps slow and gentle mirroring his. You had never been this close to another person before, your bodies pressing up against one another, his nose lightly grazing against yours, you could feel his hot breath tickle your face, making your heart skip beats.

You can't.

Don't.

You know this isn't right.

But Fabian and Gideon already know that you like him, especially when you spent your Christmas holidays and half-terms drooling over him.

"You fancy our uncle Fred! Don't you, Y/N?" Gideon smirked, sitting on the bed next to Fabian.

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up and go red "No! Oh, don't be silly!"

Fabian chuckled and raised an eyebrow "Come on now Y/N, there's no need to lie, we won't tell anyone - will we, Gideon?"

"No, not a soul!"

Fred's lips slowly brush against yours, ready for the kiss, you embrace him, but he pulls away with a slightly panicked expression on his face.

"Y/N, we- we really shouldn't be doing this."

You frown, but don't push your luck.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask.

Fred shakes his head "No, it's just - you're too young for me."

You felt as if you had been kicked in the gut. How could you be too young? You're an adult for fuck sake!

Instead of protesting, you stay silent, avoiding his angelic eyes, staring at the floor.

Fred ponders his thoughts for a moment, telling himself that he cannot and must not act on his feelings, but the other side of him pulled the strings, winning him over.

"Oh fuck it!" Fred whispers.

He pressed his lips against yours, you kiss back and your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt, desperate to pull it off and feel his skin against yours.

Fred's shirt falls to the floor, he unbuttons your blouse gently and he admires your ample breasts, his hands cupping them, his thumbs brushing over your nipples making them go hard. You let out a soft moan, something no one other than you has heard before, and you eagerly fumble with his shorts, pulling them down, his semi getting caught in the fabric.

His shorts and his boxers slide down his legs, and his erection slaps against his lower tummy and you feel yourself getting nervous yet excited - slowly realising that this would be the first time - Fred Weasley, the uncle of your best friends would be taking your virginity.

Although this felt wrong, nothing else had ever felt so right in your life, even running away from your parents.

Fred lifted you up into his arms and set you down on the kitchen counter, one hand holding your waist, the other pulling down your high waisted pyjama shorts and your thong, sliding them both down your smooth legs. Whilst undressing you, his lips pepper kisses along the side of your neck, sucking at your sweet spot, a light moan spilling from your lips.

Fred's free hand gravitated to your entrance, his long digits brushing against your clit teasingly before his index finger circles around your entrance hole.

Tell him, tell him you've never done this before.

No, don't, prove to him that you are more than anything he could ever imagine.

You didn't tell him and you started to tense up, feeling nervous but eager to the new feeling of him inside of you as his index finger coated in his saliva slowly pushed inside of you. At first, you didn't know what to think - but you knew you liked it, and as you got used to it, the more you stopped tensing and started to relax, opening your legs wider, moaning more, and even encouraging him to add another finger so he could stretch you out.

Once two fingers were inside, pumping in and out, the thought of his cock being there instead got you riled up and almost giddy - you could see your juices glistening on his fingers, and you only got wetter with each movement of his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you now, love" Fred breathed out, spitting on his fingers and spreading his saliva across and around his cock and your entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat, this was it,  you were about to give yourself to this man forever, there's no going back, no chance for a re-do ever again after this.

"Okay Fred," you blushed, biting your lip.

You placed your legs around Fred's shoulders and leaned backwards, your legs spread wide, waiting for him to take you.

But he doesn't have a condom on, this is irresponsible!

Well, at least this isn't my first time with Scorpius!

Fred pushed himself inside of you slowly, your walls instantly tightening around him, swallowing him whole. Your jaw dropped, your mouth hanging open at his large length stretching you out, sending shockwaves and sparks of pleasure through your body.

Fred's eyebrows knitted together, his face hardening as he focused on fucking you - picking up the pace and pushing himself in deeper once you gave him the all-clear, his low grunts and deep groans made you feel special - loved - even. You were making him feel good, even if you weren't moving at all.

Your moans and Freds, along with the sound of the kitchen cabinets shaking bounced off the walls around you, the once cool kitchen marble worktop now the same temperature as your body. Your hair messy, your neck marked by Fred - him claiming you as his own - even if it didn't mean anything romantically.

"You're so tight, Y/N" Fred sighed in exhaustion, feeling himself getting close, "I want to cum."

So you're going to cum and then that's it?

Do I need to pretend to cum? I don't know what I'm-

Fred's cock throbbed inside of you as he got closer and closer to orgasm, pulling out before you told him to, he quickly wanked himself off, his sperm shooting onto your stomach as he panted on top of you, slowly backing away and letting your stiff legs go down from his shoulders.

The two of you didn't say much to each other as you got yourselves and the kitchen cleaned up, nothing needed to be said - you lived in the moment and you loved it - perhaps this was the start of something new, a beautiful budding romance with the man of your dreams.

Fred hesitated for a moment, not wanting to spoil the moment. He looked into your eyes and swallowed hard, debating whether or not to say what he needed to get off his chest for reassurance - he went for it anyway.

"This is just a summer fling, nothing more, okay?" Fred said, wiping his sperm off your stomach with a tissue.

Your heart cracked down the middle, little chips forming across it and spreading outward.

"Of-of course," you replied, taking the tissue from him, cleaning yourself up quickly so you could go and cry in the shower.

"This doesn't mean a thing, and when all this is over, we must never speak of this again." He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow, picking up your top and shorts, passing them to you before he put on his vest and boxers.

"I won't tell a soul," you replied sadly, knowing now that what just happened had meant everything to you - and nothing to him.

taglist: @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @lucymfer @xmalfoyweasleyx @onlyfreds @freddiemylovelg @opalsheart @lina1945 @manuosorioh @avatarkanemi @nimueh-lacus @supermassiveblackhope @youralternantpersonality @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @holyheadharpies99 

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?  Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to  spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here. 

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..." 

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 8

She Makes Me

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies​ @how-are-those-nuts-sarge​ @iilovemusic12us​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​ @tvserie-s-world​ @whovian45810​ @50svibes​ @cagzzz107​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7

AO3 link

Chapter 8 let’s go!!!

LONDON HEIR WEDS UP AND COMING LADY

Arthur William Burns, 33, of London has married Miss Elaine Spencer, 20, of Birmingham. The couple celebrated their union on February 14, 1944 at the chapel on his uncle Edward’s estate in Suffolk. The intimate ceremony was followed by a small reception of the couple’s closest friends and family. The new Mrs. Burns was thoughtful about her war-time wedding, taking extra steps to avoid unnecessary costs or supplies. She updated her mother’s wedding dress instead of buying new, and after the wedding, generously donated the gown to the Army. Her engagement ring was an heirloom of Mr. Burns’ family, but it didn’t stop there - 

The article didn’t stop there, but Juliet did. She couldn’t read another word about Arthur’s wedding. In fact, she slammed the paper down on her desk. It rattled the teacup in its saucer to the side, but miraculously, nothing spilled. Huffing, and her article forgotten, Juliet folded her arms across her chest and stewed. 

She couldn’t really say why it bothered her so much. She had moved on the same as him, but getting married? It hadn’t been that long. What could Arthur possibly know about this girl? For a girl she was at the tender age of twenty. Was that what irked her? That the girl was so young? No, it was fairly normal for an age gap like that, especially among their class. 

Perhaps it was the class issue that was grating on her. Elaine Spencer was - to the Burns family - everything Juliet was not. Young, rich, well-behaved, and (though only Arthur knew this difference) able to bear children. Seeing their announcement, and the kind of wedding they could afford, was a rather harsh reminder of all that. But even that should not have been this upsetting. 

Deep down, Juliet knew what was bothering her was that she was bothered at all. She was happy with Ron. So why did she care about her ex? Why did this feel like such a blow to her pride? Why did she feel as if Arthur had just terminated their engagement all over again? Wasn’t it enough to have Ron in her life, a man she truly respected and cared about? 

That was something else to consider. Juliet realized she had wasted far too much time on someone who wasn’t half the man Ron was. And yet, Arthur had rejected her. If what she thought about him was true - that he was a coward and totally undeserving of her - shouldn’t it have been the other way around? She knew she felt shame for how much she had loved Arthur when she didn’t receive that love in return. Was that what got on her nerves about this? 

She certainly was not jealous of the girl. Elaine. Juliet knew she absolutely did not want to be married to Arthur. In the long run, they could never make each other happy. Especially now that Juliet had experienced Ron, who truly appreciated what she had to give. She had to keep reminding herself of him or Arthur’s dumb face next to Elaine’s stunning smile would drive her crazy. And yet, she couldn’t stop looking at that picture. They looked so perfect. 

Her door opened and she jumped a little bit out of her seat with a gasp. It was Ron, but that oddly made her more nervous. She perked up. 

“Hi, honey!” she greeted brightly. 

His brown knit together over his eyes. “Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” she returned. 

“Seriously,” he frowned. “Why are you calling me that?” 

“I haven’t before?” 

“Obviously not.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“Obviously not,” he repeated. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” she insisted. Then it was her turn to frown. “What endearments am I allowed?” 

“Why do you need them, when my name works just fine?” he replied. 

“Oh come on,” she said. “Not even darling?” 

“Darling is meaningless here, you people call everyone darling,” he said. 

She considered that. “Alright. ‘Love’, then?”

“No, thanks.” 

“Baby?” 

“No.” 

“Dear?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar?”

“No.” 

“Sweetheart?” 

“No.” 

She bit back a giggle for the last one. “Daddy?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“My heart belongs to Daddy,” she began to sing as she got to her feet and approached him. “So I simply couldn’t be bad -”

“That’s a little bit sick, coming from you,” he cut across her as he shrugged off his jacket.

She ignored him. “Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy! Da da da da -” 

This time, he interrupted with a kiss. Juliet giggled into his mouth, but he was successful in stopping the song entirely. When they parted, she had a goofy grin on her lips. 

“Are you absolutely certain we should disregard the genius of Cole Porter?” she teased. 

“Let it go,” he returned. 

“What are you gonna do?” she challenged, making her voice dramatically husky. “Spank me?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

She blinked, taken aback by his casual reaction to such a suggestion, but she was also a little curious, so she decided to push the envelope. “You wouldn’t.”

“What’s the matter?” he questioned. “Afraid you’ll like it?” 

Her mouth fell slightly agape. How had he managed to so drastically turn the tables on her? She was supposed to be teasing him and somehow, she ended up being the one flustered and red-faced. She cleared her throat and shook her head to remove the rather graphic images that had popped up inside it. All thoughts of Arthur were certainly out the window. 

“I did not anticipate this backfiring,” she admitted. 

“And yet, here you are,” he said. 

“How tired are you from training?” she asked. 

“Not too tired to make love to you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered. 

“That’s the perfect amount,” she said. 

With that, she tugged off her cardigan and pulled him in for another kiss, deep and deliberate, with a nip at his bottom lip to get him riled up. He lifted her into his arms and they fell on the bed together - her pinned beneath him as their lips remained locked. 

Afterwards, as they dressed to get some dinner and Juliet was in the bathroom fixing her hair, Ron spotted the article. Suddenly, her behavior when he first walked in made sense. She’d distracted him with the endearments conversation, and he hoped he had distracted her from what she’d read. But his gut told him there was something more. He’d walked through that door every day without surprising her. There was a reason she had started and panicked this time. He picked up the newspaper, and looked hard at the photo - at the man who had humiliated Juliet, but ultimately paved the way for Ron’s own happiness with her. 

Arthur was not much to look at, which was both surprising and expected. Surprising because well, Ron found Juliet to be very beautiful, and he knew she could do better. Expected because Juliet was not the sort of person to base a relationship on looks alone. Although she had certainly noticed Ron’s. But for the first time, that made him doubt. She told him once she was more upset by the indignity of what Arthur had done, but she must have really seen something in him to have agreed to marry him. And she talked so much about Ron’s looks, he started to wonder if that was all she saw in him. 

He quickly dismissed that thought. She had been incredibly vulnerable with him and shared parts of her life he was certain she had shared with few others, perhaps not anyone. But something was holding her back from addressing this with him, and he wanted to know what. 

“I reckon we can just pop downstairs and have something quick,” she said as she emerged from the bathroom and picked up her cardigan. “That way we won’t get too cold before we - y’know - warm back up again.” 

He faced her, and caught the surprised look in her eye at his expression. Her smile drooped and faded as she realized what he held in his hand. 

“Jules,” he said, voice heavy. “I want you to do something for me.” 

“Sure,” she looked nervously between the paper and his face. “Anything, Ron, just -” 

“Without one fucking joke, I want you tell me why you’re upset about this,” he said, indicating the paper, though she understood perfectly well what he meant. 

She sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

She waited for him to explain, but he didn’t. But he was not sacrificing his control of the conversation, he was solidifying it. She was going to explain herself to him. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m annoyed at myself for letting it upset me at all,” she said. She met his gaze, searching his face for a reaction, but he didn’t give one. “I mean, yes, it’s a wound to my ego that by all rights that announcement should be about me and him. Although, I never would have gotten married on Valentine’s Day. Seriously, of all the cheesy -” 

“No jokes,” he cut across her. 

“That wasn’t a joke, it was a disparaging remark,” she returned. 

“Juliet.” 

“Sorry.” 

She bit her lip, carefully forming how she wanted to say what was on her mind. But, it turned out he wasn’t giving her that either. 

“Don’t think, just talk,” he instructed. 

“I care about you so much,” she blurted out. “You make me happy in a way I hardly thought possible until I knew you. But seeing that announcement made me ache. It’s difficult to pin down why exactly since there are a number of things that bother me about it, but mostly it’s that it shouldn’t matter. I’ve moved on, haven’t I? But if that still hurts me, I’m worried that perhaps I haven’t, and that’s not fair to you or to me. And if that’s the case then perhaps I should let you go, but the thought of that makes me want to hurl myself out of a window. Then that makes me worried that no one will ever be enough for me. Which is ridiculous because you’re more than enough. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met in your own weird way. So, that means there’s something terribly, terribly wrong with me.” 

She stopped to take a deep breath and paused. She considered saying more, that was really the sum of her feelings. Ron stood there calmly. 

“Can you talk now please?” she requested. 

A hint of smirk tugged at one side of his mouth, but he stopped it. 

“It’d bother me more if you didn’t care about this,” he replied, which made her brow wrinkle. “It’s okay to have feelings about someone you were involved with. Doesn’t mean you still have feelings for them.” 

“You don’t think it’s a reflection of my feelings for you?” she asked hesitantly. 

“No,” he said with a shrug. 

She bit her lip. “I just...I just don’t think it would get to him if he saw my wedding announcement in the paper.”

“It would,” he replied. 

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t know that, you didn’t know him.” 

“I know you,” he said. “That’s enough to understand that there’s no way you didn’t have an impact on him.” 

“That’s -” she began to argue but stopped herself as she absorbed it fully. “Well...that’s actually a lovely thing to say, thank you.” 

He set the paper down and walked over to her, gathering her up in his arms so he could kiss her forehead. 

“Don’t hide behind distractions when there’s something serious,” he said gently. “And don’t hurl yourself out a window, I had enough trouble with you on the bridge.” 

She looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve lifted your moratorium on jokes, I see.”

He pecked her on the lips. “Nope, just for me.”

She repaid him with a light jab to his ribs with her pointer and middle fingers. “Shut up.” 

