#apparently a shirt with a person with a gaping hole through their face and a goldfish peeking through makes a bad impression

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

going on a college visit wish me luck (i have been given explicit instructions not to wear my god almighty weird at last shirt)

[visions--of--collisions]

for @peachaberri who asked for 600 words of something that's just an idea still. here's 600(+) words of the don't look under the bed AU no one else was writing so i said fine i'll do it myself. eventually. a (non-spoilery) plot summary: miles morales returns home from college for the summer to find a strange atmosphere awaiting him: his little sister's night terrors have started up again, and his dad is run ragged with cases of vigilantism in the area. the neighborhood is buzzing with tales of elaborate pranks and weird happenings. when a guy dressed up as spiderman shows up claiming to be billie's imaginary friend, miles is about ready to throw his hands up. but after the strange events go from strange to dangerous, and from dangerous to personal, miles has little choice but to accept hobie brown's help.

EXCERPT: but it's hard to be hard i guess (when you're shaking like a dog) • hobie/miles, supernatural, friendship, angst, romance, psychological, horror; rated: t

“It’s a bloody shame, innit?”

Miles grit his teeth. “Man. Not now.”

To his surprise, Hobie fell silent. He didn’t actually leave; Miles could see his reflection lingering in the mirror at the foot of his bed. Imaginary Friends could cast reflections, who knew? Miles was more concerned about whether they could put a sock in it, personally.

Apparently, the one in his room could.

Miles tossed the pad on his bed and scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t even sure why he was still looking at this point. There was a weird, detached kind of fascination involved with combing through every dedicated sketchbook or drawing pad he’d ever owned and finding gaping holes cut out of every page he’d drawn on, while the blank ones or even the places where he’d scribbled random notes were untouched.

There were weird, dark rings around the edges of each hole, almost like they’d been burned into the pages. He reached out and hesitated with his fingers centimeters above the paper. Something about deliberately touching it gave Miles the kind of stomach-flipping feeling he associated with vertigo. He lowered his arm.

The pages weren’t burnt. He didn’t need to put his hands on them to know it.

Over his shoulder, Hobie was eyeing the books scattered across his bed, arms folded across his chest. “S’it all of them?” he asked, quietly.

Miles sighed. “See for yourself,” he said, gesturing vaguely. He glanced at the binders and notepads that had ended up on the floor and turned his chair; the box where they’d been kept safely for years lay on its side on the rug where he’d dropped it. Miles pulled it towards himself and gingerly gathered up the fallen books, piling them back in. 

The vertigo sensation still threatened when he moved too fast, like another one of those holes had opened up in the bottom of his stomach. Maybe there’d been some spores hanging out with the dust motes that sprang up when he opened up the box; maybe he was coming down with something. Maybe he was going into shock. Could finding years of progress, the work of your whole life basically, maliciously destroyed send you into shock?

The ‘C’ in ‘C-PTSD’ stood for ‘complicated,’ Miles was pretty sure.

“What’s the thread, here?” Hobie stared at the old composition book he was holding like it had the secrets of the universe hidden in its few untouched pages. In his hands, it looked smaller and older than Miles remembered. Fragile like a relic, like a memory buried so deep it'd gotten compacted under the weight.

Uncle Aaron got him the Spiderman stickers on the front.

“I don’t get it,” Hobie went on. His eyes were trailing across the drawings on the wall, the silk-screened shirt on Miles’ desk chair. The project on his drafting table absorbed Hobie’s attention for a long minute - long enough that Miles started feeling a little self-conscious about it - before he shook his head. “Everything else is fine, it’s just …?”

“The books. Just the books.” When Hobie glanced at the bedroom door, Miles assured him, “Trust me, I checked. My Dad still pulls out the birthday cards I made him every year. He thinks nobody knows, but …” The fond twinge felt strange, so close to the pit in his stomach. Miles looked over at his phone, thinking about calling his Dad. They’d face-timed on his way home from the diner, Miles doing his best to pretend it was a casual check-in and not a panic-driven impulse to make sure his family was safe because of a literal Boogeyman.

When Hobie showed up in the background of the call, watching him like he knew something was up, the wash of relief Miles felt had caught him off-guard. He’d said he’d watch out for them, and he was. They were okay. And if they weren’t, there was more that Hobie could do to protect them with his freaky magic powers than Miles could. Shy of making live bait out of himself, maybe.

“Morales? Oi. Earth to Brooklyn.” Miles stiffened when he realized he was staring. Hobie was watching him with a grin that lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other. The light from Miles’ desk lamp bounced off his lip ring. “See something you fancy?”

Maybe relief had been overselling it, Miles decided. He scoffed and hauled himself out of his chair. “‘See sum-ting yew fan-see?’” he parroted, grabbing up the box. “Jeez. I should’ve known you weren’t real. Who talks like that?” Miles hefted it onto the bed, treating Hobie to a hairy eyeball that only made him smile wider, for some reason.

He tugged the box out of Miles’ hands and started putting the books back inside. “I’m real as it gets, I’ll have you know,” Hobie informed him. His arms moved faster and faster until it almost looked like he had eight of them; like Miles was seeing a cartoon motion-blur in real life. A notepad that had ended up at the head of the bed got snatched up without Hobie bending another inch, somehow. Some of the eight arms shuffled the books around until they were better arrayed. Miles blinked and then the lid was covering them, and the box was being eased into his arms. “Don’t forget it, now.”

Miles could’ve sworn the lid had been laying on the floor somewhere. Hobie was still smiling when he looked up at him, but it was a smaller, knowing thing. Belatedly, Miles slipped his arm under the box and braced it against his sternum. “Okay.”

Hobie raised his eyebrows. “‘Okay,’” he echoed. “Cool.” He stepped back and tucked his hands in his pockets.

Miles frowned at the buttons on his vest. He remembered the last time Hobie stood in his room like that, shrugging off the fact that Billie couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) see him anymore. The hole in his gut ached a little, like something had gotten lodged inside. “That wasn’t what I meant to say,” Miles blurted.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[sluttywonwoo]

something more || h.js x reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time- your roommate walks in on you masturbating and things escalate from there

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: additional warnings: masturbation, unprotected sex, choking, degradation, lowkey spit play

“Joshua! Come look at this!”

There were a lot of things you liked about your apartment. Cheap rent, nice views, mostly functioning air conditioning… however the gaping hole in your bedroom ceiling was not one of them. It had started out as a small leak a couple of weeks ago, water dripping from some imperceptible hole in the plaster that had slowly turned into a trickle and then a steady stream, until finally the ceiling had collapsed in on itself, unable to hold the weight of all of the water any longer. You had filed a maintenance request when you first noticed the leak, but it had gone ignored. Maybe now, now that your bed was covered in drywall and pipe water, now that you could see into the apartment above yours, your concerns would be important enough to be addressed.

“What is it?” your roommate called back.

You heard him approach and waited for the gasp that would follow. “Y/n…” he hissed, one hand over his mouth, the other gripping your shoulder in shock.

“I know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

You sighed and took a tentative step forward into your room, wincing when your sock made contact with your damp rug.

“I’ll call maintenance,” Joshua offered and turned on his heel to grab his phone.

“I’ll… try and figure my shit out, I guess.”

His footsteps faded into the background as he retreated into his own room and you looked around your room with a frown, surveying the space for anything salvageable. You were surprised you hadn’t started crying yet. But apparently your brain hadn’t quite caught up with your eyes because all you felt was a numb sort of apathy as you gazed at the mess in front of you.

There was no way you could sleep in your room tonight. Even if you managed to dry everything and clear the debris, there was still a giant fucking hole in the ceiling. The mere thought of trying to fall asleep underneath it made you uneasy. You would have to crash somewhere else.

“They said not to touch anything-” Joshua shouted from the other room. You froze in place, afraid you’d already done something you weren’t supposed to and decided to join him in the kitchen instead.

Your socks left wet footprints against the concrete floor as you padded over to where Joshua was. He shot you a look of sympathy as you peeled them off and tossed them to the side, shifting his attention back to the notepad on the table in front of him to write something the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

The pen hovered above the paper momentarily, and Joshua rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow? Is that the earliest- yeah that’s fine.”

The little hope you’d had that the issue would be resolved tonight fizzled, and you blew out a breath of frustration. You pulled out your phone and began scrolling through your contacts, mentally making notes of who might let you spend the night at their place.

Joshua thanked whoever he was talking to and hung up, pushing the notebook away from him with a groan.

“They’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Seungcheol.”

Joshua made a face. “Seung- why?”

“I’m going to ask if I can sleep over.”

“You haven’t talked to him in months,” your roommate protested.

“He’ll say yes to me,” you assured him.

“That’s because he expects you to sleep with him.”

“I know.”

“Y/n! You’re not seriously going to have sex with him in exchange for a place to stay, are you?”

“Well when you put it like that…” you trailed off and sighed. “Whatever, I’m not above it. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid anyway.”

“Seungcheol couldn’t even last thirty seconds-” he paused when you gave him a look, “I know from what you’ve told me. Not because I slept with him.”

“You know saying that makes it sound like that’s exactly why you know.”

“Please, y/n, I have taste,” he said matter-of-factly, easily dodging a swat from you. “You’re not sleeping at Seungcheol’s,” he said as if he’d decided, as if he had final say on the matter.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, Joshua?” you demanded. “I can’t sleep in my own room, and you know I can’t sleep on the couch so what do you suggest?”

“Take my room,” he offered simply, shrugging like it should have been obvious.

“What?”

“You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You don’t even have to fuck me for it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well what do I have to do for it?”

You could tell Joshua wanted to say ‘nothing’, but knew you wouldn’t accept his offer without feeling like you could give him anything in return so he settled for “fried rice”.

“You want fried rice?”

“I want your fried rice,” he clarified with a grin. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Fine. Thank you, Joshua.”

He gave you a knowing smile and nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

-

Joshua kept his room colder than yours. Your wet hair from the shower only made the chill worse, but you didn’t want to mess with the thermostat and throw off how he liked things. You were even hesitant to touch the pillows on his bed. You knew Joshua wouldn’t care, but you still wanted to respect his space.

