#addictions and loudness and being a bottom and gambling

[lovelornlamb]

i wish i knew what he sees in them, and why he could hold space in his heart for someone who has hurt me in such ways as they have with him bearing witness. but god bore witness to what we did to his son and still loves us, so maybe i can understand in some ways i wish i didn't

[seravphs]

beating hearts promised to bared teeth — part one: “The God Finds A Familiar” 

KITSUNE! GOJO x GOD! FEM READER; KAMISAMA HAJIMEMASHITA AU

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

wc — 10k

tags — enemies to lovers, shoujo manga heroine type reader, Japanese mythology/yokai, age gap (1000 year old fox and high school girl), slowburn, cameo from Sukuna, Toji, and Nanami, cameo from original Kamisama Hajimemashita cast

part two — “The God Finds A Husband” (coming soon)

shoujo series masterlist

If your stomach growls any louder, you’ll scare off the squirrels fighting over the end of a baguette loaf by the park bench you’re sitting on. 

You’re currently in the middle of what others might describe as very hard times. To be honest, your very hard times have been going on for a while now - they just culminated at this specific moment. Regardless, these days are only temporary. You’ve promised yourself that one day, you’ll be able to smile from the bottom of your heart. 

It’s just that it was easier said than done when you weren’t homeless. Your father has never been the most reliable of men. You had to take over the household finances by the time you were eight, so you’ve always been accustomed to his lack of responsibility, but today really solidified his status in your mind as an absolutely useless, no good man. It’s unfathomable cruelty to have left his only daughter with no money, no relatives, and no home. 

You don’t want to call it cruel. For all of his faults, you still love your father. And it’s because you love him that you know this wasn’t a cruel act. Cruelty is intentional. It’s malicious. It comes from a desire to hurt. Your father has never wanted to hurt you. It’s just a byproduct of his gambling addiction. You’re collateral damage in his quest for the jackpot that would solve all his problems. 

You double over in agony at the renewed complaints from your stomach. At least you’ve gone from scaring mere squirrels to scaring passersby. That’s an upgrade, right? 

One woman clutches her purse closer as she walks past you as briskly as possible. You get it, you look bad. 

But there’s no use being resentful. Your father has been barely one step above a deadbeat all your life. At the very least, you’re used to fending for yourself. Your stomach growls again, but you’re determined to ignore it. You need a plan of action. One step after another, you’ll make it out of these troublesome times. 

Before you can start to plot, a loud cry for help catches your attention. It sounds like someone else is in even more dire straits than you are, which is saying a lot. 

The squirrels have long since scattered, run off not by the scary noises coming from your famished stomach, but a pack of dogs. Somehow, a man has climbed several feet into the tree next to the trash can, and now perched precariously in its branches. Below him, curious dogs tilt their heads and give cautious barks. 

“Aw, hello there, cuties,” you coo, rubbing behind their ears. They yip at you enthusiastically. One sets to chasing his own tail around the tree. They seem friendly enough, but you suppose one can’t help their phobias. A little regretfully, you chase them off. 

“Go on now,” you tell the last one, leading him away. He whines, but does as you say. What a good boy. 

“Thank you,” says the stranger stranded in the tree. He slides down the trunk, face slowly regaining color. “I owe you my life.” 

“It was nothing!” You smile, but he won’t let you brush off your good deed. 

“You’re a good kid,” he nods approvingly. “Gotta reward that. Is there anything you want?” 

A home. 

Not just the house you shared with your father, but somewhere warm to return to. A person who waits to see you safely inside the threshold. 

But you know a stranger can’t give you that, so you shake your head and smile. “Really, it was nothing. You don’t owe me anything.” 

As if he had heard your inner monologue, the stranger raises an eyebrow. “A home, hm? I might be able to help with that.” 

Before you can react, he leans in and kisses your forehead. Where his lips touched your skin feels faintly warm and tingly, almost like the sensation of your leg going numb, before you recoil from him in shock. 

He presses a map into your hand and tells you, “Go to this address. Tell them Yaga sent you, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” 

With that, he runs off. 

What a strange man. 

Well, you’ve had a strange life, taking care of your hopeless father and all. Perhaps these things really did happen. It wasn’t so impossible for strangers to appear out of nowhere and reward you for good deeds. Maybe all the fairytales your father had read to you back when he hadn’t been so terrible were true. 

Or maybe that was the wishful thinking of an optimistically delusional girl who needed somewhere to stay desperately.

The address is located on the outskirts of town. Pushing deeper into foliage and closer to forest than civilization, you find the location you had been sent to. 

It’s a shrine. 

A run-down shrine, of all places. 

Are you on a comedy show? Should you start checking for cameras? 

Against your will, you feel your eyes grow hot. That was a cruel trick to play. He had gotten your hopes up for nothing. 

It’s not just your eyes. Your entire body starts to feel warm. The world around you erupts into blue flame. Heat licks at your shins as you scramble towards safety, closer to the center of the circle that has formed around you. 

When the flames suddenly leap, as if they’ll consume the entire sky, you scream and drop to your knees, covering your head like it’s a bomb threat. Two childish voices ring in your head, as clear and crisp as bells. 

Welcome home, Yaga-sama. 

It’s a shrine. There’s only one logical conclusion. 

This is a haunting. 

There’s only one safe path out of the ring of fire, and it’s towards the building you’ve now concluded is the site of paranormal activity. Between being actively burned alive or facing spirits though, you know which one you’ll choose. 

Your frantic fingers fumble over the latch on the shrine’s red doors as the fire inches closer and closer until you can feel its heat on your back. Finally, you throw open the doors and all but launch yourself inside. The heat recedes, but the voices do not. 

“Back already, Yaga?” A male voice drawls. “I thought your pilgrimage would’ve taken longer. After leaving me to maintain the shrine by myself for sixty years -“

You shriek as an enormous, clawed hand comes down towards your face. Your eyes squeeze shut, waiting for the end. 

“I’m not Yaga,” you wail, hoping it will save you. 

“You have a lot of nerve?” The voice finishes, more uncertainly than before. When you deem it safe to open your eyes once more, what stands before is a young man dressed in all white. White hair and blue eyes make for a staring constraint, but his coloring isn’t what’s strange about him. 

It’s his clawed hands and the equally white fox tail behind him. 

“Megumi, Tsumiki,” he says authoritatively. “This isn’t Yaga.” 

A shining ball of fire comes forward, speaking in the little girl’s voice you heard earlier. “That can’t be right! Look, she has the mark of the god on her forehead.” 

You touch your forehead, remembering the warm tingly sensation you had felt when that man kissed you. Feeling slightly delirious, you start to laugh, only to grow alarmed when you find you can’t stop. You’re growing out of breath from your near hysterical laughing, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh, great,” says the fox spirit. “She’s crazy.” 

“She’s the one with the mark,” the other ball of fire, Megumi, says. “That means she’s the god whether you like it or not, Gojo.” 

Tsumiki darts over to you, but halfway through her journey, she goes from fire to a little child just under 2 feet tall. She’s wearing a mask and plain blue yukata. 

“We have to celebrate!” She claps her hands together in excitement. “Our god has finally returned!”

Gojo looks dismissively down on you. Your laughing fit is finally starting to die down, but he doesn’t seem impressed regardless. “What god? I won’t accept a little human girl as my master. She couldn’t handle the strength of a familiar like me.”  

His condescension only makes you giggle harder. You can’t help it. Something about the fluffy fox ears protruding out of his head makes it hard to take him seriously. 

“What strength?” You laugh in his face. “This shrine is so dilapidated, I doubt you’re anything special.” 

Gojo looks away. “If she stays, I’m leaving. I won’t serve this kind of pathetic god.”

He disappears in a cloud of white smoke before Tsumiki can finish saying, “Don’t be like that!”

The will-o-wisp children introduce themselves to you as shrine spirits who look after the building. It takes a while, but by the time they kindly show you to the room where you’ll be staying, you can distinguish Tsumiki from Megumi by the differences in the masks they never take off. 

Your room is simple and threadbare. The walls are paneled bamboo and the only furnishing is an old futon. Still, you’re grateful. It’s leagues better than sleeping in the woods, which is what you started this day fearing you would have to resort to. You’ve never been the type to complain, and you won’t start now, no matter how strange your life has gotten. 

Fox spirits and will-o-wisp children don’t exist. They’re the stuff of myths. Maybe you’re just seeing things because you’re tired, you muse as you drift off to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning after a nice, long rest. The events of today will feel so far away, and you’ll be able to start over. 

Or maybe you’re dead already, and you’re wandering in the Netherworld. Perhaps the reason you can see spirits is because you’re currently residing in their land. Your entire body seizes up as you jolt yourself back to wakefulness. 

“Kamisama,” Tsumiki has crept back into your room. “Are you alright?” 

You tell her to call you by her name. Calling you god just doesn’t feel right. 

Gently, she nestles down by your pillow and puts her cold little hands on your forehead. Rather than shocking to your senses, it feels pleasant. When you were a little girl and got sick, your father used to let you stay home from school. He’d pack a towel with ice cubes and place it on your overheated forehead, staying up with you all night just to chat. It’s a good memory. 

“It’ll be alright,” Tsumiki tells you in her gentle voice. “You’ll see.” 

For spirits that supposedly take care of the shrine, you have a suspicion that Tsumiki and Megumi are pushing their work onto you when they brief you on your chores the next morning. It turns out godhood is a lot less summoning storms and a lot more doing yard work. 

Tsumiki insists that keeping the shrine pure is important for keeping evil spirits away. For some reason, that means cleaning. When you ask about calling lightning or summoning lions, Megumi laughs at you. 

“That’s Getou-sama’s job,” he says. “Your specialty is marriage. Yaga was very good at tying peoples’ fates together. You will be, too.”

He has more faith than you do in that regard. When it comes to chores, however, you’re more certain of your abilities. Busy work keeps the absurdity of your situation from sinking in, and you’re good at running the household from years of dealing with your father. You’re grateful for something to do. If you think about the past day too hard, you might break down into shocked laughter and never get back up. 

Besides, even if you don’t feel particularly ready to be a god, Tsumiki and Megumi are letting you stay in the shrine. You have to earn your keep. Soon, you settle into the process of cleaning, letting the methodical, rhythmic nature of your movements erase any doubts in your mind. You think of nothing but the cooling sensation of the water when you dip your rag into the bucket and the clean, woody scent of the shrine as you scrub the wood. 

“Ooh,” Tsumiki says approvingly when she appears. “It looks better already! Can you do the lawn next?” 

Plucking weeds is notably less soothing than cleaning. With no gloves, you’re careful to avoid hurting yourself as you tug on spiky vines and knotted twigs, but it’s no use. Eventually, you lose focus and a sharp sting graces your finger. Blood drips down your hand. You hiss in pain. 

A hand with white claws instead of nails grabs your wrist. You yelp in shock as Gojo brings your finger to his mouth and laps at the blood. It stains his lips slightly red. He worries at the cut with his tongue, making your wound ache. You try to pull back, but he holds on. 

To your amazement, the cut closes before your eyes. You’re just about to thank him when he ruins the moment. 

“You really are useless,” he says. “You can’t even pluck grass?”

You yank your hand out of his grip as hard as you can, sending yourself tumbling back against the grass. You hate how it must make yourself seem even more human in his eyes, a weak, fragile thing. 

“Give up,” he says, and it’s almost gentle, the way his claws graze your chin as he holds your face in one hand. “You’re not suited to be a god.” 

You turn away, unwilling to let him see any more of your vulnerability. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Suit yourself,” he says with a noise of annoyance. “Brats who run away from home aren’t my problem.” 

“I didn’t run away!” You snap, whirling on him. “My dad was the one who ran! I don’t have anywhere else to go!” 

But he’s gone.

At least Megumi and Tsumiki are nice to you. Megumi takes the bucket of weeds you deposit at the front door and whisks it somewhere out of your sight, while Tsumiki prepares a nice, hot bath for you. Exhausted, you collapse onto the bamboo floor spread eagle. 

God, a voice murmurs in your head.

Not again. You don’t want any more spirits to deal with. When you raise your head, instead of another yokai, there’s an old woman standing in front of the shrine. Her head is bowed and her hands are clasped in prayer. 

Please bless my daughter’s marriage so that she will enjoy a long and fruitful life with her partner. 

Her voice is coming from some place inside your head. It resonates like a bell, ringing crisp and clear. You stretch out your hands wonderingly. You don’t look any different. 

“You see?” Tsumiki says approvingly. “You’re a god.”’ 

But you don’t feel like one. You feel just like a normal person. 

“A god needs a familiar.” You can’t see Megumi’s face behind his mask as he speaks, but you can imagine the solemn little boy he must be. “You need to bind Gojo to you.”

“How do I do that?” 

“You have to kiss him.” 

You wait for them to tell you they’re joking. 

“What? I can’t kiss him! Is there-” 

Megumi cuts in. “It’s just the traditional way to seal the contract. Don’t think too much of it.” 

The fact that neither of them are bothered makes you feel like the ridiculous one for being off put by this, but you’re sure you’re not. Still, if you’re a god now, you have to put all of your mortal sensibilities aside. It’s like another culture, you tell yourself. Like how Europeans kiss each other on the cheek to say hello. Even if you can’t convince yourself, Megumi and Tsumiki are insistent. 

You were so fired up just a second ago, but now your head is filled with doubts. If such a simple matter can sway you, are you really meant to be a god after all? Maybe Gojo is right. Maybe you should just leave. 

“Please,” Tsumiki says. She looks distraught. “Don’t abandon us. Please don’t leave.” 

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is enough. 

“Okay,” you say, feeling defeated. “I’ll give it a shot.” 

You’ve always been good at chores. If taming Gojo is just another part of your new job, it sounds like it's time to get serious. 

“Take me to him.” 

Megumi and Tsumiki balk. 

“Right now?”

“Why not? The sooner I get it over with, the better, right?”

“He’s...indisposed at the moment,” Tsumiki says carefully. 

“Indisposed? Is he sick?” 

“Not quite,” Megumi says. He’s very expressive for a spirit. You can practically imagine him grimacing. 

“Then it’s fine!” 

You would soon come to regret your words. 

Megumi and Tsumiki lead you out of the shrine. They show you where to find the path that can lead you to the land of spirits and demons. Your entire body rebels at the feeling of being in this other world, but at the same time, you feel at home here. The god and the girl that coexist inside of you are mutually repelled by and attracted to this place. 

Even though you know Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t really children, or at least children in the way mortals think of them, you’re still concerned about letting them traipse around this dangerous place. However, they seem more used to this world than you are. That energy is better devoted to fending for yourself. 

They lead you under bridges where the running water smells like flowers and women’s voices hiss in the babble of the current. Tree leaves rustle with hands that disappear into darkness. You follow them through dark alleyways lined with red paper blessings, and doorsteps encircled with salt. Eyes follow you, leaving your skin crawling. 

You’re so focused on keeping your head down and staying out of danger that you almost don’t notice when they stop. You nearly run Megumi over. 

“He’s inside here,” Tsumiki says. 

Is it just you, or does she seem nervous? 

The lanterns inside this establishment are turned down to a dimness that barely illuminates the corridors. Sweet smelling smoke writhes around your feet from some unknown source as you head deeper and deeper into the maze of hallways, following the pair of shrine spirits. You pass women wearing fox masks, dressed in luxurious kimonos. Their hair towers over their head in elaborate updos, held in place with beautiful pins inlaid with chartreuse and gold. 

Megumi stops before a folding screen door. Like all things within this building, it’s beautiful. The silk screen is painted with images of flowers and more gruesome scenes as well, but somehow, it’s still breath-taking. A little like Gojo, in that regard. 

You hear the voices of women behind the screen, flattering Gojo. The light of a single candle illuminates the dim room, imprinting his silhouette against it, as well as that of the two women with him. They’re draped over him, hands roaming his body as they purr their compliments. Your face burns with embarrassment. 

“What are you doing?” Megumi demands of Gojo. “How can you parade around the red-light district like this? You’re the familiar of a god, not some common demon! If Yaga knew, it’d break his poor heart.” 

Behind the screen, Gojo merely brushes him off. “Yaga’s been replaced by some little human worm. Why should I care what he thinks now?”

“What about the shrine? Don’t you care about that, at least?” Tsumiki's voice is thick with reproach. 

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I do,” he says. “Ha! You know what? Maybe I should thank that girl. Now that I’m free, I can do whatever I want.” 

“Gojo-“ 

“I’ll can indulge in every little vice Yaga never allowed me to touch before. Who would want to be a familiar when I can have all of this?” 

“Gojo, our god is here.” 

“What?” 

He leaps up and pushes the screen aside, coming face to face with you. He looks startled to see you, though you don’t see why he should care, since he so desires to lead a life of sin. 

You look upon him with disgust. You might want a familiar, but you’re not so desperate you’d stoop as low as this. Gojo cares so little for anyone but himself. If you’re going to be a god, you’re going to do it right. You’ll pick a good familiar, one who will genuinely love the shrine as much as it deserves. 

You turn and leave as he, half-clothed, frantically starts pulling on the outer layers of his kimono. 

“Wait,” he calls after you. “Tsumiki! Megumi! Why would you bring her here?”

“She wanted to see you,” Megumi retorts. 

“This isn’t the place for a human,” he says. “She’s going to get eaten!” 

The faster Gojo follows you, the faster you run from him. By the time you’re out of what you’ve come to realize is a brothel, you’re sprinting. Your legs carry you right into someone else as your face slams against a broad, muscled chest. 

“Oh,” says a voice above your head. “How pretty.” 

A hand caresses your face. This spirit has tattoo marks across his face and body. More interestingly, he has multiple arms. 

You’re frozen in place by fear as he brings his mouth closer and closer to your face. He’s close enough to kiss, but this is a spirit, which means he’s more likely to eat you. 

“Be good for me now,” he purrs in your ear. “Fear makes flesh all the sweeter.” 

Three of his six arms are consumed by fire. He pushes you away from him in favor of batting out the flame. 

Gojo pulls you towards him, hiding you in the folds of his billowing kimono. You press your face against his shoulder, swallowing back the tears of fear from nearly being eaten. Somehow, he feels safe, even though he’s been nothing but antagonistic towards you. He feels almost protective as he shields your body with his, securing you under one arm. 

“Scram,” he tells the other demon. “She’s mine, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna rolls his pairs of eyes. “You weren’t with her when I caught her. She’s fair game.” 

Fox fire flickers in Gojo’s hand. His white talons seem to elongate before your eyes. 

“If you want to fight over her, then by all means,” he says with a dangerous smile. “But we both know I’d win.” 

“Maybe later then,” Sukuna says, lazily as if Gojo isn’t threatening him. “Once I’ve eaten my fill.” 

He stalks off into the night in search of more prey. 

“This is why I told you to wait,” Gojo says, running his hand over his face. “You’re practically bait in this world. Come on, I’ll take you home.” 

You nod, not trusting your voice, but he catches on anyways. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, his face twisted in a grimace. “I won’t know what to do if you cry. Look, this is just your life now, okay? You’ll have to get used to it.” 

On impulse, you press your face into his shoulder again, still sniffling. You want to be comforted, even though you know he won’t give it to you. 

“Ugh,” he says, true to form. “Quit that.” 

By the time you’ve calmed down, Gojo has already escorted you back to the shrine. 

“Don’t come back,” he tells you. 

Of course, you can’t listen to him. On your second night in the land of the dead and monsters, not only do you have to hide from beasts who would devour you the moment they found out what you were, you also have to hide from Gojo. You’re wearing a disguise, courtesy of Tsumiki and Megumi. 

In your defense, it’s not like you want to be here. You need a familiar, and it’s clearly not going to be Gojo. 

According to Tsumiki, Gojo’s the strongest, but there are other familiars who would be willing to serve you. They’re all in the Netherworld, however, and you have to find them before you can contract them. 

You pull the curtain of the hat shielding your face a little closer around you as you peer at the faces surrounding you, trying to gauge who looks friendly. None of them do. You’ve been wandering around for hours, but not a single spirit has stood out to you. 

In the end, you don’t find him. He finds you. 

“A human god?” A hand grasps your wrist loosely. “That’s rare. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be here?” 

The man in front of you looks normal by any standards - but you know better than to trust your gut in the netherworld. Still, he’s the closest thing to a human you’ve seen in a while. Surrounded by a maelstrom of monsters, he feels like the eye of the storm. There’s a quiet and a calm surrounding him, even as you walk among noderabo with withered, leathery skin and scaly yajo. 

It’s not like he’s in his own little pocket of the world, you realize. He is. Everyone is purposefully giving him a wide berth. 

“Who are you?”  

“I asked first,” he says. 

“You know who I am! You just said so - I’m the human god.” 

His eyes rake over you. “So you are. But what are you doing here, girl?” 

You throw his words back in his face obstinately. “You first.”

“I’m Toji.” That doesn’t tell you anything, but he’s clearly unwilling to divulge more. “Your turn.”

“I’m looking for a familiar.” 

“What about your familiar? I heard that Gojo-sama isn’t keen on sharing.” 

Somehow, the way he says Gojo-sama sounds derisive, even with the respectful honorific. 

“He doesn’t want to be my familiar.” 

The rejection stings coming out of your own mouth. 

“Sounds like him. Haughty bastard, he couldn’t stand to serve a human girl, could he?” 

“Yeah! He’s an asshole,” you say, feeling validated. 

When Toji laughs, the scar over his lip tugs one side of his mouth down. You kind of like it. And he must be strong, just looking at him. He’s well muscled and covered in scars. Of course, there’s the little matter of the reverence everyone around you is offering him. Tsumiki and Megumi had told you to just go out and find one. Could it be that easy?

“Are you interested?” 

He gives you a look of barely concealed amusement. “You’re funny, girl. I don’t think Gojo would like that very much, though.” 

“I don’t care what Gojo thinks.” 

“Oh, here he comes now. Don’t go running too far - you’ll worry him,” he says, slow and easy. His confidence is absurd - it reminds you of Gojo, actually. He must be strong. “If you’re really serious about wanting me as a familiar, why don’t you meet me here again in three days?”

“What are you doing?” Gojo snarls at you. His teeth match the rest of his fox physique. With wonder, you realize that his pearly canines are pointed beyond what’s normal. “I told you not to come back!” 

���But- He-” You turn around to point Toji out, but he’s gone. 

“Who?” Gojo says. 

“He was right there!” 

“You’re so annoying,” Gojo bites out. “I don’t care what happens to you, but if you die, Megumi and Tsumiki will cry, so stop wandering off on your own. You’re lucky you didn’t get devoured on the spot.” 

He’s starting to get really irritating. You shove his hands off. 

“You know it’s actually your fault I’m here, right? If you didn’t reject me, I wouldn’t have to scour the Netherworld for a familiar.” 

Gojo scoffs. “My fault? Maybe you should take a look at yourself. If you were less weak, I wouldn’t have a problem serving you!” 

“That’s- You’re impossible!” You splutter. “I can’t help being weak! I was born this way! Not everyone is so lucky to be born a kitsune, oh-so-great-Gojo-sama.” 

“Enough,” he sighs. Taking you by your wrist, he forcibly drags you through the streets back in the direction you came. 

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” 

“Gojo!” Megumi’s reproving voice breaks the argument up before it can begin again. 

He lets go of you almost guiltily, if you thought he could feel guilt. 

“I’ll take her home,” Megumi says. 

Gojo’s tail lashes behind him angrily, but Megumi doesn’t spare him a second glance as he ushers you away. 

“Thank you,” you tell him in relief. “What are you doing here?” 

“You were taking a long time,” he says. “Tsumiki and I were getting worried. Did you find anyone?” 

You think of Toji. “No,” you say. “No one.” 

The next day, while Megumi and Tsumiki dress you for your trip through the Netherworld again, Megumi presses three slips of white paper into your hands. 

“We should’ve taught you this sooner,” he says. “One of the powers of a god is to transform objects. Whatever you write on this charm will become true - within the scope of your power. Be safe.”  

Armed with your paper slips, you feel like a real god. Tsumiki pushes you out the door with a prayer for good luck, though you’re not sure you can grant prayers to yourself for yourself.

Outside the door, something whines by your feet.

“Gojo?” 

Or is that a regular white fox? 

It snaps its teeth at you. 

Definitely Gojo.

“I don’t need an escort,” you tell him, making shooing motions at him with your hands. “Go away!” 

He rolls over and yips at you, his tail wagging. 

“I can’t understand you like this!” 

“I said,” a cloud of smoke reveals him, mostly humanoid once again, except for his ears and tail. “I don’t want to do this either. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki.” 

Toji doesn’t seem to like him, so you don’t want to risk bringing him with you. Despite your best attempts to shake him, Gojo follows you as you retrace your steps back into the spirit world. You’re just starting to despair when you spot a bigger reason to be upset. 

“Hello, delicious,” Sukuna says. “Ready for round two?” 

Why does he look even more terrifying? Did he get bigger? 

“Leave her alone,” Gojo says, almost bored. “It’s pathetic. You can only bully things weaker than you, huh?” 

“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Sukuna tells him. 

You’re panicking. They both look serious. You don’t want to be caught between these two forces of nature. 

“You should be,” Gojo says, and steps in front of you. Over his shoulder, he tells you, “Run. You’re in my way.” 

This is the chance you were waiting for. 

Toji’s dressed differently when you find him again. Last night, he was wearing a casual black kimono. Tonight, he’s dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and loose white pants. 

“You look nice,” you tell him, feeling anxious. Your mind keeps going back to Gojo. You’re sure he can hold his own, but you’re still worried for him. As you are, however, you’re of no help to him. The only way you’d be able to rescue him if he actually was in danger is by making a contract with a powerful familiar. 

“It’s for work,” he says. “Follow me.” 

“We can’t do it here?” 

“Do you want to kiss me in front of everyone?” He shrugs and reaches for you. “I mean, I’m down if you are, but I figured-” 

“No,” you squeak and dart away. “Privacy is good!” 

He laughs. “You’re as funny as ever, huh? C’mere.” 

Toji leads you off the beaten path and further into the woods. The only thing that keeps you from feeling more nervous is the moon shining overhead, illuminating your path. It feels almost like a friend is with you.

“Here is good,” Toji says, stopping at a clearing. 

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe out, dazzled. This deep into the woods, fireflies are lighting your way. Beneath your feet, a springy bed of flowers and moss covers the floor. 

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.” 

“Yeah, right,” you laugh at him, but you draw closer. You think you could trust him. You think you could be partners with him. 

Then Toji grabs you by the shoulders and dangles you off the edge of the clearing, over a steep drop you hadn’t noticed. The sharp cut off had been hidden by flowers, danger painted over with beauty. 

“Sorry, kid,” Toji says. “No hard feelings, right?” 

“Why?” You whisper. Gojo had been right. 

“There’s a bounty on your head,” he says. “Getou has offered to grant the wish of anyone who kills you.”

His eyes turn wistful. “I have a kid. Haven’t seen him in years. You understand, right? It’s not personal.” 

