#a womans intuition for a foul looking man will never fail them.......

[mugentakeda]

mujin fics with porn in them that take place during canon dont make any sense to me because if mugen propositioned jin theyd be like I suppose. but only on one condition. i need you to do something. And that something is him going to the local healers clinic for a checkup. turns out he had worms

[makkoskafanfic]

KakuHidan WIP fic teaser

This is part of WIP release March! A KakuHidan one for a change.

This is a Maffia - Modern setting AU but with special powers. I planned to write something like this... oh since I first started to ship KakuHidan some 9 years ago, probably. 

The idea came up again as we were rewatching Naruto last year and I got pretty far with it, before we reached the HashiMada arc and of course all the fangirl neurons in my brain got hyperfixated on HashiMada again. 

I have almost 10K words written of it, so I hope to continue one day, and not to let it go to waste. This scene is Kakuzu’s and Hidan’s first meeting. As such I would rate it M (or a strong PG13? I don’t really get the ratings) No sexual themes at this point, but there are a bunch of people getting killed, blood, gore, violence and Hidan’s dirty mouth. 

Strange to say after this, but I had fun writing this, hope you will enjoy.

Kakuzu secured the Harley and looked at the unassuming building he found at the address he was given. While it wasn’t in the best of neighbourhoods, it certainly wasn’t in the worst Konoha City could offer either. A sign in the window announced it was for sale and the faded advertisement above the door let him know it used to be a barber’s shop. All in all, not where he would imagine some crazed prophet performing his homicidal ritual. Well, his source assured him this was the place - the man knew Kakuzu didn’t take disappointment well, so it was unlikely he’d give him anything but a hundred percent confirmed information.

He walked around the building to a small alley packed with overflowing rubbish bins to find the backdoor. He pushed on it and it gave easily - it wasn’t locked.  It opened to a small room that once must have been used by the staff. It was mostly empty now, save for the empty shelves along the walls, a small desk with some old newspapers stacked on it, the large cardboard box underneath it and for the man sitting in an old office chair with one arm broken off. He stood up as Kakuzu entered. He took in his appearance, his leather jacket, his dark jeans, his mid-calf boots, the mask covering the lower half of his face, the biker helmet under his arm and he still somehow came to the wrong conclusion. He was just as tall as Kakuzu and more obviously muscled, which probably gave him a false sense of security.

“Here for a haircut? I’m afraid we’re closed for business.”

“Wouldn’t let you touch my hair,” Kakuzu grumbled. “I’m here for Hidan.”

The man’s eyes cut briefly towards the desk, which told Kakuzu what he needed to know. 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? I was told I need to come here to praise Lord Jashin and see the wonders he’s capable of.” He was also told some idiotic password that he didn’t bother to remember.

“The show has already started,” the man sneered at him, “no late joiners allowed.”

“That’s a pity,” Kakuzu took the helmet from under his arm, looked at it pensively for a moment, before smiting the man down with it in a lightning fast movement. There was a sickening, wet thump as it crashed the man’s skull. He wiped the blood off, noticing it got dented with annoyance. This mission was already proving to be a headache. At least there was never a complaint from Pein when he added his extra expenses for his damaged accessories.

He pushed the desk and the box out of the way, uncovering a trapdoor on the floor. A narrow staircase led down into darkness.

“A barber shop with a dungeon,” he muttered to himself as he descended. “What a circus.”

The light seeping down through the open trapdoor quickly dimmed completely as he took on the corridor. Always well prepared, he took a small torch from his inner pocket and switched it on. There were a few side doors, but he didn’t bother with them. As he walked down the corridor, the voices coming from behind the door at the end became louder and louder. He pocketed the torch and slid it open.

The people inside didn’t seem to notice his late entry. Kakuzu did a quick count. There were eighteen of them on the floor, plus two on the low stage - a woman tied to a chair, and the man he recognised as Hidan from what Pein had shown him.

First impressions were important and Kakuzu trusted his instincts. Hidan was loud, foul mouthed as he sprouted his religious nonsense and Kakuzu was taken by the deep intuition that he, for his own peace of mind, had to kill this man. He was trouble. 

He pushed himself through the small crowd, ignoring the men’s protest that he was blocking the view. Just a few feet away from Hidan he took his time to assess his opponent. He was young, just as Pein’s file said, face smooth, his half-naked body well toned. He seemed physically strong with his lean muscles, but not a match for Kakuzu’s own might of course. He was ranting about his Lord Jashin, something about his eternal gift and punishment of heathens… he was damn noisy. His voice was a deep baritone which could have been pleasant if it was quieter and if he wasn’t working himself towards shrill yelling as he got more and more agitated. The people around Kakuzu didn’t mind though - they were murmuring appreciatively, repeating some of the phrases, like “Hail Lord Jashin”, “Bring death and destruction, oh Lord,” “I swear to murder and destroy in your name”.

Kakuzu knew he was supposed to observe the whole ceremony to see the presumed powers of this preacher for himself, but he wasn’t sure he could stand much more of this. He could just shoot Hidan and see if he died or not. Not quite what Pein wanted, but it would do the job, wouldn’t it?

Hidan's eyes swept the crowd during his speech and Kakuzu made the mistake of meeting them. The dark mass was abruptly cut short. The crowd muttered as their leader fell silent, but Hidan ignored them. 

“Looks like we have a heathen, an unbeliever in our midst today!” he glared at Kakuzu, then suddenly laughed, pointing at him. “Kill him my children, let his blood flow freely as it pleases Lord Jashin!”

How the little shit knew instantly, Kakuzu had no time to ponder as the mob closed in on him immediately. Most of them were unarmed, but he spotted a few knives and what looked like a beer bottle broken in half. He kicked the first man who reached him in the stomach so hard he flew away to collide with the edge of the stage. He crumbled to the ground there like a puppet whose strings were cut. That gave him some space to work with.

His opponents were no skilled fighters, so even with their numbers against him, Kakuzu didn’t have a hard time. The magazine of his Sig Sauer held fifteen rounds, almost enough for the whole bunch. Kakuzu never missed a shot - he liked to be effective and he hated anything to go to waste. The rest he took down by bare hands. The men managed to land a few hits, even a couple of stabs, on his arms and chest, which enraged him further. They were ruining a perfectly fine leather jacket. 

He took it off and tossed it aside quickly when the last of his attackers fell to the ground with a smashed-in face. Blood was running down his left arm from a long and shallow cut. There were smaller wounds on his chest, though they were easily to ignore. 

He looked up at the two people on the stage who didn’t join the fight yet. The woman tied to the chair - unconscious, maybe drugged, so no kind of threat, and the annoying preacher. Hidan didn’t seem to be disturbed by the defeat of his followers. He had a long, sharp pike in his hand - he pointed at Kakuzu with it and he grinned.

“Lord Jashin blessed me with glorious destruction today! All this blood and the corpses! Thank you, Lord Jashin! I’m your forever faithful follower and will sacrifice this son of a bitch to you as well! His blood will seal the sacred…”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu cut into this annoying speech, feeling the beginning of a headache forming behind his brows. “One more word of this nonsense and you’ll end up in so many little pieces even your god wouldn’t be able to tell how you looked originally.”

“How dare you interrupt my prayer, you heathen fucker?!” Hidan shrieked at him. “You’ll die in the most glorious agony!” Like the obviously brainless idiot he was, he charged Kakuzu with a shrill battle-cry of “Lord Jashin”, holding his pike in front of him as if he was some misbegotten knight on a tournament.

Kakuzu waited till the last moment before he stepped to the side, grabbed Hidan’s wrist and yanked it above his head. Despite his cruising grip, the priest didn’t drop his weapon. He went fully berserk, getting caught like this. His shoulder gave a sickening, loud pop as it dislocated, but he didn’t seem to notice the pain. He brought both of his legs up and kicked out, aiming at Kakuzu’s crotch. He managed to turn away slightly, but the impact on his thigh and side was still bruising. He grunted in pain, cursed the little shit under his breath and raised him even higher up from the ground. 

Hidan shrieked in indignation and still didn’t let his weapon go. Kakuzu had to give it to him, there was something to be said for his tolerance of pain. He caught the preacher’s free hand as he swung it to claw at his face and took a firm hold on it too. Hidan swore, but was far from giving up.

He bit Kakuzu’s neck in an underhanded move and kicked him in the knees so hard his legs buckled. He allowed them to fall to the ground, pinning Hidan underneath his heavier bulk. He clasped his hands above his head, restraining them and kneeling on his legs to immobilise him fully. The Jashinist screamed vulgarities at him, thrashing wildly as he tried but failed to dislodge Kakuzu.

“Shut. Up” Kakuzu grid out, slightly breathless as he was fighting this utter madman. “You little shit, just stay still for a…”

Hidan spit him in the face, more blood than saliva, barely missing his eye. That did it. 

Stitches came loose on the underside of Kakuzu’s wrists, allowing the secret weapon of his body to burst forward.

“What the fuck…” Hidan gasped as the tentacles wrapped themselves around his neck and squeezed. After that only unarticulated, gurgling sounds left his throat. 

While Kakuzu found satisfaction in defeating his enemies, he always killed because that was his job or because that was the fastest way to achieve his goals and not because it caused him joy. This time however he found immense pleasure in the sudden silence. It was broken by pathetic, wet, choking sounds only, then not even those as Hidan’s lungs ran out of air. His trashing slowly quieted down, but Kakuzu didn’t let go until the last twitches stopped and Hidan’s eyes - a surprising shade of violet, now that he had the chance to see them from close up - rolled up in their sockets. 

He looked quite dead, with the foam in the corner of his open mouth, with his blood everywhere, but Kakuzu checked his pulse before he withdrew his tentacles to be sure. He rolled off from the still body and allowed himself to spread out on his back for a minute. His whole body ached, his clothes were ruined and he was in a foul mood.

“I’ll ask for a pay rise after this,” he muttered to the deadly quiet room. He closed his eyes - only to open them in alarm when he felt movement from next to him. He tried to roll away, but Hidan - magically back from the dead, the pike he never let go throughout his thrashing raised high - was too close. The preacher bore the weapon down, into his heart.

“Take that you rotten bastard,” he cackled and tried to yank the pike free, probably to thrust it through his chest again. Kakuzu grabbed it and didn’t let go. “You can hope they pay well in Hell, but I don’t think Lord Jashin will be kind to a heathen shithead like you! He will torture you for an eternity and reward me, his faithful servant with…”

Kakuzu breathed through the sharp pain, raised his free hand and grabbed his slicked back hair. He sat up and dragged him back, until Hidan didn’t have any other chance but to let his weapon go, if he didn’t want to lose a handful of hair.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, it hurts you shitty fuck! Let my hair go!”

Kakuzu yanked the metal rod out from his heart, wincing at the pain. He could feel his threads moving under his skin, stitching the gaping would back up. Losing two hearts under a week. Maybe he was getting old. 

“You should be busy being dead,” he told the priest. “And as such not concerned about your hair.”

“Fuck you, my hair looks too good to be touched by the likes of you!”

“It’s a horrible dye. This must have been a shithole of a barber shop.”

“As if you are the one to talk! When did you get a cut last time? Never? And what’s with that fucking mask? Is it the flu season or what?”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu said with resignation as he knew now it was in vain. 

“You shut up. Why are you not dead, anyway?”

“Because we are both out of luck today.”

He stood up and experimentally let Hidan’s hair go. The priest got to his feet as well, examining him with his head tilted to the side. He then looked around the room, at all the scattered bodies lying around and sighed.

“This was the best mass I ever celebrated,” he said dreamily. “Was I mistaken? Are you sent by Lord Jashin?”

“No,” Kakuzu snorted at this absurdity. “I was sent by the Akatsuki. The Leader heard of your special… ability and wanted me to recruit you to our ranks.”