On that note, they headed down to the bar for dinner and drinks. Though Juliet had mentioned wanting to return to her room quickly, they ended up lingering. Talking like they had when they first met. Juliet talked a little more about Arthur, and Ron gave her the space to do so. It didn’t last long. Slowly, he faded from the conversation and they moved on. Ron challenged her to a darts game, and Juliet readily accepted. 

“I’ve never played before,” she confessed. “Well, actually, I almost did when I was seven or so. Dad took Billy and I to the pub with him and left us to our own devices.” 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Ron said. 

She pressed on anyway. “We weren’t tall enough to reach the board, so Billy drew one on the wall we could use. The owner got upset and started shouting at him.” 

“I really don’t like where this is going,” he said again. 

“So, I stabbed him in the thigh with the dart,” she finished. 

“Billy?” 

“The pub guy.” 

“Just checking.” 

“Anyway, he starts screaming -”

“Billy?” 

“Nope, still the pub guy,” she said. “He grabs me by my hair and starts dragging me out. That didn’t sit right with Billy, so he leaps onto the man’s back and starts punching him. Mind you, Billy was only about nine at the time, so he wasn’t the most effective.” 

“I imagine not.” 

“But of course Billy doesn’t care, he’s just looking out for me,” she continued. “So the guy lets go of me, and I grab him round the legs and trip him. Then Billy and I ran out of there as fast as we could, terrified about what Dad would do to us if he realized we’d caused the commotion. Luckily, he never found out.” 

He blinked at her. “Honestly, I’m just impressed you stabbed a guy.” 

“He yelled at my brother!” she returned. “What was I supposed to do?” 

“Stab him, of course,” he said. 

“That!” she cried. “Right there! That’s why we work so well together!” 

She giggled into his mouth as he kissed her in agreement. 

“C’mon, let’s play,” he said. 

He showed her where to stand, how to hold the dart, and some tricks he used to get better aim. She was attentive to his coaching, and it certainly paid off. Each throw got her closer and closer to the bullseye. So much so, he considered tripping her on her last turn. He didn’t, since that would put her dart in rather close proximity to his thigh, and he was in no mood to get stabbed himself. 

She took her shot, and to the surprise of Ron and a few onlookers, she hit the center of the dartboard. She punched the air with excitement and let out an enthusiastic scream before turning to face him, beaming with triumph. 

“That’s right!” she bragged to anyone listening. “Juliet Fletcher is the darts champion!” 

For a moment, Ron genuinely feared she was going to try and chest bump him, and he wasn’t sure there could be romance after that. To his relief, she did not. She did something far more embarrassing. In movements that could only be described as lost and awkward, she...danced. If one could even call it that. Her limbs jerked, her hips lacked any semblance of rhythm, and her feet sort of scraped across the floor. He watched in disbelief as she went about her celebration, completely unabashed. 

“What’s the matter, Speirs?” she taunted. “Upset you lost to a girl?” 

He wanted to laugh, but he was so disturbed it came out more of a grimace. “What...what are you doing?” 

“Victory dance,” she returned simply. “Like footballers do.” 

“No one has ever done anything like what you’re doing,” he said. 

She came to a slow stop, a smirk on her face. “I told you I can’t dance.” 

“I thought you meant the foxtrot.” 

“Well, I can’t do that either.” 

“I’d expect not.” 

“Are you embarrassed?” she wondered. 

“Aren’t you?” he shot back, though judging by her expression, she wasn’t. 

“Nope,” she shook her head. 

“Should be,” he said under his breath. 

She ignored that little remark. “Life’s too short to stifle the joy of kicking your boyfriend’s ass in a game of darts.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call that an ass kicking.” 

“You wanna go again?” she dared him. 

“God, no,” he replied quickly. “If you win, you’ll start dancing again.” 

“So you admit it?” 

“What?” 

“You’re afraid I’ll win.” 

“Yeah, but not for the reason you want.” 

“Whatever,” she giggled. “I’m gonna get another drink, d’you want one?” 

“Sure,” he said. 

With a nod, she headed for the bar. She established fairly early on in their relationship that she was not the sort who wanted to be doted on. She had no problem sharing the responsibility of buying drinks or fetching said drinks. Ron rarely even pulled out her chair for her. Opening doors was different, as Juliet usually had a bag or something, but she never so much as suggested that Ron carry it for her. He once offered, but she told him she’d only allow it if she could tip him, which promptly ended the conversation. 

“Hi, Juliet,” Emily, the bartender, said as she approached. “‘Nother round of whiskeys for you and Lieutenant Speirs?” 

“Yes, please,” Juliet replied. 

“Just a moment, I’ve got to bring some beers to the lads back there,” Emily said, pointing to the other end of the pub. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Juliet assured her. 

While she waited for Emily, a man approached the bar. A dark haired, tall, but mousy looking man Juliet had seen at the Blue Boar only a handful of times. He was usually alone and stayed for only one drink before leaving. She got the impression he was not solitary by choice - he was clearly unpopular. The other officers always gave the table a wide berth. 

“Hi,” he said timidly. 

It took her a moment to register he was speaking to her. “Oh! Hello, there.” She stole a glance at his rank and then his name. Sobel. She decided against trying to say it to avoid the risk of mispronouncing. Plus, she didn’t want him to think she was interested. 

“My name’s Herbert,” he said. “Herbert Sobel.” 

She studied his face for a moment. “Herbert, huh?” 

He blinked, surprised. “Um. Yes.” 

“Oh, yeah, Herbert absolutely suits you,” she said. 

He was taken aback again. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Never mind,” she shook her head. “How can I help you, Herbert?” 

“You could start with your name,” he replied. 

She wrinkled her nose. “Eh. No, thanks.” 

“What?” 

“I’d rather not give you my name,” she said. “Because I’m afraid the follow up is going to be your asking for my phone number or offering to buy me a drink. So I reckon we’re better off if I get the ‘no’ out of the way now. Save us all some time.” 

He sputtered for a moment before she went on. 

“I know this must seem like contempt prior to investigation,” she said. “But even if I wanted to - which I don’t, mind you - I am involved with someone.” 

“Wha - who?” he wondered. 

“Lieutenant Speirs,” she said, and pointed him out for good measure. 

Sobel glanced over just as Emily returned and began pouring the whiskeys. 

“Well, isn’t Speirs lucky,” Sobel murmured. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Juliet said, taking their drinks. “I really am a horrid bitch, you wouldn’t like me anyway.” She held back a laugh as his eyes went wide. Emily covered her mouth to stifle her own giggle. “Cheers, Herb. And thanks, Emily.” 

Emily asked a stricken Sobel what he wanted to drink while Juliet left. She returned to her seat next to Ron and delivered his whiskey. He wore a deep frown which told her he’d been watching her interaction with Sobel. 

“What’d Captain Sobel want?” he asked, just a hint of bitterness to his voice. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I shot him down,” she replied. 

“He hit on you?” he questioned, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “Must not have seen you dance.” 

“Shut up!” she laughed, elbowing him. 

He didn’t say anything in return, he only put his hand on her thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Something about it thrilled Juliet. It was...intensely macho. Possessive even. Normally things like that disgusted her, but Ron made it sexy. Only, she had to question it. 

“Are you serious?” she said. 

“About what?” he returned. 

“You’re not bothered by my talking about my ex-fiancé, but a strange man offering to buy me a drink has you marking your territory?” she asked. 

“I can’t help who you were with before we met,” he said. “I can do something about anyone getting ideas now.” 

“What would you have done then?” she questioned playfully. 

“Stab him with a dart,” he replied, without missing a beat. 

She giggled before she sipped her drink. “You’re ridiculous.” 

She wasn’t able to remain in Ron’s grasp long. Emily approached and told her there was a phone call for her. Juliet excused herself, but not before kissing Ron deeply. 

“So the other girls don’t get any ideas either,” she teased. 

“Fine by me,” he said. 

With one more peck, she followed Emily behind the bar. She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. 

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said. 

“Juliet, it’s Otis,” said the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Oh, hello, Otis, how are you?” she replied politely. She got along with the investigator most out of all the people involved in Peggy Lee’s case. 

“Quite well, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but I’ve just gotten the news that Meredith Fisher’s trial has been moved up. We begin on the fifteenth of March.” 

“Crikey, that’s quick,” Juliet said. 

“I know, but the prosecution is confident enough,” he told her. 

Juliet was tempted to let him know they were absolutely right in their confidence with the way Meredith Fisher’s lawyer was going about things, but she held her tongue. 

“That’s good,” she said. “I’ll be sure I’m there for the trial.” 

“I’ll see you then,” he returned. “Good night, Juliet.” 

“Good night,” she replied before hanging up. 

She returned to Ron, who shot her a curious look. 

“A trial date has been set for Meredith Fisher,” she said. “In just a couple weeks.” 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Damn right I am,” she said. 

“That’s my girl.”

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could do a scenario during the uprising arc where the reader starts to realize she has feelings for Levi but at first he rejects her? Then during the night before Shiganshina he realizes about her feelings and ends up returning them knowing he doesn't want her to get hurt or die? Some angst fluff please and thank you!

Okay anon you have no idea how much I enjoyed writing this. It's super long and I love how it came to me so naturally. I hope you enjoy

Warnings: a little angst!?

Tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Promise

It all started at the sight of his wet fingertips grazing the broken rim of a teacup. A flutter, a feisty spark in your heart that seemed to drown it in full might had made its presence known to you in a very particular, unwanted moment. The flicker of a tiny flame danced before your eyes, sat at the frame of the window near the sink where you proceeded to rinse through washed dishes.

Levi's pale, chapped skin pulled on his knuckles leaving an unnatural yellowish white tone behind, indicating his involvement with excessive amounts of cleaning products. And for the first time, the sight really pulled a string in your poor heart in a way that was enough to convince you to break the dense silence in the room.

But maybe, you thought, Levi wouldn't want to talk to you.

With an unforgiving steel gaze he stared at your face, blinking in soft, yet erratical paces as you stopped plumping the water from running. In response your tongue was forced to slip inside your mouth and push any unspoken word back to its source, in the depths of your brain. All of a sudden you felt so afraid to talk, so petrified by the general idea of a three syllabus word that wouldn't ever spare the misery off of anyone.

Rejection

Captain seemed to be on the rejective side nevertheless so nothing regarding your newly discovered feelings would matter to him anyway, so in a way you blamed yourself for getting overwhelmed with this whole situation. A dark cloud of doubt shadowed your mind with the intention of interrogating your heart's intentions; perhaps you were mistaken. How on earth could you have been in love with the short man, you didn't know. There were far too many differences between the two of you, be it in appearance, mannerism or even -and more importantly- experiences. Supposing you had lived through similar occurances in battles outside the walls was enough for anyone to consider the two of you to be very alike, it was at least dishonorable to compare your childhood or teenage years to his.

"Nice hands" Of course you had managed to utter the most embarrassing choice of words to him, your mind could never cooperate with you when it came to such serious situations, something you hated so very much. The obnoxious dryness of your eyes was slowly migrating in the caves under your tongue, you could feel your mouth drying more and more by each passing second, yet you did nothing to prevent it.

Judging by Levi's puzzled expression which included his head slightly tilting forward as if to hear you better you knew he was as awestruck as you were at your own words. "I don't really understand where you're coming from but thank you, I guess." He spoke, the usual monotone tint staining his voice. You whipped your head back to a fixed position -on your hands this time- to stare down at the sink. The awkward glances you would throw at him went seemingly unnoticed and as time passed by you felt your tention overwhelming you, this time, completely.

Levi wasn't dense to any body language thrown at him and you were painfully aware. His cold eyes never spared you not even a half cornered look as he rubbed the little sponge on the soap bar next to him. His fingers danced on the ceramic plate, cleansing it in fast and very effective movements, leaving you staring in awe. Whether he was ignoring you on purpose or not you didn't know and you didn't want to seek an answer as to why but at this rate he would probably be the one to inquire why you were burning holes in his hands with your gaze. Again.

"I'm so sorry I'm fixated on your hands" Your mouth run, ignoring your mind's orders to stay shut "It's just-" Dammit think quick for once "You have nice nail beds."

There it was. The evidence that your words had actual brains and that they formed the most improper sentences on their own, just to torture you and push you deeper into piles of goowey, mushy shit. If Levi was anyone else he would have been laughing his ass of at the stupidness of your speech, you knew you would be laughing too if this wasn't as serious. Just as you were sure you heard a chuckle Levi placed the sponge on the bar of soap carefully and extended his arm, fully displaying his hand.

He seemed to study it like it was the first time he had ever even noticed it. The slick, long fingers, the oval shaped nails, his torn open knuckles. Perhaps you were kidding him for the lack of hair on the base of fingers he used to hold his blades with, those were burnt with years of being worn out by the steel triggers of the blades. He speculated this was common among most soldiers, so it didn't seem like a reason to be kidded for and in addition you never were the person to just spit senseless insults as jokes to your comrades.

"Is there even a point to talk about my hands? They're normal hands to me."

You bit your lip as your eyes widened in shock. Realisation hit you that this was probably more that absurd to Levi as it was to you, seeing you had started to talk about his hands out of nowhere. Your mind, in a state of panic, was in the midst of attempting to process every idiotic sentence you had the audacity to blurb out, but it never seemed to find an answer. Boiling with embarrassed, you wiped the water of your hands to your pants, an act that caught Levi's eye, and went to grab the first wooden chair that was in your path. You needed to sit down, to process whatever this was.

Yet, the only explanation you could find was that there was a raging wildfire in the pits of your stomach everytime your thoughts wandered on Levi. Yes, it was possible that what had started as an admiration, a tiny spec of a crush for the slender featured man had been growing on you since forever, but you had always burried it deep, in any hellhole that should accommodate such emotions as this was war and not the plot of sappy romance novel.

The air was cut down short in the room when Levi sat at a chair beside you, watching you over in such demanding manner that only he could master. He proceeded to light the only candle that stood at the middle of the table, possibly in hopes of flaring a conversation or causing a sane sequence of sentences to finally fall from your tongue. It was still unbeknownst to him what had caused you to trip over words as if you were a learning toddler and he yearned to find out, as a sole friend, not as the stern corporal he presented himself to be.

"(y/n)" His voice was tender as he spoke either much mindful to the teens who were sleeping in the next room or unwilling to let a private conversation between the two of you be heard. "If you think I can help with whatever is going on quit acting like a brat and tell me what's on your mind."

Momentarily, you wondered whether he'd stick to his words in case you spilled your heart's infatuating agony but you felt unable to think of a possible dominating scenario in the chaos of your mind. As self destructive as it sounded, you'd prefer to be the one to break your own heart rather than having to stand back and be a martyr to him tearing it off your chest and tearing it. Knowing Levi, this wasn't anything physically impossible, but you doubt that he could ever be as harsh with you.

"I'm just stressed. I have a lot on my mind."

"Erwin's trial and the future of the scouts, huh? Or is it that Hange works your ass off with those experiments?" You scoffed in denial to all of his inquiries, knowing full well that you could have used them as excuses. Levi's sharp hand began a short trip with sole purpose to land at the top of your head, through your loose locks, in an affectionate manner, a little something you had picked up he would do when he really cared for someone. Everyone knew he wasn't particularly touchy, except for some emotional moments with his closest people; a hand on a shoulder and a pat in the head were mostly what you had witnessed him indulging. His hand ruffling with your hair wasn't profound and new at all, he had done so many times after the two of you would strongly disagree over formations and orders, showing you how much he appreciated your strong wits and your clever ideas. What was new was that the lone touch burned your sculp like hot iron and made your insides twitch.