The fall is brutal. The wind whips tears into your eyes, if you weren’t already crying from the fear of falling to your death. You have to do something, anything. Above your head, something white flutters. 

A dove? 

Then another. 

It’s one of the paper ofuda Megumi had given you before you left, caught in the updraft of you rushing down to earth. You snatch it out of the air. You can’t reach the pen in your pocket. With increasing desperation, you bite down on your finger hard enough to draw blood and trace the characters for a tree branch onto it. Holding it aloft, you pray. 

Between your hands, wood solidifies. You’re clinging to a scrap of a twig sprouting from the rocky cliffside. Megumi’s words echo in your head - only within the scope of your power. 

So this is it, huh?

That’s all there is of your godly strength. 

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” Gojo says. He has no problem balancing on the sheer cliff. His appearance is impeccable, completely unscathed from his fight with Sukuna. He perches like a bird, as comfortable as if he were standing on solid ground. “Do you need help?”

Thank god. He’s here to save you! You nod, turning teary eyes on him. You were wrong about him. Gojo really is a good guy, deep down. 

“If you say, ‘Please save me, Gojo-sama, I was stupid.’ I’ll help you. Throw in some crying and begging, too.” 

Your eyes dry up instantly. He’s a total bastard. You clutch onto the branch tighter. There’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of groveling for help. 

Your resolve weakens when you hear the first snap. 

“Time’s ticking,” Gojo calls in a sing-song voice. “What will it be?” 

The harder you hold on, the more your flimsy branch breaks. 

“Come on,” Gojo says. “It’s not that hard. It’s just seven little words. Isn’t that worth your life?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, and the branch finally snaps. 

Falling for the second time is just as bad as the first time. The icy wind snatches at you like claws, tearing at your clothes. 

To your surprise, Gojo leaps after you. He makes free-fall look elegant - surely a far cry from whatever you’re doing. 

“Just say it,” he yells, within arm’s reach. He’s so close he could snag you by the shirt and haul you to safety, but you know he won’t. Not without getting what he wants. “Would you rather die than just apologize?” 

You have an answer prepared. 

His eyes widen in shock when you press your palms to his cheek, pull him closer, and kiss him. 

You barely have time to register the taste of him, sake and something sweet, before the reality of falling to your death rushes in again. 

“Gojo, save me!” 

As if his body is piloted by someone else, Gojo catches you. For him, it’s a short leap back up to the top of the clearing, where Toji has disappeared. 

You climb down from his hold once you’re certain you’re safe. You never thought you’d miss the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet this much, but at the moment, you’re willing to kiss the earth. 

Gojo seems much worse off. He’s frozen in shock, muttering the same refrain to himself under his breath. “Me? Bound to her? Impossible.” 

“Let’s go home,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem to get it until you tug him towards the path, and then he leads the way wordlessly. . 

You wake to Megumi and Tsumiki weeping over you. 

“I’m alright!”

They freeze, then burst into fresh tears. 

“We thought you would never wake up! Your first time using ofuda must have been too much for you,” Megumi gets out through his sobs. 

You feel sore all over. You can barely recall the events of the previous night, only that you kissed- 

“Finally up?” 

Gojo’s tapping his foot as he waits for you to get up. He looks furious. There’s an unmistakeable tick in his jaw that spells trouble for you. 

It’s too early to deal with him. You duck back under the covers. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls out as he seizes your wrist and bodily hauls you out of your warm cocoon of blankets. “You wanted to be a god, you’re going to be a god. It’s time for some training.” 

You shiver pathetically in the cold morning air. If you had known helping a stranger would lead to be harassed by a fox spirit, you would’ve never done it in the first place. 

“Try harder,” Gojo says at your sixth failed attempt to turn water into wine. 

“It smells alcoholic,” Megumi offers loyally. 

“I am trying!” You insist. 

“Harder,” Gojo snarls. 

The seventh attempt doesn’t change. Gojo throws up his arms and stalks out of the shrine, declaring the need to cool his head. Tsumiki frantically trails him, not trusting him to not attempt to run away again. 

Megumi tries to assure you that you’re doing well, but honestly, you need to leave too. The shrine feels too stuffy. A change of scenery will do you good. Sitting alone in the woods just behind the shrine, you try to focus. Slowly, stacks of ofuda disappear from your hands as you paste them to trees, willing them to blossom. Wilt. Do anything, anything at all. 

You’re out cold when Gojo finds you. 

“Divine power takes time,” he says as he prepares dinner. “Use too many talismans at once and you’ll pass out.” 

You drink a spoonful of soup morosely. “How do I get stronger?” 

“You’ll get stronger if you grant prayers.” 

Tsumiki perks up. “One just came in!” 

“I already looked at it,” Gojo says dismissively. “Not that one.” 

“Everyone’s wishes deserve to be looked at,” you argue. 

Gojo scoffs, “Not this one.” 

“Don’t be rude! A god can’t pick and choose.” 

He tosses the prayer at you. 

Morimoto Rika’s request touches your heart. She’s the spirit of a nearby lake - not just any spirit, as Megumi helpfully clarifies, but another owner of a shrine. A human boy visits her waters nightly. By the light of the moonlight, she fell in love with him, but she can’t meet him because they live in two separate worlds. 

And to think that you would’ve never known to help her if Gojo had continued keeping this from you. 

“This sounds like the perfect job for me,” you argue. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Yokai can’t fall in love with humans.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Aren’t you bound to do as I say? Take me to her.” 

Against his will, Gojo summons what’s called a ‘night fog coach’. Only operable at night, as the name suggests, it’s a tall black carriage truly made for a god. You’re just wondering how Gojo expects you to climb aboard when he effortlessly lifts you by the waist. 

“You’re the one who wanted to go meet her,” he sneers. “Chop-chop.” 

Your supplicant looks like a fish if it were a girl. She has pale green skin and large, black eyes, with overly large teeth for her mouth. Black hair frames a heart shaped face. She’s cute, in her own monstrous way. And she’s desperately in love with a human boy. 

Gojo helps you transform her into a human body and make her over into a normal teenage girl. For a prayer granted, it feels like nothing more than dressing your friend up for a date. 

You’re even as nosy as you would be in that situation. It’s the first prayer you’ve ever granted. You know you shouldn’t, but you and Gojo watch the burgeoning romance from a distance. Of course, he’s completely disapproving, but you have high hopes for them - until Rika pulls out a ring. 

Aren’t they moving a little too fast? 

It only gets worse when Rika confesses that she’s been stalking him - sort of. Keeping tabs on him for his safety by following him around town is a little too close to the other, for your liking. Your head drops into your hands. 

But Yuta takes it surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact. It only seems to infatuate him even more. You knew there were certain types of men out there who loved crazy, but you had never seen it in real life - until now. 

Could this even be counted as a success? 

You’re happy for Rika and Yuta, as happy as you can be for their twisted little union, but you’re just waiting for Gojo to bite your head off for bringing a (real) monster and a human together as soon as you get back home. At least they’re happy, you think ruefully. Worse things could happen. Your first union as a marriage god didn’t fail. In fact, of all people, Yuta seemed the most likely in the world to accept Rika as she was, human or not. 

To your surprise, returning to the shrine, Gojo begrudgingly says, “You did well.” 

Any warm feelings you have for him the next day are replaced when he barges into your room and demands you strip. 

“You have guests,” he says. “Messengers from Toji-sama, the god of the wind.” 

Your eyes grow wide. You hadn’t known Toji was a god. Come to think of it, did Gojo even know the reason why you had been falling from that cliff? You weren’t sure if he had come in time to see who had pushed you. 

“What are you worried about? I’ll be at your side the whole time.” 

You’ll tell him later. Right now, you have a serious matter to prepare for. 

You tried not to discriminate on the basis of his master, but it’s not that at all. Toji’s familiar, Naoya, is simply annoying on his own terms. 

“So you’re the new god of this ramshackle little shrine,” he sniffs. “God, it’s disgusting. How poor are you?” 

“You must be the thirteenth familiar Toji’s owned. He goes through you like toys, doesn’t he? Of course you wouldn’t know that he used to live in worse conditions before. Deplorable.” Gojo laughs in his face. 

Naoya grits his teeth. “I’m surprised your little human dared to show her face. I thought she’d be terrified after what Toji did to her. They’re such weak little things.” 

Gojo looks at the other demon with a calm that worries you. As human as he is, there are moments when you can catch the monster lurking within. He’s like the sea, deceptively calm until you remember the threat of an unseen riptide. 

“If you insult my master again,” he says carefully, enunciating every word like he’s stabbing at them with a knife, “I will take your head and deliver it to your master as a present.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re happy to be serving a mortal girl,” Naoya laughs. “Not someone like you, Satoru. How the mighty have fallen.” 

Gojo looks at him for a long moment, then he ignores him completely and walks to your side. The most painful part of Naoya’s digs at you is knowing he’s right. Gojo doesn’t like this. How could he? He went from being the strongest to being commanded by some powerless girl. Still, Gojo gazes at you with his inscrutable eyes. You can’t read him at all. 

Slowly, he sinks to his knees next to you. 

With a gentleness you can hardly bear, he lays his head in your lap, as gentle and docile as a puppy. His neck is bared as if for an executioner’s axe, the delicate pulse of his heart open to you. He closes his eyes. His breath is shallow. He stays there, and says no more. 

“Oh, Satoru,” Naoya says in delight. “You really have become a tamed thing.” 

With an uncertainty you’re trying to hide, you lift your hands to Gojo’s head. His hair is sinfully soft. You’re almost scared he’ll try to take your hands off for it, but when you start to gently pet his hair, he almost purrs. His eyes close, half-lidded in pleasure. 

“I serve who I want to serve,” Gojo says. His tail lashes behind him. “Who are you to tell me my master is unworthy?” 

Naoya shrugs, clearly disbelieving. “Sure, Satoru. Keep telling yourself that. I’m just here to deliver a gift.” 

He tosses you a package wrapped carefully in beautiful, ornate wrapping paper. You’re sure it’s not Toji’s doing. He’s not the type. 

As soon as he leaves, Gojo pushes himself away from you. It leaves you a little sorrowful, the speed with which he tries to get away. He only did it for your sake, you know. He wanted to protect your honor in front of Naoya because you’re his master. But it must have disgusted him, to get on his knees for a human, if he recoiled so fast. 

“What did he mean, what Toji did to you?” Gojo asks over dinner. 

You know instantly that you’ll only draw his ire if you try to play dumb. 

“Toji pushed me off that cliff the day you found me.” 

Gojo’s eyes darken. The next time Naoya returns, he promises you, he’d set his tail on fire. No one besmirches his master’s honor like that. 

It’s about honor, of course. You’d be a fool to think otherwise. 

Alone in your chambers, you unwrap the package Naoya gave you. It’s an incense burner, beautiful and silver. As apology presents go, it’s a decent one. You set it aside for use at a later time. 

Naoya’s visit only makes Gojo’s training worse, but these days, you’ve grown used to him and his harsh words. The more that he yells at you for being weak, the more you can brush it off as Gojo just being Gojo. That only irritates him more, of course. 

But nothing pisses him off as much as you claiming that you’re returning to school. Gojo thinks that you have no need for school as a god. There’s nothing the humans can teach you that he can’t. 

In your eyes, Gojo is a kitsune. That means he’ll never understand a teenage girl’s heart. School isn’t about learning, it’s about the experience! You’ll never be in high school again - there are so many things you still haven’t experienced, like school trips. You only have one youth - you have to seize it in the moment! 

Gojo isn’t convinced. 

Like an overbearing parent, he nags you all day and night until finally, you strike a deal. He’ll let you go to school, but only as long as you cover up the god-mark on your head. Gojo is never one to make things easy for you. The hat he bestows you with is an ugly grandma print with faux fox ears. You’ll be the laughingstock of the school!

“It’s dangerous,” he says. “Who knows what wild beasts will be lurking about?” 

“You’re the wild beast,” you say. “I can’t wear that!” 

“I guess you can’t go to school then,” he sighs. “What a pity.” 

It’s all for show, of course. You know what he’s really like. There’s no use in arguing - either you agree to his compromise or you stay here, stuck in the temple for the rest of your life. You’ll miss out on all the joys of youth, never growing old in your cloistered shrine. The thought is unbearable. 

You snatch the hat from him in indignation. Putting it on before you leave the next day makes you cringe, but as long as you avoid mirrors, you can almost forget that it’s there - if not for your classmates staring at you. You can feel their judging eyes everywhere you go, and the whispers. 

You can’t even say you don’t care - you do care. You only have one high school life, and Gojo is ruining it. During lunch, you escape into the bathroom to mope and avoid all of your classmates. 

“Are you getting bullied?” Gojo’s voice is too bright and cheery for your dark mood right now. You can’t promise to remain calm if he stays here. 

“This is the girl’s bathroom, Gojo.” 

“Don’t be like that. I’m just worried about my master,” he says. “Well? How is it? Do you want to go home now?” 

He’s lying. You know he’s not worried about you at all, but you should be used to it. You don’t know why it stings as much as it does. 

You’re hurt even though you know this is just how Gojo is. Of course he’d be happy to see you miserable - he hadn’t even wanted you for a god in the first place. He’s bound to you by obligation, and nothing more. You had known from the start that he didn’t care about you, so why does it hurt that he won’t comfort you? It’s just like those nights in the demon world that seem so long ago now. He hasn’t changed at all. 

Gojo isn’t as shocked by your outburst as he is by the tears slowly welling up in your eyes. He stands stunned as you rush out of him and back into the hallway. 

Tsumiki appears next to him out of thin air, completely unimpressed. 

“You did a terrible job on that one, Gojo.” 

As if in a daze, he lifts his hand, where the crystal of one teardrop shines. He’d tried to reach for you at the last moment, but you were already gone. “I made her cry...” 

Megumi appears next to Tsumiki, his face red. “What’s taking so long? Hurry up and leave! We’re in the girl’s bathroom!” 

“Gojo was bullying our master,” Tsumiki announces. 

“I wasn’t bullying her!” 

“He made her cry.” 

Gojo winces. “Okay, yeah. I did do that.”

Megumi kicks him in the leg, which amounts to almost nothing. “Take responsibility, then!” 

When you return home, Gojo is waiting by the shrine door with an almost offensively polite smile on his face. “Let me take your coat, master.” 

Him being kind gives you the creeps. You can’t help but feel like he’s planning something, especially when he shows you the lavish dinner he prepared for you with all of your favorites. 

“What’s with the look?” He says, annoyed at your accusing eyes peering at him over your bowl. “I do something nice for you and this is how you treat me?” 

“This is really just for me? No ulterior motives?” 

“None,” he promises. 

The smile that breaks over your face is like the sun through rain clouds - sudden, dramatic, and almost painfully bright after a period of gray skies. 

“Thanks, Gojo!” 

The look in his eyes is unreadable as he reaches to spoon more food onto your plate. 

You don’t have anyone else in this world. Besides the shrine spirits, Gojo might be the only person in the world who will take care of you. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sting as much as it did this morning. 

The second day of school starts with pouring rain, as if it’s a direct reaction to your foul mood earlier. Gojo pulls you back when you try to leave. 

“It’s a bad omen,” he says. “Stay home with me today. I’ll worry about you if you go.” 

Normally, such sweet words might bring a blush to your face, but you can read between the lines. 

Stay home with me today so I can keep you out of trouble, you brat. 

I’ll worry about you if you go because you’re weaker than a worm. 

“Stop trying to keep me from going to school! I thought we got over this yesterday,” you huff. “I’m going to be late for the bus!” 

You leave Gojo with a handful of air as you dart under his outstretched arm and out the door. 

In school, all your classmates are listless. 

You’ve never been so unhappy to not be the subject of attention. What is wrong with everyone? Even the teacher doesn’t reprimand anyone for sleeping in class, half-asleep herself. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be caught in this spell of drowsiness, which insinuates paranormal origins. 

As you’re sweeping the classroom after class, one of your classmates lets out a disgruntled noise. 

“It’s a snake,” she says, not at all with the intonation of someone who’s just discovered a snake. Ami’s the type to go apoplectic at the sight of a fly, much less an actual snake, so you don’t pay much mind until you hear Kurama go, “Huh, she wasn’t kidding.” 

There’s a little yellow snake in the classroom. In their stupor, none of your classmates seem to care all that much about it. They just continue going about their chores. You feel bad for it. It’s such a small, fragile little creature. In their state, they might accidentally end up crushing it. 

With gentle murmurs of encouragement, you coax it into your hand. It’s surprisingly docile and twines itself readily around your wrist before you set it outside the window to be set free. 

Gojo doesn’t praise you for your act of heroism on the behalf of his fellow yokai, as you remind him. You saved his compatriots! Where’s the gratitude? 

He calls you a stupid little girl. “I don’t care about them, I care about you!” 

Your face warms with embarrassment against your will even though you know he doesn’t mean it like that. Time and time again, Gojo has stressed that he will never see yokai and humans as even remotely on the same playing field, much less capable of being romantic partners. 

“You’re my master,” he says. There’s your call back to reality. “Look at this mark on your wrist.” 

It appears like a normal bruise to you, though you’re not sure how it could’ve happened. Your new snake friend was very gentle when he was coiled around your wrist. He must have been someone’s escaped pet. You hope he found his way back home. 

Gojo’s mad. He’s enunciating every word. 

“This is exactly why I have to keep such a close eye on you. That’s no ordinary bruise. That is an engagement mark. Care to explain to me how I left you alone for one second and you got yourself engaged to a divine beast?” 

Your face pales. “Excuse me?” 

“That snake is going to come and claim you as his bride.” 

“As a bride?” Your head spins and you have to sit down. You’re too young to get married. You look up at Gojo, teary-eyed. You don’t want this. 

“Stop making that face,” he snaps, pushing a hand over your face to hide it. “As if I would let that happen. The master of the Yaga shrine, my master, could never be wed to a mere snake.” 

If Gojo says he won’t let it happen, you can put your faith in him. You breathe a little easier. As mean as he can be, Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t lying when they called him the best familiar. He’s the strongest and most capable person or rather, yokai, that you know. There’s not a single task you set for him that he hasn’t been able to complete. 

It’s still raining when you go outside to practice your talisman making. 

You find the weather quite pleasant, even though it’s a little damp. The chill in the air cuts through the muggy feeling of summer, and the raindrops cool your cheeks. When you turn your face up to the sky, you can taste ozone in the little drops that pelt your face. 

“You’re very beautiful, kamisama,” says a voice. 

There's a man waiting just outside the red gates. A supplicant? In this weather? You better get him inside in a hurry. You dash over to him. 

“What are you doing? Come inside, you’ll get wet!” 

Just as you reach him, he lifts his face. He looks like a statue, with high cheekbones, and solemn eyes. His hair is the same pale yellow as the snake you saw earlier that day-

“Gojo!” 

But it’s too late. 

The snake has a hold on your wrist, right above the engagement mark. He takes you away. 

One moment, you’re standing in your own backyard, the next, you’re surrounded by almost-familiar bamboo walls. It looks like your shrine but for little distinguishing touches. That makes you uncomfortable. 

“This is Haibara shrine,” the snake says. “I’m Nanami, the familiar of Haibara-sama. I’ve taken you away to marry you.” 

There’s a curtain over the center of the room. Haibara presumably rests behind it, but something strikes you as off about the whole scenario. That’s not what’s foremost on your mind, however. 

“I don’t want to marry you! You kidnapped me!” 

He tilts his head at you. “I couldn’t have kidnapped you. We’re engaged, you see?” He traces the mark on your wrist with one slim finger. “We’re going to be very happy together.” 

“You’re being creepy,” you push him away. 

At your rejection, something dark crosses over his features - not danger, but pain. He has some nerve feeling upset when you’re the one who should be upset here! 

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to stroke your hair. You won’t let him touch you. “I know it can take some getting used to. Here, let me show you to your room.” 

Nanami has clearly put a lot of thought into decorating for you. It’s beautifully furnished, with rich silk sheets and the fragrant smell of plum blossoms permeating the air. Here, there’s not a single thing you could want but- 

Gojo. 

You miss Gojo and you miss your shrine. 

When Nanami leaves you in your room, it feels like a tomb in the silence. You bury your face in your expensive, hateful sheets and try to resist the urge to sob. You want Gojo to come get you. You want to go home. 

Hours pass, but Gojo doesn’t come. 

Nothing but the sound of your breathing changes, passing from frantic to deeper, slower, steadier. As your head clears, you notice the window. It’s a beautifully ornate design, a red knot of luck. The center is just big enough for a girl to squeeze through, if you try hard. 

Resolve grips you. 

You’re not going to wait for Gojo to rescue you. You’re going to get out of here yourself, find him, and scold him for not coming to get you earlier. Aren’t you his most beloved master, as he so professes? You’re going to make him kneel for at least three hours practicing his apologies! 

Filled with renewed conviction, you hoist yourself onto the window sill and begin the tedious task of shimmying yourself out. Just when you’re nearly there, the sharp edge of the metal scrapes your shin, leaving a long, thin cut. 

The smell of salt replaces the plums immediately. 

“God?” Comes Nanami’s voice. “I smell blood. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine!” You panic. If he discovers your escape attempt now, he might try to put you in a more secure room, and then you’ll really never see Gojo again. 

The adjacent wall caves in. 

Gojo stands in the rubble, seething, each hand wreathed in blue flame. He doesn’t even notice you, his attention wholly focused on Nanami. “You drew her blood? Are you prepared to face the consequences of hurting my master, snake?” 

You grab his arm just before he attacks. “He didn’t! I hurt myself on the window- oof!” 

Gojo’s so much bigger than you are. When he folds you into his arms, his entire body surrounds you. His chin tucks itself over your head, his large arms wrap around your body. You’ve never felt more secure than you are here, now. “I thought you’d be crying.”

His voice is hoarse. 

You’ve never heard that before. 

“You came,” you whimper, burying your face into his shoulder.  

Nanami’s face is crestfallen. “Are you going to leave me?” 

You grab Gojo’s arm and duck into the other room, where Haibara’s curtain is. 

“Don’t!” Nanami cries. 

When you pull it back, there’s nothing but an old, dusty kimono. 

You were right. 

This place is godless. 

“You’re no familiar,” Gojo snarls, turning on Nanami. “Don’t even think to call yourself that. The difference between you and me is as clear as day, you vile beast. You’ll pay for your insolence with the loss of your shrine.” 

Nanami’s misery is written all over his face. You’ve realized what’s wrong with this shrine. It’s too quiet, as if no one has prayed here for generations. Haibara has been dead for a long, long time.

Nanami must have been lonely. 

“Don’t,” you tell Gojo.

He stares at you, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?” 

You tug yourself out of Gojo’s arms. Nanami’s crouched on the ground, trying to shield Haibara’s old kimono from Gojo’s foxfire. You kneel to his level. 

“I’m sorry you’ve been lonely for all this time, Nanami. I can’t stay with you, but if you come to my shrine, we can play again.” 

Nanami weeps and reaches for your hand. The mark of the snake dissolves. 

Gojo doesn’t talk to you on the way back to the shrine.

“Don’t be mad,” you say, tugging on the sleeves of his kimono. He gives you a deadpan stare. “Come on! I only did it because-” 

You can’t finish your sentence. 

Of course, that piques Gojo’s interest. He can never resist bullying you. 

“Because? Go on,” he goads you. 

You say it so quietly he can’t hear you, even with his fox ears. He spins around, grabs you by the waist, and hoists you up so you’re face to face. You yelp and scramble to grab onto his shoulders for balance. 

“Louder,” he demands. “I can’t hear you.” 

“I was thinking about what would happen if I died and you were all alone again. I couldn’t leave him alone because I was thinking of you,” you tell him. Thinking of Gojo watching after an empty shrine all alone like Mizuki makes your heart ache for reasons you can’t explain. 

He stiffens. “What a strange thing to worry about. I wouldn’t care.” 

“Ugh,” you smack him in the shoulder. You shouldn't have tried to be kind to him. 

He doesn’t put you down, shifting you into an easier hold. “You’re hurt,” he admonishes when you try to squirm. 

Just before you enter the shrine gates, he has a confession of his own to make. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You got hurt because I wasn’t protecting you.” 

You rub his ears, an indulgence you’re not sure he would’ve allowed if he wasn’t in such a mood. “It’s not your fault!” 

“I’ve never had a human master,” he says. “I have to be careful not to break you. You’re so easily hurt.” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you say, and then the shrine spirits are there to welcome you home. 

You hadn’t realized you thought of the shrine as home until today. 

Even though Nanami’s mood isn’t affecting the weather anymore, it’s still raining. Gojo tells you not to mind the weather, even though you’re certain that it’s not from natural causes, which means it is your job. Ever since you came back from Haibara’s shrine, Gojo has been extra protective of you. 

You hadn’t thought Gojo had needed to be protected too, not until the thunder god came. 

The god of storms and lightning is called Getou Suguru. He carries a mallet in one hand that can transform whoever it touches into their younger forms, and he used to be Gojo’s best and only friend. He’s also the one who called a bounty on your head.

[janice707]

Overlord Husk

We know Husker was an overlord, but I keep thinking what if he didn’t sell his soul and actually had somewhat a control on his addiction. Well, I’d imagine this.

—

The sounds of machines’ dinging and dice rolling echos in the already loud casino. Everyone knows that the “Lions Den” is the where you take a gander at testing your luck. The people in there are either riding a high of luck, or just about to hit rock bottom with how much they’ve lost. You, are neither. Just a new soul who doesn’t know what they are getting into. You sit at one of the tables, some cash in your back pocket. There are people on both sides and a dealer at the front, shuffling the cards around. You find out your playing a simple game of black Jack.

So, you play a game and win. Then you play another one, and another one, another one…

“My, my! You’ve been stuck here for a long time now haven’t ya?” You blink and turn around, seeing a short cat person wearing a decent looking gold tux. He had his hair slicked back and a bottle of cheap looking booze in hand.

Remembering the question, you nod. You thought about leaving, and we’re just about too when the small cat person touches your shoulder and pushes you back down. “Now come on. Don’t think you’ve had enough yet. How about one more game? I can get scales here to start another game.” He said pointing towards the dealer. You suddenly can’t move, the intense feeling of wanting to feel that rush again. Like…Your being forced to feel this.

Now it’s starting to click, who this finely dressed man was. You turn to look at him in the eye and you start to tremble as you feel the hand on your shoulder grow colder.

right, he is the overlord who runs the Lions Den. Husker.

“Come on now, let’s play a gamble a bit more now.”

—

I might write more. Cause I also have this Idea on how Angel would end up meeting husk and both of them ending up helping out at the Hazbin hotel.