“What the fuck is the Akatuski?”

Kakuzu looked at him silently, pondering the probability of someone living in Konoha and never hearing about its most powerful criminal organisation. Hidan looked honestly clueless. An immortal idiot. Wonderful. 

“A place that would offer someone like you many possibilities. You get jobs done and it will treat you well.”

“I only want to spread the word of Lord Jashin and live to please him.”

“You want people to listen to you? Or you want to kill them? The Akatsuki will help you with both.”

 “Are there more people like you?” 

“There are some… not ordinary people in the organisation,” Kakuzu said carefully. “Though not quite like me.”

“So only me and you are immortal?” Hidan grinned at him. Kakuzu didn’t contradict him - he wasn’t immortal, just very hard to kill, but he didn’t need to give the advantage of knowing that. It seemed he was being successful in his recruitment. He wasn’t quite convinced it was a good thing. “So what now?”

“I am to present you to our Leader in two days. You’ll come with me, so I can keep an eye on you till then.”

Hidan looked around and shrugged.

“It’s not as if I have any followers alive at the moment. I guess I can go and see that Akatsuki bloke with you. Who are you, by the way?”

“I’m Kakuzu.”

“Kakuzu, ehh? Is that a last name or a first name?”

“It’s a name,” Kakuzu snapped irritably. “You can call me by it.”

“All right then, Ka-ku-zu,” Hidan grinned as he dragged his name out in an inane sing-song. “I’m Hidan.”

“I know,” he sighed with resignation. “Go and grab whatever you need and let’s head out.”

Hidan muttered something about his sacrifice and went to finish the woman off, probably. Kakuzu changed the magazine in his gun and made sure that they left nothing but dead bodies behind. They needed no potential eye witnesses. He didn’t bother with cleaning up though - good luck for anyone who tried to find his fingerprints in any recent databases. 

He put on his torn jacket, re-tied his hair in its ponytail and waited impatiently for Hidan. The Jashinist reappeared at last, wearing a hooded coat, but still no shirt and a small backpack.

“I’m ready to embark this new journey Lord Jashin guides me on,” he grinned at him and Kakuzu was quite sure he was just trying to piss him on. He glared at him, but it didn’t intimidate the younger man at all.

“Let’s go then.”

[lemonietrinket]

played salty, playing sweet ||| seonghwa x reader

summary: you and seonghwa have a frenemies relationship—you’re friends, but boy do you bicker 24/7. one day though, seonghwa takes it a step too far. genre: angst! fluff at the end bc happy endings! warning(s): foul language at someone (2x f**k, 2x a**hole), a remark that makes fun of someone’s intelligence word count: 2390 an: sorry this is a bit late anon! i hope it was worth the wait though, i didn’t want to give you something that wasn’t quite good enough, so i figured an extra day wouldn’t hurt too much in the long term

~~~

“well at least i didn’t fail one of the easiest exams in the year.”

seonghwa had said it with a humorous glint in his eye. he’d turned away from you, watching the world outside go by aimlessly, all because he couldn’t handle looking at you too long, lest his heart fall out of his chest. you’d already caught him blushing once. it had been while eating ice cream in the park with hongjoong, when he’d spontaneously decided to tag along. as the drizzle rolled back yet left the odd heat behind, you’d made a mad dash for the truck, longing to do what you hadn’t done in so long. once the chocolate was in your hands, you had dived in while not paying attention, eyes fluttering off to the side to listen to hongjoong (seonghwa couldn’t remember what it was about, no doubt the exaggerated hundredth challenge eden had made him do back in predebut) and ended up with a dollop on your nose. the guffaw that fell from your lips was adorable, as you cackling, “what an idiot!” all while seonghwa stood, mesmerised by your happiness. he wished he could make it happen more often, and yet all that he could ever say was teasing remarks, which only ever worked on the odd occasion. 

trapped in his memory, the corners of his lips, that had risen to the point he was very nearly laughing all over, again didn’t twitch as his head whipped round at the slam of a door. 

eyes wary, seemingly aware of the wave of chaos that was about to crash upon the dorms, he looked to where you had been, and then nervously about the rest of the living room.

“y/n?”

there was no sign of you. all that his eyes met was the disappointed glare of his bandmate, slouched and curled so small on the sofa he was entirely easy to miss.

“you gone fucked up, hwa,” hongjoong announced simply to him.

“what...?” he stared at him, elfin eyes wide watching him closely. all while he himself was still lagging behind. “wait what—”

“you should go after them.”

his face fell into stony fear as the dread sank into the pit of his stomach, as heavy as lead. the jigsaw pieces began to slowly fit together. “go after...? but, they...”

he looked back to the empty archway where your beautiful figure had been just seconds prior, a baggy clashing jumper pulled over mustard sleeves and a black denim pinafore. it wasn’t your favourite outfit, he knew that, but he had to admit it was one of his.  not that he’d ever gotten close to admitting a sliver of those thoughts to you. he’d never even harmlessly complimented you on it. or anything you wore, for that matter. 

“let me put it this way hwa. if you don’t go and treat my best friend right for once i will make you.”

he knew that the leader was pulling his stern-dad-face that wasn’t convincing nor terrifying in the slightest, but seonghwa didn’t care. he was too busy cursing and leaping to his feet. he didn’t even bid him goodbye as he tore past. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

you sat hunched on the park bench, wrung iron icy at your back while the sun seemed desperate to vex you, piercing through a convenient gap in the clouds and straight into your eyes.

with shudders heaving through your body your fist remained tight at your mouth. the faint hisses of your frantically silenced cries were growing louder and stronger, and yet the woman strolling with a push chair down the path nearby still did not retrieve her child from the old-fashioned pavilion. 

you shook your head slowly as you curled over, your forehead meeting your knees in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. the last thing you needed was a genuinely concerned stranger--their kindness would have you all-out balling like a child in an instant.

still, it would all come out at some point, in one form of another, and despite your wishes you didn’t get to dictate when. 

“why would you say that, why would you say that, why would you say that,” you wailed in a whisper to yourself, the face of the man who had spoken engraved in your mind beyond erasure. maybe it was the place you were in that made it so strong, since this had been the place where you had eaten ice cream during the summer. despite all of your doubts and worries and constant analysis of the words he teased you with, there was no other explanation to the smile he had that day. there was no teasing in the way he grinned, nor was there anything less than sheer tenderness within it, and it was the one thing that held you tethered to whether you could be more than just the bantering friends you clearly already were. on the other hand, maybe it was just your lovesick state, exaggerating the tiny inflections of incessantly replayed memories, as the latest thing he’d said surely would cancel all that sweetness out. 

a whimper released from your throat and you very nearly fell over the knife edge when your name was called over the late october air. 

your head flew up before you could stop it, gaze bleary and encrusted with tears as the voice you heard lifted your spirits, only to let them plummet again like a rollercoaster. 

he was running across the grass towards you, no coat to cover his arms, dark locks blustered about his face by the wind, before his feet were pounding the paving, coming to a slow and then a stop. 

“y/n, i—”

as soon as he was stood before you, catching his breath with blushed cheeks and his onyx eyes searching yours, all those cries that you had blockaded within you burst through. 

“you fucking asshole!” you screamed, words choked with sobs as you lurched to your feet. “you asshole! why the hell would you even go there?!” 

seonghwa looked more winded than you did, heart crushed at what he’d done to you. 

“do you forget i have feelings or something?!” you cried. your nails dug into your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your body beginning to shoot only up to your head. “do you know how hard i worked to study for that... that stupid... paper, i—”

it felt like all the blood in your body was trapped inside your skull at that moment. the realisation of rest of the world around you hit square in your gut, and your words gave way much like your feet did, leaving you to collapsed back onto the bench, your voice only giving sound to quiet sobs. 

for a minute, he stood at the other side of the path in silence, guilt eating him up as he looked at the consequences of his cowardice.  hongjoong’s words echoed in his head, as he despaired. there’s no way she’ll like you back now, he thought. taking a deep breath however, he made his way cautiously over to you, one step at a time. it was his fault, and it was time to take responsibility. he could still fix this situation, and that was much more important.

“y/n, i am so sorry,” he began gently, “back when your results came, i saw you smiling about it, laughing it off, i thought it was fair game...”

he reached the edge of the bench and the space left. it was big enough for him to fit, almost perfectly, but he continued to stand, a little distant to give you space. “i’m sorry, i should have listened to my intuition more, been more careful, should’ve paid closer attention.”

no matter how afraid i am to, he added in his head. 

“i never meant to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean that it’s... all ok,” he finished, apologising once again, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he nervously waited for any response.

even with your head bowed you were absolutely stunning, how your hair caught the bright autumn sun and accentuated the beautiful face he knew so well. tear stained only made the urge to hold you stronger, to make you laugh more powerful.  how had he gotten into this mess.

“why did you have to say that, seonghwa?” your words were threadbare, lilting like distant birdsong made up only of mountain echoes. your tears had not quite dried, cheeks rosy from the wind and his mistake, but your breath was more stable. “why do you always have to tease me? why can’t you... just say the nice things, the sweet things?” 

he wasn’t aware of just how much of a leap you had made, and how your heart threatened to burst from your ribs at the dangers you had proposed for yourself. with fortune on your side however, they did not come, and seonghwa continued, discarding the urge to back down against what he had done for so long prior.

“i want to say them, i always do,” he explained hesitantly, trying to push through the murk of the truth and continue with the revelation he had discovered, “i was just... so afraid.”

“of what?”

your question was so simple and yet he couldn’t answer straight away. swallowing thickly, with it heavy upon his tongue, he tried his best. “of you not liking me back. of being made to look like an idiot for thinking i had...”

the wind rustled the trees who gossiped about the scene below by their roots. your eyes glanced up to see the mother and child nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help but wonder at what point they decided to leave, or whether they fled from the drama at all.  you didn’t dwell on it though, there was no way you could with your crush stood waiting patiently for you to speak. he looked much like a kicked puppy, though he was trying to retain his cool by avoiding your gaze fully. although, he never looked away.

“you looked like an idiot anyway,” you finally answered, waiting for him to respond with a retort and assume everything was ok. but he didn’t. he remained quiet, waiting for you to finish. “just for a different reason.”

he nodded at that. 

it never truly dawned on you that the play that you were enacting was actually for one, a confession, and two, real. that wouldn’t actually come until you opened your eyes an hour later after falling asleep upon that bench. instead, you continued to drift through reality, flowing with what felt right.

catching onto the fact he was waiting for your call, you shifted just slightly across the bench to beckon him to sit.

he perched on the edge of the iron at your side, a fair distance between you as he finally tore his eyes away, letting them settle across the small hills of the park. there wasn’t anyone in sight, the sun having gone in and leaving the cold to continue its infiltration into your bones.  

thus, you shuffled across the bench, a fair bit in reality that he didn’t notice until the very end, when you were about to lean into to him.

“y/n...?”

you rested your head on his shoulder, the warmth he seeped reigniting your icy skin and fending off the numbness that had taken root there without you knowing. it felt natural to be there, laying against him, and he seemed to think so too, as he made no effort at all to stop you. in fact, he shifted himself further back, giving you more room, and let out the air he had gathered in his lungs for a blow he never received.  

“i like...” you began, though you were stopped by the need to clear your throat, your sobbing having left it dry, “your leather jacket, back home. it looks so comfortable and... badass.”

you felt him look down to you, though you made no effort to crane your neck up to see what his expression was. you were quite comfortable enough where you were. soon though, he caught on. “i like your outfit today. it suits you really well.”

the joyous rush seonghwa felt after complimenting you was ineffable.

“your voice is really good. it’s so soft and clear.”

“i think your laugh is sweet. it’s adorable and i can’t help but smile when you i hear it.”

“i think you’re cute.”

“i think you’re gorgeous.”

a chill caught your shoulders and a shiver melded with your shy giggle that followed his words. within moments though, his arm is around you, holding you closer, protecting you from the autumn cold. it felt so right to finally be nice to one another, and tiredly staring off at the buffering canopies beyond, you regretted all the time you had wasted dancing around the subject in favour of the status quo. 

“isn’t this much better?” you murmured finally, glancing up to catch a glimpse of hi handsome face at a new angle. “playing sweet?”

he peered down to meet you, a small smile upon his plush lips. it wasn’t as grand as the one on that bright summer’s afternoon, but it felt sincere all the same—etched with nerves from where he had bitten anxiously, teasing at his cheeks, a box grin in the making. 

his hand, somehow hot against the approaching winter, rose to softly rest against your temple. he traced spirals into your skin there, delicately as if the wind could brush them away, before lifting to the corner of your eye. you’d long since finished crying, your eyes and nose tinted rouge—it would have been something that you would’ve been ashamed of, but the man’s doting caress was enough to push it far from your mind. despite the disappearance of your sorrow, the chrysalis of a tear, near complete, resided there. and so he wiped it away with the tip of his thumb.

shy at his touch, you ducked your head away from his tenderness, choosing to bury your nose in his neck instead. you felt his laugh roll through you, deep and calming, as his arms held you secure at his chest. and there, in the face of the cold autumn, you decided that you could stay like that for a bit longer.