"I'll make us some tea" the screeching creak of the chair being pushed back shook of your train of thoughts enough to form a reaction to his hand that still rested on your head. Almost as if he didn't want to take it off "We can discuss your problem in a-"

"Sit down" you demanded, voice stern, masked with seriousness that caught him off guard. "Take your hand off my hair, it hurts." You pleaded with your eyes to stay as dry as they were before but you were certainly unsure of whether they'd listen. "Can't you see?"

What was there not to see really. Levi probably knew of your fondness of him way before you managed to realise, as in second thought every move you had ever made in his presence betrayed you. He would have never tried to provoke a confession just to laugh at you, that you were sure of, but he had never made a move in reciprocation either, that alone made you sure of your confessions future's end and caused your gut to spit even more fire to the rest of your insides.

Levi was not perplexed, not even for a single moment, at your words that seeked to stab like daggers, he wouldn't allow himself to be toyed by his own emotions just this once. This is an erratical reaction to his touch, a rejection of his affections towards you and he feared he knew the reason. For someone as bright and emotional as you he never would have thought that you could have hid such tormentous emotions so well inside you, only to end up at this moment of snapping.

As much as he'd like not to be hurt in the slightest by your demeanor he couldn't help but feel a tiny string of his heart being pulled. Suddenly it was evident to him why you couldn't take part in normal conversations around him or why you acted so tense in his presence, why you were so rejective of his touches and he wondered if he should have done anything besides unknownably torture you for so long. Whether his heart wanted to hear a confirmation out of your mouth to it's pained pleading for reciprocation, his mind ignored. The time would never be right and as egoistical as it seemed he couldn't bear to lose someone else that close to him, let alone a significant other. From his experience feelings of love and adoration should never be spoken out loud in this cruel world, amongst soldiers, especially. It wouldn't lead to any good.

When you proceeded to speak the pit in his stomach was already welling in frustration and denial. "Levi we've known each other for years and whatever's forcing me to much on my words should stop."

None can do, this couldn't happen here, now, while being on the run by military police as collective criminal. Levi wouldn't allow you to speak those earth shuttering words, even if wanted for them to chaste kiss his ears and echo through his head. "Not like you haven't figured anyways. I'm so pathetic. To fall for my Capt-"

"Don't you dare utter any other word of that sentence. I won't forgive you if you do." His hand reached out to grab yours by the wrist, tightly, as if he didn't know you couldn't stand the intensity of the grip. The silence that towed over the room was freezing, irrational even; it made you want to puke your intestines right onto Levi's shoes. Your heartbeat was so fast, so unrhythmic that you felt like the vital blood red organ would burst out of your chest in a massive mess.

Τhere was an excessive amount of agony emitting from your eyes, slicing through Levi's chest, searching despairately for a sign he had a heart, just to remind you that it didn't belong to you. Your mind traveled through every possible scenario to find a reason as to why you had to endure this, did his affections belong to someone you didn't know of? Hange? Erwin? Nifa seemed to be close to him lately as well. Was he heartbroken before and swore to never love again? You hated that there was not a tiny little space in his heart for you.

Just as this tense moment began, it came to an end when Sasha burst into the room, shotgun on her shoulder and chestnut eyes as sleepy as they could be. Fatigue was overpowering her whole form and it was as evident as ever before your eyes. With a quick, exhausted salute she announced her self, unsure of if you and the captain could see her face under the shadows of the night.

"It's guard change sir!" She spoke.

"I'm coming sweetheart." You got up from the chair you were sat at, breaking your wrist away from Levi's grip in a harsh manner. You didn't spare him a second look as you took another deep breath and locked it in your chest in hopes of seeming a little more mighty. "Go take some rest. You deserve it."

With increasingly fast steps you storm outside the little cottage trying your best not to look back. You wouldn't bear to check if there was still light coming from the kitchen that should indicate Levi's persistent presence. Your knees trembled at the imagery but you wouldn't let your eyes rest behind you not even for a second. He would probably be drinking his tea, unbothered, thinking of anything but you and you would be lying if you were to day that it didn't hurt you. It hurt so much that it sent you on your ass, on the stone tile pattern under your feet. Your heart forced suffocating waves of pain through your whole body only to push out of your eyes in the form of hot, salty tears. As your sobs grew louder and your heartache became unbearable to the point you though you could feel your heart break in two, you pushed the ends of your palms into your eyes sockets to squeeze the pain and itchiness of the tears away. You promised to yourself this was the first and last time you would cry for him.

____

After that night you barely speak with Levi. Aside from following his orders with the eventual 'yessir' as a reply, you have managed to successfully establish a thick barrier between him end you. Your nights of accompanying him in his late hour tea sessions, or teaching him how to knit and embroider were no more. The times you would share your food with him after you'd hear his stomach growl from the small portion he would get were also no more. You had made sure to claim your small acts of affection back to yourself, how could you move on from him if you were trying to be nice.

You would profoundly ignore his gazes, his calls for you at his office at late hours of the night by random cadets. You wouldn't answer to him if it wasn't for something military related and you intended it to keep it that way until the announcements of the feast that would take place before the attempt of retaking wall Maria.

As you passed by a narrow street heading to anywhere away from the crowd of cadets with your drink in your hand, you bumped lousy into the onyx haired male. It was the first time in days or even weeks that you had spared him a glance but your eyes averted his upon impact. You couldn't stand this. It was suffocating you. The clicking of your ankle boots colliding with the ground might have been heard as you turned on your heels to flee the scene but Levi's stern clearing of the throat overshadowed it.

He wasn't having it anymore.

"Oi, wait! Stop on your tracks, this is an order!" He spoke, eliciting a groan out of you as you turned to face him. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Captain, I seek to relax before a very hard mission, spare me with your punishments, I beg of you."

His blood boiled with your every word "Cut the damn crap (y/n) and talk to me like normal." It probably sounded more harsh than he intended but he couldn't find himself in a position to turn back time and rephrase those words. The drained look in your eyes tolled him as well. The fact that you were both so tired by this game of cat and mouse was profound and everywhere in the air around you and Levi didn't know if he could take it anymore.

At first he thought that it was for the best. If you both forgot about your feelings or found ways to distract yourselves by this distance then it would be so much easier for him to push through the upcoming events of Shiganshina, but he was surprised to know he was mistaken. Masking his feelings must have seemed easy when it came to grieve and loss; he'd spent hours in his room, with you, letting everything out and occupying himself with trying to improve his handwriting while doing paperwork, but infatuation, love, was different. Instead of fading by each passing day like anger and grief it only ever became stronger, fonder and more agressive, chewing on his insides in despair. He really did hate that he had allowed himself to feel that way but it was way too late by now. There was nothing he could do and the fact that you ignored him after almost squeezing out that much, much wanted confession was only making him feel more hollow and in pain.

But Levi knew how to control himself, he trusted his ability on that.

"What is there to talk about? Let me live my last day in peace." You barked, your eyes starting to dance towards his direction, landing on his chin, then at the curve of his unfairly full bottom lip, on his button upwards nose.

"Look." He paused, unsure of how to put his words into non hurtful sentences. "If you could just tell me why or share a few words with me. We could damn die tomorrow and I'd regret not ever talking you out of this unfair treatment you're giving me."

You wondered if you should open up your heart to him completely, without accepting any interruption from him just to cleanse your coincidence off of this weight. Upon deciding that there was truly nothing holding you back except for a silly fear of another rejection that could die with you tomorrow you opened your mouth to speak any words that came to your mind.

"Levi, I'm in pain. You rejected me. Plain and simple. I've spent so many nights wondering why I am unworthy of your affections but I can't wrap my head around you anymore."

"Is that the way you feel about me? That you're the one who's unworthy of me?"

"You always think so lowly of yourself. Makes me wonder how you trust your own abilities in battlefield. But yes. So I just want to know who is it for you? Who do you feel you're unworthy of?"

He paused for a moment, to regain any shattered piece of his heart you had thrown back to him with your statement. You didn't hate him, be always knew that, but hearing those words fall out of your mouth engulfed the matter into reality unlike before. He was ready to face it. Even if he was unsure of tomorrow he knew that if he was to stay alive while you were dead he would have torn his own brain out as to avoid overthinking this particular moment.

"You want the truth honestly, brat? I happen to think I'm the one unworthy of you. You've taught me how to write and read, you came into my office to check up on an underground scum like me to see if I was asleep. Dammit you even gave me portions of your food to help me withstand the long nights of sleeping in my chair. What have I done for you? Boss you around? Or is it my looks you're after?"

Your eyes widened at his last statement, momentarily preventing the tears that had gathered in the corners from falling. This wasn't a time to misunderstand his words and act foolish, this was the closest out of a confession you would get from the man and you were awestruck, amazed. If he wanted to know a reason you would give him one.

"I'll admit, you might have the face of an angel Levi and maybe that would initial draw anyone to you, including me but I didn't fall in love with you for that." You could tell he was taken aback by the raw nature of your words only by the small whimper that escaped his throat.

"Over the course of this relationship between us you have been there for me when I couldn't be there for myself, you've helped me improve, your hands are stained with blood and so are mine, but you've knitted with me, you've stitched my wounds, you've let me sleep in your bed when I found a giant cockroach in mine, you're so much more than what you paint yourself to be."

He stared at you with ogling, soft eyes. Had he looked at you like that before you were oblivious but there was something in those steel eyes that magnetised your own gaze, something you couldn't let go off. It was calming the knot in your chest with reassurance, bearing promises of the future but he didn't dare speak on them to ruin the moment. His head closed the distance between the two of you in sharp shiftings and now your lips were brushing his in the most suggestive manner possible. It had all happened so fast that you didn't have a chance to react.

"You realised" he whispered, voice soft as the melancholy of the theme of his words captured your breath "that if you happen to die tomorrow, I, myself will hunt you down, resecure you and then proceed to beat the living shit out of you every single day of your shitty life, right?"

He was so beautiful panting with desire under the moonlight and you would never forget. Out of all times this could have taken place it happened now, hours before a deadly expedition. The feeling of regret flooded your form, his as well for not acting upon your feelings sooner and Levi fought an internal battle as to whether he should kiss you or not. He desired to keep that kiss as a reward that you stayed alive for him but on the other hand he feared that this could well be his last chance to taste you for the first time.

"That's a weird way to say I love you" as his lips brushed closer to yours his heart felt like it would explode, he had pained to claim your lips, just once, just to know the taste of a beloved and he was sure he would be more pained to lose you.

As he pleaded that you came to him tomorrow he pressed his lips on yours, sealing the promise he demanded you to make to him. Your heart melted under the soft lights of a thousand stars.

____

As his arms wrapped around you, tears run down his eyes. That was it. You had fought to keep your promise nail and tooth. You had never managed let him down and to see that you were among the tiny amount of survivors lifted his soul to heaven. The touch of your skin, the salty taste of your neck, it all was real, you were indeed alive and safe in his arms. He wouldn't have to go insane over that fact that he would never get to look into your eyes again.

"I will always keep my promises to you." You hitched with tears running down cheeks, the shock in your core still trembling as ever.

"I know" He panted

"Besides, have you seen yourself in action, I wouldn't want you to hunt me down, oh Lord."

I am. In tears. Also I'm sorry (?) for such in depth descriptions of Levi's hands?

[midnightmoonkiss]

Esoteric.

Witch!Izuku Midoriya X Fem!Reader

Summary: What was a witch, exactly? Someone who casts spells? Dabbled in medicine? Fought in battles? You didn’t know. That was, until you met one.

WARNINGS!: Soft!Dom!Izuku, Face-sitting, Fingering, Potion-play

Category: Smut

Word Count: 7.3k (more than half is like.. pure smut..)

A/N: The final day of the Izumonth Collab!

P.S. I really love Witch!Izuku, idk if you can tell,,, Also, I made the witch!collage above! ‘Tis just to suck you into the mood. And sorry this was.. a bit late.. heheh,,,

Just To Clarify:

You’re both consenting adults

Witches, though actually fairly rare, are seen as common beings

Witches aren’t human

Fantasy-ish au!

Tag List:

@coupsieddori​ @desia2​ @strwbrry-lia​ @my-bnha-things​

Every castle has a witch.

It’s been that way for as long as you, or anyone else, could remember.

It was normal.

Mundane to some.

Just something you’d hear about time and time again.

They were workers, just like you. 

But yet, that never stopped your sense of wonder.

They never were in plain sight, not for a peasant such as yourself, anyway.

It always brought up so many questions whenever you’d stop to think about it. 

What did they look like?

Were they nice, or wicked?

How did their magic work?

What did they wear?

Depending on the kingdom, most witches were treated like royalty, especially those who worked in castles.

Of course, how could someone so powerful not have such a title?

It made you question if it was given out of fear, or respect.

It wasn’t until you met the witch of Thidel castle, the ever-so-generous Izuku Midoriya, that your questions were all willingly answered.

You truly weren’t anticipating meeting him during such a catastrophe of a day. Looking back, it was quite embarrassing.

You were the baker’s assistant, tasked with making the batter to elaborate sweets for the King’s ball that evening.

The flour was freshly ground from the mill, the vanilla was as pure as a white daisy, the sugar ever-so-sweet, eggs fetched that morning, everything was perfect.

In fact, everything was running all nice and smoothly, until the King decided to ask for triple the amount of baked goods he had originally requested.

Not only did that mean running to town and back in shoes already falling apart, but that also meant stirring and stirring and stirring until it felt as if your arms were on fire and about to melt off.

You were covered in ingredients and sweat, the other bakers and assistants were running around, spilling things on each other, and making large messes as they pulled their hair out to get everything done on time.

It was chaos.

And that’s when he showed up.

You forgot what he was originally there for, herbs, perhaps?

Batter smudged on your cheek, you were carrying a large sack of flour to the mixing station when the door opened.

You slipped comedically on an egg that had fallen on the floor, and of course, you had to slam into this sudden brick wall of a man.

White powder flew everywhere, and the clock stopped in your head as you watched in horror as the last bag of flour you had was just about to spill all over the dirty cobblestone.

That’s when you saw it for the first time.

Magic.

He had simply flicked his wrist and all of the flour was back in its bag, and such a high ranking individual was on his knees, sputtering apologies to you.

To you, of all people.

A lowly peasant.

It felt unreal.

But that was how you met him.

He looked up and the first image he had of you forever imprinted in his head was wild (H/C) hair coated in sweat and flour, cheeks smudged with chocolate and dried batter, eyes wide with panic, and cheeks a burning red.

He never let you live it down, the bastard.

That night at the ball, you met him again. He had the gall to note how you cleaned up fast, all while sheepishly smiling at you like you were the only girl in the room.

You wanted to punch him at the time. Or die of embarrassment. He was still the witch after all, and never before had someone so high class spoken to you before. You were filled with so many emotions that night, you were sure you were going to throw up.

Instead, you smiled, offered him a pastry, and walked away.

He just had to follow you, though.

His reason being, “I was looking for some entertainment at such a boring event.”

It had made you laugh, as IF you were any entertainment. From then on, though, after having spent an entire night chatting the time away, he was as hooked on you as you were with him.

Nowadays, you got to frequent his studies often.

A privilege not many had, as apparently- witches were quite stubborn with letting people into their sanctuary and touching their things.