[itsbait]

i think one of the big things that contributed to the absolutely insane popularity of the matsunos amongst women is that a lot of anime guys even in otome or shoujo media are attractive and fanservicey but EXTREMELY unattainable. they are TOO perfect. even when theyre supposed to be assholes or have bad traits they still tend to err towards redemption or overwhelming positive traits to balance it out.

the matsunos on the other hand SUCK. they have no job, theyre virgins at 26, no friends, barely any individually-owned worldly possessions, women in the show are repulsed by them. more often than not theyre motivated by selfish reasons and have no problem turning into a completely destructive unit for whatever meager goals they have. BUT!

theyre attractive in their universally appealing, extremely average designs. you can literally imagine them to look however you want because while they do have key features the art style is so simple that you can basically fill in the blanks with your own preferences. the f6 designs flopped so hard in terms of fan preference because they take this away; the art style is typical now and the characters look too perfect again, as anime art styles tend to cause. There is no room to interpret anything because everything has already been spelled out for you, and if your type isnt tall, skinny dudes with M-bangs in different colors youre just shit out of luck, arent you?

their flaws are HORRIBLE and all consuming, but they manage to be endearing because theyre not only REAL but comically shitty. your cat knocks over an expensive glass, that sucks. your cat does it every single time you replace it and looks you in the eye while he swipes his little paw? that little shit knows exactly what hes doing and now its hilarious. osomatsu is a beligerent pervert alcoholic with a gambling addiction, karamatsu is so desperate for attention that he takes to grand, flashy, extremely hollow statements and fakes a personality that's been out of style since the 60s, choromatsu is an extremely prideful nagging know-it-all thats just as perverted and shallow as the rest of them, ichimatsu not only wallows in depression and self-hatred but takes it out on others as well and frequently goes out of his way to spoil everyone else's mood just because HES unhappy, jyushimatsu is loud, extremely careless, and still acts like a child, often incapable of taking anything seriously, and todomatsu is a completely fake brat whos been spoiled rotten due to being the youngest in a group of 6 men who are quite literally all exactly the same age. yes, some of them suck at varying levels, but the bottom line is that all of them have flaws that are so heavy that instead of being overshadowed by their good traits, their good traits almost PERFECTLY balance them.

what i think holds the most importance though is that because theyre so shitty and so worthless and so socially exiled, all of them are ABSOLUTELY DESPERATE. you think that 5'11" bishounen wants a bitch from appleton, wisconsin? its just not attainable. a 26 year old virgin neet with no friends? as long as youre even MODERATELY attractive, you have a shot. fat, skinny, tall, short, young, old; if you have a hole (and i repeat, a hole, no adjective, because i will not put a certain crime past some of them, speaking completely honestly) you are a goal. you don't have to have any kind of specific personality, hobby, interests, you don't even have to be particularly likeable.

theyre worth something, but they should be worth nothing, so they ask nothing of you. for the typical male-inclined otaku, people who tend to be self-critical or otherwise deemed by society as flawed in some way, this situation is ideal.

women do not want the matsuno sextuplets because theyre attracted to muppet beatles, or because theyre blind to the numerous red flags they all have, or because theyd rather water down their negative traits and pretend theyre all smol cinnamon roll beans who definitely respect women. the matsunos are highly customizable, trope-based but not trope-dependant, and completely and utterly attached to anyone who would even give them the time of day. women want the matsuno sextuplets because the matsuno sextuplets will ALWAYS want them.

[captain-barnes-writes]

Addiction [1 / 2]

Summary: Lee Bodecker is fascinated by the young girl who works at her father’s store. 

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Warning: Age gap, language, mentions of alcoholism, sexual content, unprotected sex (y’all better wrap it in real life tho bc this is fiction.) SMUT. 18+

Word Count: 4k [NOT PROOFREAD. Any comments, tips, suggestions are greatly appreciated. My Ask Box is always open.] 

Lee Bodecker’s cruiser paraded through the town of Knockemstiff. He thought of how life had changed so much for him in the last few months. A man who was still in his lonesome at his age, caused by his extreme focus on his career, wasn’t blind to the fruits the small town had to offer. The more time passed, the prettier the girls got.

Vibrant sundresses, skirts that reached above the knee and them goddamn stockings. With the years the damn skirts and dresses only seemed to be inching up higher and higher up their legs. Most of the girls were timid under his presence. It was a good thing that they knew who he was and were more than well aware of the power he had.

Lee Bodecker was a crook sheriff in the solemn town; a menacing tormented man who most often than not drank his fair share of alcohol on a weekly basis. A lot of the time he was intoxicated with the moonshine he got from people he bribed. The alcohol always knocked him to otherworldly limits that helped him forget all that plagued him. It was his hidden secret, an unhealthy and disappointing one. A secret which he made sure to keep under wraps. Lee always had the election peering over him, taunting and glaring at him. He had to keep up with appearances.

Even with sore limbs, killer migraines and sunken eyes that didn’t want to see any light, he always made sure to clean the cruiser of any leftover canned beers and packs of cigarettes. He even tended to his own home as well, bagging the glass bottles and cans in black trash bags so as to not raise any suspicions. He was trying his best to stop, but it had become a habit that was hard to shake. Trying to kill one addiction had almost started another one, candies being the other culprit. Sweet little candies to quit the thoughts and yearning need for the arduous liquid that he’d come to rely on far too much.

But then there was another addiction he’d come to have for the past months. It was intoxicating but it wasn’t alcohol and sweet and tender but it wasn’t candies. The girl who worked at her father’s store at the center of town was the debilitating new type of obsession he’d come to have. Boyd Smith’s young daughter was as enticing as they came.

The store was small and slightly rundown, but had the necessities most people in Knockemstiff could need. People didn’t need much in the town anyway. But that girl was easy on the eyes and she wasn’t even aware of it. By far the prettiest in the godforsaken town and probably the whole state. Heck, Lee thought her to be the most beautiful on fucking earth. She managed to tug at his heartstrings in such a way nobody had been able to. Not in a long time, anyway.

When she first spoke to him, an actual conversation, she’d told him “stop eating so many candies, sheriff. You’re gonna get cavities.” And Lee had let out a loud laugh, though it hadn’t met his eyes as if the words she’d said had hit a nerve. They had, but he couldn’t admit it. Regardless the soothing tone of her voice, sweet and delicate, had reeled him in even further.

He visited the store so often, knowing when exactly her father would take his day off. Which were starting to climb up seeing as Boyd enjoyed gambling and drinking his fair share as much as Lee and would leave his daughter to tend to the store more often than not. So she’d be there in her most lonesome tending to her father’s store. He looked forward to seeing her doe eyes and skim his eyes about her gentle frame.

He often found himself wondering what she’d be wearing on days he visited. Being the daughter of a store owner meant that money wasn’t much of a problem for her family, and she seemed to be able to feed her affinity for pretty clothes. He always anticipated what she’d be wearing. Y/N usually wore pastel colored dresses, those pretty sundresses that reached just above the knee. The thin material at times clung to her body on the back giving way to the full bottom she was blessed with and Lee felt himself hardening just at the sight of her alone. He wanted nothing more than to tear the material off her and savor the innocence she oozed.

That day when she first spoke to him, he felt even more drawn to her. The delectable taste of the bonbons he’d stop to buy were of no comparison to her. Lee was either salivating or mouth dry like a desert at the mere sight of the store owner’s daughter.  On that day when she’d uttered those words to him in hopes of alleviating the rather quiet environment, he had placed the money on her hands to pay for the pack of candies as well as a pack of beers. Their fingers brushed and Y/N had almost shuddered.

“I’m gonna have to find myself a new addiction so that doesn’t happen then.” Lee responded. His eyes had met hers and a gleam of mischievousness and mockery were swirling in them. She swallowed harshly, suddenly feeling small under the presence of the town’s sheriff.

Y/N looked at him. Like really looked at him and noticed things she hadn’t before. For instance, the way his eyes were the color of the town’s nearby lake, a sparkling blue, and when he didn’t have a scowl on his face he actually looked handsome. Crinkles at the end of his eyes showed his age, and even with the soft protruding belly he was actually easy on the eyes.

Y/N blushed under his piercing stare, proceeding to count the change aloud and handed it back to him in a clumsy manner.

“One fifty is your change, sheriff. Thank you.”

“No, thank you darlin’. I’ll stop by another day.” Lee countered, voice heavy as his orbs continued their arduous stare on the girl who couldn’t tear her own eyes away from his. She was flushed, a color that suited her so well with the baby blue sundress she wore. He wanted nothing more than to take her on the back of his cruiser and fuck her into submission.

Despite all his bad qualities, the dominance he liked to have, he wanted her to want it too. What was the fun in fucking somebody who didn’t want it? No, he wanted her dainty hands on him. For her to run them through his hair, grip it as she was a breathy broken mess beneath him. He yearned for her lips to moan his name, for her tightness to grip him like a damn vice. Just one look at her and he knew he was done for.

Lee started visiting the store more often. Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Sundays. She’d be there with her pastel dresses, behind the counter tending to customers in a manner that let him know he couldn’t be the only one thinking of her this way. She was too pure, too celestial to only have one man pining over her. And he was right. He wasn’t the only man looking at her with hungry eyes. There were plenty of them who’d show up at the store throwing flirty comments at her and she’d try her best to deflect them. She’d do so gracefully with shy smiles, an airy laugh while waving them away.

Lee had been there when men approached her in the same manner he did, flirtatiously and with no good intentions. He observed how she’d suddenly become nervous, dropping change on the floor and sputtering out a few sorry’s as she scrambled down to get it from the floor. She’d smile at her suitors, not knowing how to keep them away. How to say no. So when Lee was there, he’d clear his throat loudly and tell them to move along. No more needed to be said, the men would scramble away from the store at the mere words from the sheriff. They were scared of him and the immense influence the town’s sheriff carried just at the tip of his fingers. Lee boasted his power in front of Y/N wanting nothing more than to impress her. He was no longer in his 20s, no longer the slim figure he had 15 years prior, but he’d obtained something that was worth showing off: the power of being an elected official and the town’s sheriff.

Y/N would express her graciousness with a bashful grin and a small thanks would leave her lips, along with a few offerings of free candy or even a pack of cigarettes. She was young, no more than twenty. It was normal for girls her age to have suitors lining up, but she wasn’t an ordinary girl. This was the girl the sheriff was pining over. He was completely and utterly taken by her and he hadn’t even tasted her yet.

Lee wanted more than anything to be the one who clouded the girl’s thoughts. He wanted him to be the first thing she thought of every morning and the very last thought at the end of the night. His own thoughts were consumed by the store owner’s daughter. Her beauty was amplified by the tenderness in which her tone of voice took when she spoke. The way her hair crowned her face so perfectly and the smile lines which took upon her pretty face with a simple little grin. She was addicting and he wanted her so badly. He wanted her as bad as a drop of alcohol.

For Y/N, or any girl her age, it was an honor to be on the receiving end of the sheriff’s admiration. The piercing blue orbs watching with intent, body language screaming that he was taken with her. The way he was an asset to the town, an important one that kept order, that took care of people like her. That warded off danger. She’d be crazy to overlook him and his clear feelings for her.

At first she’d been slightly put off at his constant visits to the store. Sometimes just to buy a single pack of candy. At times he wouldn’t even buy anything. He’d stare at her, initiate conversations that diverted to different topics as if he didn’t want to stop hearing her voice. As if her voice was the only sound he wanted to hear. At times the voice coming from his radio would be the only thing that’d get him to leave the store. He’d huff loudly, bark back an answer, tip his broad-brimmed hat back on his head and wave goodbye to her.

But it wasn’t long until he’d crawled his way into her heart. A slow process that took many months. Gained her trust with conversation and his way of sweet talking. Expensive chocolates and bouquets of roses he’d gone out of town to get would make their way into her hands whenever he’d visit her, almost always finding himself at the right hour when the store was at its most desolate. Just her and him. The beautiful girl was driving him insane, she was slow to give into him. Her shyness a tough barrier to break.

The town would whisper about it. The sheriff wants Boyd’s daughter. The many visits had made their rounds in people’s mouths and being the small town that it was. The townspeople noticed the black cruiser more and more at the front of the store, parked there for more than half an hour at times. And they became suspicious because what could take so long in the small store? It was cramped and only had minimal supplies.  All of Knockemstiff was talking about it in a secretive manner. They didn’t want to feel the sheriff’s wrath, didn’t want to light the anger in his eyes. But they knew. Knew that whatever his intentions were with the young girl, he was sure to get her. He was persistent and always got what he wanted.

Those many visits to the store turned into driving her home at nights. Though it was only a couple blocks from the town center, he still insisted on doing it. A girl like you could get kidnapped on these streets doll, Lee would tell her. He couldn’t believe her father would pick gambling with his friends over picking his own daughter up. She deserved to be cared for, tended to in the best way possible. He wanted to be that man for her; someone she relied on. Someone she could come to love.

At least the one thing her father did right was having her lock up the place early when she was in charge of the store. By 7:30 pm, she’d switch the sign to closed and begin the process of cleaning and making sure everything was tidy to open up the next day. Lee would wait outside for her in his car, smoke puffing from his lips as he took drags from his cigarette. When he would see her coming out, the thin material of her dress swaying with the wind and giving way to the smoothness of her legs, he’d close his eyes to gain control of himself and throw the cigarette outside. She never said she didn’t like the smell, never even made a comment about it as the scent lingered in the car, yet he still cared and wanted to be on his best behavior with her.

The drives to her home would take detours to diners, coffee shops and even to different towns as he felt so enthralled by her presence. He wanted nothing more than be able to spend hours with her. She didn’t even have to touch him, didn’t have to kiss him, but a simple gaze from her had his heart beating erratically. When she began talking to him more, not just waiting for him to continue the conversation, he felt the effect she had on him even more. He felt bewitched, as if the girl was his only sanity. It wasn’t the alcohol, it wasn’t the sugary sweets. It was the tenderness of her voice, her gentle frame and her doe eyes.

It also wasn’t long until she was sinking down onto the length of his cock on the back of his cruiser. She slid down in such slow motion with a heartbreaking guttural moan. Her virgin cunt wrapping him in such tightness his breath had hitched and eyes rolled in ecstasy. Her perky breasts right at his face and he’d taken a hold of them with his lips. Ran his tongue on the brown nipples.

“It hurts, Lee.” Y/N cried softly onto his shoulder. Pitiful tears landing on his clothed shoulder. The poor girl was wincing at the intrusion inside her. Lee deeply regretted taking her this way, her on top of him on the back of his damn cruiser. This wasn’t the place for a girl like her to lose her virginity. Hell, it  wasn’t the place for any girl to lose their virginity. The seats were uncomfortable and movements were limited with the small space.

“I’m sorry darlin’. Fuck.” Lee cursed, feeling his cock twitch inside the tightness of her walls. She was incredibly tight and he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold on for much longer. He wanted to piston his hips against her sweet place, fuck her until she was crying. But she was already crying on his shoulder and it wasn’t even out of pleasure.

She stayed there for a couple seconds, trying to recover herself while being bombarded with sinful thoughts as she sat on his length. She was able to get a hold of herself, feeling a little better with the sheriff’s large hand drawing soothing circles on her bare back. His pink lips were against hers in soft kisses that had her head swirling. The taste of alcohol present on his tongue was a strong comparison to her minty mouth. Him, so imperfect and troubled. Her, innocent and pure. She picked her head up again. Her doe eyes found him in the darkness of the cruiser, the abandoned lot a few minutes out of town was desolate and dark.

Without any warning, her lower body elevated just slightly and came back down again. Lee let out a shaky breath and his hands had immediately slid down to the smooth skin of her ass, fingers marking the fullness of it. She was a mess above him, mouth hanging open with the sweetest moans falling loose. She began to slowly sink down on him again, building a tortuous movement of raising herself up and coming back down. The pain was still present but the sight of the sheriff being patient and not forcing her to move had been incentive enough for her to push the aching pain away. He was already inside her anyways, her chastity a thing of the past.

Lee’s strong hand grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck and pushed their lips together. She was still adjusting to him, moving slow to his standards, so he wanted to control at least one area of the sinful acts that were taking place. His kiss was rough and messy. His teeth took hold of her plump bottom lip and bit it until she shrieked into his mouth. Her dainty hands fisted at his hair.

The movements of her hips were reluctant and inexperienced. The flow of them slow, faltering even at the discomfort of the intrusion. The prodding inside her still stung and her eyes shut tightly when his cock hit a spot inside her that made her feel weak. Lee noticed and the hold on her ass tightened as brought her down at a faster pace. He wanted to fuck her so hard she would see stars on the roof of the cruiser, but she was still visibly aching.

Lee’s lips traveled down her jaw, kissing her there just slightly to bring any comfort to her, before they made their way to the valley of her breasts. She was bare, the baby yellow dress had been unbuttoned and thrown on the floor carelessly. She was unbelievably soft. Skin so delicate and smooth, breasts and ass etched with white stretch marks. His babygirl was so divine and heavenly and he’d just taken her innocence, her purity, on the back of his cruiser.

He was a bastard for not taking her to his home. On his bed. But this had been so sudden, a date to the outskirts of a different town had turned into them kissing like their lives depended on it. He’d conveniently found the empty lot and he couldn’t wait any longer, feeling as if he didn’t bury himself inside her he would explode.

His hips had began to lift themselves off the cold backseat meeting hers in the middle. She was reduced to a string of breathy moans; a beautiful mess before him. His dick was enveloped in her folds, bathing in her sweet juices. The sounds of drenched skin slapping against one another, loud and stained. The air inside the car was stuffy and lingered with the smell of their arousal. He felt like he’d come any second as he felt the familiar sensation building inside him.

“I want to put a baby right in here.” Lee’s hand stopped at her belly, the skin soft and warm. He was already crazy for her. With a single taste of her and he wanted more. He could picture his girl’s belly huge with his baby growing inside her. Maybe that would get him to stop craving the taste of alcohol, to stop wanting to replace his addiction with candies. He wanted her to be his only sane addiction.

Y/N stuttered at his words. Her eyes had widened and hands gripped his shoulders at the rapid movements of his hips. She was rendered silent as her mind swirled with the possibility of carrying Lee Bodecker’s baby. She didn’t know what to think of it. Girls her age were already carrying babies, married even.

But the townspeople chastised and judged those girls who gave away the very thing that made them good in the eyes of the lord, their savior, and she had done just that. Given away the one thing she’d held onto for more than two decades, cherished it, boxed it off and wrote it off for somebody whom she’d marry. The preacher of her church called it a “gift”, a mere pseudonym, and apparently a more appropriate and contained word, for a girl’s virginity. In her town, chastity from girls, taking care of that one gift for a nice man who would care for them was an important thing. But for Y/N, it was too late to look back.

“You heard me, darlin’?” Lee quipped again, hand grasping her jaw to get her to look at him. His azure eyes were laced with lust, swirling with it as his cock hit her sweet spot again and again. What could she say when he was taking the pain away and replacing it with delicious ecstasy?

“Yes, Lee.” She moaned loudly. A foreign heat had pooled in her stomach, the pistoning of his dick inside her driving her closer to a delirious state. Y/N was bouncing on him with his help and she couldn’t help but look at the man whom she’d grown to be fond of for the last few months. Fond was probably not the right term, but she’d only even kissed a boy before and it had been her senior year of high school, so long ago she didn’t even know what she was feeling. It was immeasurable. The grown man whose advances had made hordes of butterflies swirl in her stomach, made her breath quicken and at the sight of him her heart swelled.

“I’m gonna cum inside that sweet pussy of yours.” His words were foul, hips faltering as he felt the tightness of her cunt constricting the living daylights out of him. She had broken down before him, body spasming as an orgasm ripped through her in shocking waves.

“Oh my god oh my god.” She breathed out loudly, her folds seizing him in a shuddering way. Gripping so tight he couldn’t help but come only a mere seconds after her. His hips jolted, climax hitting him with such strength it had forced a string of curse words from his mouth. His cum seeped inside her like ribbons, painting her walls with his warm seed.

When they rode out their high, bodies covered in salty sweat and breathing somewhat steady, Lee grabbed her face and brought their lips together in another kiss. It was short and wet, his tongue swiping against hers. When he pulled away, he looked at the odd expression etched on her face.

“What am I gonna tell my daddy, sheriff?” She asked softly. Brows furrowed in worry. “It’s so late.”

“Your daddy doesn’t give a damn. He’s probably drunk off his ass while gambling.” Lee bit. He was right about her father, he was most likely drunk or gambling. Probably both. Lee was gonna take care of his girl now. Claim her. He had already taken her most precious gift anyway.

He wasn’t going to fuck her on the back of a cruiser. She didn’t belong there, not tainting the backseat of his car, not in an abandoned parking lot. The next time he fucked her he was going to plow into her on his bed. In his house. Because that’s where her sweetness belonged; tangled in his covers, a moaning mess beneath him. She should’ve been waiting for him to come home from a long day of work, arms out steady for him to fall on, lips ready to take his. She was more addicting than glasses of moonshine, more so than candy. Intoxicatingly beautiful, sweet and innocent.

“You’re mine now darlin.”

----

hope y'all enjoy lol I actually liked writing this so might make a second part. Who knows 💀🥴

Dividers can be found here by @writeyourmindaway. Ty!

[tezzbot]

Osomatsu, Jyushimatsu and Todomatsu (🏳️‍🌈💌💔🧸🪀💬🎃🔊)

not gonna do all of these for all 3 ive been trying since last night my brains gonna melt lmfao

🏳️‍🌈 lgbt hc

osomatsu thats a dyke

jyushimatsu i think w regards to gender probably doesnt give tht much of a fuck tbh. hes just jyushimatsu also woman liker

todomatsu uhhh . hm idk.. theres smth fruity going on there i mean look at it. not sure how id label him hes like a lgbt what all at once type u know HDHJDG

💌 fluff hc

osomatsu has always really loved horse racing even before he had a gambling addiction lol i think as a kid hed go to the library or smth and just Read n Learn about horses and races in general thats the tism baby he knows literally everything you ask him who won whatever race in like 1976 he Knows its like scary impressive (literally how else wld he remember horse racing results from Ten Years In The Past in the movie!!!!) if you gave him a horse he would fully know how to take care of it

jyushimatsu and homura, tho not dating cus i dont think theyre ldr kinda people, they do still stay in contact, they talk on the phone n write each other letters tgey r the world

some of the friends todomatsu has do legitimately enjoy hanging out with him like the barista girls what r their names. aida and s. saachi? they like him a lot! as a friend! he just is in the mindset of im bottom of the social barrel so he doesnt always see it lol

💔 angst hc

do i even need to do this these guys r miserable little freaks as is lmfao

osomatsu. cant think of anythin original just uknow usual. childhood trauma, dependency issues, oldest child 3rd parent syndrome, etcetc

jyushimatsu feels bad abt how he treated ppl in high school, despite the fact tht it was a defence mechanism he didnt Like being so angry all the time :( its why he tries so much to make people happy now. tht anger does still make its appearances but hes better with it now

🧸hurt/comfort hc

osomatsu when he feels like trashgarbage will go and find one of his brothers and if he finds one of them in the house he'll go n sit by them n try strike up a conversation but if hes feeling like considerably bad he'll just sit and maybe lean against them just for the pressure remind him that theyre there keep him grounded

💬 fav line

jyushimatsu - literally all of his big long stupid internal monologues are great but literally the best line in the show is "Samples, my guy" it legitimately made me laugh So loud when i first watched that episode by myself

🎃 sth i think theyre afraid of

osomatsu hemophobia not a fan of blood, why he freaked out so bad in the movie over a scuff

jyushimatsu probably claustrophobic n being restrained fr long not of his own accord, man needs to fidget

todomatsu literally so scared of seeing the hat man in the dark. he watched one five nights at freddys video in 2015 and now his brain thinks hes gonna see bonnie in the bathroom at night he closes the door facing into a room so he has a full view of the room w his back On the door to make sure he hasnt been followed despite the fact he Knows he hasnt. just in case lol (no i am not projecting [lying])

🔊song that reminds me of them

oso - get well city by felix hagan and the family (a lot of their songs make me think Matsus in general tbh lol)

jyushi- dumb dumb by mazie

todo is kinda hard to nail down but - secrets by p!nk

[spencers-renaissance]

Fic Rec Bingo!!

So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!

from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3

1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does

I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!

las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid

JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?” “No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”

2. A fic you've reread several times

Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch

Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet. “Papa?”

3. A comfort fic

i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury

When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back. (Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)

4. A cathartic fic

Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory

Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.

5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf

One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut

When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.

6. A fic you associate with a song

I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3

You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo

“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.

7. A fic that inspires you

This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication

In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3

Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky

Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.

9. A fic you wish could be a movie

Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now

i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5

It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.

10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

I'm doing two because fuck you that's why

This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!

Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes

Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...

I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)

You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff

A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

11. A fic you associate with a place

This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3

Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending

Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.

In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.

12. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)

The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid

The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.

13. A fic you found at the right time

You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness. “I… I think I need some help.”

14. A fic that you would read a fic of

Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

15. A fic that made you laugh out loud

The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence

“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down. Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money. “Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”

16. A fic that gave you butterflies

The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')

Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff

Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.

17. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it

A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi

Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears. “Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back. “I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”

18. A favourite AU

The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)

"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her. "Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer." The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."

19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/

The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump

Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.

20. A fic that made you feel seen

heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things

Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.

21. A fic you love without knowing the source material

(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)

the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery

Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.

22. A fic you've gushed about IRL

Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves. Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

23. A fic you still remember many years later

The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff

How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.

24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart

"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling

But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead. Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot. “Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

25. Free Space

And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...

Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy

Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup. Spencer takes the suggestion to heart. Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)

[hanibalistic]

#796986 | HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | fluff, high school au, crush au

word count | 1824

warning | none

note | thank you for requesting, i hope you like this!

request | @childofthecycle​

having a crush on someone is about a lot of things.

it is about awkwardly pacing around the classroom for over five minutes, just walking and talking to your friends, pretending that you have a lot of things to tend to when you are just hoping he would finally look up from his desk and see you walking around the space.

it is about the whispered rumors spreading through a class, talking about who is in love with who and who brushed hands with who. and whenever his name is mentioned with yours, you would deny, deny, deny, all the while wondering if he turned to take a look at you.

it is about the faint heat at the tip of your ears whenever you feel him next to you during assembly line up, your eyes desperately trying to take a closer look of his gorgeous yet not being brave enough to turn your head in case he would notice you.

having a crush is about hoping, it is about looking, and is about public secrecy. the thrill in almost being exposed but always making sure your feelings stay behind a pair of sealed lips, and the endearment of yearning to be looked at, while immediately turning away when his eyes are on you because you could not bear to be seen by him either.

"[name]... what the hell are you doing?"

jisung could tell by the way you ignored his question and simply moved your head over to peek at the basketball court outside the cafeteria.

there was only ever one reason why you would awkwardly hide behind a brick wall in the middle of the school ground, and there was only ever one reason why you would be interested in an unofficial, lunch-time basketball game.

it was all because of hwang hyunjin.

"you're gushing. stop it, stop gushing at the wall," he said as he stepped up to stand next to you, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

the way he pulled a face when he watched hyunjin dunk a basketball was not lost on him. even after so long, he was still not fond of the divine-looking, soft-spoken, almost-six-feet boy. and, to be frank, jisung wasn't sure if he ever will be, considering the countless trouble he has indirectly brought to his table.

listening to you talk on and on about hyunjin was one thing. jisung found hilarity in teasing you of your crush on the perfect student in your grade, especially when you would always start to ramble out incoherent words trying to save yourself from expressing too much of your embarrassingly romantic daydreams.

but oh lord, when you start going out of your way for him was when he couldn't help but think your feelings were starting to get a little ridiculous.

a prime example he would hold a silent grudge against hyunjin forever was when you twisted your ankle trying to impress him during the soccer unit in p.e class.

all hyunjin saw was you crying! there was noting impressive about that!