~~~

an: idk if i like this yet. probably not.

once again i wrote this in drabble format thinking it would be short but then it was not. like always. why am i even surprised. 

masterlist

[bave-de-crapaud]

The Darkness Within...

CHAPTER FIVE

(Yearning by crescentcreations.storenvy.com) 

Request by: the babe @belladonnarey

A/N: hmmm this one took a while BUT it (hopefully) is the smut you have been waiting for. Let me know what you like about it, what you don’t, what you think will happen. Enjoy and stay safe.  Sirius x Reader Older Sirius Sirius Lives/Post Azkaban Smutty McSmut Word count: 5500+ Disclaimer: All characters are assumed 18+ Warnings: Smut!

—-

Finding yourself at Number 12 Grimmauld Place became a regular if normal occurrence over the next few weeks. In your spare time you sat on the floor in Sirius’ library, pouring over dusty volumes containing everything and anything related to wizards and witches with ‘eccentric abilities’ - the technical term to what you had, apparently. 

The good thing about this was you weren’t the only one who had surfaced over the years with strange skills, there were wizards who could command water without a wand, witches who with one touch could drain a person of their fears, individuals who could fly sans apparatus and countless others who had fascinating and outrageous traits. The bad thing was none of these wizards were alive today to speak with, the last person with documented abilities had died over 100 years ago. Yet again you felt like you were on this journey on your own.

Sirius and Remus were constantly in and out of the house completing various missions and tasks for the order. Sirius checked on you often, bringing you tea or something to eat but kept himself scarce to let you figure out your mysteries alone. He seemed to understand that this was a private affair for you and you were grateful for the time. However each night around 8pm he would come into the Library, sit on one of the old leather couches and ask you about your day. 

You caught snippets of what he and Remus had been up to and learned that one of the missions ended in a grizzly discovery of Macnair’s body - found dead in his home - magic obviously the cause of torture and death. 

Voldemort had become less of a focus in your mind and each time you were called to his presence you found it easy to resist his psychological torment. The disgust on your face was not evident when fellow Death Eaters talked about their foul crimes. Being around Sirius was giving you a strength you never knew you had. The way he threw himself into fighting for equality and the right to live no matter what situation or who he had to work with, both humbled and amazed you. If he can put up with more than 12 years of the world thinking he was a betrayer and cold-blooded killer who was associated with Death Eaters and Voldemort, then you could put up with sporadically rubbing shoulders with Malfoy, Lestrange, and their cronies.

Your new attitude didn’t go unnoticed, it was put down to you growing a stronger stomach for violence and generally taken positively amongst the Death Eater ranks. However, Voldemort, though he outwardly showed no signs of displeasure, watched you more and decided to hold whatever he wanted Macnair to deliver to you for later. Like any nefarious leader, he was constantly on the lookout for a rat in his ranks and you were not exempt from this scrutiny.

After every Death Eater meeting, you would return home before heading over to Grimmauld Place, a new sanctuary, to pour over more books and hopefully absorb the good vibes from its admirable inhabitants. This made being with Death Eaters bearable. On the nights of Order meetings, however, you stayed away. Those evenings were becoming Sirius’ least favourite. It made sense to shield you from them for your own and others’ safety. However, that didn’t stop him feeling concerned for you. Reckless and impulsive, he may be, he was also a very intuitive and perceptive man. He hadn’t failed to notice how much you seem to relax in his library. He wanted that for you, relating to that feeling of relief as almost an addictive substance, he knew you needed and craved it and he wanted to give it to you. Badly. 

He felt protective and territorial of you. If he really wanted to analyse his feelings he would have noticed that your safety, though paramount, was not the only reason he wanted you to come to his house: the lingering looks as he gave you yet another cup of tea, finding a way to bring you into conversation with Remus, seemingly innocently, was a dead giveaway of deeper feelings. Remus said nothing, prefering to feign ignorance, yet the annoyingly knowing looks he gave Sirius hinted otherwise.

“Just ask her, Padfoot.” Remus sighed exasperatedly, shuffling his paper one day as Sirius kept looking towards the door of his library, knowing you were inside.

“Ask her what?” Sirius tried and failed to nonchalantly reply.

“Out, mate!” 

Sirius frowned, placing both hands on the kitchen table as though readying his defense. “For one: what makes you think I want to ask her out? And two: I couldn’t anyway - we are supposed to be on opposing sides remember?” 

Remus stared at his friend, conceding defeat but not enough to hold in his last words before disappearing behind the Daily Prophet; “True but if it can be concealed from the Death Eaters that she is at your house every day, then asking her to have dinner with you is not a huge step up I would think.”

There was another reason, Sirius hadn’t tried to gauge your feelings: He didn’t want you to think he was just trying to get a leg over. Your outright statement about his intentions after he first visited your house, had stuck with him. He concluded that you didn’t want him and pursuing you would only harden your view towards him further. So he played it safe, frustrating himself and unknowingly frustrating you in the process.

—

Sirius’ library was vast and carried more volumes on runes than all the franchises of Flourish and Blotts combined. What was interesting was that the interpretation of runes and ancient markings was just as vast and also open into a plethora of interpretation. You had discovered that the rune on your chest - the mirror image of one of Sirius’  tattoos - did indeed mean ‘destruction’ but in a form of new growth. Much like a farmer sowing soil, ridding the earth of old, dead, and rotting plants preparing it for new seeds.

Two runes on your left arm meant ‘Harm To My Enemies’ and another on your thigh could be interpreted as ‘The East Wind’. Other forms of your abilities were harder to quantify as there was no record of someone with all the same traits as you, however, those who had shown up throughout history with varying sources of atypical power were more often than not tyrants and individuals who used their abilities for evil. Stories of wizards who did not feel cold, commanding animals, and manipulating the elements such as fire were largely negative however speckled throughout the research were wizards who were great warriors, shepherds of the people, and in some cases just normal citizens living their lives like everyone else

Though you were slowly and steadily finding out more information about your powers and relished the time you were so easily given you couldn’t help but wish for Sirius’ company more often than an hour or two at night. Luckily for you, that was about to change.

—

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” You were sat on the floor in front of the fireplace staring gloomily at your fifth cup of tea.

You smiled “Sirius I’m so grateful for you letting me stay but I was wondering - do you have anything other than tea?”

He smirked and left the room returning seconds later with a bottle of fire whiskey. 

Handing you a large glass he clinked it with his and took his place back on the couch asking you again how was your day. Each night Sirius had helped you with your findings, giving his opinion or helping you to digest what you had read. He was adamant that your powers weren’t evil and that you needed to be confident in your choice to do what was right. He had served to make you feel good about yourself a lot but you wondered if he had the same support from his pairs. Tonight you put aside your research and decided to question him about his life. You had gleaned a bit about him over the last month but he was infinitely fascinating to you and seemed like a well of untapped ideas and beliefs.

He talked about his family, his friends, and the Order. He told you light hearted tales about his Hogwarts days and he talked at length about Harry and how sometimes he was nervous about his parenting role considering Walburga and Orion were such poor examples to go off.

“You know, you are not what I thought.” You said boldly after a moment of silence.

 Sirius sat up straighter on the couch and cocked his eyebrow at you. A side smile not quite covering a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“Oh?” Was all he said. “Yeah.” You walked forwards from your current position in front of the mantle place and took a seat beside him. 

“You care more about what people think than you let on.”

“Is that so?” He subconsciously moved his body so it was angled towards you.

“Yeah, and you are not as much of a dog around the ladies as I thought you’d be.” Sirius barked out a laugh at this. “Why thank you Y/N, but to be fair you have never seen me around ‘the ladies.’”

“I’ve seen you around me.” You answered bluntly. “You aren’t all over me with cheap pick up lines and cocky bravado.”

Sirius turned his head away and tried to hold in a laugh. Where was this coming from? He wondered.

“Is that how you think I would woo a woman? I’m slightly offended, Y/N.” He didn’t look it. He looked amused and a little interested.

He wasn’t able to tell if you were joking and as you glimmered at him, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t sleep around you know. I haven’t done that since I was 20, but unfortunately, that reputation has always preceded me.”

“You probably deserved it!” 

He scoffed, turning back to stare at the fire; “Probably, and don’t get me wrong I still like meeting new people but I have long since learned sex is far better with someone you have a connection with.”

“Ok then.” You said brightly, gaining his attention again. “What would you do?” 

“What would I do, when?” Sirius narrowed his eyebrows slightly, confused.

“When you want to “woo” a woman.” You signalled quotation marks in the air as you said the word ‘woo’ earning another quick chuckle from him.

Sirius paused, looking at you intently, cogs working fast in his brain. She wants you to woo her? No, she wants you to show her what you would do to woo her. Does that mean she wants me?

As Sirius battled these rapid thoughts, your own inner monologue was pipping up as well:  This is a dangerous game, Y/N.  You are leading him on and you know it.  It’s too dangerous, you can’t do anything with him. Don’t confuse the poor guy…unless you want to be leading him on.  Do you?

Shaking your head and forcing yourself to believe this would just be a fun game you crossed your legs leaning closer to Sirius.

He noticed glancing at your legs, smooth skin exposed up to past mid-thigh where your skirt took over covering the rest from there.

He looked back into your eyes and noticed a difference. Your pupils were bigger and there was a faint purple hue in your irises.

Right now, the sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife. It had been building over the past few weeks. An accidental touch here and there, a smile, or a look that meant everything and nothing at the same time from him would floor you. When he looked over your shoulder to consider whatever book you were showing him, little puffs of his breath in your ear flooded your body with heat making it impossible to concentrate. All these reactions confused you and created a chronic longing feeling in your chest you had not experienced before. It made you feel warm, content, and giddy. 

Never having fallen for anyone before, you didn’t recognise the signs, the changes in your body and the effect he had on you mentally and physically. By the time these feelings had reached boiling point he was sitting next to you and your body was doing the thinking for you. God you wanted him to touch you. To an untrained eye Sirius looked so cool and collected, however beneath the surface he was anything but.

Since Remus had confronted him about asking you out, Sirius had thought little else. He was super aware of his body language, how it angled him towards you, begging him to take a step closer even if just to place his hand on your back as he passed. Believing that you didn’t want that from him, he was careful not to brush past you or stand too close and cause you to feel uncomfortable. He constantly watched himself and made sure he didn’t give you the wrong idea. It was hard though. Very hard.