Joshua was literally the most easygoing person you knew, which offered a nice balance in contrast to your high-strung, perfectionist personality. One time you’d bled on his sheets while you were just hanging out in his room and he was completely unphased. He just threw the bedding in the wash like nothing had happened and mentioned that he’d been needing to wash them anyway while you practically cried in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’ve had girlfriends before.”

“Yeah, but I’m not your girlfriend!”

“We live together, close enough.”

To be fair, you knew that this kind of thing happened all the time, but you were still mortified. You didn’t even pay attention to the rest of the movie you and Joshua had been watching. To this day you didn’t know how the Lego Batman Movie ended.

“You need something to sleep in?” Joshua had asked on your way from the bathroom back to his room, having noted your state of undress.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to make the trips to and from the shower in nothing more than a towel, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to go back into your room tonight, and that most of your clothes were still damp from the ceiling anyway.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He just nodded from where he was on the couch and gestured past you in the direction of his door. “You know where everything is. Pick out whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You’d chosen an old t-shirt from a gas station souvenir shop, one of many in his collection of road-trip tees and a pair of panties you had managed to snag from your dresser before Joshua had yelled at you to get out of your room earlier.

You hung your towel on a hook attached to the back of his closet door and sprawled out on his bed, pulling the comforter around yourself.

It was late. It had been late for a while, but you and Joshua were night owls. You both kept busy schedules, so at night you liked to take some time for yourselves before bed. Still though, you knew you should sleep. But you couldn’t.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to relax your muscles.

If you were being honest, the idea of getting laid had been exciting and you were a bit disappointed it wasn’t going to happen for you tonight. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, and you were craving the intimacy, even if it was coming from someone like Dylan.

Your skin was beginning to feel hot and sticky, and you pushed the covers off of you in your frustration. You had just been cold a few moments ago, and all it had taken to make you sweat was the mere thought of sex. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, and you knew it.

Your fingers inched toward the waistband of your panties almost unconsciously before you stopped yourself. You were in Joshua’s bed. You shouldn’t be getting yourself off in his bed. That was wrong. It wasn’t your room, there must be some sort of boundary for this sort of thing. Roommate code. What if Joshua walked in on you- no. You clenched your fists by your sides and sighed. The idea of your roommate walking in on you with your hand down your pants should not be turning you on. It should be having the opposite effect. But you couldn’t help it.

You had managed to suppress your attraction to him for this long, being in his bed shouldn’t be the breaking point. Maybe it was because his sheets smelled like him, or maybe it was because you were wearing his shirt…fuck, you wished you had your vibrator. The little pink toy was sitting in the drawer of your bedside table, likely water damaged beyond repair. God, hadn’t you lost enough?

“Forgive me, Shua,” you whispered hoarsely into the empty room as you resigned yourself to your pleasure.

Your pussy had won over your head and you’d given into your desire. Familiar sparks of arousal flickered faintly in your stomach when you brushed the tips of your fingers over your panties. You weren’t shocked to discover that the material was already damp from where your wetness had seeped through.

You tried to think about Seungcheol, about your celebrity crushes, about anyone other than the person behind the other side of the door, but your mind kept drifting back to your roommate. You thought about what Joshua’s fingers would feel like instead of your own. They were so much longer than yours… you stifled a moan as you curled a finger into yourself and let your thumb begin to circle your clit, imagining Joshua’s head was buried in between your thighs instead.

Getting yourself to the edge was usually difficult for you without the help of toys or a third party, but you surprised yourself when your thighs began to tense in anticipation as you worked your fingers over your g-spot repeatedly, orgasm just out of reach. You were trying to be as quiet as possible, but you kept letting quiet sighs and curses slip from between your lips as your focus began to blur.

You pictured Joshua pushing himself into you, pictured how his face would scrunch up in pleasure as he felt you clench around his cock for the first time, how he’d kiss your neck and praise you for taking him so well- you bit down on your knuckles to stop yourself from screaming.

The invisible string inside of you snapped right as the door to Joshua’s room swung open and you were forced to rip your hand away from yourself as you came and your pussy clenched around nothing.

The light overhead flicked on and you squinted, groaning at the sudden blinding intrusion.

“Sorry,” Joshua apologized sheepishly. “I just forgot a pillow.”

You used your dry hand, the knuckle-bitten one, to throw him one of the pillows from behind you. He caught it with ease and you thought that would be it, but he zeroed in on your hand, narrowing his eyes at it with a confused expression on his face.

You hoped he couldn’t tell that you were still trembling from the aftershocks of your ruined orgasm, hoped he didn’t question why you were so flushed and breathless.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked, tossing the pillow aside and taking your hand into his own to observe. “You’re bleeding.”

Damn, you hadn’t meant to bite your hand that hard.

“It’s nothing,” you said and tried to yank your hand out of his grasp, but he was holding onto you too tightly.

“I have some Band-Aids in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Shua you don’t have to-”

He was gone before you could finish your sentence, and back before you could protest any further. While he was in the bathroom you hurriedly wiped your other hand on your- his- shirt in an attempt to erase any evidence of what you had been doing just moments before he had interrupted.

“Give me your hand,” Joshua instructed, taking a seat on the bed so that he was facing you.

You outstretched your arm so that he could see the damage and watched as he dabbed a tissue at the specks of blood on your skin, applying pressure to stop the flow.

“It’s just a little scrape,” you insisted.

“Still, we don’t want it to get infected.”

“I guess,” you mumbled.

Once he was sure that you had stopped bleeding he dabbed a tiny bit of Neosporin onto your knuckle and wrapped a Spider-Man Band-Aid around your finger.

“Thank you.”

“Wait, I’m not done!”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to kiss it better.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, lifting your hand to his face princess style. He pressed a gentle kiss to the Spider-Man Band-Aid and took a moment to admire his work. It was only when he was holding your hand closer that he noticed the indents in all of your other knuckles.

“Why were you biting your hand?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

There was no use in lying about it, the marks on your hand were clearly teeth marks. He would know you were bullshitting if you tried to play it off.

“I wasn’t.”

So much for that.

Joshua blinked. “Show me your other hand.”

“What? No.”

“Show me.”

“No!”

You grabbed the comforter and pulled it tighter to you while Joshua tried to wrestle it from your grasp.

“I swear to God, y/n,” he muttered under his breath.

You put up a good fight, but he was stronger than you and tugged it off of you within seconds of struggling. He pushed you back onto the bed and used his body to pin you to the mattress so that you couldn’t wriggle away. Now that you were stuck underneath him he was able to assess the hand that you had been trying to hide. You whimpered in embarrassment and watched in horror as he brought the hand… brought the hand to his…

“Joshua, what are you doing?” you breathed out.

He looked at you brazenly and then put two of your fingers in his mouth. You shivered as he sucked the arousal, the evidence, from your fingers to confirm his suspicion.

“You’re a liar,” he said finally.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered.

Joshua chuckled to himself and let your hand fall back to your side. “And a brat too.” You scoffed in offense but Joshua just leaned down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “I already knew that, though.”

“Excuse you, but I am fucking delightful!” you argued.

“I never said you weren’t!”

“You just called me a brat!”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

“I hate you.”

“So you… don’t want me to… give you a hand there?” he asked.

You paused. Was he really offering to-

“We’re friends, Joshua. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat and in your pussy. Joshua was your best friend and your roommate… but was there something more? Right now you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anyone. This couldn’t end well.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Joshua was back on top of you as soon as the words left your mouth, pressing his lips to yours while one of his hands tangled itself in your hair. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned softly into his mouth. You found yourself wishing the moment could last forever, but you quickly changed your mind when you felt Joshua pressing his thigh up in between your legs. Lazily making out was nothing compared to what he was doing now. He brought a hand to your hip and urged you to move. He guided you until you were rocking back and forth on his thigh at a steady pace.

“Feel good?” he asked.

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your panties were the only layer between your pussy and Joshua’s leg, and although they were certainly ruined by now they still provided the means to create friction that went straight to your clit.

Joshua’s hands fiddled with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and he tugged at the bottom of it, motioning for it to come off.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Another nod from you and he was whisking the shirt off over your head without a second’s hesitation. He was pulling his own shirt off next, tossing it into a pile on the floor with yours. His fingers found the waistband of your panties soon after, and he played with the elastic impatiently, eager eyes searching yours for approval. You lifted your hips off of the bed so that he could take them off, leaving you completely naked before him.

Joshua let his gaze travel down your body, shamelessly admiring every dimple, curve, and freckle that was now exposed to him. You shifted under him self-consciously, silently wishing you had shaved. If you had known you’d be fucking your best friend, you would have, but it was too late now and you could only hope he wasn’t bothered by a little hair.

“How are you real,” he murmured to himself, earning an eye roll from you. Joshua reached out and dragged a finger through your folds, smiling when you flinched. “So sensitive…” he noted. “Did you cum already?”

“Yes, but it was ruined,” you admitted.

“Poor thing,” he tsked in fake sympathy, bringing his hand back up to his mouth. “Just wanna nother taste. You’re too sweet to resist.”

“Shua,” you whined.

“What is it, baby?”

“I need you.”

He smiled down at you and took you by the chin, tilting your face up towards him. “You already have me.”

“You know what I mean!”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

You groaned stubbornly and twisted your head out of his grip, only to let out a yelp when he closed a hand around your throat.

“Stop being a brat,” Joshua spat as he forced you to look at him again. “I’ll give you one more chance to be a good girl, got it? Good girls use their words to tell me what they want. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you choked out desperately.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“I’ll be a good girl.”

“So what is it that you need, love?”

You swallowed your pride and opened your mouth to respond. “Your cock, please.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Joshua asked, cupping a hand around his ear as if he couldn’t hear you.

“I want- I need your cock, please.”

“Atta girl,” he praised and eased the grip around your neck. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head weakly and watched as Joshua pushed his boxers down to his thighs, then onto the floor, letting his cock bounce up against his stomach. He was fully hard already and you wondered how long he’d been like that, wondered how he had so much self-control when you barely had any.

“We can stop whenever you want, okay?” Joshua said, face softening and hand gently cupping your cheek. “Let me know if it’s too much. Just tell me what you need, baby.” You nodded obediently and met him halfway as he leaned down to kiss you. He broke away from the kiss suddenly and held a hand underneath your mouth. “Spit,” he ordered.