(yet, when he asked you if you were okay the morning came back in a cast, you were so giddy you almost forgot your feet were injured.)

"lunch is almost ending, we should go back to class," jisung said after he took his eyes off hyunjin and turned to you instead.

your eyes were fixated on hyunjin. even though the boy was moving about in the court, running and jumping and pushing and smiling, your eyes could always find where he has gone to. it was like your got lenses that specifically filter out and blur out anything that simply isn't hwang hyunjin. and you drowned yourself in your small, safe world where your love for him could expand as much as you want every time you watch him.

the smile lingering on your face, the kind of smile jisung knew no amount of jokes could bring out of you, was what made him keep his mouth shut whenever he felt like complaining about your crush on hyunjin.

you were so happy liking him, you always have been. he was in no position to defeat your spirit, and he in no way would make fun of your feelings for another.

plus, he wanted you to be happy. if talking about your crush on hyunjin would provide that, he would let you do it.

"alright, suit yourself," he muttered to himself after a scoff. "i'm leaving first, then. don't come whining at me later."

you did not hear a lick of what he said. your mind went hazy the second you saw hyunjin turn his head and looked at you, a smile still present on his face that would send you the delusion that he was smiling at you. fingers clutching the edge of the wall, you sucked in a loud squeal and immediately turned around to press your back against the wall, hiding.

you couldn't even find the time to wonder why jisung was no longer by your side. you were too occupied in the knowledge that you have been seen. not just by anyone but by hyunjin, by your crush, by him.

it was a short glance; you made it a short glance by shielding yourself too quickly, but it was enough to get your heart racing.

because when you are fond of someone, even the smallest detail was orchestrated by impenetrable fate. even the tiniest thing means something, be it just an accidental smile or a coincidentally shared glance. those little things become your midnight dreams and the pinnacle of your fictional scenarios.

they mean something. hyunjin means something, as well as your affection for him.

taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you shoved down the shy smile and slowly turned your body so you could peek out again and see if hyunjin was still looking.

it was likely wishful thinking, but you wanted to hope for it nonetheless, as the kind of thrill you get in crossing your fingers and hoping, and then the unique embracing of disappointment when it lets you down, was a bittersweet feeling you thought deserved to be felt. it was, graciously, addicting, with the way you gamble each time wondering if your prayers would be heard.

you were met with a face instead when you turned around. or, more specifically, hyunjin's face. it was a sweaty face, but somehow you still wanted to exert your affection for him through the less-than-elegant love language of biting. maybe just the tip of his nose, or the bottom of his lips, or even his arm.

hyunjin watched with surprised eyes when you stumbled back with a yell. he took a hesitant step forward, his hand ready to fly out and support your fall, but you regained your balance and steadied yourself only two feet more away from him. shrinking back into his bubble, he watched you with intrigue as you began fumbling with your words.

"i–um, i was just watching you play–i wasn't specifically watching just you, though! i was looking at the whole team and your friends–actually, yeah! i was just watching you all play because i had time on my hands, haha, because it's lunch, you know? it's lunch–"

hyunjin held up his hands gently, wanting to get you to calm down in the middle of your stuttering speech trying to explain why you two met eyes in the first place. your voice slowly trailed to a stop when you saw that he was laughing—cute, tiny laughs that meant no harm; it was more as if he found your bubble-soda eyes adorable as they gleamed with each word you spoke.

"can i say something...?" he asked after you stopped talking, and he waited until you give him a grim nod before he continued, "i didn't mean to scare you, i'm sorry. i thought it would be funny if you turn and i'm already here."

you furrowed your brows at him. "why would that be funny?"

he scratched his cheek faintly, uncertain. he knew he would catch you off guard, and he had wanted to see how you would react to being so close to him because he has caught you, on multiple occasions, staring at him and looking away when he saw. it was all for good fun, he didn't know he would freak you out this much, and neither did he think it would be funny.

"i have a bad sense of humor," he explained. "i'm sorry i freaked you out."

you huffed out a string of air, your neck heating up as the conversation went on. you should be panicking more, you thought, because you have never had a casual conversation with him before. but his kind demeanor made it so easy to feel calm around him despite your likeness toward him.

"it's fine, i probably freaked you out even more by peeking at your play anyway," you shivered, "that was creepy, wasn't it?"

hyunjin smiled, a dimple showing. he shook his head, wiping his forehead with the towel around his neck. "no, i think it's kind of cute, actually," he admitted, "frustrating, though."

"oh... sorry–"

"i would have liked it better if you were sitting on the bench instead of hiding yourself," he said. "hell, i probably would have done better too, who knows?"

your creamy eyes popped, and it blossomed all over him. he was looking for that—that sudden burst of joy in your eyes. he has only seen it a few times before, you were always turning away from him that he couldn't properly look at you.

it was like you wouldn't even give him the time and chance to come to his senses that he does think you are adorable, and he should probably talk to you before the year ends with you two being strangers.

how unfortunate that would be; another pure crush slain by the separation of the year-end graduation. thank god hyunjin came to his senses.

"i... i can sit by the bench tomorrow if you want," you suggested carefully, not daring enough to look at him.

he pursed his lips into a teasing smile, wanting to lean down so he could catch your lowered eyes, but he decided against it just to make you less anxious around him.

"thank you, [name]. that would be great,"

his name rolled off your tongue so smoothly, it was as if he has said it millions of times before. and maybe his heart has called your name when you were unaware, maybe his eyes have thought of your name countless times before he finally had it in himself to talk to you.

you breathed out a sigh. what a relieving feeling, like all the hardships have melted away.

this was what having a crush feels like. it is like having softness bleed into the rough patch of high school life, and you were glad hyunjin was the reason behind it.

[thatesqcrush]

Christmas Confessions

Rafael Barba x Reader. @itsjustmyfantasyroom requested: Hey lovely, may I please have a Bryan Kneef or Rafael Barba or both 😉 x reader for your holiday bingo for the mistletoe square. Semi public would be delicious 😘

Ask & ye shall receive. I went with Barba. This is super fluff with a hint of sexy. Timeline wise this is after The Undiscovered Country, but Rafael never left - pretty current to s.22 (spoiler warning: with Kat having joined and Carisi is an ADA.)

WC: 1235

--

"You have no choice, you have to come.” Sonny commented to his mentor who was busily scribbling on a yellow notepad.

"You really are like a dog with a bone, Carisi. I said no, I'm not up to it. Besides, I have back logged reports to work on that Hadid said that she needed ASAP.” Rafael replied as he continued working, not bothering to look up at the younger ADA.

"Don't give me that crap, Barba. I'm not buying it. You're just looking for any excuse to not go.” Sonny replied, crossing his arms against his chest. "Just come for an hour; pop in, get some punch and say hi. Besides…" he continued, "Y/N is there now."

Barba grunted before taking a sip of his lowball glass filled with scotch. "What makes you think I want to see Y/N?"

"Barba, you seem to forget that I used to be a detective. And now, I’m an ADA. if I can't tell what's going in someone's head then I am doing a pretty shitty job. Sonny replied honestly. "She doesn't know.” He added for good measure, not wanting his friend to stress.

Rafael looked up at Sonny, letting out a deep exhale as he did so. "If I go will I get you off my back?"

Sonny cheered. "Carmen owes me twenty bucks; she told me that I'd never be able to convince you to come."

"It's great to know that my emotional well-being feeds gambling addicts.” Barba muttered sardonically. He looked at the pile of reports he had to finish. “I’ll go for one drink, say hello, and come back.” He told himself as he grabbed his phone, camel wool coat and scarf.

**

The 16th precinct - SVU division was brightly decorated with gaudy holiday decorations that looked like they came from way back when God walked the Earth. Holiday music filled the room as people chatted and laughed.

Rafael walked in slowly, following behind Sonny. Rafael scanned the room in search of you and he sucked in breath as you appeared in his line of vision. You wore a snug red top which accentuated the swells of your breasts and a black leather mini skirt – the look complete with knee high boots and a Santa hat adorned on your head. You were busy chatting with Kat and Fin when you caught Rafael out of the corner of your eye.

You smiled brightly at Sonny and Rafael, waving them in as you did so. "Merry Christmas guys! Sonny, I see you managed to drag Rafael out of his office. Carmen owes you what? Twenty-bucks now?"

Sonny laughed, "Yeah, something like that."

"Care for a drink? I made my famous coquito.” You turned your attention to back to Rafael.

"You made coquito?” Rafael questioned; his eyes were wide. “Uh, yeah that would be great. I haven’t had that in ages.” Rafael found himself suddenly parched. He assumed it was his nerves getting the best of him. He watched you saunter off, your hips swaying suggestively, and Rafael wondered if you knew how much sex appeal you dripped on a day to day basis. He hadn’t meant to fall for you – the fresh detective that came straight from the Academy since SVU had been so short-staffed after Sonny left to join the DA’s office.

**

What was one drink – turned into many more. Hours later, Rafael found himself enjoying the holiday party, though he assumed it was mostly due to the fact that the coquito was spiked with a lot of rum. Watching his colleagues get drunk around him was amusing. He had always had a high tolerance for alcohol, so it took him longer to feel any effect, especially since the drinks were served in bitty paper cups. But still, he felt pleasantly relaxed.

You made your way over to Rafael who was lounging on the sofa that was brought out from the breakroom. You plopped yourself into his lap, but your balance was off. Rafael was quick to steady you onto his lap. You scooched a bit to make yourself more comfortable and Rafael silently groaned.

"Whoa!” You giggled. "Thanks Rafael."

"Not a problem.” Rafael replied flustered. "Too much to drink detective?"

"No, not at all. High tolerance runs in my family. We're champs.” You rambled and Barba arched a brow at you. He had had more than one conversation with you to know that was a lie if he ever heard one.

"Sure…" he agreed, knowing disagreeing with someone under the influence always led to bad repercussions. You snuggled herself against his chest, your legs dangling over his.

"I just love the holidays.” You mused. "What about you Rafael?"

"Uh, not necessarily.” Rafael replied as honestly as he could. “It’s become over commercialized and it’s true meaning has been lost. And as a lapsed Catholic –”

"That's a shame.” You replied mournfully cutting him off. "Oh!" you suddenly interjected, your previous thought and emotion quickly forgotten. "What did you ask for this Christmas?"

"Nothing.” Rafael replied. "You?"

You chose to ignore his question by further probing his lack of want this upcoming holiday season. "Were you a naughty boy this year Rafael Barba?" You wagged your finger, and made a disappointed sound.

Rafael coughed, startled by your loaded question. "No, I was… fine; my usual self."

You pondered his comment thoughtfully. "Well, then you deserve something for your efforts."

"Such as?" Rafael wondered out loud, his brow cocked once more in your direction. He hadn't realized it until that very moment, but you had placed his hands on the tops of your thighs. He was positive that you could hear feel his pulse racing but apparently you either didn't notice or didn't care. He was unsure and preferred to not misinterpret your actions.

You bopped him on the chin and pointed above. Rafael moved his gaze from you to where you were pointing and sure enough, mistletoe had been hung from the ceiling.

Rafael returned his gaze towards yours, feeling his cheeks burn. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. The kiss caught Rafael by surprise initially, but soon he found himself kissing you back. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance and you opened your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You let out a low moan as your lips tangled passionately. You ran your hands through his salt and pepper hair, gripping the back of his head. He nipped at your bottom lip which earned him another moan, this one more earnest.

Silence reigned the room as the onslaught of lookers watched in shock. The gossip tonight would be tomorrow's headlines around the precinct.

You pulled away and lowered your lips to his ear, "“Like I said, you deserve something for being such a good boy.” Rafael didn’t miss how your voice was laced with lust.

He chuckled as you rested your forehead against his. "Excuse me?"

"I know about your feelings for me; I've known for a while.” You confessed before pressing a quick peck on his lips.

"How about we get out of here?" You suggested. “I could use some fresh air.” Rafael nodded, helping you up. Rafael helped you with your coat and then grabbed his. You both left, hand in hand and the party continued to stare dumbfounded at what they had just seen.

"Damn.” Sonny replied as he took another swig of his beer. “Carmen owes me a lot more than twenty bucks."

FIN.

**

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses​ @jazzyjoi​ @caked-crusader​ @rachelxwayne​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @bisexual-dreamer02​ @madamsnape921​ @averyhotchner​

[trashdeviant]

Chapter 1

Venom/Eddie x Reader

Tw: cussing, violence

Another round clocks you in the jaw; the rebound keeping you from darting out of the way of the following blow. The crowd roars in suspense, but not loud enough to drown out the pumping of your heart beating in your ears. You shake your head at the bleat of a bell that signals the end of this round before your opponent could crack your skull open. Bloodied spit shoots out the side of your mouth as you return to your corner.

“Get to your corner!” The referee waves his arm dismissively at the mass glaring you down.

You had plenty of bulk, but they looked like a mountain compared to you. There was a split in your eyebrow you hadn’t noticed before. Cold hands shove a bottle of water into yours. The condensation wets your palms and drips down your face as you desperately down the freezing beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off. There’s another split down the middle of your bottom lips. The stinging only amplified your adrenaline.

You hadn’t realized your brother had been talking to you until he lightly smacks the side of your head. You turn to him, almost dazed.

“Look, boss, it ain’t even that much! When they take you down, just stay down. You hear me? Aye! Aye, boss!” That wasn’t what you were looking to hear. You had already turned back to the middle of the ring. He sounds his frustration behind you before he snatches the empty bottle out of the way.

You finally begin to control your breathing when the bell rings once more. The both of you raise fists and circle each other. Your hands shoot out to reach for them as you lunge hesitantly. Just as you had predicted they were quick to react to your flawed grapple. As they tangle with you-their arms over yours-you raise your knee to push them back. Your hands gripped on the back of their neck with a vice as you rinse and repeat. You can feel them struggle against your grip as you give their nose one last thrust of your knee before you let them push you back.

A shot that lucky wont come as easily next time. You put your hands back up and await their retaliation. The light almost blinds you as they swing at you. Their ponytail flicks at your face as you dodge and pass them. Their other arm swings behind them and catches you on the cheek. Hard.

That was going to leave one hell of a bruise. They quickly come back with another wild swing and all you can do is block your face as they begin to corner you. You could barely hear the voice behind you scream your name to go down. They take the advantage to connect their fist to your stomach. It almost encourages you to double over, but you hold your breath. It was all or nothing.

You surprise them with a swing of your own. Despite their heat unrelenting you manage to find an opening. Suddenly your positions were reversed. Your blood pumping and your fists flaring, you kept your pattern. ‘Boom-boom-Pop!’ you kept repeating to yourself. A mental montra you drilled into your head for years. They were beginning to grow tired if their curling figure was of any indication. You managed one last uppercut that sends them spiraling to the ground as the bell signals your victory. Dopamine never felt so good. You take in the moment as you watch your opponent tire out on the ground and listen to the audience both cheer for you and scream in disagreement. You could see your brother lose it in the crowd...

“You stubborn ass-”

“Shut up and give me my winnings, Raffie.” He only scoffs and slaps a hefty wad into your palm. You smile to yourself as you feel it and quickly count out a good amount and then some.

Rafael cackles at your pleased expression, “Heh, feel that? Legit thought you were done for. You already looked dead tired.”

“Ha, when you fight someone like that–you can’t get tired.” you joked dryly as you two swayed into the night outside of the building. Adjusting your hoodie you feel him playfully punch at your shoulder. “For real though,” he looks at you casually, “you should learn when to fuckin’ quit. Each fight so far has been bigger than the last one.”

You could only squint at him, your lips tugged in a smirk, “Aren’t you the one getting me these g-”

“Shh!” He smiles a little, embarrassed, and pushes at you. You retaliate by ruffling his curly hair and laugh along with him.

Nights after a fight were usually like this. You, being pretty banged up, and your brother pretending he’s stern when he tells you to be careful. It was refreshing. Although he wasn’t blood related. You two had met in highschool when you were quite the handful. You felt a little guilty dragging him into this kind of business, but he insisted. It paid plenty for rent and although you could never find yourself getting used to the nausea it came with, you somehow enjoyed fighting.

“Damn, boss,” a nickname that manifested easily with your attitude, “Want to go buy some ice for that real quick?”

You were out of ice, but would rather be planting face-first into your mattress right about now, “Nah, pretty sure we got some peas in the freezer.” It was incredibly dark out and the fact that he could see the redness beginning to swell, it spiked a bit of your insecurity. You shook it off and made it to your apartment complex.

Entering your room felt like ecstasy for the soul. Rafael had already passed you to grab the peas as you toed off your shoes and got comfortable on the couch. That meant sweats and no top. You hold your hand out as a chilled bag is placed in your grasp from behind you. After wrapping it with your hoodie you gently place it against your cheek, wincing in discomfort. Raf is kind enough to turn the TV on for you as you put your legs up on half of the couch with your feet tucked under a blanket. Your kin just about to make himself comfortable-

You give your brother a pitiful look, “Raffie can you go microwave me some pizza?”

He sighs and hangs his head before lazily dragging himself to the fridge. A smirk tugs at your lips again, “Aye, why are you tired? I’m the one fighting!” An exaggerated groan is your only response. You chuckle at the fact that he wouldn’t dare deny your right to leftover pizza before you return your attention to the screen.

“-Four bodies were found in an alley. The heads have yet to be discovered as this appears to be yet another victim of the Demon of San Francisco, Ven-”

“Bah…” You flicked through the channels before landing on some wildly inappropriate cartoon.

Venom made both you and your brother nervous. It didn’t take a genius to see the pattern he had. He searched for those who do bad deeds. To some goody-two-shoes it would appear that he had it out for just anyone, but you knew those who were actually in danger. You feared that you were one of them with how you and your brother were involved in an underground fight club. The only hope you both clinged to was the fact that gambling was harmless. Mostly.

The scent of cheesy jalapenos and meat wafted your senses and successfully interrupted your thoughts. You greedily take a bite simultaneously with Raf. You were full of regret one minute in. Your busted lip was searing! You muffle a complaint before dropping the peas and booking it to the sink to cool off your lip.

You whine as you could hear Raf laugh at you from the living room. Your middle finger flashes him before you rush to the fridge to drown your mouth in milk straight from the gallon.

He was almost hysterical, “No hay vaso!?”

Your eyes roll as you finally cool down. Once you return and push your plate towards him you notice something. Both plates only had one pizza. He usually ate two. That bastard.

“You-”, you smack him upside the head. Your glare could turn a man to stone. Unfortunately, he only seemed to laugh in the face of death.

You make a dramatic show of retreating to your room as he eats. Living with him taught you that he would make it up to you in the morning so you weren’t terribly pissed off.

The moment your face hits the pillow, sleep cushions your fall...

Sweat beads down your throat. You were at the height of your capabilities and it felt victorious. Your audience chanting your name and your opposer struggling to get back up. There wasn’t a scratch on you either. This high was absolutely addicting and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned against the ropes and rose to boast and flex-the crowd going wild. Just as you were asking for more out of the audience there was a gut wrenching pull that brought you back to the middle of the stage.

The lights were suddenly blinding and your opponent looked more fierce than usual. Eyes dark and mouth seething. There was a thin layer muffling the sound of the crowd. Something wasn’t right…

Everything was warped and the corners of your vision were dark. Despite everything feeling slower, your heart was panicking. You duck when the hulking silhouette swings at you and immediately put your fists up, trying to keep your head in the game-or keep your head in general.

It was more of a game of cat and mouse. You kept focusing on dodging and keeping a distance. There was no way in hell you were going to get them beneath you. It was almost like they were growing by the second. You shook your head and tried at throwing a punch at their stomach. Now something definitely wasn’t right. Your arms felt heavy with each hit. It was suffocating and felt like you were being drawn in.

Your opponent had made zero effort to block your punches. The crowd was still muffled, but grew louder. Things were getting darker and darker. The figure in front of you began to grow just as dark before you saw nothing but the white of its eyes as they morphed into something else. It narrowed at you and all you could do was watch as its stomach engulfed your fist.

Something was opening and suddenly there was pain in your stomach that felt closer to the ache of fear. You were being pulled into what felt like your death. Your breathing all but disappeared and your heart was a screaming mess. This was it-this was your last fight-nowhere to run-

Your name brings you crashing to the surface. You’re damn near hyperventilating, but you were just thankful to be able to breathe again. Everything was still dark, but you slowly recognized it as your room.

“Y-you’re in your room, boss-it’s me Rafael...”

You turned to Raf holding his aching nose with one hand while the other was held out to you defensively. He watched your eyes dart left and right as you took your time to calm down. Your body was shaking and sticky from sweat.

“A nightmare…” He tried his best to bring you back from those. You shook your head and grabbed his hand to anchor yourself. “I’m sorry.”, it was what you could muster for now. Apparently your mouth sounded as dry as it felt considering Raf released a hand from his undamaged nose to pass you his half empty bottle of water.

Finishing the bottle, you toss it randomly in the distance. Raf was always awkward at this point and it showed.

“Hungry?” your head motioned ‘no’.

“...TV?” You take a moment, but decide you would rather watch something than try to go back to sleep.

With that he grabs some pain meds from the nightstand and another water bottle before he walks you to the living room to cuddle and enjoy a show or two.

Unfortunately he passes out in the middle of an episode, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. Quietly, you shimmy out from his tight hold and make your way to the bathroom.

Your sticky body makes you grimace. With how tired you were it was almost a challenge to get everything off. Regardless you make it to the valve of the shower and trigger the showerhead. Heated water pours out and you carefully step in. You relished in the heat and almost doze off. But you got busy and cleansed yourself of your stench.

Half an hour later you were out and drying yourself off before putting on fresh clothing. Something casual considering it was already morning. You throw on some underwear, pants, a nerdy shirt, and your hoodie. Hiding your bruise was the least of your worries. People seemed to mind their own business whether or not you actually hid anything. You decided you would go out and grab some ice to kill time since you weren’t heading back to sleep anytime soon. Dressed and out the door, you put on some tunes on your phone. You tuck your earbuds into your ears and leave the building; heading to a nearby convenience store. The back of your mind is hopeful that Raf rubs your shoulders when you get back.

There was a dangerous moment where you almost walked into a pole, but you made it. Passing through the door you made an invaulatory map of the store. A group of teenages over by the snacks and a women by the coffee makers. You almost missed the brooding man by the freezers as you made your way towards the candy aisle. You grabbed a packet of gum before making your way towards the cashier.

“What?” It was a hushed tone, but your gaze followed the whisper towards the man staring down a bag of tater tots. Suddenly he turned to look at you, but naturally you turned away, whether you were embarrassed of staring or just scared of interaction with someone so sketchy.

You continued your travels, paying for both the gum and the ice. Currently you were struggling with your hold on the ice outside of the store. You winced when you tried to carry it as you usually did. Flashes of your previous fight reminded you that you were still very sore. Sighing, you considered walking back in to ask for a big bag to carry it in.

“Need some help there?” he sounded casual and yet nervous. It was the brooding man with the tater tots. Maybe he was tired.

You couldn’t really give a fuck if he was as dangerous as he looked, at the moment, you were just happy to get some help. You would be more worried if you didn’t know how to defend yourself. “Please?” A relieved sigh left you as he picked up the bag and held it over his shoulder with ease.

“Thanks uh-”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie.”, you mimic.

“And you are...?”, something in you stirred at that, but you ignored it and answered respectively with your name.

“I don’t live too far if that helps.” The least you could do was provide a bit of conversation. You made sure to leave an earbud out so you could hear him. “It’s no problem. I don’t live far either.” You nod in acknowledgement. A small moment of silence follows persistently.

“What’s with the bruise, if you don’t mind me asking?”, his voice makes you jump lightly; not expecting him to ask that question.

Damn, you pretty much forgot about that now that it only hurt to touch. You weren’t about to tell him your nightly activities. Skillfully, you lie through your teeth, “I’m real clumsy. Vertigo acts up out of nowhere sometimes.” you throw in an embarrassed chuckle for affect. Too busy patting yourself on the back you fail to see through his smile that masked how unconvinced he really was.

You eyed the exaggerated amount of tater tots and chocolate he had bought. It didn’t really match his figure. Instead of commenting you simply dig into your pocket and retrieve your pack of gum, pulling out a strip and unwrapping it, “Gum?”, you offered.

He shrugs and lets you feed it to him. His hands were occupied anyways. You smile playfully at the gesture and his awkwardness as he thanks you.

“Anytime.” You finally turn to him as you reach the apartment complex. You mentally groan at the fact that you were about to carry the ice up the stairs to your apartment. With your hands out to him, you gesture towards the ice, “I’m not about to make you go up the stairs with that thing, but thanks for the help, Eddie.”

“It really isn’t a problem, please, I insist.” Somehow that made you smile. You didn’t argue as you would be the same way.

“Any ideas how I could thank you?” If not you could probably throw him a fake ass ‘IOU’. Or maybe just offer him some breakfast.

There was a beat of silence where he made an expression you didn’t have time to read. “You hungry?” smooth.

As if on cue there was a smell seducing the hell out of your senses. Your brother was making french toast. “Yeah, I could eat.” you chuckled, knowing he could smell it too.

You make it to your room just after that and open the door; the aroma amplifying and the sound of sizzling makes your mouth water at the thought of bacon. You hold the door out to Eddie.

“My treat?” You joked as he beamed.

“How generous.”

He set the ice into the freezer and shimmied awkwardly into the scene where he was met with a confused curly-haired man with a spatula in one hand and a plate of food in the other. He appeared to be wearing nothing but boxers and a frilly apron. You were leaning against his shoulder innocently.

“Eddie, this is my brother, Rafael, Raf, this is Eddie.” Following that introduction, you snagged the plate and handed it to Eddie before gesturing to him to sit next to you on the couch in front of the TV. He complies and for a moment or two, the silence was painful. Raf tosses you some chocolate syrup, a small salt shaker of sugar-cinnamon and whipped cream that he threw blindly in the direction of the living room. You had to be quick to catch them, but had a horrifying second in which you had to catch the chocolate syrup from the top of Eddie’s head before it could land on his plate. You sigh an apology, however, Eddie just chuckles a little, surprised and impressed.

“So is bringing home random guys going to be a thing or…?” You could tell your shit-faced brother was smirking from the kitchen as he fixes your plate. Eddie huffs in amusement behind your bickering. You were just thankful that he could break the ice-pun intended.

You debated throwing a spoon at him, “Is you wearing my things going to be a thing or…?” you fired back before gawking at the plate in front of you. He snickers, “Looks better on me.” and belatedly joins you two with a bunch of french toast in his mouth. It appears the newcomer stole his plate regardless of being capable of making another one.