Just yesterday he nearly pinned you against the wall and kissed you. He was walking you out and after a long night of research, you were tired and not watching where you were going. Just as he was saying “watch out for the…” you kicked over that bloody troll leg again. Instead of steading yourself, your first thought was not to wake up Sirius’ Mother’s portrait so you reached back to catch the falling article before its clatter made a sound. Overreaching, you fell backward into something hard and warm: Sirius’ chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and upright. 

“Are you ok?” he whispered in your ear, his puffs of breath once again making your veins tingle.

You swallowed and exited abruptly leaving Sirius cursing himself for what he thought was his incongruous behaviour. As far as you were concerned, it had been anything but and you were unable to stop thinking of him for the rest of the evening, dreaming of those same arms doing other far more inappropriate things making your sleep wrought with pleasurable shivers and fever. Oh God, was he ever going to come closer?

Until this evening he had been the perfect gentleman, respecting your boundaries and staying just out of reach. Apart from the one incident in the hallway, you hadn’t felt his touch, no matter how innocent, since he had carried you up the stairs to bed and that was having an unacceptable effect on you. It made you lean towards him further, lick your lips whenever he was near, and glance at his body when he wasn’t looking in a completely wanton way. He must notice the heat coming from me? You thought. He seemed so relaxed, not at all perturbed by your presence.

How wrong you were. Inside, Sirius was struggling. He was trying to be a gentleman but it was hard, you were making it hard. Do you actually want him? He was ok with just being in your orbit slowly torturing himself at not touching you, content at just being there but this evening, your flirting coupled with the fire whiskey was not helping, in fact, its lubricating effects ware making resisting anything you said that could be slightly construed as even vague interest, very, very difficult. 

Sirius cleared his throat. Not taking his eyes off you. “You want me to show you how I ask a woman out?”

“Yes, show me your moves!”

Sirius smiled but his eyes held a serious, almost pained look. Before you could ask him what was wrong he shuffled in his seat.

“Y/N, I don’t have moves I just sort of feel a situation out, see if she likes me and then go from there.”

“Ok well, show me how you do that. Come on.” You egged him as he gave you a look of doubt. “It’ll be fun.”

It’ll be torture. Sirius thought, but you were looking at him with such a blazing warmth in your eyes, he relented and shifted so he was closer to you.

“Well, if I like her I have usually gotten to know her a little bit, watched the way she moves, adjusted my body language to suit whatever she is comfortable with, and look for signs she is interested in me too.”

He stretched so his right arm was running along the back of the couch, behind you, touching your shoulder ever so lightly. You shivered at the contact. 

“Then I guess I would let her take the lead.” His voice had lowered and you noticed he had leaned closer to you. You had also noticed that the outside of his right leg was pressed against your crossed calves and as he leaned to you further you got a whiff of his cologne. The musky, manly scent combined with his closeness dilated your pupils further and sent your mind whirling.

Before you could collect yourself Sirius gave you a slow, mischievous smile, took a sip of his drink and said very quietly; “Your turn.”

“My…w-what?” you uttered, stammering slightly.

“Your turn to show me your moves.”

Fuck you wanted him. Could you? No? Slowly, not realising it you inched closer to him. 

You were nervous, Sirius could finally see that. Whatever he was doing had an effect on you. Sirius loved the excitement of turning someone else on, this was him in his element. However, unlike most interactions with the opposite sex, this one was equally thrilling and torturing him. Setting his glass down and gathering a sliver of confidence he tentatively he placed his left hand on your thigh. You sucked in a sharp breath which he mistook for fear immediately whipping his hand away and opening his mouth to apologise only to be interrupted by the words: “Don’t stop.”

He looked back at you, having just enough time to register your meaning before you lunged forward, capturing his lips in yours. 

There was a seconds pause then Sirius was returning your kiss with fervor. He wrapped his arms around your back clinging to your shirt before lifting you up and onto his lap, legs either side of his, pressing into him exquisitely. 

He tasted like fire whiskey and something sweet at the same time.

He moved his hand through your hair holding your head while the other held your lower back pressing you firmly, further into him. Suddenly the hand holding your head was gone and running up your outer thigh, underneath your skirt. 

His warm fingers caressed your upper thigh, moving further to touch the tip of your hip and run tantalizing circles across your backside.

His kisses were feverish and sending you reeling. The way he swept his tongue across your lips opening them and deepening the kiss was tantalizing. Clinging to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, you ground down into his crotch and he groaned, opening his eyes. They were heavy with desire.

Sirius squeezed your bum picking you up and laying you back down on the couch. He didn’t remove his lips from yours as he wrapped your legs around his waist and lowered his body onto yours.

You arched up into him and he was immediately transported to the first dream he had of you, lying naked on his bed. He let out a shuddered breath; “You are so beautiful, Y/N. I want you.”

Instead of being flattered by this, a voice popped up in the back of your mind; Did he though? Shaken by this sudden thought, then jumping slightly at the bang of the front door signifying the probable return home of Remus served to knock you back into reality. The situation suddenly became very clear to you. You had just thrown yourself at a man who was known for sleeping with multiple women, very easily it seemed if you were to believe what he said before - he didn’t have to do anything and they offered themselves to him.

Of course he wanted you - you had led him on with your ‘game’ basically given yourself up to him on a platter. This wasn’t real, it was convenient and you could seriously hurt him if you let him in further.

Seeing the change in your face, Sirius sat up, “Y/N, are you ok? Was this too fast?.”

“Sirius..I” you were so embarrassed. Sitting up, quickly removing your legs from around him. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have.” He could see the blush rising up around your cheeks and you couldn’t look at him.

“Shouldn’t have? What do you mean - I think this was on both of us. Don’t you?”

“I mean.” You screwed your eyes shut, breathing deeply, “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea…I… I don’t do one nightstands.” 

“One nightstands?” he was frowning at you, confused, his mind racing. Didn’t she hear me before? 

Seeing him frown and mistaking it for annoyance rather than confusion you stood up and started to back towards the door. “I should go, I’m so sorry for coming on to you.”

“Y/N! Wait!” But before he could take two steps towards you, you had turned on your heel and raced out the door.

“Y/N!” Sirius was still calling your name as you shot out the front door, turning on the spot to disapparate. 

—

“Argh, Y/N how could you be so stupid!” You cursed yourself as you walked around your kitchen.

That had been the hottest, most erotic thing that had happened to you and you choked, freaked out, and left.

You wanted Sirius it was true but you couldn’t quite believe someone like him could want you for anything more than a one time fling. No one else had wanted more so what made him any different?

Plus even if he did there was a real chance you could lose it and hurt him. The feelings he elicited from you were unreal and you had never felt that alive and heated before. It both thrilled and frightened you to your bones.

Though the research you conducted in his library had opened up ideas that you hadn’t had before - you were still afraid. Sirius had quickly and unquestionably become your favourite person and you didn’t think your poor heart could take having him in the most intimate way and then not having him again. So you had done the most adult thing you could think of: insulted his intentions and run away. “Brilliant!” You spat.

Back at Geimmauld Place, Sirius was pacing up and down the hall. “YOU IDIOT!” He yelled at himself waking up his mother. “Oh shut the fuck up you old hag!” Storming out of the house, and out into the night air helped calm him and give him clarity. He disapparated instantly.

Lifting your head from your hands you got up from the kitchen table as you heard a soft knock at your front door.

Sirius stood at your door with a dark, devastating look.

“Sirius I…” you began.

“I want you more than just for tonight.” He blurted out. “I have for a long time” 

“What if I hurt you?” 

He walked in, eyes dark and grabbed you, “You won’t.”

He let you go and stood before you, waiting. He wanted you to be sure of him and sure of yourself. His broad shoulders quivered under your stare, not with fear but ready to do anything you desired. Sirius was a handsome man, sure, but standing before you laying his cards on the line, his need for you so obvious and open made him the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He was not afraid of anything. His confidence fanned yours and you ignored the fear building in your stomach and stepped into him. 

Attaching himself to your lips once more he didn’t look as he closed the front door and led you towards your staircase.

Laying you down on your bed once again he hovered above you, one muscled arm on either side of your head. This view of you sprawled out underneath him jogged his memory and as he recalled first dream about you again. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

“What’s wrong Sirius?”

Your concern was squashed by a sly smile. He opened his eyes and said with a smirk: “I’ve dreamt about this before”

“Is that so?”

“Yes” he looked at you intently.

“What did dream me do?”

You couldn’t quite hold your smug smile while Sirius bit his lip and told you.

Wrapping your legs around him once more, you pulled him down on top of you. Hands running down his sides as you kissed him, you felt his muscles tense at each spot you touched. Whatever you were doing to him, he enjoyed it.

Taking great effort to wrench his lips from yours Sirius looked at you once more and asked: “Y/N, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

Looking surprised, you nodded. He smiled. “I meant what I said. This isn’t just a once off. Not for me.”

“I know.” You conceded. “I also just didn’t want my first time to be meaningless.” “Your first time?” Sirius looked shocked. “You mean you’ve never…?”

You shook your head, grimacing slightly hoping this didn’t change anything.

“Oh Y/N, are you sure?” Sirius was surprised and, if possible, turned on even more. There was something so special about sharing someone’s first experience. Meaning something so much to them that they wanted to be with you. He felt sexy, powerful, and potent which combined with how long he had lusted over you and the way you moved, made it incredibly hard for him to focus.

“Yes Sirius.” The brazen look in your eyes and the way you ran your hands in sweeping strokes around his body told him that though you may not have had sex you had had other intimate experiences and you knew what you wanted.

He shuddered once more, closing his eyes as you arched up into him again. 

“Y/N.” His voice came out in a rasp. “God, you are turning me on… I want you so badly but if this is not right for you please tell me and we’ll stop.”

You surprised him by laughing softly. “You’re sort of killing the mood, Sirius. I want this, I want you - you know you are not the only one who has touched themselves dreaming about us.”

Suddenly, with a twirl of your fingers, soft, malleable ropes appeared at your wrists. Gently lifting your arms up and firmly tying your hands to your bedpost.

Sirius’ jaw dropped and he almost started drooling. The look on his face, one of absolute adoration, spurred you on further. Another flick of your wrist and your clothes slowly started peeling themselves off your body, ripping in parts to remove themselves from you until you were lying naked, stretched underneath him, replicating that particular dream perfectly.

As you looked up at him through relaxed eyelids and purred; “I want you to touch me, Sirius.” He nearly came undone.

Though he was only wearing his jeans and a shirt he couldn’t get naked fast enough.

Sirius laid his body against yours, groaning at the feel of your soft skin. He kissed you deeply, letting one arm hold himself while the other dipped low, wandering further until it came torturously close to your clit before moving passed and circling your inner thigh.

You groaned with frustration and he smiled into your lips as he kissed you, tongue sweeping inside your mouth lighting sparks inside your head.

Each time he neared closer to your core, your breath hitched, waiting, only to be expelled in frustration as he moved passed and to another area. 

He explored your mouth, your neck, your collar bone, and your nipples with his mouth, all the while coming close to touching you where you needed but not getting close enough.

Finally, he swept his finger up the line of your folds and flicked your clit. A move that literally took your breath away and his. He could feel how wet you were and it made his cock twitch with excitement. “Oh, Y/N.”

His teasing had become torturous for him as well. If he wasn’t careful, your body was going to turn him on so much that he might come on you rather than inside you like he desperately wanted.

He moved down to flick your nipple with his tongue then continued further south until his head was level with your core. A brush of stubble on your inner thigh had you jolting. He kissed the spot, sparking your lust even more. Not able to take any more teasing, “please Sirius” you begged. The desperate timbre of your voice made him feel incredibly desired.