You complied and sat up a little to spit into his hand. He worked that same hand over his cock a few times, using your spit to lubricate it before positioning himself over you.

“Is this a good idea?” you blurted right as Joshua was about to push himself into you, suddenly aware that you wouldn’t be able to go back from this as soon as he did.

You had shoved any feelings you’d had for Joshua down for so long and it would be impossible to keep doing after sleeping with him. But you had already come this far.

“Probably not,” Joshua answered with a shrug. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Great.”

A brief moment of silence lapsed while you both stared into each others’ eyes, not quite sure where to go from there.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Joshua said casually after thirty more seconds of silence.

“Yes, please do.”

You braced yourself for the stretch as Joshua pushed into you at an agonizing pace and sank your teeth into his shoulder to relieve some of the pressure. Joshua groaned at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock, a feeling which was only heightened by you nipping at his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“You’re… so big,” you echoed back.

He allowed you a few moments to adjust before he moved. You were already so worked up that he slid in and out of you easily and it wasn’t long before he was pounding into you at a fast tempo. He pressed hurried kisses to your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of hickies to remember him by.

You cried out each time his cock hit your g-spot, overwhelmed and still sensitive. Joshua kissed you to drown out your moans, clamping a hand over your mouth in his stead whenever he came up for air. His other hand was up against the wall for stability, though it wasn’t helping much.

“Joshua,” you gasped.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you choke me again, please?” you all but begged.

Joshua smirked. “Of course.”

He did as you asked and cursed when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in closer.

“See what happens when you’re a good girl and ask nicely?” he teased, cocking his jaw arrogantly. “You get rewarded.”

You could feel your orgasm building in your abdomen as Joshua continued to thrust into you and wondered if he was close too. You guessed that he was from the way his hips had began to falter.

“Up,” Joshua commanded suddenly.

He slipped out of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, hauling you into a sitting position.

“On your hands and knees,”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Should I finish myself off, then?” he asked, pumping his cock lazily as if he expected you to call his bluff. “Leave you here needy, not let you cum?”

“No, please!”

You quickly got into position on all fours with your back to Joshua praying that he wouldn’t make good on his threat.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You fell forward on your face when he shoved his cock back into you only for him to tug you upright by your hair. He fucked you like that in doggy for a minute or so before he snaked an arm around your upper body and pulled you flush against his chest. Being seated on his lap allowed Joshua the ability to touch practically anywhere on your body. He took advantage of the new position by grabbing your tits.

He was so fucking deep in you like this you couldn’t stand it. Every tiny movement brought you closer to the edge and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last.

“Shua, I’m close,” you warned through broken gasps.

“Don’t cum yet.”

“Why not,” you whined.

“You’re not allowed to cum until you answer this question for me,” he said breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“When you were touching yourself earlier, who were you thinking about?”

“I-”

“Was it Seungcheol?”

“No.”

Joshua’s fingers found your clit and began rubbing circles around it, making it that much harder not to disobey him.

“Fuck, Joshua…”

“Who was it?”

“It was you! I was thinking about you!”

“Do you always think about me?” he pressed.

“You only said one question,” you accused defensively.

Interrogating you while he had you on the brink of orgasm was not fair.

“Fine, cum.”

You cried his name as you finally came. He held you through it, your orgasm triggering his own as you clenched around him repeatedly. Your name tumbled from his lips too, while he lost himself in the midst of pleasure. You couldn’t see his face as he came, but you could imagine it, like you had hundreds of times before. The way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way he’d bite down on his lip and squeeze his eyes shut as he let go of control…

You couldn’t see him as he came, but you could feel him. You felt his entire body tense behind you, felt the warm spurts of cum fill you up, felt the way he instinctively grabbed at your throat to anchor himself.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity as you both caught your breath. Joshua collapsed on the bed with you in his arms, cock still buried inside of you. He brushed your hair out of your face and turned your head so that he could look into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded sleepily and gave him a weak smile. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I wasn’t too rough?”

“No, you were perfect.”

He kissed you again without a second thought and you kissed him back. It felt familiar and warm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Here let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling out of you.

You winced at the empty feeling, but laid in bed motionlessly and let Joshua dote on you. He used a warm washcloth in between your thighs and wrapped a new Spider-Man Band-Aid around your hurt finger. He slipped back into his boxers and tossed you another pair of his to wear before fetching you a glass of water from the kitchen and making you drink it all.

Joshua returned to bed finally and snuggled up to you instantly. You nestled yourself into the crook of his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I thought I didn’t have to fuck you to sleep in your bed,” you said quietly once he had gotten comfortable.

“Shut up.” There was still a lot to discuss between the two of you, but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. For now you were content to fall asleep in his arms and ignore all of the unanswered questions bouncing around in your mind. “For the record, I still expect my fried rice.”

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[criminalmindzjunkie]

Unlucky in Love

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Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse​

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

           But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

           Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

           It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

           A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

           When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

           By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

           With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

           Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

           “Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

           “O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

           “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off.  The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

           In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

          Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

           Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

           Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

           “I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

           “I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

           “Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

           Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

           You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

           I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

           Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

           “I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

           His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

           “What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

           It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

           “I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

           Someone please put me out of my misery.

           Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

           “Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

           “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

           Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

           “Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

           “I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

           Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

           To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

           “I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

           Wait – what?

           “You work here?”

           You nod.

           “I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

           “For how long?”

           “Coming up on three years now.”

           Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

           “Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

           “Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

           Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

           “Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans.            “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

           Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

           “You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

           “Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

           Your eyebrows raise in shock.

           “Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

           Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

           “I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

           Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

           “I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

           The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

           Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

           “I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

           “Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

           Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

           You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

           “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

           And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

--

           When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

           In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

           It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

           Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

           He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

           Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

           “Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

           Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

           “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

           “You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

           You nod.

           “Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

           Spencer is slow to shake his head.

           “N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

           You chuckled softly.

          ��“You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

           “Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

           “Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

           “If you say so.”

           “I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

           The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

           “Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

           “What kind of food?”

           “Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

           “Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

           Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

           “D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

           “Do you want me to come over?”

           “Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

           “Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

           “You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

           “Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

           “In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

           “Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

           “I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

           “Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

           Spencer cocks his head to the side.

           “Theory?”

           You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

           “You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[mlm-writer]

The Kappa Situation (Ray Palmer x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Ray Palmer (The Atom, LoT ver.) x Gender Neutral Metahuman Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1915 Summary: You get injured, you get some flashbacks, Ray is a darling angel. Sexy times. Note: Mashed two requests together, then changed some wording to make it gender neutral since gender is sometimes so unnecessary. Uhh reader has the power to manipulate magnetic fields. Oh and a Kappa is a creature from Japanese folklore.  Tags: flashbacks, love confessions, idiots in love, oral sex, and hinted sub!Ray... ok it is kinda there. OH AN NO BETA BECAUSE I AM LAZY 

The ring moved slowly parallel to the metal bar it was around. With brows knitted in concentration, you manipulated the magnetic micro fields around it to move it to the finish without it touching the bar. You just passed your personal record. A smile formed on your lips as you moved it further. That was until the door to your room opened and the sound disturbed your concentration. The edge of the ring touched the bar lightly and a loud buzzer hurt your ears in punishment. 

“Dammit! What do you want?” You turned around to find Ray in the door. He looked at you like a kicked puppy. “Ah Ray… Can this wait? I am in the middle of training.” He frowned. Normally he would have gone already and given you your space. 

“I feel like you’re kind of avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?” He tilted his head. It was so cute. You tore your eyes away from him and grabbed the energy shake off the side table. That puppy look was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Dammit there were fairy godmothers and elves and whatnot wandering the timeline. There was no time for your dumb crush. Lives were at stake. 

“No, not at all, don’t worry about it. I just have been concentrating on improving my microfields. You know that if I refine it I could generate electricity right? That skill will be necessary eventually and I don’t want to be the idiot who did not train enough to get us out of regular Legends shenanigans.” You sat down on your bed and took a good swig from the shake, concealing your face with the bottle. 

“Oh… oh yeah ok,” Ray replied and you thought for a moment that he was going to leave you alone. However, he did not move from his spot. You kept on drinking, side-eyeing him. Your eyes raked over the perfect-fit jeans and the dark red sweater he wore on top of it. Oh how he was a champion of hiding his perfect body. When you came to his head, he had his eyes on you as well. You lowered the bottle and cleared your throat. “Can I uh…” Ray started, “God… I just want the truth. I don’t like people not liking me, especially not if I like them very much.” He ran his hands through his hair during his mini-ramble. The dark brown locks stood up in all directions now. 

“I like you too, Ray. I promise, I am not upset with you.” You chose your words carefully as you rose to your feet. Ray caught on your words. He was used to realising that your ‘better’s never meant ‘good’ and your ‘no lies’ did not mean ‘full truth’ either. You wondered when he had learned your loopholes so quickly. 

He walked inside, the door whooshing close behind him and the situation suddenly felt so intimate. “Not upset then… Perhaps disappointed?” You sighed and shook your head. He kept coming closer. “Then… Sad? Are you sad?” You chuckled and shook your head again. “Furious?” Another shake of the head. Another step closer. He stopped walking when there was half an arm’s length between you. He was talking, but you could not take your eyes off his perfect lips. You were so smitten. Dear Lord, have mercy on your soul. 

Inhibition slipped you as you finally looked up at Ray. Your intense stare shut him right up. “Ray Palmer, I have been avoiding you because I’m super into you. Now please leave me alone or kiss me.” No one could shut up Ray Palmer like you. The boy scout with so many words turned into a gaping fish at your words. Since he was not jumping at the opportunity to kiss you, you pointed towards the exit, but he took a gentle hold of your wrist. 

“No, no, I choose kissing… just… can we wait with that? I am pretty sure my breath still smells and I wouldn’t want our first kiss to be… gross… not that… I mean, ha, I am into you too, super into you, super duper…” 

You did not kiss that day. The memory was cut off with a dull ache in your chest. You opened your eyes, squinting at the ceiling. “Where am I?” You mumbled to yourself. There was shuffling and suddenly your boyfriend was in your vision. He was rambling. How typical. “What happened?” You, very intelligently, inquired, cutting through the words with only two of your own. 