“So are you going to tell us more about yourself, Eddie.” despite his muffled voice, you sensed something suspicious about his question.

Setting down the chocolate syrup he just drowned his french toast in, he clears his throat, “I’m a journalist, I write articles for the-” Rafael burps shamelessly, “Daily Globe…” Eddie smiles, obviously trying to be polite. He takes a forkful of his breakfast as Raf opens his mouth again, “Oh you’re the guy that did the Eddie Brock show, huh?”

“The Eddie Brock Report, yeah,”, he corrects, “that was me.” Another forkful just a beat later.

“Thats cool-”, you tried to offer before your brother decided to butt in again, “-Yeah real cool. Didn’t that show get cancelled?” Eddie was visibly uncomfortable and evidently irritated which struck a chord with you.

Although it seemed like Eddie had plenty to say in response to that, you slam your hand on the table to take the attention off of him, “Hey, Raffie!” You gave him a quick stare that only the two of you could decipher as ‘We’re going to have a fucking talk later’. “Mind making me some more bacon, please?”

It was more of an excuse to keep him out of the conversation for the most part. Raf rolls his eyes before taking the hint. You took the moment to pat Eddie on the shoulder apologetically. He seemed to understand the gesture as he nods in acknowledgement.

With a defeated sigh you take a break from questions, “Cool jacket.” He looks down as if he forgot he even had it on.

“Thanks. Your hoodies nice.” He was totally just being nice. Your hoodie was ancient. You didn’t comment though, “Thanks, you’re too kind.”

“I aim to please.”

“Naturally. You lift or...?” You poke at the bulk in his bicep through the aforementioned jacket.

“Oh uh yeah,” He removes his jacket to smirk and bulge his arms beneath your touch, “Working out ‘s been helping me through somethings actually.”

Snorting, you remove your hoodie to flex the muscle you were hiding beneath the fabric.

“I kind of do too… in a way.” It was almost second nature for you to try to compete.

“Oh damn-”

“Bacon’s done, boss, I’m going to take a shit-”

‘Ever so charming…’

Raf swiftly abandons the kitchen leaving a concerned Eddie with an unamused kin. You hang your head. Just as you were getting to the flow of a conversation.

“Is he going to be alright?” There was something in his voice that sounded like concern, but closer to relief. You didn’t blame him as you were just the same.

“Yeah…” You look down at his empty plate and the pile of bacon you weren’t really going to eat.

With a wavering sigh, you gesture to the bacon, “Want the rest?”

You were already grabbing the tubbawear when he answered, “Sure…”

There was a selfish part of you that didn’t want to kick him out, but you compromised by taking a sharpie and writing your number on the side of the container with a small smiley face next to a subtle ‘text me’. Once you hand it to him he glances at the message on the tubbawear before looking back at you.

“You should probably head out. I’m really sorry about Raf, but uh,” you were suddenly nervous, “I hope we can try this again sometime…”

You just met the man, but the guilt decided that you should try to make it up to him anyways. That and maybe the fact that you’ve been in a bit of a dry spell and this man certainly looked appetizing. You mentally slap yourself.

He sent his gaze towards the direction Rafael had left before returning to meet your hopeful eyes. It seemed he was throwing you a bone, “Sure, I’d love to try this again. Maybe not here though…”

“Yeah, totally uh we’ll figure something out.” wow, could you have sounded any more awkward and desperate? Regardless, there was a snarky comment here and there before you actually got him out the door. You pressed your head against the door as guilt hit you like a truck. It almost made you want to scream. You try to calm yourself down before you go say something stupid to Raf.

Look, your face? Isn’t very pretty after that last fight. You’re still a little cut up and that bruise looks like near-death! Someone actually took a little interest in you this morning. Not to mention, he didn’t look too bad! Bed head, five o'clock shadow, and all! That jawline was something nobody could miss…

You doubt he would have been so nervous if a ‘certain someone’ hadn’t been there. Raf never usually acted like this anyways.

You sigh through your nose before pulling off your shirt and pushing yourself to face your unbearable brother. The heater was on in your room and with the conversation you were about to have, you were not in the mood to feel suffocated. When you see him he is face down on the bed, brooding. With a roll of your eyes, you sit next to him and pat his back. You try to sound sweet, but it comes out a little irritated, “Raffie?”

No answer.

“Want to talk about your little break down earlier?”

A muffled protest.

You groan, “Raf stop being a little girl…”, using whatever force you could muster, you push him onto his back to look at you. Much to your displeasure, your arms were still sore so you only managed to get him on his side. If not for the soreness you could certainly bench press him. Raf blinks at you with brown-hazel eyes in what you hope is guilt.

“Raf, please tell me why you freaked out on Eddie like that?” Your voice was tired, but seemed to finally get him to speak.

“You don’t even know him…” His eyes narrow.

“And you think you do? You never even watched his show. The hell did you embarrass me like that for?”

He scoffs.

“Is this about Jessie?”

Raf answers your suspicions when he avoids your gaze. You demonstrate your disappointment in a stern voice, “Raf, that shit was a long time ago. I’ve moved on from it and you shouldn’t even-”

“Yeah and I get that you won’t change your mind-I promise I fuckin do, but-”

“Do you really ‘cause I’m tired of you bringing it up.” It was practically hissed at him.

“Alright-alright you know what? It’s whatever at this point, right? I won’t bring it up anymore, but like I’m just sayin’ I’m tired of you being stubborn n’ shit when it shouldn’t even have to be a problem! And I mean I don’t want to drag you into things you don’t want to do, but I just feel like we could be like how we were back then when we were doing crazy shit together you ‘member? I miss that! We-”

“I don’t care about that shit anymore-I’m doing my own thing, Raf, you shouldn’t be caring this much about this anymore.”

“Yeah well you shouldn’t be wanting to fuck random motherfuckers off the stree-” Your hand stung and Rafael held the side of his head. You couldn’t tell apart any emotion that was flowing through him at this point.

“I’m old enough to make these decisions, Raf.”

“Sure don’t act like it.” That made your blood boil.

“Says the one crying like a little bitch the moment I want some closeness,” Rafael opens his mouth to speak, but you quickly shut him up, “Grow the fuck up cause I’m not about to stand here while you talk me down like I’m a fucking dumbass.” Your voice wavers in strength.

You refuse to give him the chance to respond to that, figuring the power in you was beginning to grow too sensitive by the second. As you leave the room you’re sure to slam the door shut. Before you could break you grab your hoodie and your phone off of the counter and rush out the door. Looking down at the notification made your chest sting, but managed to cheer you up enough to smile thankfully. It was an unknown number, but you knew who it was regardless.

[:Hey, holding up okay?]

A huff leaves your worn figure before you text back a small ‘yeah, what’s up?’ before adding him to your contacts and trugging out of the complex for a walk.

Maybe it would calm your nerves and distract you from feeling watched.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Amnesia - Let the Games Begin

A mixture of delicious fragrances engulfed the café, compelling those who were fatefully walking by to enter the bistro. While the intoxicating scents may be what lured guests, it was the diverse set of attendants that created loyal customers. Jack Rose was founded by Hyroshi Miya eight years ago after the passing of his wife. Kaori Miya was known for having a sweet-tooth and her obsession with the tragedy of the Titanic. During Kaori’s battle with leukemia, Hyroshi developed an obsession with baking, with young Atsumu serving as his assistant. At first it served as a distraction for the duo, and a source of happiness for Kaori. However, when Kaori passed away, Hyroshi wanted to honour his wife’s life, and so Jack Rose was established. Named after the two love interests in Titanic, with an eccentric menu that no neighbouring café could challenge – it was a massive success.

“Hi, welcome to Jack Rose. Please follow me.” The rehearsed dialogue was not short of any enthusiasm, despite having said it hundreds of times.

“Oh my god, she’s so cute!” The middle-aged woman cooed to the male stood beside her, who nodded in approval. His amusement was untraceable due to the dark lenses that adorned his face, but he too was enthralled by your uniform.

A sugary smile had painted across your fuchsia painted lips, earning you a few extra points with the couple. It was a simple act that came natural to you, serving at Jack Rose had never struck you as a tedious job, rather it was a pleasurable experience.

After leading the pair to their assigned seat, a gentle hand had pressed into your lower back indicating that your replacement had arrived.

“Thank you, y/n. I will take it from here,” The mocha haired boy radiated an alluring aura, instantly capturing the interest of the two patrons. “Hi. I’m Tooru, your server for today.” Once introducing himself, his mouth twitched into his signature grin, prompting his eyelashes to flutter shut for a moment. Seated a few tables away, Oikawa’s fangirls were huddled together, squealing in unison.

“Enjoy your stay.” Folding an arm over your stomach, you bowed to excuse yourself before their hypnosis wore off, and the fangirls’ attention landed on you. Needless to say, anyone close to Oikawa Tooru was considered a threat. One they were eager to eliminate.

At the hostess stand, a familiar figure had shifted their weight onto the podium, the ends of his golden strands were frayed from the exposure to chemicals, yet with the sunlight sneaking through the glass behind, he resembled the subject of a painting.

“Oi. Are you feelin’ better today?” Atsumu Miya had always insisted that his accent was a natural product of his environment, although no one truly believed him considering the fact his family home was located in the wealthiest part of the city. Nonetheless, the accent persisted beyond his teenage years and into his young adulthood. It never bothered you, particularly because you had never heard him without it. After eighteen years of friendship, there wasn’t a single thing you did not adore about him.

“I am, don’t worry. Now will you please get off my stand? You are going to scare the customers.” Playfully you waved a hand in the air, gesturing for the blonde to reside elsewhere. “And if I’m not mistaken, you are skipping class right now, aren’t you?” As your tongue hit the roof of your mouth, a clicking sound was created to exemplify your disappointment.

“What was that? ‘tsumu is skipping class again?” If you had not become accustomed to Kuroo Tetsurou’s large and notable presence, you would have flinched the second his shadow had blanketed over you. Rather than experiencing any form of fear, his presence had only amplified your gaiety.

“Uh huh. Shall we get Papa Miya?” The bed-headed server leaned down, nestling his chin against your shoulder as he grinned provocatively at the target of your amusement. Kuroo was only a single year younger than you two, despite physically appearing to be older. The three of you were inseparable since the tender ages of six and five. When Kaori had passed away, Atsumu relied heavily on his two friends, as he had lost motivation to complete the smallest of tasks. That was why you took a job at Jack Rose, you needed it to succeed for his sake. It was a reminder of how his mother lived, rather than how she died. Kuroo had joined you in your quest a month later, and somehow your dream – Hyroshi’s dream had become reality.

“I swear yer the worst friends ever. It’s an online class! Don’t bring pops into it.” The blonde blew out a huff, turning his gaze away from those who threatened to ‘betray’ him.

“Oh my god, you guys are the worst! Poor Omi is in the back preparing all the drinks and you’re out here doing… whatever the hell this is!” Makoto Saito waved a small napkin at the black-haired server, unwilling to engage in any physical violence since it would require energy she wished to conserve. “Go back there, you man-baby. Help him. Shoo. Get off my adorable y/n.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Kuroo raised his hands in defeat, unbothered by the napkin that was now being swayed towards his chest. Makoto had joined Jack Rose two years ago, and not because she was in any need for money – you were the reason she found herself sending in an application for what others would consider a low-end job. She had stumbled into the café one evening, boredom plaguing her after finishing a three-hour lecture. Oikawa had been the one to greet her, yet it was the positivity you emanated that brought her to return a night later. A month later, a job application was handed to you bashfully, whereas you could barely withhold your excitement. She was the second female to join Jack Rose, with Atsumu (accidentally) recruiting Ichika a year later.

“Now that he’s gone, y/n, I’m here to replace you. Omi said something about teaching you the new drink? I honestly don’t remember because I was on the phone, but let’s ignore that fact, hm?” Makoto’s interest in the boys was below minimal, the only male who was deserving of her respect was ‘Papa Miya’. Once Atsumu had jested that it was because she secretly had a crush on the much older male, to which she responded, ‘so what if I do’. The response had defeated his humour instantly.

“Oh, he must be talking about the blue pearl! It’s the newest addition to our menu.” Tapping a finger against your cheek, excitement burned in your y/e/c irises, prompting something to stir inside of both Atsumu and Makoto. What? You were so damn adorable.

“I don’t care, but you are so cute that I’ll pretend I do.” Reaching out, the black-haired girl patted your cheek affectionately. “Now go on, little bird. Fly fly away.”

“You guys better not fight while I’m gone.” With two fingers, you pointed at your eyes then at the two chaotic individuals you called friends, even with the warning, it was highly probable that the second you turned around they would begin bickering.

“Shoo, birdie.” The comment was accompanied by an unusually heavy sigh, Makoto completely intended on annoying Atsumu, but that was none of your concern.

Upon entering the kitchen, your nose crinkled at the delectable scents wafting towards you. When Sakusa Kiyoomi was working in the kitchen, everyone knew magic would materialize in the form of sweets. No one had believed the germaphobe could bake until he dropped off a box of home-made pastries along with his resume. Papa Miya was in the process of finishing his first bite when he declared that Sakusa was hired. He was just that damn good.

“You’re here.” The curly haired male had a bad habit of stating the obvious, he argued that it was key to the proper performance of his logical processes. No one tried to refute his claim, considering the fact he was essentially a genius. “Are you ready to learn?” Raising an eyebrow, his slender fingers wrapped around a glass-vessel before placing it on the counter.

“Mhm hm.” It was a bad habit of yours to chew on your bottom lip when in thought, but Sakusa found it endearing – even though he would deny such a claim out loud. Removing the notepad from your apron, your eyes darted aimlessly, searching for a writing utensil. You may have been a little too occupied with your pockets, a detail that the male picked up on, as he removed the pen tucked behind your ear.

“Are you sure you are well? If not, you should return home.” He held out the pen, analyzing your visage for any physical sign of illness.

“Woops. Sorry. I forgot it was there! But I promise, I’m fine!” It seemed that everyone was a bit on edge since yesterday, when you may have accidentally forgotten to eat and passed out mid-shift. You appreciated the sentiment, but you were fine. Really.

The curly haired baker refused to begin his demonstration until you consumed some food and water, his dark hues did not waver until each inch of the plate was clean. By the time you were done, Ichika had joined you in the kitchen for the lesson.

“I should have recorded that. I feel like I forgot it already.” Ichika was the youngest person on the team, Atsumu had offered her a job after finding her crying at a bus stop one night. The young girl was the breadwinner of her home, and due to her fathers gambling addiction, she was the only parental figure for her two younger siblings. Atsumu, after learning that her mother had too passed, was unable to turn a blind eye.

“I can show it to you tomorrow. I think I’ve got it.” A reassuring smile was presented towards her as you captured her hands and provided a gentle squeeze. “And then we all have the day off. I think everyone has decided we’re going to the amusement park, so it will be fun.”

“Okay… Thank you, y/n.” Ichika blinked excessively to withhold the tears that were brewing, she could always count on you to provide her with the support she so desperately needed. Sakusa who was simply watching the two interact was on guard with a rag to catch any tears that could possibly fall onto the counter he had just disinfected.

“Please do not cry.” The black-haired boy had almost sounded sincerely concerned for his co-workers emotional state, it was enough to fool Ichika who redirected her affections to him.

“You care about me too? Waa. I’m so loved!” As the tears began to exit her eye sockets, Sakusa jumped forward on instinct, pressing the cloth against her face. Laughter danced past your lips as you shook your head slowly. Jack Rose really attracted the strangest of people.

After your shift ended, instead of returning home to complete your assigned work, you decided to finish your assignment at the café. It was fairly quiet after 11pm, and Kuroo had offered to walk you home after closing up. Recently there were a striking number of assaults occurring in your area, and so you accepted the proposition without any hesitation.

“Welcome to Jack Rose! We are about to close soon, but I think I have enough time to serve you a drink or two. Is that okay with you, kind sir?” The words were conveyed in an anxious tone, as Ichika glanced at the clock plastered on the wall. Upon hearing the ‘kind sir’, both you and Atsumu glanced up from your laptop screens, stifling the laughter that was bubbling inside your throats.

“I won’t be long.” There was something peculiar about his choice of words, prompting your neurons to convey the word danger to your body. Before your mind could catch up with your physical movements, you had lifted from the chair and shuffled closer to where Ichika was stood. From the side of your eye, you saw your childhood friend following close behind, presumably picking up on your apprehension. But before you could utter a response to the mystery guest, the lightbulbs illuminating the bistro had burnt out.

The second darkness had enveloped the space, someone had seized your waist aggressively and a cloth was pressed to your mouth. The more you squirmed, the harsher their touch became – fear gradually paralyzed you. Or perhaps it was the chemical coating the fabric on your lips. Piece by piece your senses began to dull. Whether the person screeching your name was a hallucination or not was unclear…. All you knew was that your intuition was right, but unfortunately a bit too late.

Hume, who pioneered the bundle theory, would state that the human soul is nothing beyond a collection of still-shots and experiences. The self is a loosely connected bundle of perceptions, one that would change overtime. The question that remains is…. who will you be now? Who will you become? Without your memories as a guide, can you win the game that was designed specifically for you…? Or will you lose the never-ending battle? 

Amnesia - Let the Games Begin 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: and so it begins! also in this I may have erased osamu!? LMAO sorry 

Tag-list: @kara-grayson04 @namyari , @cuddlesslut , @iloveanime691 @shakiraisawesome @idiot-juice-enthusiast @fangirling-25-8 @krynnza @yetchann @chxrry-wxne

[tewqut]