Perhaps it was a possessive trait of theirs, one that kept them from misplacing important potions, books, and ingredients, but nevertheless you were absolutely honored to be allowed somewhere so.. otherworldly.

The King and his youngest son were the only ones besides yourself allowed in.

But stepping inside would always be a slap to the face, no matter how many times you actually did enter.

It wasn’t exactly clear to you how he did it, or how the witch before him did it, but the small study tucked away on the east wing of the castle wasn’t a small study at all.

The old, heavy brown door was signed with words of a language unknown to you and others, the hinges creaking ever so slightly as you pulled it open, only to be met with a two-story home inside.

Your nose was always immediately hit with the earthy scent of rain and plants, no doubt from the plethora of the heavenly greens hanging about the place, glowing orbs of light hovering near the ones doomed to never touch true sunlight.

The place was cluttered yet neat, parchments piling up in one corner, yet another where they laid organized.

It was almost like a different world crafted by steady and loving hands.

Old maps were tacked to one of the walls, scribbled writing and red circles pointing out certain areas of the land beyond the one you knew.

Witches apparently had their own realm, or at least, “a pocket of Earth hidden away from humans by magic”, as Izuku had thoughtfully explained one night as a thunderstorm raged on outside.

Old books smelling of age are scattered about, the large bookshelf barely able to contain them all.

Candles lit by a green flame surround a large wooden table, herbs such as chamomile, ginger, ginseng, valerian, lavender, and saffron are neatly placed by a bowl, wrapped in bundles. Clearly, he was going to try and make some more anti-depressant mixture for the prince again.

He was more of a naturalist when it came to the sick, unless worse came to worse.

He was essentially a glorified doctor who was far more knowledgeable on plants rather than bone structure and types of sickness.

He was a sweetheart who helped all he could.

Hell, he was even taken to some battles as a last defense.

Despite looking so innocent, with his baby fat still hugging his cheeks and freckles splattered all about, the definition of youth, he was quite powerful.

Scarily so.

You had heard hushed whispers from fellow servants about how he had taken down armies alone multiple times before, coming back with nothing but burns and a broken bone or two.

He was terrifying to those who didnt take a mere second to glance at him.

But those who did were greeted with nothing but a warm smile and the fleeting wave of a busy man.

It was a mystery how you had managed to capture his undivided attention, enough so that he had made you his, the plain-looking bracelet made from leather string holding an emerald sealed with magic signifying that.

You were untouchable.

Once gutted with fear, you walked the polished grounds of the castle freely.

After all, not even a King would so much as dare to harm witches beloved, lest he wanted to be burned alive by immortal flames and sent to the ninth level of hell.

A level solely made by strong users of the past, the ones who carved the road for witchery, having bent time itself to do so.

Truly terrifying how powerful they could be, but yet it was so mystifying.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent nights wide awake listening to him ramble about their history, about how they came to be and how they flourished.

They didn’t start off as human-like creatures, they started off as a ball of magical light in a land filled with nothing.

It was said that witches built the Earth from the ground up until greed overtook the lands and the humans overpopulated them.

And yet, they work harmoniously together.

Humans fearful of their power, and witches just naturally seeking to help people and continue their craft in harmony with all those who share the lands they grew from scratch.

 It truly was a peaceful existence they led, you couldn’t help but admire it.

Just like you always have.

Pulling the door shut, it locked behind you as you stepped over some paper with doodles, knowing better than to mess with his disorganized things without him in the room to see it.

Speaking of, you were asked here this evening, something about wanting to try out a new potion he had made.

He was always making new things, an inventor of sorts, but never one to have you as a test subject.

Of course, it piqued your curiosity and had you quickly cleaning up the mess you had made in the kitchen when the day was officially over just to get here as fast as you could.

The large window covered in vines holding a small couch beneath it glistened with the light of a crescent moon, casting the room lit with an array of colors in a cool glow.

Smoke from the candles blurred the light, only to collide with the wooden floor above them.

Humming, you grabbed an orb sitting on a side table,  holding it in the moonbeams so it would absorb its brightness. A candlestick of sorts made from magic. You weren’t going to risk going into complete darkness again.

He was obviously not in his work area, so he was probably upstairs.

And so, as quietly as you could, you crept up the old stairs, holding your breath and biting your lip whenever you came to a creaky step. You wanted to scare him, or at the very least surprise him

He was so easy to scare, and he always made the cutest of noises when you did it.

It was hard not to try everytime you were given the chance.

Once you made it to the top, fingers clasped tightly around the carved wooden railing, you looked around the darkened hallway, searching for the room he’s most likely to be in.

None of them had any lights on, which was eerily odd.

He never was much a fan of complete darkness.

It only raised questions as to if he wasn’t here yet, or if he was leaving you high and dry.

No, he would never do such a thing. Perhaps you’re early?

Chewing on your thumbnail, you stood dead at the top of the stairs, waiting for a sign that he was here.

“BOO!” 

“ARGGHH!” you shrieked, jumping away from the noise only to have your back slammed against the wall.

Horrified, you snapped your head to the direction of the noise, only to find a giddy Izuku covering his mouth with a leather-gloved hand, holding away his giggles.

Huffing, you placed a hand on your heart, ignoring the laughs that seeped out of him.

“Geeze, you scared me!” You chided, glaring up into his playful green eyes.

“Oh, like you weren’t trying to do the same to me just now.”

Laughing still, he bent down in front of you, offering you a hand to help you up.

Ever the gentleman.

Placing your palm into his own, he easily pulled you up to your feet, holding you against his muscular chest in a welcoming hug, to which you eagerly returned, arms wrapping around his slender waist.

Though you didn’t know the common body type of a witch, you had to admit, he was certainly buff. Not that you minded.

He could easily throw you over his broad shoulder, and you loved it.

Completely defenseless and vulnerable.

Oh, how sweet it was to trust fully in someone.

His foreign clothes were soaked in his familiar thick scent, the smell of the forest after it had just rained, dewdrops in the early morning sun, a hint of pine, and his own natural musk that always had your head spinning. He tends to travel the forests in the kingdom often, collecting natural herbs and stones he found interesting.

He had jars and jars of rocks and stones, sometimes cracking them open to reveal crystals tucked away inside. He’d always make little trinkets out of them, giving them to people he deemed as friends as a sign of gratitude. You only had one, made from the rarest crystal he had ever found, taaffeite. 

“So, why did you need me?” You mumbled against his chest, cheek rubbing against his familiar warmth.

“Firstly, I always need you.” The sap.

“Mhmm..” you hummed out, letting him pull away and grab your hand, taking the glowing orb and tossing it up and down as he led you down the corridor.

“Secondly,” he trailed off, leaving the orb to float in the air as he unlocked his bedroom door, pulling you inside.

“It’s a bit of a personal thing I can only trust you with testing.”

Smiling to yourself, you sat down on the edge of his large bed, running your fingers over the soft wool that made up his thick comforter.

Never one to use dead animal pelts.

“Is that so?” Your eyes naturally follow his being as he walks around the room, shuffling through different materials before snapping his fingers to light the stone fireplace off on the other side of the room, providing more light, as well as warmth, so he could see where he was going and not trip on the books scattered across the floor.

He didn’t like the windows in his bedroom open at night.

“Y-yes..” he stuttered, fumbling around with a few glass jars on his desk, muttering to himself as he examines the label on each one. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he turned back to you, proudly showing that he had found it before making his way back to the bed.

“What is that for?” Curious, your fingers brushed against the cool glass containing the shimmering magenta liquid as he sat beside you on the bed, mattress dipping enough from his weight that your sides knocked together.

“A few weeks ago, Shōto had asked a familiar question, if I possessed the ability to make every potion out there. Of course I- I can’t exactly, but I’ve enough skill to make some rather.. exotic potions. He questioned if I ever tried something different than just potions to heal the sick or offer beauty, and I haven’t. I don’t know why, but realizing that upset me. As if my skill set was limited to just some average joe healer,”

“Izuku..”

“So for a while now, I’ve been branching out. Trying different types of potions and having him as the tester.”

“Is that why he’s been acting different these days?”

“Precisely. I’m just lucky I haven’t gotten in trouble for turning him into a frog yet..” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head as you took the glass from him to ogle it.

“So what is this then?”

“Um..” Embarrassment was creeping up his neck and resting on his cheeks as he averted his shy eyes, “I have a hunch of what it might do. But.. secret?”

You pout at him, “Shouldn’t I know what this is?”

“You’ll know soon! I promise it won’t harm you, darling.” Leaning down, he pecks a kiss on your cheek, large arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into a side hug.

Taking the glass from your hands, he pulled the cork out, glittery, pink mist floating out like smoke from a blown-out candle.

“So, what do you say? Will you try it?” It was almost as if he was giving you no option other than yes with those big puppy eyes of his staring into your soul.

Licking your lips, an action his eyes followed, you gulped the nervousness away.

What had you to fear? This was Izuku after all. Had he ever done you harm? Absolutely not.

You had no reason not to trust the man who held your heart.

“Alright.”

Joy lit up his face, smiling so widely his eyes crinkled.

Huffing out a laugh, you took the bottle from him again, curiously sniffing its fragrance.

“Chocolate and.. maca?” The scent was certainly familiarly tasty, having worked with the foods before, being a baker. Judging how the liquid didn’t resemble them at all, it was off-putting. How had he managed to trap such a delicate smell inside?

“Mhm! That’s right! Apparently, when made, the potion takes on a heavenly smell. Most are usually bitter.”

“Ahh..” Trailing off you eyed it up one last time before finally bringing it to your lips, a shiver running down your spine at just how cold the glass still was, despite being in a warm room.

Tilting the glass up, the liquid glimmering in the light of the fire traveled down the shoot, pouring into your awaiting mouth, feeling as if you were swallowing a runny syrup.

It had the slightest hint of sugar and cinnamon to its flavor, but nothing else. How odd.

Gulping it all down just to get it over with, your eyes that unknowingly closed fluttered open as he pulled the glass away.

Feeling perfectly fine, you stared up at him with confusion, about to speak before his lips cut you off, tongue poking out to lick the renaming liquid from the corner of your mouth.

The clink of the bottle being set down echoed around the room before his gloved palm delicately cupped your cheek, tilting your head as to deepen the kiss.

His tongue eagerly explored the wet cavern of your mouth, as if he was drinking the little essence from his own creation left over.

Pulling away with a wet pop, his forehead rested against yours, mesmerizing green eyes staring softly into your own, waiting.

Waiting for what was what you didn’t know, perhaps for the potion to take effect.

You were eager to find out just what it was, but you had a semblance of a guess considering the position you found yourself in.

“How do you feel?” he whispered breathlessly against your parted lips.

Just as you were about to reply, your words got caught in your throat as your body began to heat up in a familiar way.

“I..” You pant, grip on his cotton shirt tightening as your gut suddenly twisted with a burning need for HIM.

Your (E/C) eyes glaze over with lust in front of his own, pupils dilating as your body began to shake, whimpers escaping your throat.

Thighs rubbing together to offer friction you didn’t know you desperately craved until now, you looked at him helplessly, so close to falling apart if it weren’t for his large hand on the small of your back holding you close to his steady figure.

“I-I feel hot.. Izuku..”

You whined, chewing at your lip as you wiggled beneath his excited stare.

“Good.”

Suddenly, his lips connected with yours once more, drawing a stuttered moan from your throat at the contact you unknowingly began to crave more and more as your lips connected again and again.

You clung to him like a koala, kissing him fervently like you would never be able to again, desperate to have his undivided attention.

Hands sliding to your hips, he pulled you onto his lap, legs hugging his own as hot breaths mingled together with the wet sound of kisses.

“Ah..!” You squeaked against him, your hips involuntarily grinding down onto his crotch, greedily searching for the pleasure your body desperately craved.

“M-mmm.. Izu.. I-” Your apology was cut off with a nip to your neck, “Don’t apologize,” he scolded. Grip still on your hips, he pulled you down rougher against his hardening dick, his hips thrusting up to meet your own, eliciting a sharp cry from your being as your head threw back at the sudden pressure where you craved it most.

He was quick to chase your lips, dragging you back into your heated makeout, swallowing every moan you let out as you both humped each other like horny dogs, the eagerness from him only adding to the pool of moisture leaking out of your body.

The button on his trousers was rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit, making your hips stutter every so often as you fought to maintain that hard surface.

Saliva began to drip down the side of your mouth from the intense kissing, but you hadn’t a care in the world.

No, your mind was too fogged to even think about it.

All you craved was him.

Him.

Him.

You yearned for him like he’d been gone a decade, and your body acted on it in a way you were typically shy about.

Biting your lip, he pulled away from the kiss, dragging a whine of protest from you before he hushes you by licking the outer shell of your ear, breath fanning across it only adding to the tingles of excitement shooting down your arched spine. “Hush,” he commanded, and as if you couldn’t disobey him, your words of protest died on your tongue, leaving only a parted mouth and heavy breaths.

Licking down the column of your neck, nose brushing against you, he searched for that familiar sweet spot on you, teeth grazing your flesh.

Still grinding on his hard cock covered by pants, a wet spot no doubt leaking past the underwear you wore beneath your hiked up skirt and onto him, you gasp once he found the place he was looking for.

Smirking, he nibble gently, holding you still as you began to wiggle once more.

Your head tilted to the side to give him more room as he sucked on your skin, teeth repeatedly nibbling at your sensitive flesh. Biting down harshly, you cried out with pain and pleasure, hips grinding down so hard onto him he groaned, the vibration making your heart jump in your throat.

“A-ahh… hnng.!” Moans poured salaciously past your thoroughly kissed lips, holding onto him for dear life as he controlled your being with every fiber of his own.

A button on your blouse popped open, and your foggy gaze traveled down just to see his fingers expertly undoing each one without looking, letting your bare breasts bounce out above your corset.

Not giving you a second to cover yourself out of embarrassment, his large hand cupped one of your tits, massaging it gently just to feel the soft flesh as your chin rested against his grounding shoulder, small moans now directly in his awaiting ear.

“You’re such a good girl, (Y/N).” He praised, eyes filled with nothing but love as he got to watch your unusually heated body search for the pleasure it craved.

You were usually so shy in bed, but with this potion pumping through your veins, he hoped it’d help give you the confidence boost you needed.

Though, that wasn’t the only thing it did.

He was filled with anticipation, if his throbbing member was anything to go by.

Thumb circling around your cute, perky nipple, he took the bud between his thumb and forefinger, pulling gently and rolling it between them, dragging high pitched whines from you.

You couldn’t help but pull away from him again, body constantly shifting from the delicious pleasure you were being given.

Fully pulling your blouse off, he left your chest completely bare, giving him the chance to dip his head down and latch onto the opposite nipple, lathering it in attention with his warm muscle, sucking softly and continuously rolling your other nipple with his hand.

It left you craving more, fingers threading through his messy green curls, pulling as to not lose yourself, only eliciting yet another deep groan that vibrated on your skin.

Feeling yourself slowly start to come undone, you desperately ground against him, pants becoming high pitched and moans being louder.

He could tell you were getting close, and from grinding alone no less, it made him feel so damn good to know he could get you to come purely from grinding.

But he didn’t want you to cum like this.

Certainly not.

And so, he fell back on his back dragging you with him as his lips found yours again.

Gripping at the hem of your skirt, he yanked it down, pulling it off your legs. Using a little handy magic, he effortlessly pulled your own shoes off, already working your underwear down your quivering thighs, eyes zeroed in on the drip of wetness attaching your core to them for a split second before they were across the other side of the room.