Ray blinked at you. “You saved my life, don’t you remember?” As he stared at you with concern, you frowned, trying to remember. 

The kappa ran between the trees and the bushes. Ray was hot on its tail, his smaller size allowing easy navigation through the highly vegetated area. It was a wonder how Japan from the future had dense forests within the city serving as a park. You moved into position near the park’s entrance. You saw the green creature run right past it and you started running parallel to it. The sidewalk was full, even at this late hour. People yelled at you as you pushed them aside. You were just in time to see Ray change back to his normal size and make a jump to catch the kappa. 

He rolled over the sidewalk and right into the street. You sprinted as you spotted a hover car coming right at him. “Ray! Move!” You exclaimed, totally forgetting about your comm. You stopped in the middle of the crossroads and stretched out your arms. The magnetic field repulsed the hover car, slowing it to a stop right in front of Ray. You let out a sigh of relief, before you found yourself off your feet, right before everything went black. 

“Ah yeah, a car. You’re welcome, by the way.” You held your arm out and Ray took it to help you up. He helped you out of the medbay. Apparently you were all good, just bound to be sore with some minor injuries to your rib that Gideon could not fix for you. “Where are the others?” 

Ray was the perfect gentleman as he guided you to your new, shared room. “Still taking care of that kappa. We took it almost to the waverider, but it got away before the hatch was fully down.” You sighed, making a joke about how they were hopeless without you. Once in your room, Ray pulled you close and let you lean against him as he undressed you. You smiled as you smelled the mixture of his deodorant and grime of a long day. You helped him minimally, letting him undress you like a doll. Once you were down to nothing, he pushed you down onto the bed. “Don’t lie down yet. I’ll clean you up a little so you can sleep comfortably.” 

You hummed and let him take care of you. Ray returned shortly after with a bucket of water and a small towel. He was methodical and careful as he wiped down your skin. You closed your eyes and let your head hang back. The second he was done, you carefully lowered yourself down onto the bed, legs still hanging off the edge. Ray walked over to your dresser to get you some underwear. You whistled at him. He looked over his shoulder at you, an unspoken inquiry on his face. “I am naked on our bed and there is no one on the ship. Don’t you want to make use of that?” You winked at him, making him laugh. 

“As much as I would love to - for the record I really, really want to - I don’t think we should have sex with your injuries.” You pouted at him and trailed a hand down to your sex, rubbing yourself slowly, teasingly. “Uhm, uh…” You smirked when Ray was clearly having doubts about his righteous decisions. You saw his eyes follow the path of your fingers. “Just oral? I can do that, you can just lie there.” You failed at suppressing the grin that spread over your face. As he gestured to your body while suggesting you’d just lie there.

You chuckled and beckoned him over with your fingers. “I’ll take anything from you, but please lose your clothing as well.” Ray pulled his black shirt off in one smooth motion. He then unceremoniously pushed his jeans and underwear down together. Ray dropped to his knees like a man about to worship a god. He put your legs over his shoulders, removed your hand and got to work with his tongue. He lapped over you with languid strokes. Your eyes closed and your head fell back onto the bed. A happy sigh left you as his glorious tongue licked up your taste. 

“I love doing this,” Ray announced between licks as if you were not awfully aware of how happy he could be from just servicing you with his mouth. He teased you with only the tip of his tongue, before going back to those slow, long licks. You sighed and put a hand through his soft hair, pulling a little so he would put his lips around your most sensitive parts. Just one tug was all it took for Ray to drop the teasing and just get to work with sucking and licking and moving his head like he would die from a lack of your pleasure. 

You moaned at the sudden spike of pleasure. Your back naturally arched off the bed and you winced at the pain that stabbed through your ribcage. And just like that, the pleasure stopped and Ray was looking you over with saliva still dripping down his chin. “Are you ok? Are you in pain?”

“Yes and yes… You are so adorable,” you sighed as you shifted. “Sorry, could not help myself from moving. Having you suck on me like that is just very good.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Ray nodded and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He told you to relax as he went down again. He put your legs over his shoulders and you were expecting him to go back to what he was doing before, but instead you felt his tongue circle your hole. “Fuck Ray, please,” you whimpered at the idea of his tongue inside you. 

Your boyfriend was nothing if not obedient. He gently pushed his slick tongue inside, fuckign you with it. The pleasure was just as good, just less intense. While it was previously like bullets of pleasure through your body, this was like a continuous stream of pleasure that would slowly send you overflowing. You removed your hand from his head to touch yourself, your fingers gliding easily over yourself with Ray’s saliva still there. You allowed to let all the soft sounds escape you, being free in your expression of pleasure. 

Ray was a champ, who did not stop until he heard you gasp and then a hand landed on your abdomen to steady you as his tongue slid back up to replace your hand. An exclamation of pleasure left your lips, the feeling overruling the slight ache of your injuries protesting against the muscles tensing from your orgasm. You were panting as much as you could once the pleasure subsided. Ray rubbed your thighs for a hot minute, until he got up again. Your eyes were unfocused staring at the ceiling until they eventually closed, your body giving in to the exhaustion. 

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket Part 2(Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: After Clint takes you back to Avengers tower, the rest of the Avengers realize who you are, and most of them are not very happy with you.  It’s certainly an interesting conversation when you wake up, but slowly, they start to warm up to you.

Tell me if you want a third part, guys!  Part one here

To @prepareforsomestrangethings @captainam-erika-trash @bxtchboy69​ @creation-magician​ @viarogers​ @queenshadow142003​ @witchxaf I know I’ve said this already, but seriously, I can’t thank you guys enough for everything.  I love you all!

The living room went completely silent at the arrival of the two master assassins, everyone staring at the little bundle in their resident archer’s arms.

“Lady Natasha, Brother Clint, you have returned!” Thor, who had just returned to Earth from Asgard, shouted gleefully as he walked towards them, completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere that had appeared in the room and asking the question that was on everybody’s minds but which they weren’t quite sure how to go about asking.  “Who is the young maiden in your arms?”

“She tried to rob Clint and then fainted, so we brought her back here,” Natasha stated bluntly.  Clint glared at her in frustration before turning back to the others, who were already on guard.

“The kid was starving,” he attempted to explain.  “I think she passed out from hunger.”  The others in the room glanced at the bundle of coats, still obviously wary, and Clint rolled his eyes.  “For God’s sake, the poor thing weighs next to nothing, and she’s freezing to the touch.  I’m pretty sure the coat is heavier than she is.”

“Lay her down on the coach.  I’ll grab some blankets,” Steve finally piped up.  Clint sighed in relief and brought her over to the very long couch where he gently set her down, resting her head on one of the throw pillows.  He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, frowning when she still felt colder than a block of ice.

“Let me take a look at her,” Bruce offered.  Clint nodded in thanks and stepped back.  Bruce paused, his eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked, his stomach turning in worry.  Was he too late?  Was she already gone?

“That’s the girl from the library.”  Everyone froze at the words that fell out of Bruce’s mouth.

“No frickin’ way, let me see,” Tony rushed forward, peering over the back of the couch.  “Oh my god, she’s the kid who took my watch!  It really was the same girl!”

“And the one who stole my money,” Steve added, setting the pile of blankets down next to her before moving to start a fire in the nearby fireplace.

“Well, I guess that solves that mystery,” Tony crossed his arms.  “She couldn’t have been actually starving.  There’s no way that watch sells for anything under 2,000.  She lied to you so you wouldn’t turn her in.”

Clint shook his head.  “No, that doesn’t make any sense.  She’d already gotten away when she fainted.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Alright, so then she stashed it to sell later so she wouldn’t be caught.”

“If you had a 2,000 dollar watch lying around, why would you ever wear a ratty old coat that obviously doesn’t even keep the cold out?”  Natasha commented thoughtfully, gesturing at the flimsy piece of clothing.

That seemed to knock Bruce from his thoughts.  “She’s soaking wet, we need to get her out of these clothes.  Nat, do you have anything she could wear?”  Natasha nodded and silently left the room to fetch the clothing as Bruce started to peel off the soaked-through layers one by one until she was left in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, both littered with holes and tears and both obviously far too short for her but still loose against her skeletal frame.  Natasha took the job from there, exchanging the old clothing for a pair sweats, which despite being a size small, seemed to drown the girl in fabric before covering her in the blankets and moving her closer to the fire.  

After that, everyone settle down around the living room, each of them seeming to understand the unspoken agreement that they would wait to decide what on what they would do next until after she woke up.  So, that’s how they stayed for the next 2 hours.

-- Your POV --

I slowly cracked my eyes open, the light flooding in and immediately giving me a headache.  Huh, I guess I didn’t die.  That’s a good thing, right?

I brought a hand to my forehead as I slowly sat up, my eyes shut tight as I did my best not to throw up.  God, I was so hungry.  At least I wasn’t cold anymore, though.  Maybe it’s just that I’ve gone completely numb... or crazy, because instead of just not being cold, I actually feel pretty warm.

I opened my eyes again and stared down at the blanket covering me and the couch I was sitting on.  Oh geez that can’t be good.  I looked back up and around, doing my best to stay completely silent as my eyes flickered from one person to the next.

The man I had robbed only just a few hours ago sat in a chair right in front of the couch, snoring softly with his head lolled back.  At a table nearby, typing away on a computer, was the man from the library who only had 4 dollars in his wallet.  Sitting at the same table was a very big, very muscular man with long blonde hair who I’d never seen before, but judging by the massive hammer that was placed beside him, I doubted he was good news.  Standing at the kitchen sink was the man who’d stopped me from falling when I was taking his wallet.  Sitting behind a bar, nursing a glass of what looked to be scotch, was Tony freaking Stark, who I had only just stolen a very, very expensive watch from.  Finally, standing by the doorway and leaning against the wall was the red-headed woman who found me out and chased me down with her boyfriend.  And she was making direct eye-contact with me.

“She’s up,” she called, shocking everyone in the room -- especially the man in the chair, who must have jumped about a foot in the air as he was startled awake.  I clenched my jaw and frowned.  What is it with this chick and always ratting me out?