After One Night- One shot

Summary: Marinette catches her fiancé Adrien Agreste cheating on her with one of her models in their own bed. She runs away crying towards a certain man. She needed him and he gave her everything he could have offered even if it was only for one night. He leaves for tour and comes back to find a new person.

~~~~~~~~~~

He groaned as he felt his climax coming, however that didn’t stop him from thrusting inside and out of the small woman underneath him. He had promised to make her feel loved again and that was what he was aiming for. He started kissing her neck and sucked on her sweet spot leaving a hickey as one of his hand found its way to gently message Marinette’s left breast.

Her loud moans and gasps were proof that he was doing a good job, maybe even better than what her cheating fiancé did to her. When he placed his forehead against hers, she found herself pushing his hair out of his sweaty face gently which caused him to look into her bluebell eyes. She quickly pressed her lips against his as he fastened his pace and cummed inside of her followed by her own orgasm. He rolled off of her, falling next to her side.

He glanced towards her, fearing that she might be regretting their actions. However she kissed him and thanked him for an amazing night. When she rolled toward the end of the bed, Luka decided to risk it and grabbed her wrist before she stood up.

“Please stay, at least for the night.” She nodded and curled next to Luka’s body. They ended up falling asleep together with her head resting on his chest as he hugged her.

When he woke up, she was gone. No trace of her ever being there except of their scent combined.

Next time he saw her, she was again with Adrien Agreste in a fashion show where he was performing with his father. He knew it shouldn’t have bothered him, she never said she was going to leave Adrien for him. In the end, she still loved Adrien, not him.

On his last day before going on a world tour for 3 years with his father Jagged Stone, his friends threw him a departing party and wished him good luck. He saw Marinette alone at the end of the boat, her fingers rapidly typing on her phone before letting a frustrated sigh.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have, but he did either way and went up to her.

“Hey Ma-ma-Marinette.” She let out a squeal of fright before she faced him.

“You scared me, Luka.” She hadn’t talked to him since that night which was 2 weeks ago. After that night, she felt something inside of her spark for the man, but she was engaged to the other man everyone expected her to marry including herself.

“Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish smile that made her heart beat twice it’s regular pace “Where’s Adrien?”

She had forgotten about Adrien. She wasn’t going to lie to herself, she knew he was probably balls deep inside another one of his co-models. That’s what he always did and yet the whole universe kept telling her that she was destined to be with him.

“He’s running a little late.” Luka just nodded looking down. Of course he knew, she had told him and slept with him the first time she caught Adrien cheating on her. “You know, photoshoots take forever.” She faked a laugh even a six year old could tell.

Instead of him saying something about her lie, he just goes with it. “Yeah, it’s sucks.”

They stay there for a couple of minutes before her phone started ringing. She answered quickly. “Where are you?” Her voice was strict even Luka felt like he was in trouble.

“I know you have a busy sche-” she was cut off by the voice on the other side of the line

“Yes, I’m listening to you.” She looked at Luka while she was listening to what he presumed was Adrien.

A minute passed before she spoke again. “Okay fine. I’ll be home in 15 minutes.” She was letting Adrien know to get his side chick out of their apartment before she got there.

Once she hung up, she started putting her jacket on. “I’m sorry Luka. Adrien just got home and he’s tired, he said he wishes you good luck and congratulates you.” She lied again “I better get going.”

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek before heading inside the boat to say goodbye to her friends.

She waved him goodbye as she got inside a car driven by the same bodyguard that used to creep him back in his teen days.

That was the last time he saw her before he left.

During his third week on tour, he saw a magazine where the front cover was Adrien and Marinette having picked out a date for their wedding. The Fashion Wedding as the media called it. That’s when he figured he needed to forget about her to avoid feeling the pain. He deleted his social media to avoid seeing her, however he kept his number in case she wanted someone to talk to.

She never called.

On his eight month away, he had managed to release his very first song as a solo artist without his father’s help. His song was dedicated for her, no matter how much he tried, the bluenette was in his head at all time.

When he performed for the first time his song in a huge concert, he felt like on top of the world, like he had excitement running through his veins. That night, on December 25, changed his life completely. He wasn’t known anymore as Jagged Stone’s son, but as Luka Couffaine.

Everyone from Paris called him to congratulate him on his song but none of them were her. He didn’t even bothered to ask for her since he knew she was getting married next year.

On his first year and a half on tour, he was more famous than his father and had collaborated with some of his favorite artists. His father had dragged him to one of the fashion shows in New York they were invited to. During the first hour, he was bored to the core, sure he liked some of the clothes, but none of them caught his attention. He was ready to leave and go home when suddenly a piece of clothing caught his attention, a beautiful black leather jacket with pink flowers trailing on the arm. He recognized the design. The man modeling it did a good job showing off her hard work.

“Next piece is by the one and only Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” The host said confirming his suspicion. He looked around, seeing multiple people clapping and the flashes blinding him. He couldn’t see her.

He expected her to stand up like all the designers did when they presented their work, but she never did. She didn’t come.

After the show, he went backstage to find the person who brought the piece and found a woman who claimed to be Marinette’s representative. Some millionaire man had tried to buy the jacket for twenty million dollars, more than what he could have offered, but the woman turned it down saying it was off limits. He left without a doubt, knowing it was probably for Adrien.

On his second year on tour, his father hit rock bottom. He wasn’t aware of his father’s addiction to gambling. There was no money to continue the tour and if it was canceled, Jagged Stone’s career would have been over along with his.

He started dating Chloé Bourgeois the next month. Mayor Bourgeois agreed to give them a check for the tour if and only if Luka agreed to date his daughter to promote her career as an actress. He would’ve been okay to leave the fame and go back home to being a delivery boy, but this was Jagged Stone’s life and passion, he couldn’t do that to his father.

Every time he kissed Chloé, he thought of Marinette’s lips and that’s what kept him from going insane. Seemed to work since every magazine portrayed their kiss as a loving one. He wasn’t going to lie, Chloé was an amazing woman, she changed from her teenage years. However, his guitar played only for the woman in Paris. Marinette.

At his last concert, he sang his whole album and was mostly about him than Jagged Stone. He really had grown. Three years really did a good thing for him, he had gained more muscles, he had an arm sleeve tattoo, he had a stubble beard and his hair was shorter, he had a messy hairstyle with his unique dyed teal blue tips.

Chloé and him were best friends now, he learned that she was seeing someone in Paris and she wanted to quit their fake relationship once the tour was done because she was pregnant.

He looked relieved when he saw Paris outside of the plane window, he was finally home after three years. Chloé had arrived earlier than him since she wanted to see her real boyfriend and tell him the news of her pregnancy.

He couldn’t wait to get on his bed and finally get some peace away from the press.

Once he stepped onto the boat, he almost jumped off The Liberty as all his friends ran towards him, crushing him into a big group hug.

“Dude, you’re going to be a father.” Nino exclaimed as Luka looked at him with a puzzled look.

“You ready for diapers change? Aw man I feel bad for you, in a good way.” Kim continued.

“What’s going to be its name? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Alya asked with a serious expression, a disappointed one.

He looked at Chloé who was sighing as she looked down. He was ready to answer and tell them that he wasn’t going to be a father, that all of this was just a show, when he saw her.

She was staring at him from afar. She was still as beautiful as the last time he saw her get inside her car. Her hair was down and wavy, she had a beautiful classic small pink dress. She still looked perfect to him, but something was off. He realized she was staring at him with a hurt expression.

She also realized that he was staring back at her so she decided to head down below deck, away from the crowd.

It seemed like his feet took control over their own because he started walking towards her direction. He saw her sitting on the couch in the living room with her hands on her face. With no hesitation he tapped her shoulder. She looked up and smiled sadly at him.

“Hi Luka.” He forgot how her voice sounded like an angel.

“Hey Mrs. Agreste.” He remembered she was already married to the model.

She gave him a sheepishly smile before looking at the direction of his bedroom then back at him. “It’s just Dupain-Cheng.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What happened?”

Before she got a chance of answering, a small boy came running out of his bedroom.

“Mommy!” He yelled excitedly before giving Marinette a warming hug. “I saw magic, mommy! Tikki wet to wall and whoosh, she gone.” His eyes widen as he explained what he saw.

Luka was surprised, Marinette is a mother or that’s at least what the little boy called her. Marinette giggled as she heard her son’s story, but then she started laughing at Luka’s face of shock. His eyes were wide open as was his mouth.

“Is he your-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Thankfully, Marinette caught on to what he was trying to say. “Yes, he is.”

He looked carefully at the boy who was now facing him. He looked beautiful like his mother.

“Say ‘Hello Luka’ and shake his hand.” Marinette ordered the boy.

Instead of shaking his hand, the boy ran towards him and wrapped his tiny arms around Luka’s leg. “Hello Luka.”

How someone like Adrien had created such a beautiful angel was beyond his knowledge. After a few seconds of admiring the young boy, he noticed the little boy didn’t have blonde hair like Adrien, but a darker shade of blue than his mother’s yet lighter than black hair. This boy didn’t have mint eyes like Adrien and bluebell eyes like Marinette, but light aqua blue ones like his own.

He kept looking at him as he saw the boy’s facial features. This boy looked like he was 2-3 years old which was the time Marinette and him had slept together. Luka tilted his head to the left in confusion as the younger boy copied his exact move and giggled.

“Marinette?” He looked at her as she went over to them and grabbed the young boy.

She picked him up and looked at Luka. “We have to go.” She was paler than usual. “Anyways, I’m happy for you and Chloé’s pregnancy. You deserve to be happy. Say goodbye, Lyric.”

The little boy waved his hand. “Bye bye.”

He saw her go yet he couldn’t move. He saw the little red Kwami follow them after she said goodbye to him. He turned around and went into his bedroom only to be shocked at how different his room was compared to how he left it.

There was a toddler bed next to his bed. There were toys and stuffed animals lying on the floor and multiple books for children on his shelf. He bend over to reach for two specific toys, the Viperion and the Ladybug action figures. He looked over to the side and saw multiple drawings.

He had the biggest smile when he spotted one of them. It was a drawing of what he assumed was Viperion, holding the little boy’s hand while he held Marinette’s hand on the other side. He was amazed by the boy’s art skills, but then again the boy’s mother was a famous designer.

“Lyric.” For the first time, he had said the boy’s name. He loved saying it and he wished it wouldn’t be the last time he would say his name.

His son’s name.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y’all I finally published my first Lukanette one shot and I’m so happy! Anyways, I’m also happy to introduce my Lukanette son, Lyric Couffaine Dupain-Cheng.

You can find this one shot in AO3 too (After one night/Tewqut). Thank you Lukanette fandom, this one is for all you people.

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Continuous angst and drama, but I promise next chapter Alex will show some of his better side. Love you lots for the wonderful feedback!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter IV - Four Out Of Five

“Today is not just a day of celebration. It’s a day of gratitude. It’s a day where we realize our accomplishments were not only made by ourselves, but through the support of the people around us. When I built this hotel, I vowed to each of my guests that they would always have a room here, that they could place their trust in me. And in turn, I placed my trust in them. Without you, my guests, my friends, my family, I wouldn’t have been able to host this gathering. Because of you, this hotel got an exceptional rating that made not only our staff proud, but the entire country.”

There was a round of applause echoing through the large room, while a few local reporters took the moment to snap a few pictures. It quieted down again when Alex cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“I especially wanted to thank someone in particular. She is unfortunately no longer with us, but we will always remember her as one of our most esteemed guests who visited this hotel since it first opened. She’d written me a personal letter saying she had this wonderful young man who was very willing to come and work for me, who I now see as one of my most trusted employees. I am so grateful to have known her and am honoured to have her daughter remembering her amongst us tonight.”

He raised his glass, along with everyone else in the room, and held a toast to her mother’s name. All she could do was play along with a frown. Alex Turner was not the man she’d expected him to be. It all felt very forced.

“This hotel… It might hibernate from time to time, sink back into the swamp. I think the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands that acquiesce to some of its rules. But we’re always waiting there, just around the corner, ready to make our way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Have a nice night, cheers.”

The last part of his speech seemed oddly specific and she could tell it was a pointed remark. She just wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. Turner didn’t wait for the second round of applause to get off the stage, instead opting to immediately grab a flute of champagne from a tray one of the waiters was holding. “He can be so dramatic sometimes,” someone to her right chuckled.

Glancing over, her eyes found the face of a man she’d probably describe to have the most British face ever. Not unattractive in any way, his hair cut short and his hazel eyes locking hers in a warm and kind-hearted sort of embrace that made her feel immediately at ease. “You’re Miles Kane,” she blurted out. He smiled, “Correct. And you must be the ‘honoured’ guest I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she said with a strained chuckle. “Only good things,” he winked. The corners of her mouth quirked up. She now understood why people chose him to be mayor, even if it was only because of his charisma. “I presume you already knew about the hotel review as well?” she continued curiously. He nodded, “They asked me to give a bit of a statement for the papers. Alex told me beforehand, though.” She hummed in interest, while her thoughts wandered back to that morning where she’d only then found out about the cause of the night’s celebration.

She’d casually strolled into the dining hall where most tables had either been removed or pushed against the walls of the room. At the back, the big stage had been cleared out and now only held a microphone and a few chairs. “You look happy today,” she commented, taking a seat at their usual spot. Matt looked up at her, silently sipping his coffee as he slid a newspaper towards her.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel was well reviewed; rated an exemplary four stars out of five. Mayor Kane states his joy, proclaiming “it’s unheard of.”’

She smiled, “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Matthew.” Matt waved his hand bashfully at her. “So, that’s what the whole ‘gathering’ is about. Did you already know about all of this?” “I did,” he answered, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, miss. Mister Turner was pretty set on keeping things private until everything was set to go.” “That’s quite alright,” she replied. However, deep down she knew the predominant reason why no one had told her, thinking back to the argument she’d had with the hotel owner just the night before. They didn’t trust her, no matter how kind they were being.

“Speaking of, how are the preparations getting along?” she wondered. Matt sighed and set his fork which was still piercing a heaping amount of eggs back down on his plate. “In all honesty, miss, there’s still so much that has to be done. Nick is out looking for more temporary personnel after some cancelled at the last minute, Jamie’s preparing everything in the kitchen and you already know what kind of chaos it’s like when he’s stressed and I’m just making a list of the things I still need to figure out before the gathering. We’re not used to doing this sort of thing with a limited amount of staff, so we’re all a bit disconcerted.”

She glanced down at the notepad he had been scribbling on. “Then allow me to help. I might not be an expert party planner, but half of the things you’ve mentioned on there I can manage.” Matt shook his head, but before he could protest, she shot him a strict look. “Look, I’m offering you my services here, like you offered yours. I won’t tell mister Turner a thing and if he does find out for some reason, I’ll just tell him I was helping a friend out.” He smiled at that. “Alright then,” he finally agreed, “But you’ll have to promise me Alex doesn’t notice anything.”

And with that, she spent the afternoon moving furniture, decorating, dusting, vacuuming, tidying and all the works. She’d even aided Jamie after he’d had a breakdown over accidentally burning the cake that was sitting in the smoking oven. Using one of her mother’s trusted recipes, she’d baked him a new one that had tiers, icing and everything while he continued working on the appetizers. It resulted in him spinning her around and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

She glanced over where her creation now stood proud and tall on a pedestal. Well, proud and tall with heaping chunks missing from it. “Jamie really outdid himself this time,” Miles commented, taking a bite of the sponge on his plate, “This cake is the best I’ve ever had.” She didn’t argue with him, because she felt Jamie deserved more credit for his work. Even if it wasn’t exactly his.

Her eyes roamed over the assorted crowd. They were what she’d expected them to be; stereotypically ritzy and exuding money. She wondered if that’s why Matt, Nick and Jamie were so adamant on letting her know she was too kind to them, because all other folks they had to deal with were like these. They weren’t the type of people to have a normal chat. Oh no, these were the personas who whispered and were opinionated about everything. When you’re so filthy rich you only hang out with the wealthy who are as impeccable as you, all forms of judgement you’ve got left is directed nit-picking and slanderous gossip.

She heard people comment on her dress, hair, makeup, she could name it all. But none who reported it directly to her. It was just loud enough so she would think it was a whisper and she wouldn’t be sure who it was from.

It was while wandering around when she finally heard comments that weren’t being made about her, but about something that most definitely interested her.

She reached for a glass from a waiter and smiled to him in thanks as she casually pretended to look for someone in the crowd while her ears picked up the conversation happening behind her.

“You know what I think?” A woman muttered, “I think this whole night is just a charity cause. He’s trying to petty us into giving him funds so he can continue his bland excuse of a hotel.” Another man  joined in, “I don’t think that’s true. Did you hear his speech? He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s going bankrupt. His little act of intimidation was rather mournful, though.”

“He’s trying to cover up a lot of things, from what I’ve heard,” the same woman stated as a matter-of-factly. She let a short, yet effective pause draw out to spark their interest, before she continued. “A little birdie told me that the poor fellow got his heart broken. Got addicted to gambling because of it, lost all his funding and then some in one night.” They gasped dramatically, and she’d heard enough.

Like the person who had been observing her from across the room, had seen enough.

She came across Matt as she moved towards the exit, who gave her a questioning look, to which she simply responded that she was tired from everything the day had brought her. “I understand, ma’am,” he said, before he gave a small smile, “I can’t explain how grateful I am-“ “Don’t worry,” she interrupted him, “Like I said, I was just helping out a friend.” She gave his arm a kind squeeze.

He called after her, “Oh, if you see Alex, tell him I’m looking for him! I’ve been finding too many empty glasses where I’ve seen him.”

As she closed the door of the hall behind her, a wave of silence washed over her like a cold breeze. She had a headache and she was sure it wasn’t because of the champagne. A walk would do her some good.

It was as if her feet had known what she was thinking, because she found herself in front of the picture with her mother in it. She actually found some of the faces to be familiar now, probably through having passed them during the party. Her eyes moved back to inspect the man between Matt and Jamie. It was a gut feeling that told her she should find out more about this particular person.

She heard the shuffling of feet beside her, but she’d half-expected the noise so she didn’t even flinch. “Got enough material for your book?” He slurred.

She blinked at Alex, the little respect she’d held for him slowly but surely dripping away like water from a tap that’s been leaking. “How could I have enough material when you won’t even tell me anything about your bloody hotel?” she shot back.

He scoffed, leaning against the wall. He clearly wasn’t sober enough to keep his balance. “You don’t need me to find out about all the details now, do you? You’ve clearly been making your own assumptions through the stories from my loyal guests.”

She raised her brows in surprise as she took a daring step towards him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Being able to observe people is a real writer’s trait, is it not? Always keen on finding the truth, even when it’s been covered by decades of dust and grime. It’s what makes for a good book.” He pushed himself forward until he was directly in front of her. He smelled like cigarettes and expensive whiskey. “The only thing you’ve done so far is brush the surface of that grave. You’re just another cheap journalist looking for a good story to get your job back.”

His words stung and before she knew it, so did her hand.

She really hadn’t meant to slap him. She wasn’t one to slap people. Yet, it had been her body’s first instinct. It was as if a gravitational force had pulled her palm to his cheek in a very violent way. She could’ve just held his face for all she knew, if it hadn’t been for the anger rushing through her in that particular moment, inducing her decision-making to be more erratic.

He almost didn’t seem fazed at all. He just looked at her. And in the flicker of a moment, she thought she’d seen an ounce of remorse in his eyes. It was right before they turned stone cold again.

“Leave,” he hissed. She was at a loss for words. When he got no response, he audibly made his request clearer. “Leave. You’ll pack your things. And you’ll be leaving, tonight.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” a voice proclaimed from behind him. She turned to look at Matthew, who was joined by Jamie and a distressed-looking Nick. Miles stepped out from the hall as well, closing the doors behind him to give them some form of privacy.

“Our guest has decided to shorten her stay with us,” Alex stated, his eyes not leaving hers, “If you could take her to the train station in a bit, Matthew.”

“The hour is late, Alex. There won’t be a train till morning,” Matt simply replied. “Then you can drive her all the way back home, if you must,” Alex snarled, while running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m sorry, Alex. But she’s staying.”

Matt didn’t hold his usual backtalk. It seemed he was more tired and disappointed than angry. When Alex realized none of his friends were going to take his side, - not even Miles made a comment - he stormed back into the dining hall and slammed the door. She could distantly hear him yelling, telling everyone the party’s over. When he was done and people started shuffling out, he disappeared around a corner.

She noticed Matt’s jaw clench as Miles let out a deep sigh. “I think it’s best if I stay around for a while,” he simply said. As Nick led him to the front desk to hand him a key, Matt placed an arm around her shoulder while his eyes remained directed towards the same hallway Alex had drunkenly stumbled off through. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s been a long night.”

[btshodown]

Prey For Me

↳ “Having an addictive personality got you into a lot of trouble sometimes; from having alcohol poisoning to something simple like throwing yourself into new kdramas a little too aggressively. So bringing in a strange hybrid into your apartment to “help him” was no different. Only you had no idea what storm you just dragged yourself into. He was only supposed to stay the night.”

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre/Warnings: Sour candy that’s sweet in the inside, sprinkled with some crack. Hybrid AU, detailed mentions of violence and blood. Possible future smut in later chapters. Rating: PG13 Word Count: 6.5k

➭ Why must I do this to myself at 2 am...anyways yeah, this finally came out after months of contemplation. I was going to originally make it a giant one-shot, but I was exhausting myself with that goal so I’ve decided to just make it a mini series. Please let me know your thoughts! :)

The cadence of people cheering and betting surrounds you, tempting like a siren’s call to join in on the intoxication of gambling, but you resist with ardor. You were no fool and were well aware that if you gave into that lull, you would never see the light of day. Unfortunately for you, you had a very addictive personality and once something entered your life; your inhibitions got easily swept away with the roaring current.

I’m a good noodle; I’m a good noodle…

A quick yelp rips from your throat as suddenly the body of a sweaty, drunk man is pushed onto you; were it not for the strong grip on your waist appearing to pull you away, you would have no doubt you’d be pinned to the floor by the barely coherent man.

“Hey man, be careful!” your ears ring at the boisterous laughter surrounding you before the deep timbre of your companion’s voice enters your ears in a soft lilt of concern. “Y/N? You good?”

One blink, two, three blinks and the ringing in your ears slowly melts to allow your coherency to finally reemerge; along with your annoyance. “I’d be hell of a lot better if my ass was planted on that indent on the couch I made while watching Game of Thrones and stuffing my face with that leftover Pad Thai!”  

Taehyung releases his own soft yelp as your hand swipes at his bicep, your eyes pinning him with a glare only a disturbed homebody could give. Were it not for his damn conniving personality and honey coated lies about accompanying him to a “private” event he got invited to, you would have never left the safety of the blanket cocoon you had painstakingly buried yourself in. But you had stupidly gave in to his whining and pleading, managing to even feel pity for the devious bastard; well boo-boo the fool you, cause you got played.

The “private” event was code for “underground-illegal-hybrid-MMA-fighting”.

You had to admit to yourself that you were no hardcore hybrid supporter; you didn’t risk your safety to attend the protests on their rights or freedom, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching them suffer. Staying silent on the matter whenever it was brought into debates was your only sin.

“Oh come on, y/n, I already told you that I had no idea it was a hybrid MMA,” Taehyung ignores your petulant pout, not caring for his safety from your wrath as he slings a long arm around your shoulders; effectively maneuvering you toward some benches that faced the netted platform of the ring. To his benefit, he seemed like he was trying to reassure himself as well; Taehyung was more outspoken about his distaste on how hybrids were treated after all. “I know it might seem a bit…sketchy, but from what I just heard, the hybrids do this of their own free will. They don’t seem to be forced into it.”

A huff leaves you as both of you take a seat on the edge of the bench and quickly cross your arms in an effort to make yourself small to avoid anyone bumping into you. “And you believe them? When this whole thing is illegal?”        

Your companion only offers a sheepish half grin and small shrug of his shoulders as an answer; leaving you to roll your eyes and focus on the ring in front of you just as the lights dimmed around you. The cacophony of the audience rose to a higher decibel as the only lights shining were on the platform as the announcer walked into the fencing to begin the matches. While Taehyung kept looking on in a mixture of unease and concern for the hybrids fighting, you couldn’t stomach staring at the matches, so you opted to focus on the ground in front of you. Though that did nothing to stop your wincing every time you heard a particularly loud crack of fists or kicks followed by a grunt of pain; just how the hell was this voluntary? This was so much worse than boxing in your opinion; MMA fighting didn’t have gloves to cushion the aftershocks of their punching and kicking was also an added element that only caused more pain. This wasn’t even counting the fact that they weren’t completely human and therefore stronger physically; their hits were a lot more lethal.

Finally the last match was announced as you sadly watched them carry out what was supposed to be a Doberman hybrid, now bloody and bruised beyond recognition from the panther hybrid he was up against. Just how was that fair? They purposely pitted the poor male against an apex predator who obviously had greater strength and quicker reflexes; it didn’t take you long to realize the matches were fixed for those gambling. You were just glad that the last match was about to happen because you knew you couldn’t take much more of this; the whole scene caused revulsion to slowly churn in your belly.

“And finally the match you have all been anticipating!” The announcer looks a touch from smug as the crowd roars with excitement, your stomach clenching suddenly with apprehension. “Give it up to our reigning queen of MMA; Abaddon!”

Your mouth falls open slightly as the name itself prompted you to look up and you were met with a beautiful, tall woman with bright orange hair that she was nonchalantly wrapping up in a bun. Clad in only a sports bra and spandex shorts, her impressive muscles were out in proud display and it was easy to see just why she was called the queen, that wasn’t even mentioning how her aura exuded jaded confidence in a way only a tigress could. Her rounded ears atop her head barely twitched from the noise, no doubt accustomed to it, while her tail swayed in what seemed to be boredom; there was no misgiving that she rightfully earned the name Abaddon: a fallen angel of death whose name literally means “to destroy.” Just what poor soul was being pitted against her?

Once the crowd settled down, the announcer gained a gleam in his eyes as he continues on. “And just who is going to face off our tigress queen? This fighter has been climbing his way from the bottom and just might give our champion a run for her money; give it up to Ares!”

If you believed the woman before you had been intimidating, the male walking into the ring made you rethink your previous judgement. The crowd made little noise, though whether it was due to disdain or wonder at the sculpture of a man, you weren’t sure, but he surely now had your undivided attention. Despite wearing the same outfit of just shorts like the other male fighters, the hybrid before you did the material more of a service as his lithe figure is stacked with bulging muscles. His stomach is impressively cut with abs and his thighs and legs are thick with power; even his face looks strong with a sharp jaw and furrowed brows. Despite his strong presence however, there was an underlying boyish softness to his face that captured your heart; your eyes couldn’t stop their gazing at his warm, brown doe-like eyes and his asymmetrical pink lips.

A breath gets stuck in your chest as those brown eyes quickly roam over the crowd, eliciting a crooked grin before he turns back over to his opponent and flattens his long grey ears with a sneer. It isn’t until you see his ears move that you realize with dawning horror that they pitted a rabbit hybrid with a fucking tiger. Sure, his muscles were impressive, mainly his legs which should have been a giveaway to what animal he was infused with, but he was still a prey animal up against a damn apex predator; your heart squeezes painfully imagining a worse fate for him than the Doberman from before.

You wanted to look away, to tell Taehyung to take you home this instant because surely you were going to witness a murder with how fiercely the tigress was eyeing the male, but something kept you silent. Maybe it was sick fascination to watch Ares fighting and see if those muscles on his back would tense deliciously like you were imagining, or perhaps it was that softness beneath his strong features that tugged at your heart, you weren’t certain which it was yet.

The silence that hangs in the air is thick with tension and bloodlust, something even the announcer seemed keen on leaving. With a quick cut down motion with his hand, the announcer quickly turns and locks the cage door behind him as swiftly as his human legs could carry him; right on time as well since the two hybrids wasted no time in lunging at one another. It was like nothing you had ever seen before, the two of them looked more like they were performing a deadly dance; with each swing of limbs the other was always quick to dodge or block. The scene absentmindedly reminded you of capoeira; they were almost speaking to one another with how they moved and their eyes shone with excited violence.

Even the normally boisterous audience was captivated by the fight, bated breath waiting to be released with the promise of the first hit, which comes with a painful crack of skin and a grunt. Your heart lurches into your throat as your hands wring together, feeling sick as you witness Ares wipe a stream of blood from his brow, but it doesn’t take him long to swiftly feign left before spinning on his right leg to land a powerful kick to Abaddon’s open side. The crowd finally comes to life at the two hits and the cacophony of their delight drowns out the loud smacks of skin, but your heartbeat stubbornly continues to be louder.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed you by, too enraptured by the male who fought with a viciousness that spoke of fearing failure; you could see it with every clench of his jaw when he got hit and the refusal to fall to the floor even as the tigress continues to try. Ares is quick on his feet and with each step he almost seemed to bounce, something that no doubt was brought on by his animal half, and with how the woman bared her teeth, you knew she was having a hard time cornering him. She was moving like fire, unpredictable in a methodical way that sang of years of practice and instinct; her plan was easy to distinguish the more you watched and you knew that if she managed to knock the male hybrid to the floor, it was all over.