He gently made taught the skin above your clit tilting it upwards and licking it, so lightly but giving you the feeling of being shocked with the most incredible surge of power. A whimper and a groan encouraged him to carry on and soon he was holding your bucking hips down as he continued to rapidly lick, and flick the sensitive bead. You could feel a sudden blooming inside you, growing outwards, and upwards lighting even your soul on fire. Suddenly afraid your weird powers might cause you to lash out and hurt him you made to move away but he held you down and stopped his tongue briefly enough to growl, “you won’t, just let go.”

He shifted his free hand under your bum and squeezed as he buried his face once more in your core.  There it was again, that sweet hot feeling running through your bones. A warm glow washed over you and into him - consuming him filling him with love. You could feel his devotion to you, how turned on he was, how much he longed for you. This had never happened previously and before you could process it the orgasm he gave you lifted you off the bed causing you to cry out his name over and over. He did not relent, it was exquisite ecstasy.

“Oh God, oh God…” you breathed, hyperventilating from how good he had made you feel. Sirius was smiling, he had made his way back up the bed and was lying next to you, stroking your side.

You wrenched your arms out of the ropes and launched at him, taking him off guard and kissing him deeply, pushing yourself on top of him until you were straddling his lap just like you had only moments ago in his library.

Sirius’ cocky smile turned into an ‘oh’ as his mouth opened while you grabbed his erection and placed it at your entrance. Wetting the tip from your already dripping core you slowly began to slide down.

Sirius, groaned, bit his lip and grasped your hips. He was utterly and irrevocably under your spell.

Feeling a stretch, painful at first, you continued to slide down until a snapping feeling followed by a slight relief brought you to the bottom of his shaft.

Taking your breath you slowly started to move up and down his cock, squeezing intermittently and kissing him sporadically.

The frenzy he had whipped you into before had served to lubricate your entrance so though there was some pain at first, it soon gave way to a delightfully filling feeling.

“Ohhh Y/N” Sirius groaned as your inner walls stroked his shaft. You were tight, as he expected but your smooth movements and rocking of your hips blew him away. If this was you at your first time then he was in for a real treat when you had more experience under your belt. Thoughts of you experimenting with others flashed across his mind and he growled. Territorial hormones took him over as he squeezed your hips hard lifting his own up into you, hitting a spot inside you that caused you to moan.

Sirius noticed this and increased the snapping of his hips. Continuous thrusts meeting each other coupled with your already sensitive clit rubbing against the rough hair on his pelvis was causing an orgasm to build again. Surely not? Not at your first instance of sex, you thought?

A delightful wave tickled your walls and you shivered. “Sirius, I’m going to come. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t, reaching down between you he rubbed your clit once more to bring your orgasm about faster. Feeling your walls clamp down around him his thrusts became sloppier and as you came, unraveling on top of him he found his release crying your name and squeezing your hips painfully. 

You fell forward on top of him and he instantly wrapped his arms around you rolling you to the side, still inside of you showing no signs he wanted to get up.

Laying there entwined with him, you felt the content warm feeling ripple through you again. You had let go and not lost control! If you could do this then you could do anything. No more holding back. In one act of love Sirius had helped you break the shackles of fear and find relief from a lifetime of pressure and concern. You felt light and confident. Chuckling to yourself he looked at you cocking an eyebrow in question.

“Well Sirius, those were some good moves!” 

There was a beat and then you both laughed.

—- Tag list: @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @borbole-teias @legalyred @qwertyokok

[alexis-vaughn]

❝ i’m fine, let me see your face. ❞ + bee

Her brows were still furrowed in confusion about the fact that this stranger intervened so bravely (or recklessly) in her little argument with these two shitheads harassing her in the cafe at plain sight. Did she look like a woman who needed to be saved? Did he really think she was helpless? Or did he really just was one of the good men the world had left? Well, probably these guys before wouldn’t have been so hot headed either if they would have known who she was or if her temper wouldn’t give her such a foul mouth which apparently made them freak and suddenly grab her face, but that’s what you get as a woman without your badge it seems. Fucking assholes.

And now her ‘savior’ was looking at her as if he expected a grand prize. Idiot. But why did it even make her flinch away as he wanted to take a closer look at her? “I’m alright.” she mumbled and stepped back as they were standing on the parking spot now after the tall black haired man got into that little fist fight for her. Maybe she just couldn’t process this kind of affection.

On the contrary to him she wasn’t the one being punched and still he was the one asking for her well-being, which definitely left her speechless. Why would he do that for her? For others his gesture must have been heroic, for her own pride it seemed degrading nevertheless and made her feel insecure, a feeling she didn’t have in a long time.

She was still trying to evade his look with her hair in front of her face, but she knew if she wanted to show some dignity and strength here, she had to face him and be at least thankful to not punish his good intentions with her bitchy behavior. Her eyes went up to the dark ones, noticing the little scratch on his jawline which made her frown. “You didn’t have to do that, you know? I’m a big girl.”

While scanning his face she tried to remember where she saw him before, cause her intuition never failed her and she would bet her ass that she noticed the dark eyes somewhere else. And not only the eyes, somehow his whole presence had something mysterious about it which would take your breath away and threaten to make you choke. Even as she leaned in without ostentation to inhale the scent of his skin, there was this rough smell she definitely passed a while ago. But where? And... was it really just a coincidence in a city like LA? Maybe. Maybe not.

“Listen, I respect your bravery and more people should have your kind of moral courage. But in case you just did that to prove that your dick is bigger than theirs to get in my pants, I politely decline. Thank you.” Sending him one of her fiercely glares to show off some respect for him, she kept her eyes on him until she turnt around. But still she hesitated to leave.

Damn, I could have been nicer. He only meant it in a good way, right? Do I really want to push someone away who just protected me? Am I that embittered?

@fvrmidables

[yehet-me-up]

Boiling Point

Pairing: Jongin x reader (female)

Genre: dude idk, soft and romantic... stripper AU?!

Rating: (M) for language and sexual themes/situations 

Word Count: 4,179

Summary: In the year you’ve been working at the Elxyion Male Revue you’ve somehow managed to not date, or anything else, with any of your incredibly hot co-workers. But then a new dancer starts who makes you break all your rules.

A/N: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY/CHRISTMAS @gingersaysjump​ ILY BAE <333 😉 😉 😉

The lights on the strip dazzle you, as they always do. 

A hum of pleasure courses through you on your walk to work. In the year you’ve lived here Vegas has never failed to capture your imagination.

The city seems to rise as night falls. While the rest of the world closes its doors and falls asleep, Vegas wakes from its slumber and comes alive. 

A faint breeze blows in off the desert and teases the edges of your dress. The material brushes against your thighs, already slightly damp in the persistent heat. It impresses you the way the blazing sun from the day lingers well on into the night, mixes with alcohol and music and skin, and infuses the city with an electric pulse that doesn’t burn off until dawn. 

Something is coming, you think to yourself abruptly. You draw your lip between your teeth and work at it while you ponder what it could be. 

Call it intuition, fate, whatever you want - it’s there, and it’s always guided you. 

Whatever is coming, you’ll handle it, you tell yourself and shrug absently, releasing your lip. 

Oh how wrong you are.

The club is in full preparation mode when you arrive. Kat the bar manager waves at you before her announcer boyfriend Chanyeol resumes what appears to be a very thorough exploration of her mouth with his tongue.

A man with cat-like eyes gives you a nod, his lips pulling back into what would be a smirk on a more arrogant man. The costume manager is fitting him for a military outfit that looks downright deadly and that familiar coil of heat grows in your core as you meet Minseok’s gaze. 

You lift your hand in greeting, thankfully slipping through the curtain on the far side of the room to head into the staff lounge. He’s been flirting with you for weeks. Making eye contact every time he brought someone on stage to dance with, grinding his hips into that night’s bachelorette or birthday girl so you knew that he wasn’t just tempting you. 

He wanted you to know exactly how good it would be if you finally let him fuck you. 

For weeks he’s been letting his hand linger on your lower back when you all leave together at the end of the night. Giving you knowing looks at staff meetings. Hinting at things, but not acting on them; slowly working down your defenses. 

But for now you’ve remained strong.

There’s always a buzz around the Elyxion Male Revue on Friday nights. Big crowds. Sweat. Screaming women going insane with each new inch of skin revealed by the dancers.

But, more importantly for you, Friday nights bring excellent tips.

You lift your purse over your head and slip it in your locker. Suddenly you feel a chin press to your shoulder. 

‘Are you ready to die, my friend?’ says the cheerful voice. 

Turning you raise a brow at your friend Sarah, you fight a smile as she gives you her giddy I know something you don’t know look.

‘What?’ 

‘Oh come on, ask me,’ she teases, humming.

‘You know I’m not going to ask, so you might as well just tell me,’ you deadpan, pulling your apron from your locker.

‘Ugh, fine. Ruin my fun,’ she says, dropping the charade. ‘Or maybe I won’t tell you, and I’ll get to watch you melt with no warning.’

‘Are you talking about the new military number?’ you ask. ‘Old news. I saw Min being fitted when I came in. Plus, did you forget I work on Sundays when they practice their new routines?’

She makes a sound like a buzzer. ‘Nope. Try again.’

You turn and fold your arms, leveling her with your most serious stare and finally she relents.

‘Oh fine. You’re lucky I love you,’ she says, stepping closer. Something about the mischievous twinkle in her eyes causes the forewarning in the pit of your stomach to come alive again. 

‘There’s a new dancer starting,’ she says nonchalantly. 

Your brows pull together. ‘Okay... and? We get new dancers all the time, how is that news?’

‘Remember that show we watched last month? That dance competition we binged?’

‘I remember you turning it into a drinking game and almost passing out halfway through the first episode.’

She rolls her eyes and laughs. ‘Yes. That one. Well, I have it on news from a secret source that your favorite dancer just accepted a job here and will be here tomorrow to watch the show.’

Images flood your mind - a downright sinful expression on an angelic face. Hip thrusts revealing swaths of tanned, sweat-covered skin. An artistry of movement that somehow stirred both your heart and your desire. 

A groan falls from your lips. ‘Oh, shit.’

Sarah’s eyes light up and she gives you finger guns. ‘There it is!’

‘Kim Jongin is going to be dancing here?’ you ask, desperate to seek clarification.

‘You got it, babe,’ she says, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail and turning to leave. ‘Get ready to burn.’

For a moment you watch her weave through the crowd of dancers, assistants, servers, and bartenders and feel your life tilt off balance.

‘Helloooo ladieeees and welcome to Elyxion, the number one male revue on the strip, out-thrusting Chippendale’s and Thunder From Down Under six nights a week. Are you ready to get this party started?’ Chanyeol’s voice booms over the speakers and the packed crowd goes wild. 

You chuckle to yourself and bend down to take a woman’s drink order over the ecstatic screams of the crowd. 

The sound of a fire alarm goes off through the room and you quickly write down the drink and move toward the bar. 

‘Uh oh, ladies. I think there might be…’ Chanyeol’s joyful voice strings along the crowd, playing perfectly to the mix of fantasy and reality they came here for. 

He walks across the stage, lifting his hand to his ear. ‘A FIRE IN THE BUILDING.’

The lights in the room drop just as you come to stand next to Kat at the bar. The two of you share an amused look and turn to watch the first performance. 

Minseok always starts the show with the first solo - a firefighter number. Something about his combination of devastatingly hotness and his warm and reassuring presence sets the tone for the evening. 

You discreetly deliver drinks to the tables during his dance.

His stare practically bores a hole in the back of your head and you know he’s hoping you’ll make eye contact. It’s a game you both enjoy playing, but there’s something missing tonight. 

For some reason when you finally relent, as you always do, and watch him essentially dry hump the bachelorette on stage to Nelly’s ‘Hot in Herre’ you don’t feel the same electricity you once did.

With a confused shake of your head you carry on with the evening, laughing with the bar staff and other waiters, dancing along to the music when you can’t resist, and wondering what it is about the mere mention of Jongin that threw you off your groove.