Before you could say the word ‘Assemble,’ all six people in the room had gathered around me.  My heart beat wildly in my chest as I stared from one person to the next.  Why were all the people I robbed together in one place?  Did Tony Stark bring them all together so they could get revenge on me?  How did they even find me?  Is that blonde one a bounty hunter or something?  He certainly had the build for it.

“How are you feeling?”  The man from earlier asked me gently.  I frowned and stared back at him.  No way was I going to talk to these people.  I have the right to remain silent, right?  Or is that not a thing with elaborate revenge plots?

The library man stepped forward and placed a hand on my forehead.  Immediately, I flinched away.  “Her fever’s gone down,” he said, stepping back into place, the slight anger he still held towards me clear in his voice.

I glanced around the room, weighing my options.  I had no idea where I was, no idea how to get out of here, and I don’t think I could outrun the redhead and her boyfriend again on solid ground, especially when I can still barely move without another wave of dizziness hitting me.  So, in other words, I’d have to somehow convince them to let me go.

Ok, yeah, I’m definitely gonna die.

“Do you have a name?”  Reflexes guy asked, and my frown deepened.  Maybe I could pretend to have lost my memory.  Library guy said something about a fever, right?  If it was bad enough, it could’ve messed with my brain.  Plus, they have no way of knowing how long I had it.  Alright, that’s my game plan for now.  A pitiful, helpless amnesiac.

Slowly, I shook my head, bringing my knees to my chest as I stared at him with wide eyes.

“How about an age?  Do you know how old you are?”  This time, it was the boyfriend who spoke.  I liked him way better.  He had a kind voice, and he didn’t really seem to be holding too big a grudge against me.  He was probably dragged to this weird revenge party by the redhead.

I shook my head again, allowing my body to shake ever so slightly, tears gathering in my eyes.

“Alright, cut the crap, kid.  Tell me where my watch is,” Stark took a few steps forward.  My eyes went wide, and I scrambled backwards in an attempt to get away from him, my heart going a mile a minute as my breathing got faster and faster.

“Quit it, Stark, you’re scaring her,” the boyfriend snapped.  Stark huffed and rolled his eyes, moving back to his place in the semi-circle with his arms crossed.  Yeah, I definitely like the boyfriend best.

“Do you remember nothing, child?” Blondie boomed.  I flinched at the volume, hiding my face in my arms and sobbing quietly.

It was quiet for a little bit, and I smiled.  They must’ve felt guilty, which meant they believed me.  Maybe I could pull this off after all.

“Alright, kid, that’s enough.  Stop messing with them.”

“What?  Nat, what are you--”

“Seriously, you’ve had your fun, now stop it with the crocodile tears and tell us your name.”  I slowly peaked up to find the redhead -- Nat, apparently -- smirking back down at me, her right hip jutted out as she rested her weight on it and her arms crossed.  She merely lifted an eyebrow at me, her smirk widening ever so slightly.

I sighed and lifted my head.  “How did you know?” I asked softly.  The men in the room gaped at me in surprise, while she only chuckled a bit.

“I lie all the time, kid, it’s part of my job.  I know another good liar when I see one,” she answered with a slight shrug of her shoulders.  “Now are you gonna tell us your name or not?”

I frowned and hugged my knees tighter.  “It wasn’t all a lie.  I really was scared,” I muttered, staring down at my lap.  “It’s not exactly fun to wake up in a place you don’t know and immediately have people coming at you or yelling really, really loud.”

Stark glanced away guiltily while Blondie just sent me a wide, toothy grin.  “My apologies, child.  I have yet to truly understand this ‘indoor voice’ that you mortals are so fascinated by!”  I flinched slightly at the still very loud voice, but at least it wasn’t quite as loud as before.

“Name, kid,” Nat stated simply, immediately seeing through my attempt at changing the subject to try and make them feel guilty again.

I sighed.  “My name is (Y/N),” I finally muttered.

“Have you got a last name, (Y/N)?” Reflexes asked again.

“Not any that concerns you,” I immediately snapped back defensively.

Reflexes frowned and rubbed his face a bit.  “Fine, we’ll go back to that later.  How old are you?”

“18,” the lie came quickly and easily.  I had said it so many times that by that point, it was starting to feel more natural than the truth.

“Try again,” Nat said.

I grit my teeth and glared at her.  “You really need to stop ratting me out.”  She just smirked and shrugged again.  “Fine.  I’m 12.”

Silence as five pairs of shocked eyes turned to Nat for confirmation.  Slowly, she nodded, almost seeming a little shocked herself.  My words took a minute to settle in, and I frowned, staring back down at my lap.  At least now they probably couldn’t kill me.  Although, I’d probably prefer that to going back to that hellhole of a foster home.

“Nope, sorry, I call bs,” Stark was the one to break the silence.  “No chance a twelve-year-old reads nuclear physics, and more importantly, there’s not a single chance a twelve-year-old outsmarts me.”

“Yeah, that’s what every grown-up says,” I rolled my eyes.  “The fact is, you got completely fooled by a twelve-year-old kid, and you need to learn how to deal with it.”

“Alright, so where’s my watch?” Stark grit his teeth, fuming in annoyance at my attitude.

I rolled my eyes again.  “I sold it,” I answered simply.

“Ok, so why did you lie to Clint?  That watch was expensive.  There’s no way you would be starving only a month after you sold it,” Stark smirked triumphantly, as though he had just unearthed some massive conspiracy.

“I didn’t keep the money.”

“...I’m sorry, what?” Stark asked.

“I said, I didn’t keep the money,” I repeated.

“Then where the hell did it go?” he frowned.  He obviously didn’t believe me.

“Language, Stark,” Reflexes cut in.  “She’s just a kid.”

“Please, I’ve heard the word ‘hell’ before.  What street did you think I was living on, Candycane Lane?”  I scoffed before suddenly realizing my mistake.

“You live on the streets?” Library guy asked softly, looking more and more guilty with every passing minute.

“Of course not,” I responded quickly, trying to backpedal on what I’d accidentally let slip.  “I just hate my parents so much it feels like it.  I only steal so that I can rebel against them.”

“That lie was just bad,” Nat shook her head almost in disappointment.

“(Y/N), what happened to the money from Stark’s watch?” the boyfriend -- What did Stark say his name was?  Clint? -- spoke calmly and gently.

“I used it to buy toys and canned foods,” I answered rather quickly.  He was nice.  I felt comfortable around him.

“You were starving, and you bought toys?” Stark scoffed.

“Not for me, dipshit,” I rolled my eyes again.  I feel like I do that every time Stark opens his mouth.

“Language!” Reflexes gasped.

“Why did you buy toys?”  Clint continued to speak gently, taking my attention away from my annoyance at Stark.

I frowned.  “I bought them for the kids at the orphanage.”  Clint just nodded, encouraging me to continue.  “Every year I scrape together what money I don’t use on food to buy them toys, but they usually end up being really crummy ones that they all have to share.  This year, I was finally able to buy them all really good ones.”  I paused for a moment before adding, “Christmas can be really sad there, and there never used to be any toys.  I don’t want the other kids to have a sad Christmas anymore.”

“You used to live in an orphanage?” Clint asked.  I winced at the question, digging my nails into my palms.  I didn’t mean to tell them that.  I sighed in defeat and nodded slightly, avoiding their eyes.

“My mommy died when I was one, and my daddy didn’t want me anymore,” I paused a moment, trying and failing to swallow the lump in my throat.  Quickly, I moved myself as far away from the topic as possible.  “I used the money I didn’t spend on toys to buy groceries for the homeless shelter.  They need it more than I do anyways.”

There was another heavy pause before Clint spoke again.  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”

“Counting today?” They all nodded.  “About five days.”

Reflexes immediately walked away, and I ducked my head further.  He was probably going to call the cops or maybe the orphanage.  Either way I’d have to go back.

“(Y/N)?” Library guy’s voice brought me back to reality.

My cheeks were wet.  I was crying.  I didn’t mean to do that -- it doesn’t work on Nat, so why even bother?  Still, I couldn’t stop.  “A-are you g-gonna send m-me b-back n-now?” I whispered, my voice thick as I gasped between every other word.  I squeezed my knees tight to my chest and let out a sob that I was trying desperately to hold back.  “P-please... I don’t... I don’t wanna go back!” I broke down sobbing, my face buried in my arms and my breaths coming shorter and shorter as my heart pounded frantically against my ribs.

I couldn’t breathe.

I felt like I was under water, each breath coming in harsher and more labored than the last, the air growing thicker by the second as I struggled to take it in.  I could hardly feel the tears on my cheeks as my brain begged me to take a solid breath, screaming at me that I was dying -- that I needed to stop this right now, or I would die, which of course only made me panic even more.

I felt a pair of arms gently wrap around me and slowly looked up, hiccupping softly, my entire body shaking like a leaf.  I stared at Tony Stark from where he sat beside me.  “Calm down, purse snatcher, no one’s sending you anywhere,” he said, rubbing my back comfortingly.  “I need you to focus on me.  Try and match my breaths, ok?”

“P-promise me you’re not lying,” I mumbled from my still mostly curled up position.  “Promise I won’t have to go back.”

“I promise I will never lie to you,” he responded immediately.  I sniffled, my bottom lip trembling as I stared at him, searching for any signs of a lie.  When I found none, I launched forward into his lap and buried my face in his chest, sobbing pathetically.  “Easy, kid.  You’re ok.  In and out, just like me, ok?  In... and out,”  Tony soothed, gently patting my back as I cried.  His arms were warm.  It was surprising, but still, it was really, really nice.  Slowly, I came back down to reality, each breath shaking violently but still managing to keep time with his.  Finally, after a few minutes, I’d managed to calm myself down.

A very large hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked over, my body still shaking a bit as I clung to Tony like a lifeline.  Reflexes was standing there, holding a plate full of steaming hot pizza.

“You need to eat,” he said, moving the plate closer to me.  I nodded and took it, my hands still shaking slightly.

“Thank you, Reflexes,” I said softly.

“Reflexes?” he tilted his head a bit.

“O-oh, um... When I met you, you managed to catch me after I bumped into you, even though I was trying to fall, so I’ve kind of been calling you Reflexes in my head ever since...” I muttered, my face getting red.