Only a few seconds had passed, and even staring without blinking had you almost missing the moment the tigress wrapped her tail around his ankle and pulled; the heavy bang of his body hitting the floor reverberated throughout your ribs. The hush in the room didn’t last as a soft snarl is heard, the blur of the woman’s body seen mid leap before she’s descending on the poor male with her claws out. Amidst the violent cheering of the crowd, you unknowingly let out a terrified scream the moment the first fist is thrown to his stomach and don’t realize your standing until you feel Taehyung gently nudge your arm in concern.

You weren’t sure if it was your delusions from worry, but for a brief second you locked eyes with Ares the moment you had screamed, watching with wide eyes as he gazed at you with slight muddled wonder. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to have your heart pound painfully against your chest as you gaze at the way the tigress unleashes her fury on his body with horror; not able to look away for the fear that she’ll truly kill him right now. His grunts and snarls are soft, being held back by pride, but soon a loud yelp escapes his mouth as blood is drawn on his chest from where the woman dug her claws in.

“She’s going to kill him,” your voice comes out in a breath of dread before you quickly reach out to your friend and feel the desperation trying to breach your throat, “she’s going to kill him Tae! Can’t someone stop her?!”

Taehyung’s voice is choked with sympathy and something else as you both watch Ares try to curl in on himself to lessen the hits. “Death isn’t an illegal thing here, y/n. It’s usually encouraged.”

You decide that in this moment, you truly hate your friend for bringing you to this shithole, forced to watch as this woman tries her hardest to kill the poor hybrid beneath her for the infamy; you’ll never let Tae know that though. Despite the small amount of resentment you feel for being brought here, you know that you’ll eventually forgive him. Just not right now as you watch Ares’ eyes take longer to open with each blink and feeling your heart crumble as small streams of blood run down his face and body. You weren’t sure what deity out there would hear you, but you begin to frantically pray that they’ll do something, anything to stop the fight; if not you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from running in there yourself.

You just didn’t realize that your prayer would be answered so abstractly.

“Cops!” the shout was faint and easily drowned by the roaring of the crowd, but you turn your head for a second as you spot a wide-eyed man running toward the ring. It isn’t until he bravely flings himself onto the wires of the cage to rattle it, causing the tigress to pause and snarl at the man, that the audience realizes what it is he’s screaming louder than before. “COPS!”

The change is instantaneous, leaving you to stand absentmindedly watching Ares’ fallen body as Abaddon gracefully leaps to the top of the cage and jumps out; there was a man with an expensive suit waiting for her already and quickly escorts her out of sight. Even your shoulders getting hit and shoved as people scramble out of the building like panicked ants isn’t enough to have you avert your eyes or your racing thoughts; no one was coming to get Ares.

It isn’t until you feel a violent tug on your arm do you refocus to the present, the yells of the dispersing crowd finally reaching your ears as does Taehyung’s shouts of alarm and panic. “Come on y/n! We have to go!”

Your body finally moves, only it isn’t in the direction your companion anticipated as your feet maneuver through the throng of people to reach the cage; it took zero convincing on your part to decide what to do. You aren’t going to leave the hybrid in the hands of the police and abandon him, even if you had to drag him to your apartment on your own.

“Y/n! Y/n! What are you – seriously?!”

You ignore Taehyung’s frantic shouts as he follows you through the crowd, not pausing once to check if the police were already inside the building, too worried that if you did it would cost you time you didn’t have. With your heart pounding in your ears and the adrenaline coursing through you, you yank the door open to the cage and run inside, sliding onto your knees to quickly check the man’s pulse. However, the moment your fingers touch the sweat covered skin, a big hand quickly wraps around your wrist and pulls a yelp from your throat; the hybrid had opened one eye and was glaring at you tiredly. Even as bloody and exhausted as he was, he could still stay aware enough to try and fend someone off; though you doubted that even as strong as he was, he could fight you right now.

“Hey,” you croak out as you try to stop the shaking in your hand which was still being squeezed in his grip, “I know that you won’t trust me, but the police are here – we have to get you out before they get you.”

It was at this moment that you saw something not many people probably got to see, this strong man turning into a small, hurt boy as his eye loses that glare to adopt one of fear. You’re sure that he didn’t need an explanation as to why the cops finding him alone was a bad thing; all his life was running away from the law as there was no doubt he was an unbound hybrid – no one coming to take him away like they did with Abaddon was enough proof. It was also in this moment that you vow to not mention that second of unadulterated vulnerability to anyone.

Ares closes his eye for a second, before opening it again to give you a small nod as he begins to stand with your hands grabbing onto his waist and arm. Time seems to move again as you look up to see Taehyung rushing over, cursing loudly as he hurriedly slings Ares’ arm over his shoulder and starts sprinting out. You gasp in breaths and try to keep up with the sudden movement, making sure to clutch onto the hybrid to assure you wouldn’t fall on your ass. It isn’t until the three of you burst through some emergency exit that you chance a look behind you, watching with wide eyes as men in uniform flash lights in your direction with shouts for you to stop.

With a slam of the door, the light is gone, but your speed continues the same as you all scramble over to your mini SUV; which for once you are so incredibly happy you stuck around with it as opposed to a smaller car.  Ares would actually fit in it for one. You throw a soft apology to the man as Tae all, but threw him across the back seat and slams the door before hopping into the passenger seat.

“Drive y/n! Drive like you’re in the Fast & Furious Tokyo Drift!”

“I never watched that one! I heard it was sad!”

“This is isn’t the time y/n! Just do as Rihanna sang; shut up and drive!”

Despite your words, you’re quick to turn on the engine and press your foot on the gas pedal, the squealing of tires drowning out your heartbeat as the hidden building gets smaller on your rearview mirror.

Labored breaths is all you hear for a few moments as you get farther away from the warehouses, your heartbeat slowing down enough for you to realize the weight of what you just did. What the hell were you going to do with a hybrid? As much as you wouldn’t mind sheltering the man, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he’s a stranger and to top it off, dabbled in illegal fights. He could kill you the moment he gets an opening for all you know, and yet…seeing him fight with so much determination only to get beaten, it caused a painful thrum in your chest. Maybe your impulsive behavior could get you hurt, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to believe he’d never lay a hand on you.

“What the fuck,” the voice is soft and breathy, before you realize its Taehyung as soon as his tone rises. “Y/n, what the fuck!”

You visibly cringe as you can feel his disapproving scowl from your seat, but for safety and your own embarrassment, you don’t turn around. There’s no point in questioning what he meant with his declaration; you know exactly what he’s so shocked about. With his shouting though, you’re quick to adjust your rearview mirror, afraid that Taehyung’s shouting somehow offended your surprise guest; but to your relief, the male hybrid seemed to be sleeping from exhaustion.

“I know the situation isn’t ideal –”

“There’s an MMA hybrid in the backseat!”

“I couldn’t leave him!”

You feel Taehyung’s stare of pity and disbelief as you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes automatically flicking up to the rearview mirror to watch the rise and fall of the hybrid’s chest. “I know it’s stupid and I just opened a can of worms…but Tae I couldn’t leave him,” your voice is a soft whisper as the glow of the streetlights finally breaks out from the darkness of the sketchy streets you left behind.

Silence once again permeates the air as Taehyung simply slumps into his seat, his expression a weird mixture of understanding and annoyance. You’re not quite sure what your friend is thinking and at the moment you aren’t in the right state of mind to pry in concern; although you do feel guilty for the impulsive decision you made. You didn’t live alone and Taehyung’s disapproval only made sense since he would have to put up with your impulsivity; you just hope he wouldn’t stay angry with you for too long. Plans of making him his favorite food and desserts to lessen the blow of having an unknown hybrid crash in your shared space begin to enter your mind as the route to the space in question becomes familiar again.

It isn’t long before you finally reach your apartment, the silence still hanging between you two as you make sure none of your neighbors are out to see Taehyung carry a bloody hybrid on his back. The trek to the elevator is done in stiff silence as your eyes continue to roam over the lobby to make sure no one is about to catch the three of you, and it isn’t until you see the metal doors close in front of you that you let out a breath. Your apartment was the first door once getting off the lift, so walking to it without being seen won’t be as big of an issue.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, you let your eyes slowly glance over to your right discretely, watching with a small, worried frown at how blank Taehyung’s expression is. After nearly two years living with your best friend, you knew better than anyone that when the normally boisterous male was quiet and expression a clean slate, he was angry or very irritated. What you didn’t know was why. You get it, you made a very stupid decision in risking your safety for the hybrid slumped on his back, but surely he could sympathize on why you did; more so when he was the more active voice in their rights. It wouldn’t be a permanent situation in your life (you imagined) and suppose once the hybrid healed, he’d finally forgive you.

The sudden shift and sound of the doors chiming break you out of your guilt plagued thoughts, but with Tae walking briskly to your apartment door only serves to gnaw at you. He definitely was angry. With a sharp look from him, you’re quick to scramble to the door and push the keys into the lock to finally let all of you into your shared home. Although, you can’t hide a wince and a soft, stern “careful” falling from your lips as your friend practically dumps Ares’ body onto the couch without a care.

After hanging your keys on the mount by the door and dumping your jacket on the bar counter, you take quick steps over to the small L shaped couch; making quick work in rearranging the hybrid onto the lounge section of the sofa for more of a comfortable position. Once satisfied that he won’t wake up sore, you hesitate before running a hand on the fading bruises on his skin, feeling wonder fill you at how quickly he was already healing. Despite the blood staining his abdomen and chest, the gashes themselves already seemed to be closing and well to the point of recovering. All you really needed to do was simply clean the blood and grime, along with waiting for his body to recuperate with sleep.

With hope spilling into your ribs, you turn to call Tae to help you gather supplies, only to see an empty living room and kitchen, with the door to the hallway and bedrooms slightly ajar as an indicator that he probably already went into his room. Guilt and worry once again begins to wrap around your heart while your stomach churned at the thought of him truly hating you for this. A sigh escapes you, but you grimace as you stand up, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs as you walk over to the small kitchen and grab the large bowl you usually use to mix your desserts, carefully covering the interior with clear wrap. Once done, you fill it up with some warm, soapy water and open a drawer to take out one of your kitchen towels before making your way back to the couch.

The more you cleaned his naked torso, the more bewitched you felt as each swipe of the bloodied rag shows perfectly carved abs and pecs, leaving you with an embarrassing burn in your core. Shame floods you with each lustful thought that came barging into your mind, trying your hardest to ignore the flame in the pit of your belly getting hotter with each second that passed. Honestly, is this man somehow a deity in disguise? His muscles were ridiculously defined and large; it was getting harder to control your wild thoughts.

Come on girl, get a hold of yourself. The man is hurt and unconscious! With a sigh you close your eyes and exhale softly to gather back your wits before finishing. Appreciating your hard work, you let your eyes fixate on the nasty gashes on his stomach and the yellowing bruises over his face. With a nod, you make a quick decision as you grab the bowl filled with dirty water and the rag, quickly cleaning up the supplies before returning with a small container of antibacterial ointment; no doubt he was healing just fine, but your worry wouldn’t let you walk away without providing him some relief.

As you delicately spread the ointment on his wounded skin however, the man shifts in his sleep suddenly and it has your breath and movements stilling in tense silence as you watch him carefully; but he simply turns onto his side and curls up, no signs of having been disturbed. Your breath leaves you slowly as your gaze softens; once more witnessing his features smooth over to show just how young he truly is. He couldn’t be older than Taehyung, perhaps younger now that you’re witnessing his guard completely lowered in sleep to show that glimpse of a young man you had seen back at the ring. Just how did he get mixed in with such a horrible way of surviving? Surely rabbit hybrids must be amongst the top adopted hybrids alongside the dog and cat mixes, so why is it that Ares found himself having to fight to stay alive?

“I’m sorry,” your voice is merely a whisper, the words having no destination and settle instead in the air between you two as you continue to watch Ares sleep soundly. Even you were unsure as to why you felt like apologizing. For how badly his life must be? For having been abandoned at that warehouse? For being alone? Who knew, certainly you didn’t, but with those thoughts plaguing your mind you stand up and drape your throw blanket on his figure before making your way to your room.

You spare a concerned glance over to your friend’s closed door and note with disappointment that there is no light fighting to get out through the bottom of his door; his room completely dark. With a small shake of your head, you gently close your door and get ready for bed; silently throwing a hopeful wish for tomorrow to not be a disaster once the hybrid awoke. 

Your wish seems to have landed in the trash as you stare blankly at the scene before you late the next morning; Ares is awake and clutching onto one corner of the blanket you covered him in, glaring venomously at Taehyung who’s also tugging on the other end of the cotton with his own ferocious scowl at the hybrid. No words were being exchanged, but the air is thick with animosity and testosterone, leaving you shell-shocked at witnessing your goofball of a best friend suddenly look so…animalistic. Just what random parallel universe did you drop into? As if realizing your impulsive behavior with the hybrid wasn’t disorienting enough, now you also have to deal with Taehyung suddenly becoming an ass?

With a sigh and a glance at the clock mounted on the wall beside you – it was only 10 am – you’re quick to walk over to the two males, snatching the blanket from both of them. Two sets of eyes quickly snap to you, one annoyed, but apologetic; and the other narrowed in hostility. You try your best to give Ares a small, but sincere smile before turning to Taehyung and smacking his arm, giving him a scowl of disapproval.

“Just what on earth are you doing, you walnut? Why are you picking fights with our guest so early, especially after how last night went?”

Your brown haired roommate only whines at your annoyance and is quick to wrap his long arms around your shoulders in a dramatic fashion; you didn’t miss how he oddly rubbed his cheek on your own. “Please don’t be mad at me eomma! I forgot we had some asshole on our couch so I got…surprised and only acted on self-defense. True story.”

“I am not your mom! God I thought we went over this? Why is the mom thing coming back all of a sudden you fucking weirdo?” You would never admit to him how relief floods you at having him back to his idiot self.

A loud scoff followed by a snarl has you remembering the hybrid behind you and it serves as a reminder that he isn’t exactly exuding happy vibes right now; you wouldn’t either if you woke up in a stranger’s house after being beaten up honestly.

“I would hardly call you smacking me awake and yanking the blanket off of me as self-defense you rat,” at the last word Taehyung lets out an indignant sound and it only makes Ares give him a smug smile.

“I am not a rat, you cracked out Bugs Bunny! You should be grateful that my eomma even saved your sorry ass from being taken away by the cops.”

“Taehyung!” you gasp as you quickly yank his shaggy, morning hair, ignoring his whines of protests and turn to give Ares an apologetic stare. “I am so sorry; please don’t listen to what he says. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, but please feel free to use our bathroom to freshen up while I make us some breakfast. As an apology, Tae will even lend you some of his old clothes.”

Your roommate only gives out a strangled noise of protest, wiggling out of your hold to give you a look of comical betrayal. “Says who?! I don’t want him wearing my clothes! He’ll rub his gross smell all over them!”

Ares is quick to begin walking toward the door of your apartment with a heavy scowl on his lips, clearly not wanting stay with how rude Taehyung was being. “Whatever. I don’t want or need your pity or charity.”

Your heart squeezes painfully and before your mind can catch up, you once again act out impulsively, quickly wrapping your fingers around the muscle on his forearm. Only in doing so it makes you realize that he is in fact, still very much walking in only small shorts and nothing else. You swallow as quietly as you can and clear your throat, noting a bit late that he also hasn’t shaken your hand off of him, but neither has he turned around. Your heart flutters in hope.

“I didn’t help you out of pity,” your words are soft, but firm and you feel him stiffen under your hand, making the words quickly jumble out in a mess to have him understand you. “I know you won’t believe me, but I just couldn’t leave you there while no one came to help you. Especially after…after seeing the fight and how that tigress –”

“You helping me doesn’t change the fact that you paid to see those fights,” the venom in his sudden snarl has your hand leaving his arm as if burned and the stare he gives you over his shoulder has an annoying sting come to your eyes. He only scoffs and carries on. “You think that doing one good thing for a “worthless” hybrid suddenly makes you a saint? Don’t make me laugh.”

So focused on not letting the uninvited tears to fall, you don’t notice Tae getting closer until you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders and an almost animalistic growl sounding from right above your head. “She didn’t pay to be there you ungrateful jackass. I was invited to go there and I brought her with me so I wouldn’t go alone. So if I were you I’d stop swimming in the river you cried for yourself and thank y/n for risking her safety to get you out of there.”

The air is stifling as your voice leaves you and has your breath stuck at the base of your throat, too anxious to say anything to break the tension. The moments are far and few in-between when Taehyung gets angry, but times like these remind you that despite being a goofball, he was still very much a nearly a six foot tall, broad shouldered man with some mean ass looking eyebrows. Despite not looking threatened in the least, Ares still regards your friend and roommate with a serious, pensive scowl; body fully turned and chest instinctually puffing out to no doubt assert dominance.

Even in a serious situation such as this, your traitorous eyes fail to stay on the hybrid’s face and instead greedily roam over the bulging muscles with slight awe. Damn was this man giving Chris Hemsworth a run for his money.

“Thanks.”

The growled response has your eyes snapping up in shock to stare at Ares, body flushing in pleasant warmth as he stares back, but at seeing your lips form a small ‘o’ of surprise, he’s quick to look away with a frown. You’d blame the lack of any lights on for the small rosy hue his cheeks have gained.

“Do you have a home to go back to?” That is not what you meant to say and by the strangled noise that leaves Taehyung’s throat, he wasn’t expecting it either, but he knows where that question is going and is unfortunately much too shell-shocked to stop it. From how things went last night, you have a sad intuitive feeling that the male hybrid is homeless and like before, you just couldn’t sit idly on that thought.

The ears on Ares’ head flatten back in apprehension; his eyes once more regarding you, but with a certain guard in them as his confusion shows in his hesitancy. “What’s it to you?”

Someday you’d learn to control your impulsive behavior and stop to think about your decisions before making them. Today was not that day. “You can stay with us if you don’t. Rent won’t be an issue either; Tae and I make enough money to not be living paycheck to paycheck. Even if you just stay until you can find somewhere else, it beats having to hide from hybrid police department.”

The thickness in their air increases as everyone holds their breath, Taehyung dropping his arm from around your shoulders in a defeat he can already see happening and knows is futile in trying to fight it. But with each silent second that ticks by has your heart hammering away at your ribs faster, especially when a flicker of that same vulnerability you witnessed back in the cage last night appears in Ares’ eyes.

“Only until I can find someplace else,” the look is gone and is replaced with a gruff awkwardness as the hybrid nervously picks at his cheek, his voice quieter than before.

A loud grunt of dissatisfaction leaves your friend’s throat as he moves away from you and stomps angrily toward the hallway, throwing a petulant huff under his breath about getting ready for work. You let out your own sigh as the reality of what you just did settles on your skin. You’d have to make Taehyung his favorite foods and desserts on top of playing with his hair until your hand fell off for who knows how long for your hasty decision. Truly, you were on a roll with all the impulsivity, but it was done and you’d need to remind yourself after Taehyung’s shift at the diner to question his unfound hostility toward the hybrid.

For now, however…

“Let’s um, get you some clean clothes for after you shower and in the mean time I can make us some breakfast,” your smile is small and albeit a bit awkward, but it was sincere enough to have the hybrid give a grateful nod in return. “As if it wasn’t obvious by now, my name is y/n and I’m going to go on a wild guess and say Ares isn’t really your actual name?”

“You’d guess correctly,” he avoids your eyes for a few more seconds before he gives in and glances back at you, voice growing soft in newfound timidity. “Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk,” your tongue rolls around the name easily and so preoccupied you are in trying to pronounce it exactly as he did, you miss the red tint making home on his cheeks again. By the time you look back up at him, it’s nearly gone and his eyes are roaming your apartment for the first time, obviously trying to take it in. “You can use the bathroom in my room for now, since Tae is notorious for taking forever in getting ready. We can go over living arrangements after, kay?”

With a shy nod and an actual tiny smile, Ares – no, Jeongguk – has your stomach fluttering as you quickly show him to where your room is and leave him to shower. Now standing alone in your kitchen, you let out a soft breath as you lean your forehead on the cool countertop, trying your best to wrap your mind around just exactly what occurred in the past 15 hours. With a shake of your head and a few small slaps to your cheeks, you get started on making some breakfast for all three of you while you push any doubts to the back of your head until you can get back to them in the darkness of your room later tonight.

You’d stupidly face the repercussions of your actions when they came, because you knew they would, just not now; but for the present time, you’d simply worry about making sure you had enough strawberries to dump onto Taehyung’s waffles.

[crashdevlin]

New Romantics- 5: Sin and Shame

New Romantics Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is a multi-chapter sequel to Wildest Dreams 

Bamby gave me inspiration to write another chapter of this, so... here it is!

Summary: Dean told y/n that she’d pick up the machete and rock salt again, but he’s surprised to see her at Harvelle’s Roadhouse less than a year later. She’s nervous to tell him and Sam the catalyst for her to start hunting again.

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader x Dean (no wincest), Crowley x Reader 

Word Count: 4739

Story Warnings: Smut, 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!, anal sex, oral sex (fem and male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bloodplay, canon-appropriate character deaths, manipulation, BoyKing!Sam and Intended Queen!Reader!

Chapter Warnings: Blood Drinking, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive!Sam

Elizabethville, Ohio was seven different kinds of boring until the gate opened. I drove through once on my way from Cincinnati back home to Keystone. It was a half-dead factory town before they brought in bars and hookers and gambling. Demons, they’re all so overdramatic. I should know.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Baby Girl.”

“I didn’t ask you, Crowley,” I respond, getting out of my car and walking toward the front office of the cheap hotel. “You know I’m a hunter. You know I’m not going to stop being a hunter. You’re here to help me be a better hunter.”

“That’s not-”

I turn to the demon right outside the building. “If you don’t want to be here while I hunt your brothers, then fill my bottle and leave.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

He sighs. “Fine. Hurry up and get your room.”

I nod. I’ve got him right where I want him. Unfortunately, he can say the same about me, I know. He’s been working me over for two months. Even if I weren’t crazy for the things I can do because of him, I’m a bit… addicted to his blood. I knew, the first drop back in Lincoln, I knew what a heroin addict must feel. I get a room, number 6, and grab my duffel from my car. Crowley’s already in the room when I drop my stuff on the bed and kick the door closed. “I think I’m gonna hit the bar I drove past on the way in. Uh, ‘Trotters’. Seems a good place to get information.”

“Uh-huh.”

I sigh, deeply. He’s gonna make me ask. “I need a top-up before I go, get my powers to a hundred.”

“Gladly, darling. But you know what I want.”

I shake my head. “You know, there are more important things in life than your dick, Crowley.”

“Like your pride, y/n?” he snaps. “Must we do this every time? You haven't been able to resist me since you went back to Keystone. We're going to end up in bed, same as always, so why do you make this so difficult?”

I roll my eyes. At this point, I think it's just out of habit. I know that I'm going to let him fuck me just as well as he knows it, but if I didn't resist… if I didn't put up some sort of fight… what kind of hunter would I be?

“Why can’t you just gimme what I need without expecting anything in return?” I ask, but I know his answer. Same as every other time I’ve asked.

“Because I’m a demon, pet.”

“Not your pet,” I interrupt, moving to unpack my slinky red dress and black boots to wear to the bar.

“I’m a crossroads demon, y/n, and ain’t nothin’ in this world for free.”

I grasp the bottom of my tank top and pull it off over my head. “I hate you.”

“I know,” he says as I toss my shirt across the room. “I hate you, too, Baby Girl.” Love when you get nude, though.

“You’re a pig.”

“I’m a demon. And I’m a male. Were you expecting something else?”

I flopped to the mattress, shaking my head as I kick my sneakers off. “Not all males think the way you do, Crowley. I should know.”

“Of course all men think like me, y/n. Goes with the penis.”

“Your borrowed penis,” I remind him as he climbs over my body and looks down at me.

He smirks down at me and I shiver. God, it’s not fair. He knows exactly which buttons to push. “This borrowed cock?” He grinds himself down against my pussy, putting perfect pressure on my clit. “That cock you’ve choked on and creamed all over? This borrowed cock you love so much? That makes you scream?”

“Just get on with it, Crowley.”

You try to take the fun out of it, but I’m still going to make you scream. He pushes a picture into my mind of him hammering that thick cock into me and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. This is how it always goes. He takes his time, I act like I don't like it to keep up appearances and he relishes every sound he makes me make. And then, only then, does he give me the blood I need.

‘The blood I need’. I hate that sentence. I hate that reality. I hate Crowley, but God, I love the way he makes me feel, the way he makes me scream. The things I can do with his blood running through me are worth every bit of the guilt.

It’s a little pathetic how quickly the demon has me writhing under him, with his mouth attached to my shoulder, his cock buried in me but not moving. “Move. God, Crowley, move.”

That’s not how you ask, Baby Girl.

“Oh, fuck you. Every fucking time?”

You know what I want.

I sigh, deeply, and buck my hips, but it doesn’t inspire him to move. It never does. “Daddy, please, fuck me.” He makes me say that because he knows it reminds me of John. Every damn time.

Good girl. He chuckles against my skin and starts moving. I grasp at his shoulders to ground myself and close my eyes, try to imagine that it’s not a demon that’s plunging his massive cock into my pussy, that it’s not a demon’s weight pressing me into this dirty mattress. Such gorgeous noises. He has me moaning, screaming-loud, within ten minutes and I can hear the people in the next room over thinking about how loud I am. God, that should bug me more, I like my privacy, but I can’t stop moaning as he bites into his arm and places the bloody flesh against my lips.

It takes more blood to get me going than it did two months ago, but not the mouthful he feeds me this time. It’s too much. I feel my stomach turn as I swallow. But then the warmth blossoms up and my senses go into overdrive and I don’t care about anything except the feel of Crowley’s borrowed cock twitching against my inner walls as he cums. I whimper when he pulls out and snaps his fingers to redress himself. “A little something to hold you over ‘til next time. Call me when you’re done here.” He sets a bottle on the side table and I can see that it’s bigger than the one he usually gives me. He wants me to drink more, to need more. I sit up as he disappears. Fuck.

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

I'm sitting in the corner of Trotters, listening out to the nasty thoughts of the patrons. I’m not hearing demons, but I’m hearing adulterers and coveters and random arrays of sinners. I take a drink of my beer and reach out.

“Boots?” A familiar voice pulls my attention to the bar. I can't help the smile, even if my stomach twists with fear at his presence.

“Dean!” I stand and wrap my arms around his leather-clad shoulders. “Had to know I wasn't the only one reading the trades.”

“You aren't working with Richie, are you?” His hand lingers on my lower back. I barely recognize the question because my mind is filled with memories of our last time together. When he remembers it, Sam is conspicuously absent.

“Delaney? Please, Winchester, I have some standards.” I pull back and Dean lets his eyes drag down my body, appreciating my curves. “Great, now I gotta worry about keeping that idiot alive.”

“Yeah, I'm working on that. You strapped?”

“Of course I am,” I respond with a smirk. “Aren't you?”

“Yeah, but I got a lot more space to hide a gun. Can't even imagine where you've got yours.” His eyes flash to my thighs and I smile.

“Yes, you can,” I say and I flip my hair out of my face.

He chuckles. “Sam'll be real happy to see you,” he says as I lean against my table and bite my bottom lip.

“Oh, will he?”

“Yeah. Sammy talks about you all the time,” he lies. Sam hasn't mentioned me since Nebraska, but neither has Dean. Dean, I can tell, thinks about me all the time, though.

“Yeah? I figured he would have his mind too full of the black-eyed blond to think too hard on me.”

Dean nods. Fear and anger roll off of him. “You know about Ruby?”

I nod. “Yeah. Bobby doesn't tell me everything, Dean, but he tells me enough. The important shit, that warrants a text message or two.”

He sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. We probably should've called you at some-”

“You don't have to make excuses, Dean. Neither of you owe me anything.” I shake my head. He steps closer to me and there's this care in his mind and all I can think about is the fact that I've got a demon's cum on the inside of my panties. “She says she's around to help, but there's no such thing as a good demon, Dean. There's always an angle.”

“We know that.” God, she's gorgeous. Fuck, I wanna take her back to the hotel… but I gotta… Richie… bartender. “Look, I gotta run down Richie. He disappeared last night and I'm worried.”

I smile and nod. “Got a phone number for him? I'm sure his cell's got GPS.”

Dean's eyes widen, just a little, in realization. He scoffs. “Here I am, in a panic over finding that idiot, and you're cool as ever with the big brains, comin’ up with a way to find him.”

I shrug. “Gotta use the big brains for somethin’.” I'm definitely not using them in my own life.

“Wanna come with me to track him down? I gotta head back to the hotel, get my laptop.” Maybe time for a little… no. Can't do that to her and Sam again.

“Uh, yeah, you know what? This place seems a bit dead, anyway.”

“Yeah, Sam’s got eyes on the owner. I got a feeling about that bartender, Casey, though.”

“The one with the ass?” I ignore the zing of jealousy and snort. “I'm sure you got a ‘feeling’ about her.”

“Ha ha. Seriously. Richie said he had a, uh, a date with her and then he disappeared. I think she may be a demon, but I'm not sure. Haven't had a chance to get some holy water on her.”

I nod. “Yeah, let's go. Hopefully we’ll find Richie happily getting his rocks off somewhere.”

When we get to the hotel, we pass my room on the way to his and Sam’s. Dean points at my door. “Whoever’s in that room… porn stars.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Yeah. I don’t know what the guy was doing to the chick, but damn, I would’ve loved to get some pointers. She was loud.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need any pointers, Dean.”

“Can’t say things like that, y/n,” he says, quietly. She’s gonna make me…

I take a deep breath as Dean leads me into his room and pulls his computer off of his bed. “Why not?” I ask, sitting on the edge of his bed and pulling my thigh holster off before turning to him. “Are we pretending we’ve never had sex, Dean? Because I can do that, but…” I set the gun next to me and look at him over the laptop screen. “Kinda don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. Sam would hate me. “Aren’t you Sam’s?”