Corsets were always his worst nightmare.

He couldnt think too clearly to untie the knot in the back as your now bare crotch rubbed against his own, so without thinking, he ripped it off, the bare display of strength having you keening against him.

“Princess,” he whispered against your lips, dragging your hips upwards, “please, sit on my face.”

How vulgar of him to say, with a smile no less, but nonetheless it scent a throb of want to your stomach, and you found yourself, once again, unable to disobey him.

Your body burned red from embarrassment as you crawled up his own still fully clothed one, but you weren’t given the chance to dwell on it before he moved your hips directly over his face, tongue poking out to lap at your dripping folds.

“Gaah..!” You cried, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him as your hips once again helplessly sought the pleasure you craved, unafraid to press down against him.

Your juices tasted so sweet, he eagerly lapped at you like a dog deprived of water.

He had to hold you still against his face, drinking in the image of your breasts jiggling like jelly with every shuttered breath you took, head flung back and eyes shut tight as you focused purely on the way the flat of his tongue licked you up like a sugary treat.

He couldn’t help but occasionally press a kiss against your sobbing flesh, teasingly avoiding your clit begging for attention each time you moved against his mouth.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room, only sending his mind into a state of hunger, wanting to drag every noise out of you he could, along with the loud licking that caused your essence to drip down his chin.

His aching cock was straining against the flimsy button of his pants, desperate to be released and buried deep inside your soul-sucking pussy again.

Tongue dipping inside you and lips pressing against your sensitive, pink labia, he ate you out with earnest, squeezing your hips tightly with his fingers as he fought to control himself from shoving you to the blankets and fucking you raw without finishing his dessert first.

A choked sob tore from your throat with his lips finally encased your puffy clit, the tip of his tongue tracing around the bundle of nerves before flattening his tongue against it.

Your hips bucked involuntarily against his face, pressing him harder against you just so you could cry out his name like a sinful prayer.

His heart was full of love for you as he observed your reaction did everything blissful he did.

You were in heaven, walking on clouds as wet squelches from your own body surrounded your ears.

“Z-Zuku..!” You cried as he sucked on your clit like candy, enjoying the rough treatment. The tip of his tongue traced his name possessively over your button, marking you as his forevermore, silently vowing to never let another man do the same.

“I-I’m close..!” You cried, tears of pleasure falling down your flushed cheeks, dripping onto the thighs squeezing his head like warm earmuffs.

He hummed against you, dragging his tongue across the expanse of your womanhood before enclosing around your clit again, lathering it in the attention you needed to be pulled over the edge.

Your thighs clenched around his head, his hair tickling you, body stilling as you screamed out in pleasure, back arching and giving him a lovely view of your demise.

You came on his tongue, the stimulation he gave you throughout your orgasm sending you higher and higher in that clouded head of yours.

When you finally came down and slumped forward, catching your breath, he licked up the mess you made, pulling away from your lower lips and running a tongue over his own to greedily savor your delectable taste.

Placing you off to the side, giving you a second to calm down,, he hurriedly shuffled out of his clothing, throwing his cloak, gloves, and various other things on his person to the floor, kicking his boots off that landed with a heavy thump, leaving his underwear on as he crawled over on top of you.

Dazed, you stared deliriously up at him, a bashful smile on your lips, watching as he wipes your juices away with the back of his wrist before licking it clean. He was so sinful and messy.

The warm fire crackling in the corner hugged at his soft skin, making his eyes blown wide with lost twinkle like starlight. He looked so in love as he stared at you as if you were the only person in the world.

Breathing heavily, you reached out for him, and he was happy to lean in so you could wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the shorter curls at his nape as he kissed you again, your taste still on his tongue as your tongues intertwined. You weakly fought against his intrusion, teasing, only for him to grab a handful of your ass, making you gasp and effectively losing the battle.

He flooded your being with everything he had, his scent, his love, his passion, adoration, everything.

His knowledge on your own sexual human anatomy astounded you, but always left you moaning against him, much to his utter pleasure.

His thumb circled your twitching clit, bringing your attention back to his actions and the way you clenched helplessly around thin air, waiting for him.

You hungrily eyed the bulge in his underwear, licking your lips at the spot of wetness where his dripping head was.

You wanted to feel him inside you again, to clench around the very thing that drove you insane other than his skillful touch.

“P-please..” You begged, detaching yourself from him, pleading for mercy under his sharp gaze as he soaked up your wrecked self.

He loved hearing you beg.

“Please what?” he drawled out, running his lips down the side of your face and neck, pressing kisses against your collarbone. Moving his thumb previously giving you what you desire to your thighs, he held them in his grasp just to feel your smooth, warm skin against his rough, scarred palms.

You whined, shimmying your hips to draw his attention to them. He ignored your advances, peering up at your face with a glare and crooked smile that shot sparks down your body, “Tell me.” 

As if on cue, and unable to disobey his words that squeezed your heart, you sputtered a response, barely able to maintain eye contact, “P-please touch me..! M-more.. I, I need more, please! I want..” your breath was stolen from your lungs as he began to grind his clothed crotch against your wet core, “I want you! I w-want you to fuck me, please..! I- I can’t take it anymore.. Please, Izuku..!” More tears fell from your eyes, falling onto the mattress below you, “Please fuck me..!”

Happy with your response,  but still not quite ready to give in, he pulled away, circling your clenching hole with his middle finger, watching as your head flew back with tears as you meekly thrust upwards.

As much as he wanted to pull himself out right now and fuck you until his bed broke from the sheer force, he couldn’t risk hurting you.

Even if the potion was designed to make you ready for everything sexual, willing to comply with his every demand, you still were his princess, his angel, and he was going to treat you like one.

He didn't want you to wake with the soreness of not being properly prepared, even if he could heal you a minute after. That minute of you crying from the pain that HE selfishly caused would always be stabbed into his heart, and he certainly didn't want that, nor you to experience it.

“Sorry, love..” he apologized, finally plunging his thick finger inside you after thoroughly coating it with your slick, moaning at how tight you were for him. 

“Fuck..” he whispered under his breath, keeping your thighs splayed wide open as he sat back on his haunches to watch you react to him.

Your back was arched, begging for more as you gripped the sheets below you, cheek pressed against the mattress as low moans trickled out your sinful mouth like water.

Face hot, a boyish smile fell on his face as he added another finger, observing how you hotly throw your head back as he pressed against the spongy spot inside your walls.

“Aaahh..! T-there! R-right there..!”

“I know, darling, shh, shhh.” He cooed at you, curling his fingers against your G-spot with each thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. His fingers made wet clicks inside of you as they rubbed against your walls, dragging more and more moans out of you as you ground down on his large digits.

His eyes couldn’t leave the view of you sucking him back in every time he pulled his fingers out, it left him imagining more and more scenarios in his head.

God, how he wanted to destroy you.

Have you screaming his name so loudly you broke the sound barrier he had set up ages ago, letting all of the castle and its snobby guards know he was fucking the love of his life and doing it damn well.

He bet they would be jealous.

Those thoughts of it made his adrenaline spike, adding a third finger to the squelching party mixing your insides up, leaving you at their utter disposal.

Arousal poured from you like a steady stream, gushing down and leaving a wet puddle under your ass.

You were so wet for him it was hard to bear, but you felt so, so good.

Your mind was so muddled with lust, you couldn’t think straight, all that entered your mind was ‘more, more, more.’ 

You were being greedy, but you couldn’t help it.

Deciding you were prepped enough, his fingers pulled fully out of you, putting on a small display of licking them clean as you watched with wide, doe eyes, stuttering out about how dirty that was.

“More dirty than you using my face as a seat, my lady?” He teased, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

“T-thats..”

He chuckles at your flustered response.

Pulling his underwear down, his cock slaps against his toned stomach, fully erect and dripping with precum.

Throwing them off to the side, he noticed the way your eyes greedily looked at his body, confidence burning his veins as he sees the impatience in your eyes as you stare at his member.

He was tempted to say, ‘like what you see?’ but he himself was far too eager and impatient to wait any longer.

Grabbing himself, he ran his thickness between your lips, gathering your arousal on him before leading himself to your entrance.

“Ready?” He asked whilst kissing the skin below your ear.

You nodded, hips wiggling in anticipation.

“A-ahh! Fuck!” You cried out as he fully sheathed himself inside you with one thrust, bottoming out immediately.

He bit at your skin, concealing the deep moan that rumbled in his chest as you strangled his weeping dick at last.

You were so intoxicating, you sweet aroma wafting off you with every breath.

Grinding himself inside of you, he waited patiently for you to adjust, leaving hickeys all over your skin with each passing second.

Gulping down air, you thrust upwards, dragging him out of his blissed-out state just to moan heavenly deeply in your ear.

“Naughty girl..” he seethed, making you giggle, only to be shut up as he pulled out and slammed his hips back into your own, drawing out a garbled moan.

Skin slapped wetly against skin with each rough thrust he relentlessly delivered, drinking up your cries for more.

Leaning back to watch you with hungry, dark green eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. He pinned your arms to the bed above your head, a punishment for catching him off guard.

His cock was truly a godsend, thick and long, curved upwards just to slam repeatedly into your soft g-spot over and over.

You could only hold on for dear life as he fucked you good and hard just like you wanted, just like you craved.

“O-Ohh!!! Izu!! Izuku-! Ahh.! F-fuck..!” You moaned with each thrust inside your wet self, body being pushed back from the sheer intensity of which he fucked you with.

He knew your body so well by now, he knew each and every way to make you fall apart by his own doing.

He knew how to break you in the most sinful way possible, and he loved it.

Your face was lewdly contorted with pleasure, eyes looking back, eyebrows pinched together, (H/C) baby hairs plastered to your sweaty forehead, and mouth gaping wide open so he could hear every slur of words and every noise you emitted.

He wanted to hear everything you had to say, every reaction to the way he fucked you.

He could feel you growing tighter around his throbbing cock, juices coating his thighs with each heavy thrust inside of you.

He loved how much he could turn you on, even if right now it was all thanks to the potion that added pink hearts to your innocent (E/C) eyes.

The same potion that had you openly moaning unashamedly, whereas you previously would have held them in by biting your lip and hands.

He was so happy to hear how good he made you feel.

At long last.

“(Y/N)..” he panted heavily, peering deeply into your glossy eyes, movements becoming more and more sloppy as he lost himself to the pleasure, a burning pressure building up in his gut with each shallow and deep thrust.

Falling down on top of you, he held you close to him, letting your arms go so you could dig your nails into the flesh of his toned, freckled back flexing with each movement.

The bed banged loudly against the wall, he momentarily worried it would leave a dent- but he couldn’t think about that now. Not when you were crying out his name so sweetly.

“I’m here, I’m here..” he soothed as you clung to him.

Your hips began to move in circles, drugging him with intense ecstasy as he thrusts into you. You kept him wanting more and more. He was addicted to you. 

Pushing your legs back against the mattress, he reached so deep inside you, you swore you could feel his head kissing at your womb. 

You were so helpless to the waves of infinite pleasure he washed you over with that all you could do was take it.

“You’re doing so.. hah… so good, baby..” he praised breathlessly.

“Gnnn! Gaahhah..! Izuku!!”

“Let me hear it.. let me hear you, princess.” He smiled against your skin as you let out an onslaught of sultry moans, fueling his inner fire.

“I’m..! I- gwaahhh..! I’m so c-close..!”

“Me too, me too..” He fervently pressed kisses to your cheek, letting his other hand travel down to coat his thumb in your spare wetness, just to rub circles on your puffy clit, applying the right amount of pressure that always drove you insane.

Drool dribbled down the side of your mouth as your tongue flopped out, breasts bouncing with each and every thrust, constantly captivating him as he could feel their softness against his pecs.

Holding you flushed against him, he let magic crackle to life on his hand, green sparks lighting up the area around the two of you just barely. His hand began to vibrate, magic he learned was good for massaging muscles, but of course, it had.. other uses..

The vibration against your clit, added to the pounding of his cock expertly slamming against your G-spot, sent your head flying back, white vision going black as your pussy strangled his cock like a python.

“Haaahh.! Aah!” You cried his name out so loudly it burned your throat, leaving you to cum harshly on his dick, the strange sensation of liquid squirting from your body making your mind go numb as all you were left with was burning hot stars in your eyes.

The display alone was enough to drag him over the edge as well, slamming his cock into you once more before warm ropes of cum spurted into you, completely coating your walls and spewing out from the sheer amount as he let out a silent moan.

His thighs twitched and his stomach felt empty when he finally came down from his high, the same time as you.

Love filled his gaze as you both peered into each other’s eyes, enraptured by the souls sealed within.

Heavy breaths blew past your lips, desperate to calm down your racing heart.

“How was it..?” He questioned lightly, moving hair out of your face so he could get a better look.

“How was… what..?” Your mind was still clouded. You hadn’t any idea how he could still think straight.

Giggling, he rubbed his nose lovingly against your own. 

“The potion. Could you feel its effects..?”

Staring at him in bewilderment, it took a second to register his words. 

The potion.. what had it done again..?

Oh..

You slapped a hand over your mouth, pulling away from him. “Oh gosh..!” 

You were so embarrassed! 

Gah, to be so loud!! You wanted to hide in a hole..!

“Don't be shy, my love,” He pleaded sweetly, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead, “it’s just me.”

“That's the point!! I-it was embarrassing to- to be so.. lewd in f-front of you…”

“You say that, and yet I’m still deep inside you,”

“Izuku..!” You groaned, shoving his smiling face away with both hands, only for him to grab your hands and place gentle kisses on them.

“I.. I liked hearing you..” he flushed, bashfully looking away.

Though he could be quite the dominant man in bed, it was always endearing how he was still the shy witch you fell in love with at the end of the day.

“W-well I..” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “Well I’ll be louder for now o-on then..!” Your declaration surprised him, shock resting on his features before he broke out in another smile, flopping on top of your sweaty body just to hug you to his own equally as sweaty body.

“I love you, (Y/N)..” he sighed blissfully, burying his nose in your hair as he cuddled you, the crackling of the blazing fire just now reaching his ears.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

Though he could be a handful at times, with his insistent drive to be better and push himself beyond his current limits, as well as running headfirst into danger and getting littered with scars, you still loved him.

You always would.

He was your kind witch, and you, his darling beloved.

And nothing would ever get between a witch and the one he called his.

.

..

…

….

“So, are you going to pull out? I feel a little messy.”

“In a minute..”

“Izu!”

[tmngoose]

Some Assembly Required: a Rottmnt story

Remember this post? Well, I decided to clean up what I had and show it to y’all. This was supposed to be a much longer story, but back when I was writing it, I jumped ship for a different fic I was working on and never came back OTL Characters: Donnie, Mikey, Raph, Leo, April, Shelldon, Draxum, Huginn & Muninn (albeit super brief) Tags: Lab accidents, fires, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, obscure UHF reference I won’t be uploading this to Ao3, so you can read it under the cut :U

For the longest time, Donnie dreamed of the perfect lab partner. Though Shelldon was an impeccable assistant, there were moments where Donnie longed to work side-by-side with another scientist. Someone with a thirst for knowledge! Someone who shared his passion for all things technical and methodical; a scientist, just like he considered himself to be! 

To think Baron Draxum would be Donnie's long-awaited lab partner was not a scenario the Softshell had ever fathomed. Still, it was one he accepted with great enthusiasm. 