Reflexes stared at me for a moment.  I could feel Tony laughing behind me as the others struggled not to laugh out loud.  “You can just call me Steve,” he sighed.

“That’s right, you don’t know our names yet, do you?” Tony grinned.  I turned to look at him, only just then realizing that I was still sitting on his lap.  

I blushed harder and scooted off his lap, muttering a quick, “Sorry.”

Tony smiled back in reassurance, although he looked a little... disappointed?  No, wait, that’s stupid.  Of course he wasn’t disappointed; he’s Tony Stark.  That look was probably just the leftover annoyance at having some dumb kid crying in his lap.  “Don’t mention it, kid, but you gotta tell me what you’ve been calling the rest of us in that little head of yours.”

“U-um... well, I called Steve ‘Reflexes,’ and, um, Nat was ‘Redhead’.  Clint was ‘Boyfriend’...” Clint choked on thin air, and Tony bursted out laughing again, not even making an attempt to hide it this time.

“W-why ‘Boyfriend’?!” Clint yelped.

“Because you were on a date with your girlfriend, um, Nat, when we met?”  I said it almost like a question.  Was there something wrong with that?

“She’s not my girlfriend, kid,” Clint sighed, shaking his head.  He didn’t seem quite as bothered anymore, though.  Was there really something wrong with me calling him ‘Boyfriend’?

“Ok, now tell me the rest,” Tony said excitedly, leaning forward.

I leaned back a bit but nodded.  “Ok, well the guy with the glasses--”

“Call me Bruce,” he interrupted.

“Um, Bruce then.  He was ‘Library Guy.’”

“Oh, that’s right, you recommended he read his own paper,” Tony grinned.

“Yeah exactly,”  I smiled softly before, slowly, my smile dropped and my eyes grew about 3 sizes.  “Wait, you don’t mean...” I turned to face Bruce in disbelief.  “You aren’t that Bruce.  As in, Bruce Banner?  The nuclear physicist?”

Bruce chuckled a bit and rubbed the nape of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s me.  Nice to meet you.”

I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.  “I’m such a big fan,” I whispered softly.

“Wait, so you mean you actually understood those papers?  That wasn’t just another lie?” Bruce frowned slightly.

“I would never lie about that,” I shook my head frantically.  “Your work is absolutely incredible.  I used to get lashed all the time cause I’d stay up all night reading your papers.”

A flash of pity crossed his face.  I frowned and cleared my throat.  “I, um, I always really like learning new things,” I muttered awkwardly.  “When I was little, I would spend hours in that library every day.  My caretaker didn’t believe I actually understood it, either.  She even got me tested to prove I was lying.”

“And?” Tony prompted.

“Turns out I have an IQ of about 278,” I shrugged.  Tony’s jaw dropped, staring at me with eyes wide as saucers.

“Isn’t yours 273?” Bruce asked, trying to hide the chuckle threatening to seep through his voice.

“I-I... Well... Just tell us the rest of the nicknames, would ya, kid?” Tony stuttered, avoiding Bruce’s eyes.

“Oh, um, sure,” I smiled a bit.  It felt like my chest filled up a bit, a soft warmth spreading through my heart.  They looked like a family.  It must be so nice.  “The super buff blonde guy--”

“Thor,” Tony provided.

I blinked in shock at that.  “Wow, your parents must’ve been real confident to name you after one of the Norse gods,” I muttered.  “Well, Thor’s name was just ‘Blondie.’”

Tony snickered at my comment, and I frowned.  Were these nicknames really funny?  I didn’t think they were.

“Child, I was not named after anyone.  I am Thor of Asgard.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” he smiled, taking a knee before me.  I lifted an eyebrow and leaned over to Tony.

“Is he crazy..?” I asked softly.

Tony chuckled.  “No, he’s not.  Haven’t you ever heard of the Avengers?”  I shook my head.  “Woah, seriously?  Ok, well, long story short, he is the actual Norse god, Thor, and he lives on the planet Asgard.”

I looked at him curiously before nodding.  “Alright.”

“Seriously?  You believe me just like that?” Tony asked, a small, if slightly confused, smile on his face.

“You promised me you’d never lie to me,” I answered simply.  “Of course I believe you.”  

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, a look I’d never seen decorating his features.  I shook my head just a bit to clear it and grabbed the piece of pizza on top before immediately shoving it in my face, managing to scarf it down in under 10 seconds before moving onto the next.  The six adults stared at me as I finished piece after piece until the plate was empty only 2 minutes later.  I glanced up and smiled slightly.  “Thank you for the food,” I mumbled through the last mouthful of pizza.

“Wow, ok, I’m not gonna lie, kid, that was pretty impressive,” Tony chuckled.  “I don’t even think bird brain over here could eat that fast.”

“How do you keep people from stealing your food, then?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to the side.  The room fell silent again, the adults sending me worried glances.  I frowned and ducked my head again, trying to avoid their searing gazes.  I must’ve said something wrong again.

“Honestly, we don’t.  How do you think Thor got so big?” Tony grinned, clearly just trying to diffuse the tension.  I smiled up at him gratefully.  

“Alright, I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Tony said, standing up.  “Sorry, kid, but it’s way past your bedtime.”  I tensed up a bit at the sudden movement, and he sent me a reassuring smile.  “Don’t worry, I’m just taking you to a guest room.”

I nodded and took his hand, standing up slowly.  I held the loose clothing tightly so that it didn’t drop, trying to ignore the many worried eyes that looked over my still ever so slightly shaking, thin figure that couldn’t even hold up the small pair of sweatpants.  I followed him down one of the many hallways of the tower, gripping his hand as tightly as I could.  

Finally, we reached a large room, a neatly made bed stationed in the middle of it.  I tried to climb into the bed, but Tony ended up having to boost me up, his hands lifting me gently by my underarms so that I could get on top of the unreasonably tall mattress before tucking me in under the thick blankets.

He took a step back, and my heart immediately leapt into my throat, my hand darting out to grab his wrist.  “It’s ok, I’m just turning out the lights,” he answered the question without me even having to ask.  As soon as he had flicked the switch off, he came back and sat down in a large chair by the bed.  It was silent for a moment, and I stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking over everything that happened in the past few hours.  It didn’t make any sense.  Why would he do all of this?  What did he have to gain from giving me food and a place to sleep?

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I heard my own voice rise up through the darkness.  I’m not quite sure why I asked that.  Still, I wanted nothing more than to hear the answer.

“You remind me of myself,” Tony said slowly, the careful thoughtfulness clear in his voice.  “You’re a good kid.  You deserve a little bit of help.”

It was silent for another few minutes.

“Would you... would you please hold me hand?” I asked softly.  I’d barely even finished speaking before my right hand was engulfed my another, much larger one.  I could feel myself smile just a bit, my eyes fluttering closed.  I squeezed it slightly, and before long, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Tony’s breathing.

[honey-writes]

Find the Words

Thank you @felgrimdarkwatch for the tag! Never done one of these before, but this was so fun!

All these quotes are from my own works :)

—

Dark

Isolation is silent, and that silence is heavy and stifling.

Every quiet minute is asphyxiating and drowns her in the nothingness that is apparently so abundant in his small, empty apartment. Noiselessness allows her mind to wander, and when it does, all she sees are black and white shapes and wandering figures playing like an old school movie in her mind. The shadows are murky and have no particular shape—they’re just flickering shadows bursting in and out of the cloudy projection on the backs of her eyes, providing nothing but occasional emptiness and flitting darkness, which is exactly why she finds it so terrifying.

How can you be so afraid of something you can hardly remember?

—

Fog

“No, actually, you’re not okay.” Lina crosses her arms; even with the height that she lacks in comparison to Dani, everything about her seems grand. Omnipotence would make a good role for her, Dani supposes in the back of their foggy mind. “You’re not, and something is clearly bothering you right now, and you’re either going to explode with it later or it’ll kill you by tomorrow.”

—

Gold

Now, though, the island teeters on the closing brink of daytime, sunbeams skimming the water like rocks, painting the edges in gold. Pretty, she thinks as she watches the sun dip below the edge of the vast blue body of water that never seems to end. The world is so pretty here.

—

Hope

“I wish we could’ve spent more time together.”

Their words are quiet and easy as ever, patient and soft and warm; they wield gentleness like it is a sword, and with one more breath she knows that this is a losing battle. “I believe that you are the kindest person I have ever known. In this lifetime, at least.”

When they smile, they are still alight with the glow of dying fireflies. (She’s seen them before, she thinks, through eyes that are no longer hers.)

“It’s a shame this life was so short,” they whisper softly; the edges of their smile are too familiar for her to forget. (Somehow she knows they have never been strangers.) “I hope I at least get to know you better in the next.”

She remembers what it’s like to cry again.

(She remembers the warmth of water.)

—

Look

“Your heartbeat feels so…”

“Alive?”

The word slips from Lyre’s tongue as if on cue, and Kirana’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, eyes still drawn to the way it moves up and down in rapid succession. Lyre knows that, if they wanted, Kirana could tear his chest open bare handed and rip his heart out in a single movement just so they could truly clutch his life in their hands, his dying heartbeats spilling prettily all over the floor.

(He’s not sure if that’s what Kirana wants in this moment, but if it is, Lyre has already accepted his fate. They’ll find him dead and bloody on this wooden landing with a gaping hole in his chest and a stupid look on his face.)

“Yeah,” Kirana says in a voice softer than Lyre ever thought they were capable of, blurring at the edges from contemplation and awe. “Alive.”

—

I nominate @bbcfandomsuniverse @seven-days-was-all-she-wrote @clickbait-official @bythelightofdawn and anyone else who wants to do this challenge ☻

Your words are: “shatter” “warm” “hollow” “echo” and “bite”

Have fun!

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

@sajdd

Ok since one singular person asked for this the Big Explanation for Everything In My C!Tommy Design.

General:

c!Tommy, in general, I always try and find a balance between my really soft style and c!Tommy's rougher personality. I draw him with soft features but very sharp eyes, both to make his facial features distinct from cc!Tommy and a contrast to c!Tubbo who I draw with less rounded features but much softer eyes. I try and keep his usual expressions slightly smug and self-assured, to get across c!Tommy's bravado.