“Why, because Yellow-eyes said so?”

“Because Sam says so.” He sighs. “You remember how he acted when he walked in on us in Lincoln? You can’t pretend he doesn’t have some sort of-”

“He doesn’t have any claim to me, Winchester. Neither do you. You wanna pretend, we’ll pretend, but don’t act like it’s some altruistic thing that you’re doing for Sam.”

“I don’t know the mean of that word, y/n.” It’s not for Sam. It’s for you. Fuckin’ trainwreck.

I sigh. I’m a trainwreck, too, idiot. “Whatever. Let’s just… you go ahead and find Richie’s cell. I’m gonna go get changed.” I swipe my gun off the bed and head out, pulling the hotel key from my bra as I go.

Is that a ‘6’ on her key? “Wait, uh, sweetheart, uh…” Was that her moaning? Why didn’t we recog-

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Dean. In more appropriate clothing.”

I’m halfway through getting changed when my door opens. I left it unlocked because I knew he’d be coming to talk. “So… who is he?” Don’t be a hunter, don’t be a hunter. Dean leans against the door as I pull my jeans up my legs.

“He’s just a guy I met on a hunt a few months back. He’s a piece of shit but he gives me what I need.” There’s that word again.

“He didn’t stick around to help with the hunt?”

“He had an elsewhere to be… and this really isn’t his deal, Dean. He’s not a hunter. He’s a travelling salesman.”

“And you’ve been… you’ve been with him for… a few…”

“We’re not a real thing,” I interrupt. I shake my head. “I don’t get to have real things, Dean.” I button my jeans and tuck my gun into the back of my waistband. “I’m always alone. I told you that the night we met.” I smile tightly at him as I slip into my sneakers. “Did you find Richie?”

“Yeah, I got an address.” She deserves real. I wish I could

“Let’s go,” I interrupt his thoughts by grabbing my jacket and stomping into the hall. “Lock the door behind you.”

“So… how’s your dad?” Dean asks as we drive toward the address where Richie’s phone stopped.

“Dead,” I answer, my throat clenching around the word.

Shit. “Oh. Sorry. What happened?”

“Official story? The locals didn’t like him digging around in their stuff.”

“And the unofficial story?” Demons.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? Dead’s dead.” He looks over at me, and I can tell he thinks I’m being cold. Maybe I am. Maybe everything that’s been happening and everything I’ve been doing with Crowley, it’s making me numb. Maybe I knew my dad was dead as soon as the Yellow-eyed Demon appeared in my dreams.

Maybe I always knew that I was never going to get to be happy. Should’ve just stayed out.

“Yeah, probably.” Dean’s words make me jump. How much of that did I say out loud? “But now you’re back in, I don’t see you gettin’ back out.”

“Right. Only way out is dead.”

I get a flash of Dean standing in front of a funeral pyre, flames warming his skin, tears stinging his eyes. The body is wrapped in white cotton, it could be a memory or it could be his imagination. “Well, as long as you take out more of them on your way out.”

“Of course I will.”

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

Finding Richie sucked. His head was twisted around completely. I helped Dean set up a pyre and send him on to Heaven. We watched him burn and got back in the Impala. “It was the bartender.”

“Probably,” I respond, biting my thumbnail.

“Hey, uh, can you draw a Devil's Trap from memory? ‘Cause I was gonna go back to the bar, lure the bitch back to that manor we found Richie's body at. There was that rug...”

“Yeah. I got it. Got some chalk in the trunk? Drop me off, I'll get it done.”

As I'm drawing the trap, my mind goes to my father, to Crowley, to the Yellow-eyed Demon, to Dean and to Sam. I know Dean would love to get out like I did. Even for just a few years how I did it. I know Dean would love a chick who does yoga in her downtime and doesn't feel like she has to kill monsters to curb her desire to kill shit. Dean dreams of Lisa Braeden but she’s a stand-in. Her and her kid and her little slice of suburbia. She’s what I could’ve been. She’s what I should have been.

Sam dreams of Jessica, sometimes, but those are few and far now. Mostly, he dreams of the hunt. Mostly, he dreams of death. Sometimes, he dreams of me, but never of happy-ever… when he dreams of me, he dreams of sex.

Because that’s what I’m good for. For Sam, for Crowley, that’s what I’m good for.

I hide behind a stack of wine casks when I hear Dean’s voice. His thoughts are apprehensive, he’s hoping this will work… he’s wondering why demons always pick women with such amazing bodies. The demon isn’t thinking. Its mind is blocked. It forces me to realize that Crowley lets me into his mind. As strong as this gift has gotten, he still only lets me hear what he wants me to hear.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks as the demon looks around the cellar, looking for Richie’s body.

She smirks, turns to him and I see her press her lips to his. “Make yourself comfortable.” She walks over and flicks on the light in the closet as Dean skirts the outside of the rug and the trap beneath it.

“Oh, I forgot to mention… Richie was a friend of mine.” The demon turns as I move out from behind the casks. “When my girl reminded me I could track the GPS in his cell phone, I swung by earlier. We gave him a proper burial. It’s better than rotting in some skank’s basement.” The demon launches itself across the cellar and slams into the invisible barrier of my Devil’s Trap.

I laugh and step up next to Dean. “Oops.” I drop to my knees and flip the rug to reveal the trap.

Dean clicks his tongue and smiles down at it. “Isn’t that a buzz kill? Sorry, sister, but you’re going back to where you came from,” he says, pulling out a book I recognize as one of Pastor Jim’s old exorcism manuals.

The demon chuckles. “I don’t think so.” A hard breeze starts blowing through the cellar, and Dean fumbles on the exorcism.

“Keep going. Spiritus immunde, undolara.” I step back from beside Dean, out of his vision, and I close my eyes. I start trying to pull the demon from the brunette woman, but dust and debris start hitting me, then pages of Dean’s exorcism book. The book flies from his hand, the foundation of the house shakes, the staircase caves in.

Dean and I turn on the smug demon bitch. “What are you laughing at, bitch? You’re still trapped,” Dean snaps.

“So are you… bitches.”

I help Dean light candles, start moving rubble as ‘Casey’ taunts Dean about his inability to finish the exorcism. I could pull this bitch. I could exorcise her without a problem. But then Dean would know. He’d have questions I can’t answer. So, I’m just as stuck as they are.

Casey starts explaining how she fucked the town: a lunch with Trotter where she played on his greed to get him to play into everyone else’s vices. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t “pull any triggers”. She just whispered in the right person’s ear. “All you gotta do is nudge humans in the right direction. Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they’ll walk right into hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, kids. Weak. Our will’s stronger. That’s why we’ll win.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Dean asks.

“No. That’s how it begins.”

“So, demons take over. I thought the meek shall inherit the earth,” Dean says.

“According to your Bible.” The demon scoffs. “It’s only a book, Dean.”

“Not everyone would agree.”

“Are you really having this conversation with a demon?” I sigh and the demon looks at me.

“What, a conversation about the fact that Dean Winchester is lecturing on a book he’s likely never read?” It turns its attention back to Dean and I roll my eyes. It goes into its own lecture on war and genocide, the body count that humans have racked up in the past century alone. And then she says she’s doing all of this, damning all of these souls, because she’s a true believer. She’s a follower, a disciple, of Lucifer. She has faith in Him.

I search through every encounter I’ve ever had with a demon. I remember every bit of dialogue and every errant movement and not a single reference to Lucifer appears. Not from Crowley, not from Yellow-eyes, not from that first demon back in Massachusetts. Lucifer. What sort of ridiculous bullshit is that? Is this bitch just fucking with us?

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Dean asks, looking away from the demon.

“I’m an open book,” it responds.

“So, the gate opened, the demon army was let out. What now, huh? I’m not seeing a big, honkin’ plan here.”

“Honestly, there was a plan. Azazel was a tyrant, but… he held us all together.” Casey sits up from her place lying on the rug.

“Azazel?” Dean and I say at the same time.

“What, you think his friends just called him ‘yellow eyes’? He had a name.”

“He had friends?”

Dean smiles at me, but Casey rolls her eyes as she crosses her legs. “After you did him in, Dean, it all fell apart.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Dean nods. “So, what? No chain of command?”

“There was. It was Sam and y/n. Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army with y/n at his side, but… they haven’t exactly stepped up to the plate, have they?”

“Thank God for that.”

“Again with God. You think this is a good thing? Now you’ve got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them gunning for your brother… some gunning for his girlfriend.” She turns her eyes on me. “For the record, I was ready to follow you and Sam.”

I feel a presence in the front courtyard of the house and look up, just a moment before Sam’s voice cuts through the cellar. “Dean?!” Dean looks up, we all move to stand.

Casey concedes defeat as Sam runs to the vent Dean was trying to climb out of earlier. Dean explains he's down here with me and the demon and Sam's thoughts pulse with worry. When Sam mentions he’s with ‘the Father’, Casey’s eyes light up. Of course the Cavalry and the Indians showed up at the same time.

“Sammy, be careful,” Dean demands.

I feel another presence, familiar and warm, just before a gunshot rings out. Bobby. Another presence, devoid of thought. Another demon. Bobby’s thoughts tell me it’s Ruby. I don’t have time to worry about what that bitch has been doing with Bobby, because another demon, the priest, is smashing his way through the rocks that trapped us.

Dean rushes at the demon as soon as it walks in. I move to jump at him, but I’m immediately tossed away. Casey warn the Father of the Devil’s Trap and he slams his fist into the stone, breaking my hard work.

Casey tells the priest to leave us be. It even says ‘please’ to its lover. It doesn’t move fast enough. A gunshot bangs, the priest falls, last bits of whatever it calls a soul sparking as it dies. Sam points the gun at Casey.

We can exorcise her! “Sam, wait!”

Sam shoots anyway. He likes watching the spark die. It’ll hit him later that there were people in those bodies, too. He’ll feel guilty about it, then, but right now? Right now, he likes it. Dean flashes to Azazel in the cemetery. “How certain are you that what you brought back is 100% pure Sam?”

I pat Dean’s shoulder and start to walk out, but Sam grabs my wrist. “Are you okay?”

I smile, as genuinely as I can, and nod. “This was mostly just a lot of blabber. It couldn’t touch us.”

Did they touch each other? “I didn’t know you were in town. When-”

“You were tailing Trotter, hung up on Dean when he tried to tell you he’d run into me, that we found Richie.”

So they didn’t have time to fuck. Good. I manage to keep myself from rolling my eyes as I pull my wrist from his grasp. “Hey, are you-”

“I’m gonna get out of your hair.”

“Y/n, I-”

“I’m tired,” I deflect. I’m not tired. I’m agitated, irritated. I need the bottle sitting in my makeup bag in my duffel.

I haven’t had a chance- “But-”

“Let her go, Sammy. She deserves a break.” Far away from us.

I hum in agreement. “Yeah. A break. That sounds good.”

“Maybe you call up your salesman, take a few days.” Have something normal. Have something real.

“Salesman?”

Not yours, Sammy. “Yeah. Y/n’s in room six. She had a friend over yesterday when she checked in.”

I get a clip of a memory of Sam hearing my moans through the walls. “That was you?”

“Yeah, look, I-”

She’s mine! “What… who? Who is he? How’d you-”

“Don’t,” Dean and I say at the same time.

“She’s obviously not yours.” There’s a smugness on his face, but I know it’s more of Dean’s false bravado. “She’s not yours, she’s not mine, she’s not what the Yellow-eyed Demon wanted her to be. Ain’t that just too bad?”

“But-” Sam starts, but I shake my head.

“You don’t get to do the jealous thing. Not when you haven’t called in two months. You don’t get to only give a fuck when I’m fucking someone who’s not you.”

That’s not true! “I can’t believe you think-”

“Sammy, let her go.”

“Thanks, Dean. Y’all give me a call if you need me.” I smile at the older brother, nod at the younger, and start up the stairs. “We definitely need a last hurrah before the lights go out, Dean. Hit me up when you’ve got time.”

“You know it, sweetheart,” Dean calls after me.

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

“Well, yore looking somber. What happened?” Crowley asks when he appears in front of me in the hotel room.

“Azazel. Were you one of his?”

“Oh, look who’s got insider knowledge all of a sudden.” Crowley sticks his hands in his coat pockets and starts pacing. “Yes, technically, I was one of Azazel’s but… with the exception of Lilith, Cain, and the other Princes, every demon was working for Azazel.”

“Were you planning to tell me what Azazel had planned for me?”

“When, exactly, should I have told you that you were supposed to be queen of Hell? Second in command of Hell’s Army?”

“At some point before coercing your future queen into having sex with you probably would’ve been a good idea,” I snap.

“Oh, are you planning to step up and be my queen, then?” He turns to me and I look down. “That’s what I thought.”

“If I were queen, would I be able to save souls from the Pit?” I can’t help but think of Dean. Would it be worth it? Would I be able to handle being what Azazel wanted me to be, if it meant saving Dean from Hell?

“Sure. But not Dean Winchester.” My eyes snap to his. “He’s going down. No question. Besides, with Azazel gone, you’d have to fight Lilith for the crown, and she’s not interested in giving it up.”

I sigh and stand, moving to grab my duffel bag. “Okay. So… should I be worried about this Lilith?”

“Of course. But Sam’s the one who should be more worried.”

I lick my lips. “I should stay with them, watch their backs.”

“They don’t want that. Dean wants to die in peace and Sam wants you as far away from his brother as possible.”

Why does everything have to be so goddamn complicated? “Great. I hate when you’re right.”

“Back to Keystone, then?”

“It’s the only place I can get away from you.”

“You’re going to break that Devil’s Trap, eventually. I’m getting tired of bending you over the hood of your car.”

“No, you’re not,” I say, picking up my bag and doing the rounds to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

“No. I’m not.”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska @bamby0304

HUNTER TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles @gayspacenerd @thewhiterabbit42 @dolphincliffs

[sarcasticmesswriting]

WinterHawk Week Day 5 - Arranged Marriage

Historical Au with some typical period and arranged marriage consent issues, though it has a beautiful Happy Ending.

It is nearly 4K so make sure you have the time :D (You can still find all 7 stories collectively at Ao3 here.

Clint never viewed his life as either lucky or unlucky. There were only circumstances and whatever work he had done to better his life. 

Circumstances that determined Clint was born into the family to an easily addicted father who loved gambling, women and his drink. A father who beat his sons and still managed to get one on his side to share games of dice, women or a drink.

Clint never liked the idea of his life being all written out as some declaration read to the commoners in the market square. He was more than just the son of a man who had fallen from glory gained in war. 

Starting as an errand boy Clint quickly became the most reliable in the city. He was fast and nimble enough to go routes no one else could and none of his wares ever went missing. Years he worked and built a reputation, getting a job going in and out of the castle, getting paid better and finding friends in the people in the castle, noble and commoner. 

Harold and Barney tried to rope Clint into their dealing, tried to get him to give them money, but Clint barely had enough to sustain himself. And he really didn’t want to support their habits. 

Years of having a pretty decent life with ups and downs, but he still didn’t expect to be called in front of the Kings of their country. 

Anxiety churned in his gut as two guards he had just talked to this morning opened the door to the throne room. They looked serious and maybe even pitying. 

The room had never been this long or his stride had never been this short.

King Steve and King Tony sat in their equally large thrones with grave expressions, advisers in a group to the right, the captain of the guard with a couple high ranking officers on the left. They didn’t have their weapons out. Yet. 

Clint knelt down, head hung low and said loud and clear, “Your Majesties.”

“Please, Clint, there is no need to kneel,” Steve said kindly and Clint quickly got up, putting his hands behind his back for lack of a better spot. 

“Now we called you here to talk about your family’s debt to the crown.” Tony lounged precariously on his throne and Steve sent him the usual reproaching look Tony ignored. 

“I see,” Clint said slowly, even though he didn’t. He didn’t have anything to do with that debt. Unofficially he had already washed his hands off it, but officially he was still part of the Barton family. His only reason for not doing that yet was that he didn’t want to lose his mother’s surname. 

“Steve and I have talked at length on how to approach this and we have decided to release you of the whole debt.” 

“In exchange for your hand in marriage.” 

“My hand in-” Clint blinked at them in incomprehension. “I don’t understand. Barney and my father are the ones you should talk about the debt to. Your Majesties,” he added quickly, lowering his gaze. 

“Has no one told you?” Rhodey stepped forward, his Captain’s insignia on his chest shining in the light from the windows. 

“Told me what?”

“Clint, there was a brawl in The Sun three days ago,” Rhodey said, coming closer, hands away from his sword, but Clint still kept his posture unthreatening. It didn’t matter that they were friends outside of this hall. “Your father and Barney were involved and suffered severe injuries. They died that night.”

“They’re both…?” Clint couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of being the last one left of his family. 

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Clint.” Rhodey looked like he genuinely meant it, but Clint wasn’t upset? Or at least he didn’t think so. Maybe it would need some time to sink in, but now he was in front of the crown, talking about money he had to pay back. Money he absolutely and without a doubt did not have. 

“If I may ask, who will I marry?” He didn’t want to leave the city. All his friends were here. Marrying the person chosen by the crown would free him of the debt, but maybe shackle him to someone cruel and unkind. Even so, did it even matter? The crown wanted him to marry someone. He couldn’t refuse. And no matter who it was Clint would be fine. Clint was tenacious and had survived the beatings of his father, the cold starving touch of winter more than once. 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

The Winter Soldier. Clint’s stomach bottomed out.

~~

“You’re definitely going to die,” Natasha commented, hands busy braiding Pepper’s red hair. 

“He is not going to die,” Pepper said with an eye roll, though she very purposefully didn’t move her head. 

“I don’t know, man. I have never seen that guy smile or sad.” Sam’s knife impaled the wooden target with a dull thud, a good foot away from where Clint’s was embedded. “He is the crown’s most successful assassin. I do not want to be in your shoes right now.” 

“Great,” Clint muttered, throwing his second knife with all his strength, making the whole target shake. “I’m going to die.”

~~

It had only been a couple of days since Clint had been pushed into marrying someone, but here he was, being dressed in clothes that surely cost just as much as the debt he had been released from, for a wedding to a man Clint had never really spoken to. 

Barnes had always been around the castle when Clint had come to it to run errands. When Clint hadn’t known who the man was, Clint had tried to talk to him, tried to strike up a conversation and make a friend and maybe help the handsome, slightly lost looking man. 

Barnes had glared at him, grunted and left. All the following instances they were in the vicinity of each other Barnes had glared at him, often stared at Clint while Clint talked to someone else. 

Once Clint saw him covered in blood that wasn’t his own, seconds after killing a man making an attempt on the Kings’ lives. 

Rumors called him a rapist and a killer of children, called him the moon to Steve’s sun. 

Clint was to be his husband, his property and whatever else Barnes wanted him to be. Barnes didn’t even need to tell the Kings that Clint wasn’t cooperating, he could just kill Clint himself without a problem. 

“You look very handsome,” Pepper pulled him out of his thoughts. Her smile was calm and encouraging. 

He didn’t understand how she could believe this was not going to end in bloodshed. 

“Thank you.” Swallowing he straightened his jacket and turned to look over his room for one last time.

It was nothing special. A tiny room above the blacksmith with a bed and a small cabinet for the few clothes he owned. He would never see it again. Instead, he would go to live in whatever rooms Barnes inhabited in the castle. 

He offered Pepper his arm and she took it with another smile. 

“It’s going to be fine. Maybe you will even come to like him.” 

He sincerely doubted that.

The ceremony was held in the chapel, overseen by both Kings and advisers and all of Clint’s commoner friends. All the seats were filled and flowers decorated every inch. Barnes was dressed in black like always and Clint refused to let his head hung low as Clint stepped up next to him. 

The words of the minister washed over Clint like white noise and he only snapped out of the daze he hadn’t even noticed he had entered into when it was time for Clint and Barnes to move into the throne hall for the feast. 

There was no kiss to seal the marriage, there was no happy exchange of rings, there was no dance or stolen touches. It was just everyone happily eating incredible food, laughing and getting drunk, while Barnes and Clint sat at the table of honor next to the Kings in silence. 

Clint only managed to swallow two bites, before his stomach rebelled and he stuck to picking at the food on his plate. Barnes didn’t seem to have the same problem and Clint kind of resented him even more for it.

After Tony was well into his cups, he winked at Clint and Barnes - his husband - and got them to leave the party. The catcalls from the other guests were quickly silenced by a single look from Barnes and cold anxiety rolled down Clint’s back as he followed Barned out of the room and down hallways and up stairs. 

The door they stopped at was simple wood with metal reinforcement and Barnes opened the door with a key before nodding for Clint to go in first. 

The room was so much bigger than Clint’s, more expensive, which wasn’t a surprise, but it was much simpler than other rooms in the castle Clint had snuck a peek into. Clint couldn’t see any personal effects and beside a small trunk he had put his stuff in prior to the wedding, there wasn’t much else. 

Clint blinked as Barnes basically pushed the key in his face. When he took it Barnes turned and started to make his way out of the room. 

“Wait,” Clint said confused. He shouldn’t put thoughts in Barnes’ head, but he rather got this over with as soon as possible. “We’re not going to consummate the marriage?” 

Barnes paused in the doorway and only turned his head after a good five seconds, eyes scrutinizing Clint from top to bottom. “No,” he simply said, voice rough, before he left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Not sure what else to do and not understanding Barnes at all Clint started to explore. There were no paintings or pictures, no jewelry or other trinkets, nothing that indicated Barnes had a personality. Not even any clothes of his own. 

It was very strange. 

Clint passed the night fitfully. Every noise was unfamiliar, every creak was the potential sound of Barnes returning. 

When the sky started to lighten and the sky peeked over the horizon, Clint got up from the too soft bed and got dressed in his own clothes, the commoner clothes that made it easier to move around in and blend in. 

For a while, it was like the wedding had never happened. Clint went about his deliveries, helped anyone who needed it and continued to steal food from Natasha in the kitchens. The only thing that really changed was the room he returned to every night. He didn’t see Barnes either around the castle or at night in the room, but he wasn’t sure if it was because Barnes was trying to lure Clint into false security or if he really wasn’t interested. 

And then, just as he was leaving the kitchen with threats being shouted after him, he crossed paths with Rhodey who smiled at him.

“Ah, I’ve been looking for you. Would you like to join us for practice, Clint?”

It took only a second to make sure everything he needed to do today could be postponed. “Sure.” He loved watching the knights train, though he could never do it for very long or very frequently. 

Everyone else was already on the field and warming up. Which didn’t really make sense. If they didn’t need someone to carry their weapons or targets or whatever else they needed, why did Rhodey tell Clint to come with?

Barnes noticed Clint first and if possible, he looked even more furious than usual. At the moment he grabbed Steve and dragged him a couple of steps away, Steve didn't look like the King he was. They were too far to hear clearly as Barnes started to hiss at Steve, but they stood in a way that made it possible for Clint to read their lips. 

“This was your fucking idea. Don’t lie.” 

“Come on, Buck. This is a good thing.”

“It’s fucking torture and you fucking know it.” Barnes let go of Steve, looked over at Clint and their eyes met in the same moment Sam’s arm was slung across Clint’s shoulder and pulled him in a hug. 

“I’m going to have so much fun beating you at something.” 

“Never,” Clint answered, looking up at Sam. 

“Your husband is glaring at me in jealousy,” Sam whispered into Clint’s ear. “You must have won him over with your sexual prowess.” 

Clint pulled a face in a mix of disgust and embarrassment. “I hate you.” 

“Aww, don’t lie. You love me.” Sam grinned at him and attempted to kiss him jokingly, but Clint stopped him with an elbow to the side. 

Someone cleared their throat next to them and Clint glanced over to see that Barnes had approached them. He was looking even more murderous than a second ago. 

“Steve wants to spar with you, Sam.” 

“Sure, sure. Let me have the bruises while you two cosy up. I understand.” With a wink, Sam went over to Steve leaving Clint and Barnes in awkward silence. 

Or at least Clint felt awkward. Who could tell from Barnes’ blank expression, though he did avoid eye contact. 

“It’s fine.”

Clint frowned at Barnes. “What?”

“We’re married because of Steve. Sam’s fine.” Barnes glanced at Clint and quickly looked away when he saw that Clint was already looking at him. A knife appeared in his hand he started to fiddle with. “I wouldn’t consider it cheating if you two get involved.” 

“I,” Clint stopped, blinking in confusion, not sure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

Barnes exhaled sharply, frowning down at the ground. “You were forced into this. You should be with someone you want to be with. That’s all.” He turned away and walked over to Rhodey who immediately pulled him into a sparring match, leaving Clint to stare after him. 

As stilted as that had been it had seemed like concern for Clint’s happiness? 

Clint was distracted by watching Barnes during the rest of the training. All the other knights seemed to chalk his failure up to being a novice at sword fighting and Clint for once didn’t bother to correct them or boast about his ability to pick skills up quickly. 

Observing Barnes was puzzling. All the little details Clint had never seen before didn’t really fit with the image of the ruthless, murderous killer Clint had built Barnes up as in his head. 

Yes, he was the most skilled fighter among the knights and there was no hesitation in his movements with a sword or knives, but when they stood around and talked about the next exercise or the topic of conversation turned to something else entirely, Barnes tended to stay silent and stare off to the side or even turn a knife over in his hands behind his thigh, half-hidden from everyone else. Clint would say it almost looked nervous. 

A half-assed plan started to form in Clint’s head, but he always worked best with those. 

At the end of the training, everyone was sweaty and grass-stained, but they were still joking around, still happy with their Kings, especially because Steve acted more like a fellow knight than their King. Still, the other knights grabbed weapons to get back to the weapon room or left to do something else, when Clint used the perfect moment of stopping Steve, so no one else noticed. 

“May I ask a question, your Majesty?” 

Steve looked half-amused, half reproachful. “Really, call me Steve outside of official events. And of course, you may. You’re married to my best friend.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about. Ba-Bucky kind of told me the reason why you wanted us to marry. I guess I just wanted to confirm because he… well.”

“Oh, I get it. He’s being shy again, isn’t he?” Steve shook his head with a smile. “You know, every time he looks ready to kill someone he is usually trying not to blush or say the wrong thing. He’s been pining for you for so long, you would think he now has a thousand things to say.” 

“Yeah, right.” Clint barely registered the heavy hand on his shoulder and only absentmindedly watched Steve walk away. 

Barnes had been pining? For Clint? And he had been insecure this whole time and not angry at all? At least if Steve was to be believed and Steve was the most honest person in the whole kingdom. 

All Clint’s friends knew that his self-preservation instincts only went so far, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to confront Barnes with only Steve’s word as assurance, so he did something else. 

Clint started to follow Barnes around. 

It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but as Clint always pretended to talk to someone or do things when Barnes looked at him, so he probably hadn’t been discovered yet. 

For a couple of days, nothing interesting or very revealing happened and Clint was close to giving up. Or at least he was because he never managed to stick close after dinner. Either Barnes vanished alone while others were eating or Clint had to take a different hallway all together as to not arouse suspicions, but tonight Barnes seemed to be deep in thought and Clint was able to follow him while using shadows. 

Whatever Clint expected to walk into, and he wasn’t really expecting anything, it wasn’t for Barnes to walk into the stables and enter the tack room in the back, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

As quietly as Clint could he moved closer until he was able to look into the room. 

At first he only saw saddles, then there was a huge solid trunk shoved into a corner and Clint tried to see more and slowly edged the door open even more, but he didn’t see the raised stone in the floor and his foot promptly caught on it, causing him to fall forward into the room with a yelp. 

Hands caught him just before he busted his knees on the stone floor and trepidation rushed through Clint as his eyes moved over grey stones over blankets to Barnes sitting on said blankets holding Clint up above him. 

For a moment they looked at each other with wide eyes, both surprised for very different reasons until the things with Barnes in the room clicked in Clint’s head and of course immediately left his mouth.

“This is where you’ve been sleeping this whole time!” It was too loud, too blunt. Clint was afraid as soon as he said it, but he forgot all about it when he observed a never before seen blush cover Barnes’ cheeks. 

“My rooms were supposed to be our rooms, but you wanted them.” 

“I never said I wanted them. You just gave me a key and left and never said anything again until you told me I could fuck Sam.” 

Barnes winced, something dark flashing through his eyes. 

“You don’t want me to fuck Sam.” Clint felt like he was solving one of Tony’s puzzles or Bruce’ riddles, his thoughts spilling out without even the pretence of a filter. “You want me to be happy, but you don’t like the idea of me being happy with someone else. You let me move into your own room and start sleeping in the stables. Steve said you’re shy, that you pined for me. I thought he was joking, but.” But now with the evidence right in front of Clint’s eyes, with Barnes beneath him with a red face and not pushing Clint away or even stabbing him like Barnes undoubtedly could, it seemed more and more like the truth. “Do you like me, Bucky?”

Bucky’s hands slipped off Clint’s shoulders and suddenly Clint landed completely on top of Bucky, nose pressing against Bucky’s neck, chest to chest and what was… 

It was Clint’s turn to blush furiously when he realized what was pushing against his belly. 

“I, um, I’m not good with people and emotions,” Bucky said quietly, looking to the side when Clint sat up slightly, legs on each side of Bucky’s. “You. You talked to me when everyone else was too afraid. You always gave more than you took with to with everyone, no matter their status.” He swallowed and Clint felt warmer than he should, happier than he should. “I. Yes, I like you. Of course, I like you.” With a groan, he rubbed his face with his hands. 

Another, potentially terrible, idea made Clint reach out to curl his hands around Bucky’s wrists to pull his hands away, so Clint could lean in to kiss him. Maybe it was a kiss, Clint hadn’t had too many experiences in that department. 

Cute, he thought, observing Bucky’s reaction. At that moment Bucky really didn’t look like the deadliest assassin in the whole country, but more like a fumbling teenager. 

“I honestly haven’t thought about you and me before right now, but I’m definitely thinking about it right now.”

“Y-You are?” The hope in Bucky’s voice and face kind of broke Clint’s heart.

“We’re already married, so we are doing things a bit backwards, but I have never been conventional.” Clint winked at him and watched in awe how the most brilliant smile appeared on Bucky’s face. 

Arms wrapped around Clint’s waist and hugged him so tightly, Clint was barely able to breathe, but he felt strangely safe. If anyone wanted to get to Clint they would have to go through the most feared killer of the kingdom, if not the world. And Clint was the only one who knew the real Bucky Barnes, the one outside of the battlefield, the one who felt too much to express properly, who wanted to spoil the people in his life rotten even though he was always uncertain if it was welcome. Clint was the only one coaxing out all the different expressions and the whispered comments that got Clint to double over in laughter while Steve looked at them in satisfaction and disapproval because it was the middle of a council meeting. 

It was Clint who proposed to Bucky, because he wanted to, after being together forever. 

They had just won what looked like the last battle in an incredibly annoying war and after becoming one of the best knights Clint was right at the front line with Bucky and Steve and Sam at his sides. They were all covered in blood and Bucky looked just like one of the first times Clint had ever seen him, all terrifying and murderous and unapproachable. 

Something crunched under his knee when Clint knelt down in front of Bucky. 

“Holy shit,” Sam exclaimed right next to them, but Clint didn’t look away from Bucky, watched the realization wash over Bucky’s face, the joy lighten up his whole demeanour. 

“Yes,” Bucky answered the unspoken question, hauling Clint back onto his feet to kiss him senseless until Rhodey told them off. 

Clint had never viewed his life as lucky or unlucky, but he was happy and that was really the only thing that counted.