The mid-afternoon line in Starbucks drags, sapping your energy. You step from foot to foot, eyeing the man at the front of the line who is placing what appears to be a million orders at once. 

All you want is caffeine, but apparently Saturday is going to put you through hell to get it. After a long Friday night and with another wild night ahead of you, Saturdays always feel like three days in one. 

With a sigh you raise your hand and begin to work your thumb into a kink in your neck. A buzzing in your pocket draws your attention. You pull out your phone and glance at the text on the screen. 

Sarah 2:15pm dead woman walking

Sarah 2:15pm hope you’re ready for tonight ;)

Y/N 2:16pm you stop that now

Sarah 2:16pm nope, can’t make me

Sarah 2:16pm muahahahaha

You laugh to yourself and slide the phone back in the pocket of your dress. 

Finally the man of a million orders moves to the side and the line moves forward. 

The heat in Vegas is an insistent, unrelenting beast. It tugs at your hair, plays along the line of your neck, trails down your spine, refusing to let you find relief. If the club wasn’t air conditioned you’d be willing to bet women of all ages would literally pass out from the combination of masculine sexuality and heat in the air. 

It’s especially hot in this goddamn Starbucks because the constant crush of bodies refuses to let the door stay closed and do its job of keeping this place cool. 

A group of teenagers brushes past you. One of the boys reaches around to tickle the girl next to him and she jolts in surprise, crashing into you and throwing you backward - directly into the person behind you.

Strong hands wrap around your body, keeping you upright.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry,’ the girl says, reaching out a hand in your direction.

You wave her off with a smile. ‘No harm, no foul. It’s crowded as hell in here.’

She looks relieved and the hoard of youths finally departs, leaving you to turn and thank your rescuer. 

Only years of customer service jobs and a practiced ability to control your reactions keeps you from dropping your mouth in shock. 

The man behind you is none other than Kim Jongin himself, even more handsome in person in low slung jeans and a plain black button-up shirt. He finally removes his fingers from their hold on your upper arms and instantly you want to ask him to put them back.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks, low voice cascading across your skin. 

You shake your head to clear it and give him a warm smile. ‘Yes, thanks to you.’

He laughs. ‘No problem. I’m not used to Starbucks’ being so crowded, but then again I’ve never visited one in Vegas.’

‘I know, right? Vegas is a universe unto itself. No normal rules apply.’

The line slides forward and you take a few steps up before turning back to him. When you do you see that he’s nonchalantly taking a look at your tanned legs showed to perfection by the skirt you’re wearing.

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, you think, lips twitching in amusement.

‘See something you like?’ 

He lifts his eyes to meet yours. Were he another man he might look apologetic, chastised, or maybe make a pass at you, a bold statement claiming you as his own possession to admire. 

But he surprises you.

‘Sorry, that was rude of me - checking you out before I even ask your name.’ 

A boyish smile graces his lips accompanied by the seductive lift of one brow. A heat that has nothing to do with the high temperatures outside sweeps through you. 

Warning bells go through your mind. Your commitment to not date people you work with. A hard-learned lesson not to be swept up by men who seem too good to be true rushes to your consciousness.

But unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at things, you’ve never been one to heed warnings. 

The moment stretches on, neither of you breaking eye contact. There’s something in his irises, playing around his expression you can’t place. An attraction, sure. Playfulness, definitely. You decide to call it purity, someone who is exactly who he presents himself to be - no bullshit or facade, a rarity in Vegas.

You are well and truly fucked. And he didn’t even have to take your clothes off.

‘Well. Are you going to ask?’ you say, giving him your best flirtatious smile.

His brows crease adorably. ‘Ask what?’

The line moves forward and you’re finally to the register. Delight courses through you. Leaning forward you pause a few inches from his ear, looking at him through your lashes. ‘My name.’

He laughs, a bright warm sound, as unrestrained and un-self-conscious as the rest of him while you place your order. 

When you step aside he’s got his phone out, holding it up to you with your name saved, making you laugh. Damn, you’d given your name to the barista. 

‘How about a number to go with the name?’ 

Your lips pull back into a lopsided smirk. ‘I don’t think you’ll need it.’

He looks confused again. Somehow, your drink is already ready, the barista at the end of the bar calling your name. 

‘I work at Elyxion,’ you say, joy and mischief infusing your words. 

He chuckles, looking down at his feet. Another man might have asked questions, been off-put by the clear disparity of information between the two of you. But once again he surprises you, merely lifting a shoulder and turning to place his order. 

‘I’ll see tonight.’

‘See you there... Jongin,’ you draw out the syllable, earning another laugh from him as you weave your way outside through the crowd.

The buzz in the club is even higher than normal when you arrive. Something about Jongin’s upcoming appearance has pushed everyone to operate at an even higher level. Costume staff, servers, even some of the strippers themselves - all seem to be trying extra hard tonight. 

You laugh to yourself as you get ready, already surrendered to whatever the night will bring. 

When you show up to the pre-opening staff huddle you find Jongin easily, his silver hair shining even in the low light of the prep room. When he sees you he gives you a wink before turning to listen to your general manager Junmyeon give the rundown for the show tonight.

He introduces Jongin and everyone welcomes him, the words passing through your mind without your notice. You’re far too distracted by the low cut shirt he’s wearing as you shamelessly check him out.

He catches you watching and smothers a laugh, raising an eyebrow as if to say fair is fair. 

You mouth ‘at least I know your name’ to him and his eyes crinkle at the corner as he tries not to laugh.

The huddle breaks up and Junmyeon claps a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, steering him backstage to watch the show. 

Unfortunately you only catch glimpses of him throughout the night as you serve drinks. He watches the routines with focus, mimicking the moves subtly in almost real time. 

You find him like a homing beacon every time you serve on the far side of the room. And every time you walk back to the bar you run your hand along your neck, simultaneously cursing and thanking God for bringing this man into your orbit. 

Sunday is everyone’s Friday, blessedly. A final show to close out the week and then a long day off on Mondays for everyone to rest and recover. 

After two full days of weekend high the building is always nice and empty when you arrive for your shift. Sunday afternoons you and Kat do all the weekly tasks like inventory and ordering and bookkeeping in between yawning and drowning yourselves in coffee. 

Jongin arrives just after two in an obscenely arousing pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top. He waves to you and Kat while chatting with some of the other performers before heading onstage. 

You do your best to not watch his rehearsal, avoiding the way you can see every line of his body as he practices the choreography. 

‘Those goddamn hip thrusts,’ you mutter, glancing away as if he’s the sun, too bright and hot to look at without being burned in some way.

‘What was that?’ Kat asks, but the look on her face lets you know that she’s aware of not only what you said, but also what you meant. 

You stick your tongue out at her and kneel down to intently count the glassware behind the bar. 

‘That’s what I thought.’

After the last of the group numbers is through a DJ Khaled song starts, low and dangerous, and you feel it in your gut that this is the song they’ve chosen for Jongin’s solo dance. 

‘Fuck,’ you sigh.

‘He’s dancing right now isn’t he,’ you ask with a wince, looking up at Kat. 

She’s got her arms folded, leaning back against the bar. She tilts her head and whistles. ‘He sure is, my friend.’

‘Double fuck,’ you laugh to yourself. 

‘You really should be watching this.’

‘Nope. No. Definitely not,’ you say decisively. ‘No dating people I work with. Or anything else for that matter, no matter how sweet and charming and incredible at dancing they are.’

She laughs. ‘Honey, I think you might want to make an exception.’

You narrow your eyes at her and go back to counting, standing and turning your back on the stage to work on the liquors.

‘You know that works better when you practice on a real person!’ Kat calls out, startling you.

‘What are you doing?!’

When you turn you see Sehun the choreographer rolling his eyes in amusement and Jongin on the floor, raised up on his arms smiling at you.

Kat gives you a satisfied grin. ‘Trust me.’

Jongin stands, resting his hands on his hips. Even from this distance you can see his chest rise and fall with his breathing, the sweat that shines on his chest and arms. 

He stares you down, raising that damn brow in challenge. ‘Are you volunteering?’

She practically shoves you forward, taking the inventory list from your hands. ‘Yes, she is.’

You curse under your breath and smooth your hair behind your ears while you walk. Just what you need, to burn alive with lust while half your co-workers watch. 

‘Hold You Down’ starts over again, the bass from the speakers thrumming through your veins. 

In all the months you’ve worked here you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve been on stage. And you knew decidedly how many times you’ve been on stage in this context - none. 

From here the bright lights of the stage make it hard to see the rest of the room, or even backstage. The spotlights create a bubble that exists only for you and Jongin. You assume the position on the chair set up at center stage, bracing your hands and grasping the edges of the chair for dear life.

With his eyes fixed on yours he moves in time to the beat, drawing his lip into his mouth and biting down as he takes off his shirt with aching slowness. 

Once it’s free he steps up to you, bringing his face a breath from yours. He bends down, running his hands up your thighs to grasp your hips. You almost whine at how goddamn good he looks staring up at you, his head inches from where you want him the most, if you’re honest with yourself. 

In one fluid motion he cups your thighs and lifts you onto his shoulders, your legs over him and your crotch directly in his face. You scream and laugh, grasping the back of his head in your hands to avoid falling. He gives you a wink that only you can see and your shake your head in amusement.

The chorus kicks in, fast and sensual, and he shifts you, spinning you into a bridal style hold. 

He moves again, laying you on the floor before tearing off his pants and crawling over you, a hungry look on his face that makes you clench your thighs together. 

You’re so captivated by his expression you hardly see what he’s doing with his body. But oh, how you feel it. 

His thighs press against yours as he grinds himself into you, balancing the line all male dancers have to between giving the lucky chosen woman what she wants but maintaining enough professional distance to avoid coming on too strong.

Too bad, I want you closer you think, surprising yourself. 

He finally finishes and helps you up. From the way he’s breathing heavily and watching you, you know he was thinking the same thing. He thanks you and you walk back to the bar as best as you can without passing out.

‘So, how was it?’ Kat asks.

‘I’m going to need a cold shower as soon as I get home,’ you sigh. ‘Or more  batteries for my vibrator.’

Kat laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. ‘Or you could just fuck him. The man is umm literally drooling on you.’

You lift your eyes skyward, praying for divine assitance.

It goes on like this for days.

Lunches at the taco joint down the street, laughing about tales from your previous jobs and his wild career. Dancing together when the group goes out after work to hit the strip on Thursday night. 

Flirting with Jongin is a dangerous game you can’t help but play. 

Perhaps its resisting fate, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the feeling in your chest when he brushes your hair behind your ear one night. 

Or perhaps it’s logic, warning you away from what could be disastrous for your sanity. For life as you know it. Watching him grind on other women on stage makes jealousy and possession rise in your chest like a hungry wolf, in a way it never did for Minseok. 

It disturbs you how fast this man has blotted out the rest of your life, and you can’t figure out how to feel about it.

Sunday arrives and once again you watch Jongin dance, feeling like you might combust at any moment from a combination of lust and need and … something decidedly softer. 

You take a break as lunch arrives and head to the back room to check your phone. You turn while scrolling through instagram, bumping into a solid form. 

This time when Jongin’s arms keep you upright you’re inches from his face. The smell of his cologne and his sweat, the devilish smile on his lips, makes you almost whine out loud. 

‘Hey,’ you start with a laugh, but you can’t bring yourself to move. 

‘Hey,’ he repeats with a smirk.

Blessedly the back room is empty. You can hear Minseok and Chanyeol laughing distantly and you know they’re entertaining the group while everyone eats. Leaving the two of you all alone back here, for better or worse.

In the silence he lifts his hands to cradle your jaw, his thumbs sweeping across your cheeks. With a sigh you finally succumb to this thing between you, resting your face against his hand and closing your eyes.