I generally draw him with tanned skin, as I imagine he’d spend a lot of time outdoors. This does vary on the arc I’m drawing him in, though, for example he’s much less tan in Pogtopia because he has less access to natural light whereas he’s more tan in exile due to not having much shelter from the sun. This is also done to make the pale scar on his nose bridge more noticeable- it’s one of the two scars I draw Tommy as having from the beginning, as I feel it shows c!Tommy's scrappy, determined personality very well. The other scar is a long jagged vivisection scar which is there to show my labinnit headcanon lol.

While I draw c!Tommy with varying hairstyles and lengths, I always draw him with curly textured hair that’s a very pale blond. I also draw his hair as leaning to one side and partially covering his eye, similar to how I draw c!Wilbur's hair, to show their closeness. I also draw c!Tommy with similar wings to c!Wilbur and c!Philza- specifically, I draw them with the same starry night sky pattern I do with c!Philza, but a lot smaller and atrophied.

I really like putting lots of fun design elements in characters eyes because drawing eyes is fun and c!Tommy is no exception! I draw his eyes a very bright electric blue, and I use a small brush and very light varied colours to make them look like they’re filled with little stars. I also give him red pupils to match his main colour association in either the shape of a full or broken heart depending on the arc. I went with a heart design to show his hidden kindness and loyalty.

There’s also a lot of design elements that are admittedly there primarily because I enjoy drawing them, and less for any specific reason. The fangs do have the most reason, to help show c!Tommy's rougher personality, but I also just like drawing fangs lol. (I also draw him with braces in every arc, since I imagine he couldn’t get them removed in exile and he didn’t have the time to care afterwards). I also draw him with bioluminescent, starlike freckles and a strange blood colour which is also used to help texture the skin (well, slightly, it’s not super noticeable but it’s pink instead of red) which are both just things I like to draw.

Also, this is a small detail, but I always draw c!Tommy with a Church Prime necklace (unless I forget it which I do sometimes lol). It’s a good way of showing his faith through a quick look.

Fun fact, what’s probably most noticeable about my c!Tommy design is that as soon as Tommy made the joke about his character being made in a lab I picked it up and ran with it, specifically the idea of him potentially being a clone of c!Philza. I draw them with identical facial features and hair colour/texture, though a lot of the more supernatural features of c!Philza are toned down on him. That’s specifically because due to my hc that c!Philza is an angel and angels as ageless it’d be impossible to clone them exactly so c!Tommy has some random human/hybrid dna thrown in haphazardly (which also makes him a mess of instincts from pretty much every animal ever lol)

Disc War:

I really like the headcanon that c!Tommy was nine during the L'Manburg war entirely because its really funny to imagine c!Wilbur looking at this literal nine year old and being “yes, my right hand man, responsible enough to help manage a nation in my stead,” so c!Tommy is roughly 9ish around this time in my design.

During the early Disc War is probably the only time I actually draw c!Tommy as close to his actual Minecraft skin lmao. It helps show that, despite the fact I don’t hc him as human he is mostly just a normal kid. I don’t draw c!Tommy in the traditional red and white t-shirt entirely just because I want to make sure he’s not mistakable for Dave Strider though. I have him in a white button-up shirt, a red and white hoodie, cargo pants, and trainers.

During this arc, I draw c!Tommy's hair as fairly short and very similar to how I draw c!Wilbur, as this was back when he idolised his brother and I think drawing their hair so similar shows that well.

L'Manburg:

This covers the time from the beginning of the L'Manburg war up to c!Tommy's second exile to Pogtopia, so this design covers a period of years from when I hc c!Tommy was nine up until about thirteen.

During the war, c!Tommy wears his uniform without modification, except for of course wearing his Prime necklace, but afterwards he and the rest of the residents of L'Manburg (except c!Wilbur) slightly modified their uniforms to better fit their own tastes. Specifically, he wears his trainers instead of combat boots, loose trousers instead of shorts, and a slightly shorter and short-sleeved revolutionary jacket, for easier mobility.

During the war, his two canon deaths left him permanent injuries and scars. His death in the final control room, where he broke his leg during his desperate attempt to escape, left that leg permanently weakened (along with being badly scarred) and requiring a leg brace to help him stand and walk properly. The arrow through his skull during his duel with c!Dream left him with a large scar on his temple, covering his brows in crack-like scars which also leave him with frequent migraines.

During the L'Manburg arc, c!Tommy's hair in my design still looks like c!Wilburs as they were still close during this arc.

Pogtopia:

Since Pogtopia apparently lasted two years (which is probably from Cursed Timeline Lore but I love cursed lore it’s hilarious,) c!Tommy would be around 13 to 15 here.

In Pogtopia, I draw c!Tommy as wearing similar clothes to during the Disc War arc, however, I also add on a loose belt holding knives, to show c!Tommy's increased need for self defence along with his fondness for knives lol. I actually don’t do the bandanna design with c!Tommy and c!Tubbo a lot of people do mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to get it to work with c!Tommy's hoodie. They have an equivalent but it’s later on alas.

As c!Tommy and c!Wilbur get more distant, c!Tommy grows out his hair slightly, and wears it tied in the back in a short ponytail.

Exile:

Oh I have a lot of things to talk about here >:). As a quick note to my messed up timeline, c!Tommy would be 15 here.

During exile, c!Tommy wears the same clothes as he did in Pogtopia initially, though due to lack of care and supplies, they eventually of course fray and rip. He also wears c!Wilbur's old ragged longcoat, even though it barely keeps out the cold, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes weirdly comforting. Over time, he rips up his shirt for bandages to the point he’s not wearing anything under his hoodie. His leg brace breaks and he makes a new one out of branches and leaves. (He could ask c!Dream, but he doesn’t want to be fucking reliant on him, relying on pity handouts like a child, so he won’t.)

Eventually, since c!Dream doesn’t exactly want c!Tommy to get hypothermia and die anticlimactically, he gives c!Tommy one of his capes. This is one of my favourite character design decisions I’ve made lmao. I specifically draw it looking too-big, despite the fact that doesn’t make much sense because they’re the same height, so it looks almost like he’s getting enveloped in c!Dream's green shades, and it also hides c!Tommy's wings which helps reinforce the loss of freedom.

c!Tommy gains… a lot of scars over exile. I mean he was literally hit by an axe multiple times. Specifically they’re primarily around the shoulders or the torso. I also draw him with a Glasgow grin, specifically curved to resemble Dream's mask, along with smaller, self inflicted, scratch and bite marks covering his arms. In addition, due to him barely eating I draw c!Tommy from this point onwards looking very scrawny. This is also where c!Tommy's pupils change from hearts to broken hearts! They never turn back :)

During exile, Tommy's hair grows out a lot, down to just past his shoulders, in a matted mess. c!Dream used to braid it at the back, like how I draw c!Dream's own hair, but it very quickly grew too matted with saltwater, mud, and blood to style :) :) :)

Bedrock Bros:

c!Tommy turns sixteen here during my scuffed timeline.

c!Tommy patches up the rips and tears in his clothes. He can’t fully salvage his cargo trousers, so he turns them into shorts. He makes his own shoes out of leather to replace the ones he lost. There’s a gaping hole in his hoodie pocket that couldn’t be stitched up. He'll patch it up later. c!Techno gives him one of his capes to keep him warm, fur lined and arctic blue with silvery snowflakes embroidered on. c!Tommy has to be reminded, or he puts on the green cape, turned a dull viridian from the sun, that makes him feel both safe and so, so afraid.

Scars heal, but never fully fade. Still, his eyes brighten again, somewhat, even if the bags under his eyes less disappear and more just turn a strange gold. He finally has the time to clean out his hair, and c!Techno ties it into a short, loose braid at the back. With the cape, he almost looks like c!Techno like that. Obviously, the visual implication here is to show that even though it’s obviously not exile, c!Techno is still suppressing c!Tommy's identity, albeit unknowingly (and the gold is from his constant eating of golden apples).

Final Disc War:

By this point, c!Tommy's back to just wearing his old clothes, tattered and frail as they might be. He finds his old sneakers, and day by day he sees himself in the mirror a bit more than the gunpowder on a battered trenchcoat, blood on a smiley face mask, wither rot on the edges of an elaborate snowy cape. He patches the hole in his hoodie with a piece of the fabric from one of c!Tubbo's old shirts. He lends him one of his too-small hoodies so he can do the same.

He still braids his hair, but in his own way, in a tightly woven ratstail braid more for convenience than for aesthetics. Character design wise, it’s another way to show c!Tommy's openly rougher personality than say, c!Dream or c!Techno, and so’s the patchwork clothes and rough shorts and scars. Like I said, maintaining a mix of rough and soft is very important to me in how I draw c!Tommy, and I’m very satisfied with how I pull it off here and in the next entry.

Revival:

the story has handed me the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead. i will not pass up the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead.

After revival, c!Tommy stops aging, at least in appearance. His skin… less pale, more colourless and almost grey. One of his eyes glows a pure, empty white now, like ghosts do, and the white messy streak in his hair doesn’t glow but it’s white enough it might as well.

The injuries of his death bear apparent on his form. His limbs can bend at impossible angles, his entire body covered head to toe in bruises. Two black eyes cover his face like a raccoon mask, and the ugly mottled marks of strangulation on his throat stand out like a sore thumb. You cannot look at him anymore and not see that he hasn’t died. He avoids mirrors again.

There’s stranger things, too, like how he doesn’t bleed anymore, any cuts just revealing an impossibly dark void beneath his marble-cold skin. Sometimes he goes weeks without eating, the hunger only hitting once he realises. He feels so tired, so cold, in a way not even the touch of fire can stem at all. He doesn’t have a heartbeat, or breathe.

Initially, he was too tired, too out of it to even consider cutting off or dying the white streak. When he wasn’t, he’d soon learn any attempts were futile, dye fading in mere days, cut off hair half regrown in a week. It should bother him more, but he just feels numb.

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, eleven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

“Person A falls into Person B’s lap”

A crowd of screaming students streamed past the window as Aelin slouched down at her desk. The last day of school was supposed to mean early release, ice cream down by the pier and finally celebrating two whole months of freedom.