Draxum and Donnie saw no reason to doubt their capabilities. However, the rest of the family remained wary whenever the two of them went off meddling in the lab. With April's help, Raph, Leo, and Mikey devised a strict set of guidelines to ensure Donnie and Draxum wouldn't get into too much trouble. 

"Scoff!" Donnie threw the hefty packet of rules down at his feet, offended. "What do you take us for: a pair of unhinged Frankensteins? Y'know, it'd be nice if, just for once, you guys would have a little faith in our scientific endeavors!" 

"It's not that we don't trust you guys," April explained, "It's just... you guys tend to get a little carried away with your projects, that's all!" 

"What's that suppose to mean?" 

"The last time Barry was in a lab, he created the Oozesquitos," April folded her arms, "And don't get me started about the time you messed with your brother's brains."

"Okay! I get it!" Donnie sighed. He picked up the packet of rules and flapped the dust out from its pages. "We won't get carried away: Todd scout's honor." 

April smiled, "Thanks, Dee." 

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, Draxum and I were just about to partake in our latest  scientific acquisition: Professor Philo's Chemistry Set for the At-Home Scientist!" Donnie started off for his lab, tucking the packet into a compartment in his battle-shell.

April shook her head, smiling as she headed inside the living room, where the sounds of 8-bit gaming welcomed her. Raph and Mikey were too invested in whatever racing game they were playing to notice April. 

"Soo, how'd it go?" Leo asked from his beanbag chair. "Is Donnie mad that we're afraid he'll bring Potatozilla into existence or what?"

"I say he handled it pretty well!" April plopped herself down in the recliner. "I told Donnie that we just wanted to make sure he and Draxum toned it down a bit, that's all." 

"See? I told you he'd listen to April!" Mikey grinned smugly at Leo.

Leo rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He went back to scrolling his social feed on his phone, "I'll believe it when they don't create a giant mutant potato or somethin'."

"Be nice, Leo," April swung her legs over the armrest. "We've gotta have a little faith in 'em. Besides, I've never seen Donnie this happy since-" 

KA-BOOOOOOM!!!

A powerful tremor shook the lair, taking everyone by surprise. The trinkets Splinter's 'Do Not Touch' cabinet rattled and shook, a few of the lighter items clattered to the floor. April held onto the armchair with Raph steadying it before it could topple over backward. Mikey hid inside of his shell out of reflex as Leo jumped to his feet, prepared to face whatever threat was upon them.

"Omigosh!" Mikey exclaimed, popping his head out of his shell. "What was that?!" 

"You don't think DIGG's tryin' to take down the Kaufman Coliseum again?" Raph frowned, trying to rub the ringing out from his ears. 

"Um, guys?" Leo sniffed the air, "Does anyone else smell something burning, or is that Raph's 'Taken-By-Surprise' stink?" 

Raph sniffed at his underarm, "Nope. It's not me!" 

April and Mikey took a moment to smell the air, their noses wrinkled at the familiar acrid odor of smoke. 

And smoke could only mean one thing: something was on fire. 

Oh no! Donnie! Barry! April's stomach dropped over the thought. She bolted out of the living room with Raph, Leo, and Mikey right behind her. "Please let it be a giant mutant potato!" 

It wasn't a giant mutant potato. 

By the time they entered the atrium, a thick cloud of smoke had spilled out from the mouth of Donnie's lab, billowing up into the rafters above. Although they couldn't see it, they could hear the fire roaring from deep within the lab.

"Mad Dogz!" Raph barked, "Initiate ‘Fire Safety Plan Alpha!’"  “FSssPAH!” Mikey pronounced the acronym from the back of the group.

But before Raph could lead the rescue, Draxum leaped out from the smoke carrying Donnie in his arms; their matching lab coats singed. Shelldon flew out, not too far behind, with Huginn and Munnin holding onto his back. 

"Barry!" April ran up to the soot-stained alchemist. "What happened?! I thought y'all we're gonna take things easy? Didn’t y’all read the packet?!" 

"We were," Draxum rasped, passing Donnie's limp body into Raph's arms. "If it weren't for a pair of idle hands." He gave his gargoyles a sharp look while removing the safety goggles from his face, leaving clean rings around his eyes.

Munnin's wings sagged, "The instructions weren't joking when it said 'everything in this chemistry set is a fire hazard.'"

"Yeah, including the instructions," Huginn hung his head, "Our bad."

"So, how're we suppose to handle this whole situation?" Leo asked, gesturing to the raging inferno that was (formally) Donnie's lab.

"I'm on it, dudes!" Shelldon replied, concentrating on his emergency protocols hardwired into his drives.

The fire-alarm system blared to life. Then came the hissing of the sprinklers going off and the gush of extinguishing foam spraying deep within the lab. Slowly, the smoke was beginning to ease up, much to everyone's relief.

Slowly, Donnie began to stir, groaning as he slowly regained consciousness, "Ugh... what? M-my lab..." His confusion morphed into panic as he realized the severity of the situation. "My lab!!" He squirmed feebly in Raph's arms, mortified.

"Woah, take it easy," Raph held Donnie against him, firm enough to subdue him yet careful not to hurt him. "That chemistry set of yours nearly got you guys barbequed." 

Donnie frowned, "No, you don't understand!" His eyes stung with tears as he thought of his life's work gone in a blaze of unsupervised stupidity. "Everything's ruined!"

"Hey, you don't know that for sure!" April gently touched Donnie's shoulder. "Besides, what's important is you're both okay!" 

"April's right," Mikey agreed, clinging to Draxum's side, "We're glad y'all made it out safely. A little flambéed, but you get the idea."

"But my lab," Donnie emphasized. 

"Lab shmab, we can worry about that later!" Leo nudged Draxum with his elbow. "For now, let's focus on getting you toasted marshmallows taken care of."

"Yeah, what Leo said!" Raph adjusted Donnie in his arms, heading for the bathroom where the first aid kit was kept. "Just you wait; maybe it's not as bad as you think!"

                                                            -x-

Raph's sense of judgment was always a mixed bag, and this time, he couldn't have been farther from the truth. 

The lab was a smoldering mess, virtually unrecognizable to the Turtles, Draxum, and April. The walls were blackened, and the smell of burnt wiring and computer parts hung sourly in the air. Puddles of foam and water gathered in parts of the floor, adding to the disarray.

Donnie searched desperately for anything salvageable, but the prospects were slim to none. The bandaged Softshell approached the remnants of his workstation, absolutely gutted. He reached for what was once a prototype for a new battle shell, but it crumbled into ash in his hands. 

"Alas, this must've been what it felt like to lose the Library of Alexandria," Donnie mourned poetically, sinking to his knees. Shelldon drifted up to his heartbroken creator, pressing his head against Donnie's side like the loyal drone he was.

"Okaaayyy, so it's a little charbroiled in here," Leo cringed. "But if anyone can fix this, it's you!" 

"Do you have any idea how long that'll take me?" Donnie moaned, overwhelmed by the daunting task. "It took me years of refurbishing junk and computer parts, and now I have nothing! Zilch! Nada! No equipment, no materials, no anything!"

Donnie's outburst left the others speechless. They had seen him upset before, but nothing to this extent. 

Quietly, Draxum approached Donatello, "As someone who has lost their life's work twice, I understand your plight," he said, joining the turtle on the floor. "However, unlike myself, you are fortunate not to face this endeavor alone. You have your friends, your brothers, and... your lab partner," Draxum looked off to the side, somewhat flustered by the sentimental mushiness his words implied. 

"Draxibald's right, Donnie!" Mikey beamed. He was so proud of Barry for stepping up to the plate. He popped up in between them, slinging his arms over their shoulders, "You've got us to help you! We'll have your lab up and running in no time!"

Leo smiled, "Yeah, with you bossing us around, we can totally get the job done!"

"But a total rebuild of this scope requires a certain level of technological sophistication!" Donnie deflated, "So unless you know of any tech-savvy geniuses out there, I don't see how any of this is possible."

"Oh, I know a guy," April answered, "And I'm lookin' right at him~" She smiled at Donnie, who didn't know how to process the compliment. "Have a little faith in yourself, Dee!"  Donnie blinked, stunned that his own words were used against him.

"Yeah, you said so yourself!” Raph joined in, “You and that big brain of yours built this lab out of nothin' but junk! If there's anyone who can build back better than ever, it's you! So whaddya say, Don?"

Donnie looked at Raph's hand extended out to him. He then glanced over at Leo, Mikey, and April, all eagerly awaiting his response. He turned to Draxum, who gave a curt nod.

Touched by the support of his family, Donnie wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye, "I say let's order some pizzas and chop-chop! Rome wasn't built in a day, people! We've got our work cut out for us!"  He took Raph’s hand and was lifted up from the ground.  Yes, Donnie supposed he could have a little faith in himself, and everyone else as well.

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay part 21: Trouble in paradise

Summary: Raph encounters a friend

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @ilo-artistry @dakotafinely

Content warning (more severe warnings will be colored red so triggers can be avoided while reading) - swears, violence, blood, capitals/bold, passing mention of r*pe, mentions of lynching, mentions of Murder, mentions of violence involving a child

It was Raphael’s decision to split the team into thirds. Three patrols, split evenly between teams of two. They could get the patrol done three times as fast as they could otherwise, even if not everyone was happy with who they were paired with. Raph had been hoping to get paired with Raphael or Michelangelo— hell, he would have even been happy with the younger, weirder theatre version on Donnie! The only one he didn't want to get paired with was the one he was paired with: Leonardo. He didn't have anything against the kid but, to put it bluntly, he was pissed. Pissed that his Mikey was hurt and pissed there was nothing he could do about it and pissed he would get stuck with someone so much like his Mikey when he just wanted to blow off some steam. How could he be mad when every time he looked at Leonardo all he saw was his baby brother that couldn’t come with them? The one he had left back at the lair?

Leonardo seemed just as thrilled to be paired with Raph. Though in front of the team he had put up a wall of excitement, that wall ebbed away the moment he and Raph were off on their own with no one else around to witness them. With no other authority in sight, they could do whatever they wanted! And Leonardo knew exactly what he wanted.

Raph almost didn't stop in time when Leonardo stood abruptly in front of him, nearly colliding with the several-feet smaller slider. Neither spoke, Raph biting his lip and expecting the one who had stopped him to say something while Leonardo seemed content in drawing out the whole awkward encounter as long as possible.

“Ssssomething I can help you with?” Raph prompted finally.

“Let’s cut the shit.” Said Leonardo, and Raph winced at the swear that felt wrong coming from someone like Leonardo. “You don’t want to be here with me, that much is obvious.”

“It’s not—“

“Buh-buh-buh!” Leonardo waggled a finger, “Let me finish.”

Raph grumbled, wishing he could just reach out and snap that annoying, wagging finger, but he motioned for Leonardo to carry on.

“I don’t want to be here with you either.” Leonardo said, and then he motioned to the lack of others. “No one is here forcing us to be together. We have an hour before we have to meet back with the others, and we can do whatever we want with that hour. We don’t have to be together.”

“You’re saying…?” Raph didn't want to assume even when he was almost certain of what Leonardo met. Better safe than sorry, especially with a Leo.

“You go do your thing, I go do my thing, and neither of us talk about this again.”

Raph’s head tilted, jaw tightening, as he tried to make some sense of Leonardo’s still and confident expression. It certainly reminded him of his Leo in many ways, even if it looked strange on a face so much younger. This seemed like something his Leo might do too; there were a lot of ways they were similar, even if it was only now just coming to Raph’s attention. The way Leonardo stood, and the way he raised his eye bridge in a ‘what are you gonna do’ manner. The way he snorted a sharp breath out his nose when Raph took too long answering.

Raph decided not to risk any more delay. Hoping he wouldn’t regret this, Raph brought his hand to swipe at his jaw just to distract himself.

“Yeah. Right. Sounds good.”

“Sounds good.” Leonardo echoed with a nod, eyes still watching, always watching.

“But just uh. Just one thing first.” Raph said, raising a finger. “What do you have to do that’s so damned important?”

Leonardo didn't like that; it was written all over his face. “I could ask you the same question.”

Raph swore internally. This was a godsend— an opportunity to get away— and he really hoped he hadn’t just ruined his chances. This was a good thing, and who was he to question what Leonardo wanted to do when he wasn’t willing to tell the same? It wasn’t anything bad, just blowing off some steam! And only on people who deserved it! Just because Leo insisted they not get involved in petty robberies, that they avoid being seen, didn't mean Raph couldn’t help some poor bloke caught down in the wrong alley.

“Fine.” Raph made his decision. “I won’t ask if you won’t ask.”

“And I won’t.” Leonardo tossed his arms in the air, lowered his chin, and backed slowly until he was standing right on the edge of the building, “Meet back here in an hour, and don’t be late.”

Leonardo fell backward. Raph was expecting such antics, but when it happened he couldn’t help but rush to the edge of the building to look— to watch as Leonardo plummeted quickly toward the streets below, making no effort to stop or slow, almost as if he was reclining on the air. At the very last moment he swiped his odachi and was gone in a flash of blue.