‘I love what we have right now, but I don’t just want to flirt with you,’ he says softly. ‘And I’m not just trying to sleep with you, I want more.’

Once again he surprises you with his guilelessness, speaking the truth with no hint of shame. He waits until you open your eyes to continue.

‘I want you to be mine. Will you let me take you for dinner tomorrow?’

Your heart feels like it turns into liquid butter. You shrug and say, ‘Okay.’ 

‘Okay?’ he asks, confusion once again turning his face boyish and adorable. 

You laugh and drop your hands to hold onto his hips. ‘Okay.’

You nod. Simple as that. Perhaps you knew the day you met him that this is where things would lead. Or maybe it’s just that Vegas magic. Either way, you’ll take it. 

He smiles in response, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your face into his neck and sighing in satisfaction.

A moment later he pulls back, cupping your neck with his hand and pressing his lips to yours without waiting any longer. He kisses softer than you’d expect from his dancing. Steadily working his mouth against yours until you relax and soften in his arms. 

You move your hands to his neck, tangling them in his hair and gently tugging on his lower lip. He grins against you, sliding his tongue along the seam of your lips seeking entrance. 

His hands slide down your sides, trailing heat in their wake, heading for your hips. You moan into his mouth as his strong hands slip under the edge of your shirt and caress the skin of your lower back.

The two of you kiss for what feels like days in the quiet, dark back room. Days could have passed and you wouldn’t have even noticed. Eventually he pulls back and gives you a grin.

After a beat you speak. ‘Okay, but could we do both the sex and the relationship, I’m about to die from how badly I want you.’

He laughs against your hair, a low sound that surrounds you. Pulling his head back he meets your gaze, heat evident in his expression. 

Slowly he presses you against the wall, his arousal clearly evident against your thigh. 

‘Come with me,’ he says with a suggestive raise of his brows, clasping your hand in his. 

‘More than happy to,’ you quip, earning you another laugh from him as he leads you into one of the changing rooms.

[emergenciesstory]

Super Secrets - Part 2

Warnings this chapter: physical abuse (no details just conditioned reactions), panicking, anxiety, mentions of rape

Words:1.8K

Chapter Summary: Reader decided that maybe being part of the team wouldn’t be a bad idea. Showing up for introductions was the first step to their forever.

A/N: Sorry these are long, I have just been working on this so long and in my depressive state spent some time editing them... Please comment, like, whatever, kind of losing inspiration in this one..

Italics are signed, blockquote is flashback

Super Secrets Masterlist

Masterlist

A few weeks later, it was early morning and your room was destroyed. Clothes littered every surface of the small bedroom, you standing in the on suite bathroom, staring at your reflection. A knock on your door, brought you back to reality, and you glanced at the clock, right on time. Quickly crossing through the tiny apartment, you swung it open, Steve smiling at you from the other side, holding out your favorite coffee.

“You shouldn’t have.” You teased, snatching it from him. Leaving the door open for him, you walked back to the bedroom to finish getting ready. Picking up clothes, you looked for your favorite boots to complete the ensemble, a simple black shirt and pair of your favorite jeans. Quickly putting them away, You saw the boots sitting in the corner by the bathroom. Pulling them on, you unplugged your hairdryer from the on-suite and looked around the bedroom. Steve was smiling from the doorway, holding your favorite cardigan.

“Let’s not show up completely matching, huh?” His smirk was intoxicating, and his knowledge of your softest sweater was something you’d miss if he wasn’t there.

“Am I not allowed to mimic the impressive Captain America, Stevie?” you taunted, letting him help you slide it on.

“Maybe not with this audience, Y/N/N.” he mused, nervousness lacing his voice. He took your hand and you walked out of the apartment, locking the multiple deadbolts on your door.

It was a short walk to the Tower, an iconic structure in the New York Skyline. While Steve was recognizable, even with the ballcap, either these people were used to seeing him here, or not very observant. Either way, you were thankful for his hand on your waist as you moved through the crowds of people.  Walking in, Steve led you through the lobby, saying hello to the guards as he pushed you both past the metal detectors. You slid into an Elevator, moving up without any buttons or indications of where to go.

“Hey,” Steve lifted your chin so you’d look up at him. “Don’t be intimidated. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe here.” He gave you a reassuring smile, returning the weak one you provided.

In the six years you and Steve had been training, Steve had been overly patient with you. It was hard to let anyone in after what happened leading you to the gym, but Steve never pried for information. You became inseparable, and one night, you had told him everything about your past. Steve listened as you told him about the death of your parents, how someone you trusted raped you, and how you struggled in an abusive relationship. Steve had helped you get away, putting his own name on a lease so you could disappear and helping you build a life. He helped you focus the negative energy into your fighting, even more so after failed therapy, but that didn’t change how you cowered and stayed silent in the presence of other Males.

              “Well, this is quite a sight.” The voice snapped you back to reality, Steve holding you close to his body. You looked at the source of the voice, the elevator doors open now to a group of people, waiting to get on. The voice came from a man who immediately flashed you a grin. He seemed confident with himself, headset in one ear and tablet in his hand, barely looking at the screen as he typed and swiped.

“Tony Stark. You must be Y/N.” He extended his hand stepping closer, and you looked between his hand and your own shaking ones, clutched tightly into fists pulling your sleeves. He pulled his hand back and smiled softly, nodding at you instead and accepting your head tilt as greeting enough. He stepped into the elevator and in followed a familiar face behind him. You looked up at the last man, giving a broad smile to him.

“Hey, Doll face. Glad to see you again.” Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s back and the Elevator doors shut again, leaving the rest of the group of people waiting. When you began working with Steve, you quickly met his shadow and other half, Bucky. Steve’s admiration of his best friend had brought you around to feeling comfortable in his presence quickly, and the three of you would often do things together like movies, working out, or just hanging out in your apartment. You’d never guess just how soft and quiet James Barnes actually was, but Bucky took his time getting close to you.

“I hope it’s okay, I brought a friend. I think you’d like him.” Steve finished tying his shoes before helping you up from where you were stretching on the mat.

“Stevie I don’t know..” you bit your lip slightly, wringing your hands together.

“Just, work out with us, if you’re uncomfortable he’ll go work out alone, no harm no foul. I’m right here.”

“Okay. I trust you.” Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood while Steve retrieved his friend. The man that followed behind him was larger than he was, wearing dark clothes with long hair covering his face. As he got closer, you could feel yourself shaking, your feet moving on autopilot backwards. One step too far, your feet flew out from under you as you toppled off the mat, no longer able to control the panic. Steve was quickly beside you and the man backed away quickly, fear racing through his eyes.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I promise nothing’s going to happen,” Steve soothed. Holding you and whispering, no one moved until you were quiet. Looking back up to the mat, you saw the man sitting cross legged on the other side of the mat, watching.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m James, James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.” His eyes met yours, soft and questioning.

“Y/n.” You whispered. “And it’s okay.”

You and Bucky became friends faster than you and Steve, Bucky being timid around you and waiting till you were ready before touching you or letting his arm be seen. Soon enough, you were both comfortable in each other’s presence.

The elevator was silent as the four of you rode upwards, you between the two super soldiers, with the genius between you and the door. When it opened, it revealed a bustling floor of offices and people, all following the instruction of one Woman in the middle.

“Welcome to SHIELD. A secret Government Agency which runs with the Avengers.” Steve spoke quietly in your ear, pulling you closer when he saw you fidgeting with the hem of your cardigan. “Come on, the Director is waiting for us.”

              Steve lead you into a conference room that was empty, aside from two sofas, some chairs, and a table, and you both sat on a couch in the corner. Slowly the rest of the team Steve had told you about gathered in small groups. First came Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Clint. Bruce and Thor followed shortly after, all settling in while maintaining their conversations. Wanda strode in last, typing on a tablet quickly. Steve sat beside you, his arm around the back of the couch, giving you plenty of room to pull into him if you needed, while most others sat on the larger couch, draping over each other comfortably. These were some of the deadliest people on the planet, The Avengers were capable of anything, but Steve felt there was no safer place for you, like this was home. Fury walked in and the room silenced.

“Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N. They are a new asset to this team. Training and schedule will be conducted and supervised by Rogers. Everything else normal. Dismissed.”

He walked out as quickly as he had walked in, Depositing a SHIELD duffle on the table in the center of the room.

“Well, I guess introductions are left to me.” Steve straightened up, but you placed a hand on his leg, directing his attention to you.

“Actually, I, I think I can introduce myself.” Dang your Stutter, hopefully you would make it through this. Steve’s hand moved to your back, rubbing circles as you took a breath before continuing. “I, I am familiar with all of you, names, your specialties, how you came to become the Avengers. I’m inspired and honored to be asked to be here. I’m Y/N. I’ve been boxing and sparring with Steve for six years now. No family, nothing to lose. I want, I hope to get to know each of you.” You took a deep breath when you finished, having rushed through most of that to get it out. It took a lot to open up like that, but you trusted Steve’s intuition.

“We are your family now, Doll. And I speak for us all when I say, Welcome to the Crazy.” Laughs rang out from Bucky’s comment, as well as pagers going off around the room. Tony and Bruce looked at each other before Bruce gave you an apologetic smile.

“Lab work. It’s a pleasure, Y/n. Off we run.”

Nat and Clint were signing back and forth quickly, probably unaware they weren’t the only fluent ones in the room. Steve cleared his throat, catching their attention.

“You may want to know that you aren’t the only ones in that conversation.” A blush spread across your face as you looked down embarrassed. Clint kneeled in front of you, signing.

Nice to know I’m not stuck only talking to Natalia in secret. His emphasis on her full proper name got a slap to the back of his head from her as he winked at you.

“Nice to meet you, but duty calls. See you at Movie night?” Nat asked. You looked at Steve curiously.

“We’ll be there.” he nodded, before the pair turned and ran out.

Bucky stood silently to follow the pair, squeezing your hand as he left.

“Lady Y/n, a pleasure! I’d like to stay and chat, but my brother, Loki, and I were in the middle of a family matter. Please excuse me.” And with a nod at Steve, he left as well, leaving the three of you.

“I apologize for the absence of Vision. He has been away, but should be back later today,” Wanda was quiet, but her smile was warm.

“That’s not your fault. But thank you. You’re Wanda Maximoff, right? Scarlett Witch. Your control is, amazing. I wish I knew your secret.”

“Perhaps I can teach you.”

You never had an issue around women and Wanda, though powerful, was electric and her positive energy was infectious.

“May I show you around the tower?” Another smile was exchanged before you both stood up.

“Well, I can tell when I’m not wanted. Y/n, let me know if you need me.” Steve leaned in placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take your gear to your room.”

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Wanda’s eyebrow shot up, but she said nothing.

[mianmimi]

Ficlet: The Skeptic

I come bearing a little ficlet!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9908888

Or if you prefer, just read it off here ^^

You know who wanted a silly ficlet where Wong tells Mordo’s fortune? No one ^^ But I wrote it anyways.

Warnings: references to future mpreg; soulmate au; out of character-ness at the end cause I’m feeling silly ___________________________________

“There is no such thing as love at first sight,” Mordo stressed the ‘no’ as he snapped the book shut. He was growing more irritated by this discussion, “It’s a poisonous fairytale that needs to stop.”

Wong merely opened another book and propped it up in response. The page depicted old inscriptions that declared, in fact, that falling for the love of your life at first sight was a highly unlikely occurrence. Unlikely but not impossible.

He flipped open the other books that were sprawled across the massive desk. The pages spoke of soulmates, love finding spells, and even a few that had fortune telling instructions specifically for romance.

“There.” Wong swept his arms over the evidence, “Facts.”

“Love is a conscious decision. It’s not some random impulse nor is it dictated by fate.” Mordo said with finality, “Love is always a choice. Never chance.”