Raph let himself breathe. He doubted he would ever get used to that. He was alone now, free to do whatever he wanted. And he knew exactly what he wanted.

~~~

These streets, these dark New York streets, were filled with just the type of scum Cassandra Jones hunted on the nightly. The type who’d rob a man and leave him with a knife in the gut. The type who’d rip a woman’s dress to ribbons while her screams of help went unheard, for who would help woman who screamed rape? No one would. But if they screamed fire? Well, help would be right on the way then. These were the types that would whine about their tires being slashed, and in that same breath slash the throat of another. Cruel. Thoughtlessly violent. At least when Cassandra had those violent events, hers were justified! Not just cruelty for cruelty sake.

These men she had been tracking deserved every ounce of fury they had coming. Cowardly people who came in the night, stole what was hers. Burned down the one good thing she’d had ever. When she was in the Foot Clan, she had grown used to not having anything of her own. Her room, her food, even her clothes were shared between all of the clan as a unit. No one had property of their own, and she had never even considered such a thing as private possession until she had gotten out. Until she had worked and toiled and slaved and bought a place of her own, a bakery— a business! Just for it to be burned to the ground because of who she was, and who her friends were. She couldn’t let that stand. She couldn’t let them get away with it, and she wouldn’t.

She found them.

They didn't see it coming. How could they? Cassandra’s outfit was the most unassuming black hoodie, skin-tight black leggings clinging tight to her form. Black gloves, black combat boots, black everything! Except for her mask. Her favorite, custom hockey mask. If one were to have nothing more than a quick glance at her, a figure moving in the nights shadows, they might assume the being was nothing more than a floating demon's face come to punish their sine or else drag them to the pits of inferno forever. Everything about the mask was Cassandra’s own: the piercing yellow paint, the red-streaking adornments like blood across the helm, and with two horns tipped red. There were red circles around the eye-holes too, and fangs painted on around the mouth, pulling her appearance into a permanent state of anger.

SLASH went her naginata, making contact with the first goon. Like a geyser came blood from the wound, and in that same moment it alerted the rest of the gang of Cassandra’s presence. She didn't care; stealth was hardly her specialty, and even if it was these guys had nothing on her. They may have grown up on the streets, but she owned the streets, and she was furious! Not even a bull rhino could stop her charge.

“HOLY FUCK!” Yelled the lead goon upon firing his gun. He missed; he was an awful shot.

Cassandra fell into a ninja run, arms stuck out behind her as she all but teleported to the lead goon, bringing the shaft of her naginata swinging for an abdomen shot. A sharp crack, and a gasp. Blood spilling from his mouth. He stumbled, and he fell back with nothing but the trash to cushion his fall. That face. Cassandra recognized that face from somewhere.

A knife slashed through the air and through Cassandra’s momentary stupor. Cassandra reached back, locking her wrist into the attacker's wrist. She gained leverage on him— who, after all, would expect someone so small to have such strength?— and she swung his blade-wielding arm right back around until it pierced through the soft flesh of his side. He screamed, and he fell aside clutching the wound. Another enemy stepped up to take his place.

Ninja stars, stored safely in the loose sleeves of Cassandra’s hoodie, flew out and assaulted the remaining men. Even if she wasn’t a ninja anymore, her old tricks would always come in handy, especially when beating bad-guy butt! More screams, more wounds, more blood. Except this time the men started to flee down the alley, trying to escape the wrath of the unseen demon.

“Oh no you don’t…”

Cassandra’s voice was a low growl as she pursued them. How could she let them walk away so easily when they stole everything from her? They weren’t that fast, not by her standards, and she was able to leave them with several slashes from her naginata for the road before she stopped at the end of the alleyway. They would need medical attention, perhaps go several grand in debt, for those wounds to be taken care of. She wanted more, but she knew her limits, and she knew there was no use creating more loose ends by killing the careless bastards.

There was one loose end she still had to tie up. The lead goon had been left behind, unable to stand, unable to run. He was still choking on his own blood, maybe from some internal injuries. Cassandra’s hatred waned at the sight of the pathetic dying man. She hadn’t intended so much injury just from one blow, and she was even debating calling an ambulance for him before…

She realized where she knew that face from, and it wasn’t from when he had burned down her bakery. She knew those eyes— those cold, dark eyes. The first time she had seen those eyes they had had an evil glint in them, evil that couldn’t be considered human. A face among the crowd, too proud to cover his identity like some as they hanged that poor child from the overpass and then paraded her body through the streets. She knew that face, and now she held no sympathy.

She lashed her naginata again, and again. She knew which parts of him she could slice and cut up without him dying because that would be too much of a mercy to him. His screams were nothing to her. His pleas of mercy, nothing. He was nothing. When the naginata wasn’t enough anymore, she resheathed it and just started to kick the absolute hell out of him.

“Hey.”

She didn't register the deep Brooklynn voice, and just kept kicking.

“HEY! Hey hey hey!”

Hands as wide as she was grabbed her around the waist and pulled her kicking and fighting away from the man that was now lying concerningly still.

“I think ya got him!”

All it took was a second for her to grab her blade and swing it out at whoever it was that had grabbed her; it took only half of that time for the massive wall of a mutant to step back. Another second, and Cassandra recognized the great green giant with a rush of glee.

“RAPH!”

She tossed herself at the mutant turtle, not for an attack but for a hug. Raph caught her quite easily in one arm, holding the woman securely to his chest and laughing as she tried in vain to wrap her arms around him.  

“Hey— hey, easy girl!” Raph let the hug go on for a few seconds more before sitting Cassandra back down on the ground. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Raph had hardly recognized the woman when he had seen her from the vantage of the rooftops; in fact, the only reason he had realized it was her was when he saw the weapon. The hockey mask helped too, but it was mostly that naginata of hers. Looking at her standing there before him, she seemed like a completely different person than the one he remembered. She was still slender as far as humans went, but now it was more of a natural slender than the starved body she had before. A healthy layer of fat now covered her belly and her hips to protect the muscle beneath— her face was a little rounder too.

“You lookin’ good.” Raph said with a nod, “Still a little shortcake though.”

Cassandra, wanting to get a better look at Raph, decided to remove her mask. Raph’s eyes widened at the sight of the new mass of hair that Cassandra had grown, a mess of greasy black that wasn’t unlike a shaggy dog's coat, held back with a yellow bandana so it was just barely under control.

“I’m five feet of whoop ass and I’ll whoop yours, don’t test me.”

Raph threw his head back and rumbled a deep belly laugh. “Trust me, I won’t. I’ve been on the wrong end of a little lady’s wrath once or twice before. Nice hair, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Cassandra beamed, “It’s never been this long before! I think I like it.”

“Yeah, yeah, suits you nice.” Raph cleared his throat. He nodded toward the bloodied figure. “Did uh. That guy deserve the beating or?”

“He deserves more than that.” Cassandra spat on him; she wasn’t even mad about her bakery being burned down anymore. Well— she was still mad about it, but not in that moment. “The bastard had it coming.”

“Still.” Raph said softly, like a kind parent addressing a child, “You’d’ve killed him.”

“I wouldn’t have.” Cassandra said in a low tone. “I know better. I’ve done this before.”

Raph breathed through his nose and shook his head. He knew that look of hatred in Cassandra’s eyes— he had felt that look before, and had that same look directed at him. He cupped a hand across the length of Cassandra’s back and started to guide her away toward the fire escape. She listened reluctantly.

“Come on— let’s scram before the cops get here. You weren’t exactly being quiet you know.”

And up to the rooftop they went, several buildings down from the scene, but Cassandra still had that look. That look that Raph hated.

“What did those guys do to deserve that, CJ?”

“It’s personal…” Cassandra just barely muttered.

“Too personal to share?”

“Ask my turtles; they can explain it better. What are you doing here?”

“It’s personal.”

Cassandra smirked. “Too personal to share?”

Raph smiled despite himself and shook his head. “No, no it’s not.” He told her everything, and Cassandra got even more riled up.

“Seriously?! That fucked up man!” She was practically radiating chaotic energy, starting to swing her fists like a boxer, “Where are they? I’ll take em on! Right here, right now, no mercy! I wanna kick some Jurassic Ass!”

“Actually, triceratops’ are from the cretaceous.”

“Does that really matter?”

Raph pursed his lips. “No, I guess not. But… now that I told you my personal bizz, can you tell me yours? Maybe I can help.”

Cassandra looked at Raph. She considered her options, bit her lip, and decided on one.

“They burned down my bakery. It was also my house but that’s less important.”

“Cassandra…” Raph’s voice held nothing but sympathy. “Damn. Sorry to hear that. Do you have a place to stay or…?”

“April’s letting me crash at her crib which is suuuuuuuper dope! And I got a security deposit on the place so…”

“Well, I’m not excusing what they did, but is that really grounds for a murder?” He tried not to laugh— it just slipped out.

“That wasn’t my plan.” Cassandra smiled a tired smile, “I was just gonna beat ‘em up and make them pay reimbursement for my shop. Then I realized who he was.”

“Who is he?”

“A few months ago there was a live broadcast on ABC news. A bunch of guys wearing masks hung a mutant from an overpass and then dragged her body down the interstate. He was one of them.”

Raph’s breath caught. “Oh…”

“It was just a kid. The… guys were never caught until now.” She stared at listful at the flashes of red and blue in the distance, signaling that the man she had attacked was found. Rescued; a blessing that little kitten he slaughtered hadn’t been lucky enough to receive.

“I didn't know.” Raph said; he didn't even know mutants had been exposed here! Shouldn’t that have been important enough to mention. “What about the rest of them guys that got away?”

“I’ll find them.” Cassandra was confident.

“And… would they be gettin’ the same treatment as they boss?”

“I can’t know if they were involved. They might be like me. The Foot Clan did… a lot of things I wanted nothing to do with. If they’re the same as me it’s no use. But I am gonna rob em though.”

Raph laughed and pulled back his lips to show off his teeth. “Mind if I join ya?”

Cassandra blinked, and then smiled. “I would be honored.”

[dwaynepride]

better off running wild

summary: college au. reader is supposed to be tutoring tony, but things get carried away.

words: 3,360

warnings: make out session

tags: @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​  @jrenn10​ @andreasworlsboring101 @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​

There’s just something you’ve always hated about jocks. 

Most of them were alright, admittedly. Those who mostly kept to their own giant friend circles and didn’t pay you much attention. There’s even a basketball player in one of your classes who gave you part of his lunch during lecture, which was pretty cool. 

But the sentiment of disliking jocks, while cliche, is never so prominent than on Wednesday afternoons. 

“Hurry up, Slowpoke. I got practice at four.” Tony’s broad chest is pressing against your shoulder, pushing himself into your space. All it earns him is an elbow to the gut, and the sound of him grunting is strangely satisfying.

“I can only write so fast,” you snap back to him. With a huff, you continue to scribble your name down on the library’s guest sheet. Once upon a time, you had a peacefully available Wednesday afternoon schedule. Sometimes, you’d go to the coffee shop to study and work. Other times, you might just head back to your dorm and catch a quick nap.

Nowadays, because Professor Gibbs decided you were the best for the job, you get to hang out in the library tutoring Tony DiNozzo.

As if the Professor couldn't have paired you off with anybody less annoying, less eager to actually learn, or any more inclined not to run off at the mouth about his favorite movie that you’ve never even heard of before. And sure, Tony was hot. Jaw-droppingly gorgeous with big shoulders and a great smile and nice hair and somehow, that all just made him even more annoying because he knew he was a 12 out of 10.

Case in point, when you finally step away so he could sign his name, Tony smiled and winked. Probably a reflex for him to flirt with anything that moved or whatever. You’ve been dealing with it for weeks. 

So with a cross huff, you turn and walk off in the direction of your usual table.

The table is located at the very back of the library - a stuffy little corner nobody came around or even acknowledged and it’s worked wonders for Tony’s attention span. Out among the other tables, he just got too distracted - flagging down and talking to whichever one of a thousand friends he has, or attempting to chat up some poor girl who was trying to study. 

It’s sad, really, that you have to tuck him away in some dusty corner for Tony to focus, but it's where you are now.

By the time Tony shows up, you have all the books and papers laid out on the table for the tutoring session. “Did you do the homework last night?” You ask him without even looking up.

He’s quiet for a moment, slowly making his way around you to his own seat. “I did some of it,” Tony answers eventually.

“Some?”

“Yeah. I had a party to go to. Couldn’t finish it.”

Tony plops down in his chair, tilts his head up, and puts on that familiar glamorizing smile - probably hoping it would keep you from scolding him. Maybe before, that smile might’ve weakened you a bit. Not now, though. Not after dealing with his bullshit for nearly two months every single Wednesday afternoon. 

You sit with a deadpan frown. “So a party is more important than your grades, huh?”

Tony blinks and shrugs. “Well, this party was. You really should come along to one, sometime. Have some actual fun.”

This isn’t the first time Tony had tried persuading you into attending one of his dumb parties. Or even wanted to drag you along to his football games under the guise of it being fun and ‘the college experience.’ There was even a time where he called you in the middle of the night and asked if you wanted to go get drinks with him. As if you hadn’t been cramming all night for an exam.

Frustrating and irresponsible. How Tony DiNozzo even got into this school, you’ll never understand. 

“Let’s just work, okay? The test is this Friday and I doubt you’re prepared.”

He shrugs and, shockingly, doesn’t argue. And for the next hour or so, you talk him through his half-finished homework. But this was probably the most frustrating aspect about tutoring Tony - he wasn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He understood the work and actually got the questions right, if he tried. He could easily pass the class on his own. 

Yet, you’re left tutoring him.

Once the homework is done, Tony slams his book shut with a smug smile. “Alright, Teach, I’m done. Am I free to go?”

You shake your head and bend over to reach for something in your backpack. “Not yet,” you answer him. “I went by Professor Gibbs’ office yesterday and picked something up that will help you on the test.”

Taking out a small packet of papers, you place it in front of Tony. He studies it, eyebrows furrowed together, until you speak up. “It’s a practice test for the exam. I was thinking you could take it, I’ll grade it, and we’ll see what you need to work on.”

Immediately, Tony lets out a loud groan - much too loud for a library, but really, you two were so far removed from everybody else that you doubt anybody even heard. Still, you glance around at the dusty bookshelves before roughly shoving Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t be a baby! I’m trying to help you pass this fucking class. Do I have to remind you that if you fail, you don’t get to play football? I’m doing you a favor by tutoring you - the least you can do is try.”

The rant just spilled out without anything to keep it back. Maybe Tony’s antics had slowly chipped away at your patience. 

And for once, he was quiet. Tony blinks his surprise at your tone, his gaze drops, and then he nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll do the test.” Resigned, he pulls the packet closer and starts working. Really working.

You’re left in shock that you just won so easily. Usually, Tony attempts to shrug you off, or he changes the subject, or just tries to flirt his way out. Seeing him actually working - trying - is a strange sight to see.

As the minutes tick by, you try to keep yourself busy as Tony works. Go on your phone, do some reading, go to the bathroom. But in the end, your focus just keeps shifting back to Tony - his eyes sharp with focus, and the furrow of his brow showcases just how much he’s paying attention to the practice test. 

But it’s not all you notice.

And….alright, you aren’t blind. You’re well aware that Tony looks good; how else does he get so many dates? You notice the way his jaw clenches tight. Every once in a while, he takes a deep breath and his whole body moves and you’re reminded of just how big his shoulders are. He must be one hell of a football player - not that you’d know. You’ve never gone to his games.

He’s got a cute nose, as well. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

And suddenly, before you could realize you were staring, Tony’s eyes meet yours. Flustered, you look away - but even out of the corner of your eye, his smirk is visible. “I’m done,” he says, handing over the packet. 

But as you go to take it, Tony pulls it just out of your reach. So you look back to him, and he’s watching you in that annoying Tony DiNozzo way. Like he’s finally figured you out. “I want a wager, though,” he continues.

“A wager,” you repeat.

“Yup. If I pass, I get to kiss you. Is that a deal?”

Kiss?

The word barely makes sense to you, right now. You’re left blinking and scoffing - a buffer to try to make sense of Tony’s words until finally, you can come up with actual words to say. “What if you failed?” Oh yes, brilliant; act like you’re going to go along with his stupid wager. That’s what you want. 

Tony’s smirk widens. “If I failed, I’ll walk back to my dorm in my underwear,” he announces. “Either way, you win.”

You ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies and yank the packet out of his hands. “Fine. Deal. Maybe if I’m lucky, it'll be raining when we leave.”

Tony simply hums, unbothered by your insinuation that he’ll lose. And as you start grading the practice test, you can feel his eyes on you. It’s hard to focus and with a rush of heat, you realize that he must’ve felt you staring at him before. And your staring had been a complete accident - Tony is purposefully watching you. And you just pray that he doesn’t notice the new flush of your skin.