Wong shrugged, completely unconvinced by his friend’s shewed logic.

“Thinking in absolutes only limits your reach,” Wong gave a small, knowing smirk, “And for a man who mocks the idea? You will probably end up head over heels and flat on your face in love one day.”

“And what makes you so convinced of that?”

“Because the biggest skeptics make the strongest converts,” Wong spoke as if it was the most basic truth known to mankind, “And at this rate you are only tempting fate.”

“I can assure you, I have no plans to partake in such utter nonsense,” Mordo sighed and shook his head at the absurdity of it all. He would never be so undignified as to fall blindly into anything, much less something as fleeting as romance.

“You know, my late grandmother was a renowed matchmaker. She was a strong skeptic herself until she found out her predictions came true. That woman had flawless intuition.”

Mordo heard stories of Wong’s grandmother. By all accounts she was a sweet, demure, sorceress who could strike down men twice her size while bouncing her grandchildren in one arm.

“She could look at a crowded festival and pick out soulmates effortlessly, even if the couple never met yet. Of course she used a few spells for confirmation but it was mostly her own talent that brought people together. Many would travel from afar just to have her find their soulmates.”

“And do you suppose you have such a gift?” Mordo asked though he really just wanted the discussion to change into something else without offending his friend.

“I’ve dabbled,” Wong replied. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Would you indulge me a bit?”

Before Mordo could object, Wong opened the desk drawer and pulled out an old, leather bound book, a small silver bowl, and a wooden box.

“I find it very suspicious that you would have all of that ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Come now. What would you have to lose if this is, as you called it, nonsense?”

“My credibly as a serious practioner of the mystic arts?” Mordo replied, “And what would the students think?”

“They would think nothing of it. They should be in their rooms. Curfew hours started an hour ago. We must go to the courtyard for this,” Wong gathered his materials and nodded towards the empty space. “Grandmother said it’s best to do this with the stars as witness.”

“Very well,” Mordo said, following his friend.

His own footsteps were reluctant but the boots it seemed, were extremely excited to go. They nearly tripped over each other in their haste to enter the courtyard, tiny yellow sparks springing out as they rushed forward.

“Behave you two. Don’t get any ideas,” Mordo scolded lightly. “I’m only doing this as a favor for Wong. He ever barely asks for anything, seems selfish to deny him something so simple.”

The boots tightened softly in response, like a child squeezing a parent’s hand for reassurance.

“I know,” Mordo said, his tone gentle now as he tapped the tops of the boots, “Now let’s get this done. I still have to polish you both afterwards.”

The promise of a good, well earned polish made the boots hasten their stride, though with much more finese and dignity than before.

Wong lead them to the middle of the courtyard. A silvery full moon ruled that night, and the stars were scattered thick against the sky. Wong knelt down and arranged the materials carefully on the ground. He motioned Mordo to kneel likewise. He pulled an ornate cloth from the wooden box for Mordo to rest his knees on.

“For the one getting their fortune told,” Wong explained.

The skeptic watched as his friend opened the box completely to reveal several small candles. There were runes etched around each candle, some of which Mordo recognized from the books Wong showed him. The silver bowl was placed down next.

“Fill the bowl with water in whatever way you want. Spell or by hand. You must also choose a candle and light that as you wish as well. Don’t think about it too much. This is crucial.”

For a sorcerer who usually calculated every decision, that was no easy task. Using spells would be far quicker. He could get this over with in no time and never have to deal with it again. Yet glancing at Wong he felt guilty for trying to rush something that his friend was obviously invested in.

He chose a candle at random and was surprised at how intricately the runes covered the entire surface of it. It was rough and riddled with deep cuts, as if whoever designed the candle was in a foul mood that day.

He lit the candle with a spell. The flame flashed green and yellow before settling into a steady, red glow with a golden core. He placed the candle carefully on the ground, using a simple spell to keep it from toppling over.

For the silver bowl, he decided to fill the water by hand. If anything to show Wong that he wasn’t trying to hurry the alledged ritual. He went to a nearby pond for the water, not failing to see Wong’s amused gaze when he came back.

“Alright,” Mordo said as he placed the silver bowl before them. “What’s next?”

“The order and manner in which you fulfilled my instructions revealed many things. The candle represents your past,” Wong explained. “It’s complicated, full of wounds you still carry. You lit the candle with magic, signifying that you come from a family which practices the mystic arts.”

Wong took the candle and lifted it above the bowl.

“The green and yellow flash when you lit the candle are unfortunate signs,” Wong said. He looked at Mordo with genuine concern, “And I’m truly sorry you had to endure what you did.”

Mordo gave no response. His family history was a public secret, something everyone knew of but didn’t openly acknowledge. He was grateful for that. To have it brought up in such a manner as this ritual unnerved him. He couldn’t bring himself to hold it against Wong however.

“But what really matters now is the future,” Wong continued.“The water in the silver bowl represents your beloved’s background. And it’s…ugh…”

Wong stared at the water for an uncomfortably long time.

“What is it?” Mordo asked, peering into the water himself to see what was so fascinating.

“You’ll come from very different backgrounds. They’ll come from a family that works with their hands, a livelihood closely tied to the earth. No magic involved. No noble blood. But your beloved will take his own path.”

“His?”

Wong ignored him and kept staring into the water.

“He’s exceptionally kind, though it’s rarely seen. He’s stubborn, like the earth his family tends. Hmm, water seems to be a very painful element in his life.”

The wax rolled off slowly and dragged against the runes. Wong tilted the candle, allowing the softened wax to drip into the water.

“Let’s see what happens when you both meet,” Wong said.

As the wax hit the water, a soft golden shimmer rippled across the surface. Each drop swirled and formed various vague shapes Mordo couldn’t quite define. Wong took out the small leather bound book and flipped through the pages.

“Forgive me, I’ve been out of practice.” Wong said as he tried to match the drawings in the book with the shapes within the water.

Mordo waited nervously, glancing around to see if anyone was around to see them. They must look so foolish, like those younger, siller recruits who thought they could see their futures inside crystal balls. Or worse, those flighty school children who used paper fortune tellers for amusement.

“Either I’m really horrible at this or your great love is a real peice of work, a very strange man it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

Wong motioned for him to look at the shapes. He wasn’t even sure exactly what he was supposed to be inspecting. The wax sitting in the water looked like an absolute mess.

“Between you two there’ll be much of chaos, conflict, and pain. Plenty of self-inflicted denial and sufferring-”

“I thought this was about a potential lover? You’re describing something more like an enemy! Does this mysterious man at least listen? Does what he’s told?”

Wong laughed loudly and shook his head.

“Not in the very least. He’s got a mind of his own. I’m sorry my friend, but it seems your beloved will You will contrast each other in countless ways. He’ll have the qualities you lack. It’ll be infuriating at first but see here?” Wong pointed to where the wax softened in the water, “With time, It’ll work out. You will compromise for his sake. He’ll soften the armor around your heart. He will be your deepest joy and greatest weakness.”

“There’s no way I could ever love someone like that.”

Mordo’s eyes narrowed, his lips pulled back in a skeptical scowl. Such a thing would never, by all the spells and magic in the world, ever happen. No one had the power to make him that vulnerable.

“It’s simply impossible,” Mordo said. Before he could continue, another voice interrupted him.

“Only a fool would reject the impossible.”

“The Ancient One!” Mordo gulped. Out of all the people to appear, of course it had to be the Sorceress Supreme. How was he going to explain this? Or perhaps he should just immediately apologize for this mockery of magic? Or maybe he should be sorry for acting so juvenile? But he didn’t want to make it seem like Wong was completely at fault either-

“Oh I haven’t seen this sort of reading in years. How wonderful!”

The Ancient One joined them gracefully on the ground, kneeling before the silver bowl and smiling at what she found.

Both men glanced at each other nervously, then at the bowl, then back to the Sorceress Supreme. She was looking rather amused, her eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief in the candlelight.

“Sadly such practices haven’t been popular in recent years,” she hovered her hands above the water. “It’s a beautiful art form. I’m so delighted that you’ve preserved the materials required for it, Master Wong.”

Mordo was at a loss for words, his eyes widened with dread as The Ancient One reached for the candle.

“May I?”

With awful anticipation Mordo watched as she inspected the water and candle.

“Master Wong was correct,” The sorceress said as she allowed the wax to roll off into the bowl, “You and your love have suffered alone in your past. In your future, you’ll bear suffereing together.”

Mordo wasn’t comforted by that at all, although his teacher looked extremely pleased.

“Oh, he’s also rather tall. Taller than you, though not by much. Physically, you’re far stronger than him,” She laughed softly and glanced at Mordo, “Fear not. He’s not a fragile thing. He’ll gladly take everything you can give.”

This simply wasn’t happening. Mortofied and humiliated beyond belief, Mordo wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear. Wong, to his credit, was able to supress a chuckle.

“You always were fond of blue,” The Ancient said, “You won’t be able to take your eyes off his. Oh! Look here.”

She pointed at a silvery shape that wisped away beneath her touch.

“He’s going to be a talkative one. Insatiable in his curiousity and questions. I suggest you enjoy your peaceful days, Master Mordo.This soulmate of yours will keep you on your toes.”

“Soulmate?” Mordo felt the blood drain from his face.

“Well of course. Didn’t you notice the flame? Though I can’t really scold you for not recognizing it immediately. It’s rarely seen.”

She handed the candle to a petrified Mordo.

“You see? There’s a steady red glow with an immovable golden core. And right at the center, you can see a rune. This man is your soulmate. For better or worse. Now isn’t that lovely?”

It didn’t sound lovely at all. The prospect sounded absolutely, undeniably, terrifying! Suddenly Mordo felt dizzy, disoriented, like he’d been thrown into another dimension with no way to escape.

“Oh, what’s this?”

The Ancient One blinked as the silver bowl glistened. A slow smile spread through her ethereal face, then she threw back her head and laughed.

“I hope four is a good number Mordo,” She rose up and quickly opened a fan to hide her face which had gone bright pink from her laughter, “By the Vashanti, who would have thought?”

The Sorceress Supreme tried to compose herself as she strolled away. Wong grabbed the silver bowl and stuck his face close to the surface of the water, trying to see what could have caused her to react that way.

“What does she mean?” The sorcerer poked at the water, “Four of what?”

From the distance, The Ancient One called out, her voice bright and lively.

“I suggest you keep a sling ring with you at all times, Master Mordo. Your dear soulmate will be exceptionally demanding once his cravings hit.”

“What does that mean?” Mordo demanded, nearly shoving Wong out of the way to peer into the bowl himself, “That can’t mean children! That would be absurd! How am I going to look after four children? It’s too dangerous for that. And how is their–mother? How is he going to survive in our world without magic?”

Mordo dropped the candle to the ground. He placed his aching head in his hands.

“I thought this was all rubbish?” Wong said with a smug smile.

“It was!” Mordo said, waving a hand towards the direction The Ancient One walked off to, “Until she said otherwise.”

And who was he to question the predictions of the Sorceress Supreme?

In a sudden burst of rare panic Mordo grabbed the leather book and began to skim through its pages.

“Can you at least see what the children will be like? They’re going to learn magic, no compromises! I’ll teach them. What if they need to escape? I’ll need to find the smallest sling ring sizes for them, teach them the safest places to go, defense spells-”

Wong could only laugh at his friend’s frantic planning over children he never would have thought of that morning, or a soulmate he didn’t expect to exist.

Indeed it was true. Skeptics do make the best converts.

A/N: Four means the number of kids. Yes, I went there XD If anyone wants a follow up where Mordo is running around trying to find the food Stephen’s craving for, let me know. In the mean time, we’ll return to your regularly scheduled angst in a bit. Omegaverse bug bit me hard…so that may be the next thing I pick at XD