Instead, you force yourself to focus on Tony’s test. Something easier for you to understand.

7) When did the Minoan Civilization end?

Tony’s answer: The Bronze Age Collapse. 

Okay, that one is correct. Fair enough, it’s not even that hard of a question. Next one:

8) The City of Rome was founded in:

Okay, he’s got to get this one wrong. In all the time you’ve been tutoring Tony, there was one kind of date you knew he was terrible with, and it was the historical kind. 

His answer: 753 BC. 

Damn.

And it just kept going on like that. More correct answers than incorrect. Even when you finished grading his test, you didn’t want to look up and face him and admit that he totally passed the practice exam with flying colors. That would also mean confessing that he won his stupid little wager.

“How’d I do?” He eventually asks. And his voice is low; very different from his annoyingly loud and boisterous self that you can’t help but look up. 

He’s watching you carefully, like you have his undivided attention. It’s a little unnerving, but at the same time, maybe a little exhilarating. And you don’t even have the mind to wonder why.

And it takes a moment to remember how to speak. “You passed,” you tell him, matching his soft tone. Perhaps if Tony were acting normal, you would’ve added on a teasing comment. Something about him getting a good score against all the odds, or maybe comparing him to the second coming of Albert Einstein. Then Tony would say something equally stupid and he’d leave because he has his precious football practice. 

None of that happens - this is uncharted territory.

He hums again, slow and purposeful, as if he’s thinking. And you notice him lean over just a little, on the very outskirts of what’s considered your own personal space. You catch a whiff of his scent and almost catch yourself leaning away from him.

Is this why Tony is so popular? Because he has his own gravitational pull? That must be it. 

“Looks like I won the wager,” he says with a smirk pulling on his lips. “I believe you owe me a kiss.”

His words make you hesitate. Was he serious? Tony DiNozzo: football star, annoying heart throb, everybody’s friend….actually wanted to kiss you? It has to be some kind of dumb joke. A sick prank. Something to tell his friends later on that he scammed you into kissing him and all he had to do was stop playing dumb.

Immediately, it becomes easier to lean away from Tony. To break out of the spell that his eyes had somehow cast onto you. His expression changes, but you ignore it. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

“Making a stupid bet to get me to kiss you. It’s a joke, isn’t it? A prank that you and your dumb football buddies thought up? Well, it’s not very damn funny.”

You don’t even attempt to hide the anger in your voice. Tony’s eyebrows furrow together, looking confused but you ignore him to start hurriedly gathering your stuff up. You’ll just have to go to Professor Gibbs tomorrow and ask him to assign a new tutor for Tony - if he even needs one. Seems like he can manage himself just fine.

You’re stuffing a textbook into your bag while Tony juggles with his words. “What? Hey- hold on, it’s wasn’t a joke or anything-”

“Right. And you just want me to kiss you.”

“What if I do?”

Immediately, your eyes whip back around to face Tony. The way he straightens up does offer a tiny bit of satisfaction, admittedly. “You don’t, Tony. And that’s fine, I don’t really care. I’m sure you can find someone else to kiss if you really wanted to,” you tell him blatantly. 

“I know I can,” fucking typical, “but I want it to be you.”

Slowly, you cease packing up your things. The next time you look at Tony, you really look at him. He looks serious enough; though, you’re not even sure if you’ve ever seen a serious Tony DiNozzo. But you reckon this might be it. And if he’s being serious, maybe he’s being honest.

“Did you even really need a tutor?”

He shrugs, and a smirk falls on his lips. Not condescending, but almost like your question amused him. You’re not sure which is worse. “Maybe not. But hey, you make history a whole lot more interesting,” he answers, voice smooth and sounding like the regular Tony that you know.

It makes you scoff lightly. Eyes breaking away, but he tilts his head to keep the contact. “Listen, you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. But I think you do. And I know I want to, so…”

You finally stop and think about things. The way he lured you into tutoring him was very....clever, in a way. Putting himself in your domain instead of dragging you kicking and screaming into his. Tony is definitely a lot smarter than he lets on, and it leaves you wondering how the hell you let him get the edge on you, like this. 

But he was also right - you did want to kiss him. Desperately. And you didn’t even really know it until just now. Looking at him, your eyes drop down to his smirking lips. And as he starts to lean in closer, you don’t pull away like last time. Once again, you’re caught up in his gravity. Being pulled in helplessly, as if he’s a massive blackhole in the middle of your solar system.

Tony’s close now, so you fight to grab onto any sense of logical thought. “Tony,” you murmur out his name. He hums in response. “I don’t wanna turn out like all your other dates. You show ‘em a good time, and then never call them again.” You watch his eyes flicker up in surprise. “I know about all that.”

He hesitates, and then huffs in amusement. “‘Course I’ll call you. Gonna need help on that final exam, aren’t I?”

Another dumb joke, but you’re not too focused on dissecting the implications of his words. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne. It’s a little strong but also dizzying and once his warm breath wafts over your lips, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut. A silent invitation that Tony gladly accepts.

His lips are warm and wet against yours, and they feel like fireworks. 

Yes, the thought of Tony’s many dates and flings had made you a little wary. But right now, you’re thankful for each and every one of them. The way Tony kisses...it just melts the world away. No more dusty bookshelves or crappy library lights. No hushed laughter from a group of girls that you’ve been hearing for the past hour. This corner of the library is a tiny world that only you and Tony inhabit, if for a short time.

He’s steadily stoking a fire in your stomach, even if he doesn’t know it. It gets stronger when Tony hums against your lips and raises a hand to fit along your cheek - his palm is big and warm and the feel of it nearly makes you shiver. 

And then Tony laughs, and you wonder if you really did shiver.

But the detour was brief - he goes right back to kissing you good. Sucking on your bottom lip for a moment, stops, and then waits for you to want more from him. You don’t even know when your fingers found their way into his hair, but Tony groans a bit. The sound of him goes straight to the pit of your gut.

His lips are relentless. Barely giving you a chance to breathe and by the time you notice his hand has vanished from your cheek, your lungs are aching slightly. And before you can wonder too much, the hand is suddenly on your thigh.

The touch was unexpected. Shocking, even, but definitely not unpleasant. His hand is large and strong and when he squeezes the flesh of your thigh, you can’t help but moan just a little against Tony’s mouth. The moan, of course, was completely accidental and it sends a hot wave up into your face because you know he heard that. 

But he seemed to like it. Tony’s grinning, and his hand squeezes your thigh again. Maybe it wasn’t all too embarrassing. “I like the way you sound,” he rumbles out. When he comes in to kiss you again, his hands slowly slides up. Just an inch, but it feels like a mile and you’re trying really hard not to start writhing under his touch. “Like the way you taste, too.”

Fuck, he can’t be talking right now. Not when his kisses and his touches are already doing so much to turn your body into putty in his hands. Everything’s hot and burning when he moves his fingers up another half-inch, dangerously close to the sensitive part of your inner thigh. 

By now, you’re nearly panting. Fingers gripping Tony’s forearm so tight, you’re surprised it hasn’t hurt him. What’s worse, you don’t even know why you’re holding onto him or what you want him to do: stop, or keep going. Evidently, Tony’s in the same boat. Because he leans in real close, his breath wafting over your ear. “What’re you thinking? Wanna see how quiet you can be?” He asks, voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

You force your brain to start working, and you try to decide. You really, really try. But the choice is stolen from you.

“Hey, this is a library. Get some space between you two!”

Of fucking course the librarian picks this time to come around to this desolate little corner.

Instantly, you shove Tony away, eyes dropping away from him and the librarian. “Sorry,” Tony says, not sounding particularly apologetic. Eventually, the librarian walks off. And his entire focus is back on you. And for a moment, you wonder if he's about to start up where he left off. Or maybe ask if you’d want to go back to his dorm. You don’t even know what your answer would be - yes? No? Can you have both at once? 

“Tony-”

“I got practice,” he cuts in. His smile is back as he leans in for another quick kiss. But Tony doesn’t back away too fast. He stays, and when he speaks, his breath is on your lips once again - something so small, but already so addicting. “You really should come to one of my parties sometime. I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

With that, he straightens up, picks his backpack off the ground, and walks off. Once he’s disappeared behind the bookshelves, you’re left alone at the table. Surrounded by books and papers and still finding it hard to breathe.

Were you still going to ask Professor Gibbs for a new tutor? Maybe not.

Was your decision entirely influenced by Tony and his lips and the warm imprint of his hand on your thigh? It’s possible.

But as you continue to gather up your supplies - hands shaky and legs a little wobbly - you can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if the librarian hadn’t walked up when he did.

[chimchimsauce]

XS - II (First Impressions)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

When YN wakes up, she's alone. For a moment, everything is okay. Her eyes flutter open and she stares up at the tall ceiling, a crystal chandelier throwing rainbows across her face. She sits up and silk slides down her skin, pooling at her waist.

She blinks, temporary confusion washing over her.

Where is she?

It hits her like a truck. She's been kidnapped. Or, rather, she's traded herself to a trigger happy stranger in exchange for her parents' lives. Her parents. A pit forms in her stomach just thinking about them. She has no real way of knowing if her "fiance" plans to go back on their deal or not. Her parents could be dead right now, bleeding out on their dingy kitchen floor with no one the wiser.

YN feels nauseous. She scrambles out of bed and heads to one of the doors in the opulent room, pulling it open. Unfortunately, it's not a bathroom, so she shuts it immediately, opening another and stumbling inside. She barely makes it to the toilet before spilling her guts, retching over the golden seat until nothing but air comes up. Her fingers tremble against the cold metal and porcelain, barely able to maintain a grip on it.

"Are you done?" a cool voice calls out from the doorframe.

YN would have startled if she wasn't so worn out. The best she can do is lift her head and wipe her mouth, glancing towards the source of the sound. The man staring at her is vaguely familiar, large nosed and sharp jawed, handsome in a way that's hard to pull off. For a second, she can't place her finger on it, and then she looks at his tatted hands and shrinks back.

He was the man who held a knife to her throat.

YN's fear must be evident on her face because this man - what was his name again? - grins sinisterly, tightening his loose hands into fists.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt ya," he says in direct contrast to his body language, "The boss likes you too much for me to get away with it."

YN swallows, a terrible taste on her tongue. It almost makes her want to puke again, but she doesn't have anything else left in her.

"He wants to see you," he says, "So you better clean yourself up. First impressions are important."

First impressions?

He doesn't give YN any time to ask questions before disappearing just as quickly as he came.

YN stands on shaky feet, stumbling over to the sink. She looks at her expressing, wincing at the face that stares back at her. Her skin is blotchy and discolored, red eyes looking at her sadly. There's blood on her clothes and ugly bruises from where she'd been manhandled. She can only look at her reflection for a few seconds before she has to look away, not wanting to face the reality of her situation.

Still, the body guard's words get her moving, so YN splashes water on her face, grabbing a towel from the rack by the shower and drying off. She takes a whiff of her shirt and cringes. Honestly, she smells terrible, heady with blood, sweat, and tears. Apparently, a quick splash of water will not be enough, especially if she has to make a "good impression".

She's hesitant to strip down in this place, especially since she doesn't even know if this is going to be her room or not. Still, she turns on the water as hot as it can go, watching with begrudging awe as water pounds down from the ceiling like a waterfall.

YN exits the bathroom, taking in the bedroom for the first time. It almost looks like a princess' room, white and gold with decorative molding on the walls. The carpet is soft and plush, YN's feet sinking into it.

She feels so out of place here and it only amplifies her anxiety about this situation. She doesn't know anything about her captors or even where she is. Taking a shuddering breath, YN finds her way back to the room she was in just minutes ago, switching on the light to reveal a closet bigger than her entire childhood bedroom. It's filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, and accessories that tell her with one glance that they're all designer.

YN doesn't know if she is even allowed to touch anything but she doesn't really have any other choices. She picks the least flashy thing she can find and pulls it off of the rack, surprised that it's her size. Does her captor have a sister? Or worse, a girlfriend?

The last thing YN needs right now is enemies, so she closes her eyes and prays that this is just a coincidence.

She stands under the water pressure, watching the water turn pink and her skin grow raw. There's some delicious smelling shower gel that she uses to wash off the memory of what happened as best she can. She washes her hair, taking her time to detangle it with her fingers and message her scalp, trying to let her thoughts float away with the steam. YN knows that she can't stay in here forever, though, and the fear of Tats coming back has her turning off the water and stepping out, wrapping herself in a warm towel.

Once again, she glances in the mirror. She definitely looks better at first glance, but the look in her eyes is vacant, soulless. YN bites her lip, tightening the towel around her.

"You can do this," she whispers to herself, "Everything will be okay."

She doesn't believe it, not at all, but she has nothing to comfort herself but her own words. YN looks away from her reflection and brushes her teeth with an unopened set of brushes and paste she found, rinsing with mouthwash to get rid of that horrid taste in her mouth.

YN pulls the clothing she picked out on, feeling the soft fabric on her skin. She doesn't know what to do with her hair so she pulls one of the many drawers open and manages to find some products. Creepily, they're the exact same ones she normally uses, along with some expensive looking conditioners and sprays she's never heard of.

Before she can begin, the bathroom door swings open, causing YN to knock her head against the underside of the sink. She curses loudly, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Madame! I am so sorry!" A feminine voice calls out, "I didn't mean to startle you. Boss sent me to help you get ready for dinner."

Dinner? Is it so late in the day already? She could have sworn that it was midday based on the light seeping through the windows.

YN pulls her head out from under the sink and looks at the woman. She's rather short and dressed plainly in black slacks and a black polo. Her hair is clipped in a sleek bob, brushing just under her soft jawline. She's rather beautiful.

"Who are you?" YN asks her.

She's already had enough of people barging into the bathroom.

"My name is Yoonji. Boss has assigned me to help get you adjusted to life here. If you need anything at all, call me to help you."

YN sits on the floor, looking at the woman before nodding her head. Might as well.

"Let me get your hair, madame," Yoonji says, rushing over and pulling out hair products.

YN wants to protest but she's tired and Yoonji's touch is feather light, styling it into something more fancy than YN would usually do.

"Is that what you plan on wearing?" Yoongi asks pleasantly.

Even though her tone is nice, YN can tell what she's suggesting.

"Should I change?" YN asks as Yoongi puts the final touches on her hair, adding pretty diamond studded clips.

"Let me grab something for you."

Yoonji leaves and comes back in a flash, holding a midnight blue evening gown.

"This will be more appropriate for dinner with boss and his parents."

"This . . . boss of yours," YN says, choosing her words carefully, "Who is he exactly? What does he do? Why am I here?"

Yoonji smiles at YN again, but YN can tell that it's more forced than before.

"Everything will be revealed in time. Don't worry about it. Boss is a good man."

YN highly doubts that considering he was only moments away from murdering her parents last time she saw him but she swallows and smiles at her, knowing that she doesn't have any allies right now.

Since her hair has been done up so opulently, Yoonji helps YN out of her clothes and slips her into the beautiful dress. She has no energy to feel embarrassed as she stands there in her underwear (thankfully she found some new sets, all still with the tags on) too emotionally worn. Honestly, YN should be more worried about meeting with "Boss" and his parents, especially since she has no idea what they expect from her, but she knows thinking about it too much will just make her sick again.

Yoonji runs off somewhere and collects accessories, turning YN into a sparkling prom queen. She even applies makeup to YN's face, no doubt hiding the stress etched into every inch of her face. By the time someone knocks on the door, YN is starving. SHe hopes she won't have to go through this process every time she has to go eat.

But when Tats comes back into the room, YN finds herself wishing that Yoonji had taken longer.

"Dinner's almost ready and the Boss is getting antsy. She done yet, Yoonji?" he asks.

"Almost," Yoonji replies, picking up a glass bottle of perfume and spritzing some on YN's collarbones, "She is now."

"Great." Tats says, grabbing YN harshly by her wrist and pulling her upwards, dragging her out of the room.

YN looks back at Yoonji who gives her a thumbs up, whispering a "Good luck," in YN's direction.

YN stumbles over the tall heels Yoonji had placed her in, barely able to keep up with Tats and his long legs as they stride through massive black and white hallways.

'Don't fuck up, okay," he says, stopping in front of an incredibly tall set of doors, "Remember, first impressions."

He swings the door open.

Chapter Three

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