But not today. Not for Aelin. Instead, she was in hell.

She barely paid attention as Principal Havilliard explained their detention task, though she didn’t miss her fellow detentionee’s groans as he spilled the ancient library card catalogue onto the floor, his foot shuffling them even further out of order.

“I have paperwork I’ll be doing in my office right next door, and I will notice if this door opens one inch. You have three hours to put these cards back in order,” he smirked, his boot-covered foot shoving the cards around some more. “See you all at seven.”

Aelin glanced over at Rowan, hoping for any kind of assurance, but just like the last twenty hours, he refused to acknowledge her. She knew she’d screwed up; she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so awful as when she saw Rowan’s red-rimmed eyes pick her up for school this morning. She’d apologized profusely, over and over until she wasn’t sure she could apologize anymore, but he just shrugged stiffly and refused to look at her. It had felt like the longest day of her life, and it still wasn’t over.

“Some for youuu,” Dorian cooed, scooping up the cards from the floor and plopping a pile onto Rowan’s desk.

“Some for youuu,” he continued around the room, distributing cards to Manon, who Aelin had been not entirely surprised to see in detention. Dorian dumped the remainder of cards on his and Aelin’s desks, smartly avoiding an already-napping Lorcan in the back corner of the room.

“It’ll be finished fastest if we separate by letter, and then organize each letter,” Dorian explained.

Manon laughed as she started sorting. “Your dad make you do this on your free time?” she asked.

“You know it, babe,” he said with a wink. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “My dad just loves giving me detention.”

Dorian kicked up his feet onto the desk as he began his sorting, aimlessly chatting with Manon.

As Aelin began her own sorting, she glanced over at Rowan again. He was dutifully separating his own piles, shoulders tensed, as if he could feel Aelin’s gaze on him, his own eyes boring holes into the desk in front of him, refusing to look up. She hoped against all hopes that he’d look up and all would be forgiven, but she knew that wasn’t likely. Fuck. She’d really fucked up. She had no idea what to do or say to make it better. She felt entirely out of her depth. Rowan had never ignored her for this long, and she was starting to feel like a drug addict going through withdrawal. She was tweaking, in desperate need of any kind of acknowledgment – a flash of his dark green eyes, a smile, a nod… anything.

Instead, they sat in tense silence, the only sound the shuffling of index cards. The minutes ticked by, endlessly, and Aelin could feel herself growing more frustrated with Rowan’s silence with every passing second. She knew she was about to burst.

“L’s are done,” Rowan said, pushing a stack of index cards to the corner of his desk. Manon collected them and dropped them onto the front desk, adding them to her own pile.

Aelin glanced at the giant wall clock. 4:45. Only two hours and fifteen minutes more of the silent treatment. She groaned and placed her head down on the desk.

“Okay, what’s going on with you two?” Dorian asked, pointing at Aelin and Rowan. Rowan’s back stiffened, going ram-rod straight as he frowned at Dorian’s question. “Aren’t you supposed to be best friends?”

Rowan scrunched his nose up and finally, finally glanced toward Aelin. The pain in his eyes nearly knocked Aelin out. She inhaled sharply, biting on her lip, trying to hold back the onslaught of emotions just a look from Rowan caused.

“We are best friends,” Rowan mumbled, causing the knot in Aelin’s chest to unfurl slightly.

“Then again,” Dorian smirked. “I repeat. What’s going on with you two?” he asked. “Because you’re kind of acting like you hate each other.”

“We don’t hate each other,” Aelin burst out, her heart pounding.

Rowan frowned, finally putting all his attention on her. “I don’t know,” he began. “What you did was pretty hateful.”

Aelin leaned toward him, her voice hoarse with desperation. “And I said I was sorry a million times. I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Ooh,” Dorian perched himself on a desk between the fighting pair, looking back and forth at the dueling friends. “Should we all talk it out?”

“No,” Rowan snapped, going back to his card organization.

“Boo,” Manon jeered, joining in on what Aelin would rather not have as a group discussion, causing a bright smile to appear on Dorian’s face. He was living for this drama, apparently. “Kind of sounds like you two just need to kiss and make up.”

Aelin’s cheeks flushed at the mention of kissing, which she tried to push down immediately, covering her face with her loose hair.

“Mind your own business,” Rowan frowned, bravely talking back to Manon in a way that Aelin was sure would get him snapped at. But instead, a feral grin appeared on Manon’s face as she twirled a piece of her white blonde hair with a long nail.

“Oh come on. I dare you.”

“What?” he asked.

“I dare you to kiss Aelin,” Manon repeated smugly.

She raised her eyebrows at Rowan, who’s lips turned down even further.

“Don’t be stupid,” Rowan said, rolling his eyes. Aelin stomach hurt with how fast he’d dismissed the idea. “I’m not kissing Aelin on a dare.”

“Why not?” Dorian asked. “I will.”

Dorian slid off his desk and leaned over Aelin’s. Aelin leaned back, laughing softly at Dorian’s half-hearted attempt to bring his lips closer to her face, and swatted him away.

“Very mature,” Rowan grumbled, tugging his fingers through his hair as he glared in Aelin’s direction again.

“Oh, come on,” Dorian prodded. “We all need a break anyway. Let’s play truth or dare.”

Rowan scoffed loudly, never stopping organizing his cards on his desk. “What are we, in seventh grade?”

“Don’t be a pussy, Whitethorn,” Lorcan called out from the back corner of the room. Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound of his gravelly voice. Aelin watched with curiosity as he stood, his large arms stretching overhead as he cracked his back and neck loudly.

“Truth or dare,” Manon chanted. “Truth or dare! Truth or dare!”

Aelin laughed as Dorian and Lorcan both joined in, slowly approaching Rowan’s desk until he was surrounded.

“Fine!” he shouted.

“Great!” Dorian ruffled Rowan’s hair, earning another disgruntled frown from the blonde. “Manon, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” she answered excitedly.

“I dare you to flash us,” Dorian said with a devilish smile, causing Manon to roll her eyes.

“Boys.” She shook her head. “So fucking predictable.”

Her voice was deadpan, but she fulfilled the dare regardless, lifting her shirt to show the room her black bra. The boys’ jaws dropped slightly, completely silent as she pulled her shirt back down and fluffed her hair, completely unphased.

“Lorcan,” Manon drawled. Before she could even ask the question, he puffed out his chest and grinned.

“Dare.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Her golden eyes glowed as she pretended to think over her question. “I dare you to kiss Dorian,” she gleamed, showing off a perfect row of white teeth.

Lorcan merely rolled his eyes again. “What, you think I’m going to get all no-homo, as if I haven’t had a threesome with another dude before?” Manon shrugged. “C’mere, pretty boy, gimme a kiss.” Lorcan laughed as Dorian mimed pointing to himself, as if to ask Who, me?

Aelin blushed furiously. She knew that seniors were more experienced than she was. Well, a lot of people were more experienced than she was. But a threesome? She could feel herself heat up as Lorcan slid his hand into Dorian’s hair and placed his mouth over his for a hard kiss. Dorian’s mouth moved in tandem with the senior’s, until Lorcan left him with a soft press of his lips and a cocky grin.

Dorian cleared his throat. “I mean, I get it,” he admitted. “Why everyone’s lining up to fuck you.”

“Not everyone,” Lorcan said, flashing his dark eyes at Manon for a loaded second. Aelin remembered all of Manon’s callous rejections and wondered if there was more to the story than they were seeing. She was so wrapped up in trying to figure it out that she barely even registered when Lorcan turned his attention to her.

Lorcan grinned widely. “Aelin, truth or dare?”

“Umm…” She paused. It was no secret that Lorcan wasn’t her biggest fan. And she had a feeling he was getting ready to torture her. She had no desire to flash an audience or kiss anyone but Rowan, so she decided to go with the safer answer.

“Truth,” she answered nervously.

“Who in school are you hottest for?” he asked.

“What?” Aelin squeaked, her voice going unnaturally high as all eyes turned to her.

“Who in school are you hottest for?” Lorcan repeated. “Who do you lust after? Who do you think about when you listen to I Touch Myself?”

Aelin’s mouth dropped as she gaped like a fish. “I…I…” Her cheeks burned as she scanned the faces in front of her, trying not to pause on the dark green eyes that were suddenly rife with curiosity. “Did I say truth? I meant dare,” she said, changing tactics.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and motioned this thumb downward. “Booo.” He made a raspberry sound with his lips as he stuck out his tongue. “Fine, I dare you to give one of us… whoever you want… a sexy lap dance for thirty seconds.”

“I don’t know how to do that!” Aelin croaked out, getting more stressed by the second. She’d have to choose someone. She wanted to choose Rowan, of course. She’d be most comfortable being close to him like that, but she hated that he was still so mad at her. She didn’t want to risk upsetting him even more.

“One or the other. We’re waiting, Aelin,” Lorcan drawled.

The room silenced as Aelin stood and looked at the four students sitting in front of her, laps ready and waiting for her. She was about to take a step toward Rowan when his eyes went to the floor, avoiding her gaze, and she redirected, stepping in front of Manon.

Aelin glanced over her shoulder. “I wish I had music,” she complained.  

“I’ve got you,” Lorcan smirked, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. Of course he’d smuggled his into detention. He cued up some rap song with a thumping bass that Aelin wasn’t familiar with, and she took a deep breath as she pretended she didn’t have an audience.

Her hips swayed side to side, dipping lower.

“Lap dance means on her lap, prude,” Lorcan shouted, and Aelin resisted the urge to glare at him over her shoulder. Instead, she got closer to Manon, pushing her legs wider as she awkwardly shimmied between them. She turned around and leaned her head back as she felt Manon’s hands at her sides, helping her maintain her balance as she dipped low to the ground.

“Annnd… time,” Dorian said, clapping loudly as Manon threw Aelin a wink. Adrenaline pounding through her shaky legs, Aelin barely stood upright before tripping over Manon’s extended foot and plopping into Rowan’s lap.

He stood nearly as soon as she fell, hands firmly placed around her waist as he shoved her away from him. “Gods, Aelin, be careful!” he reprimanded her, and Aelin felt tears prick at her eyes. Rowan had never acted like this with her before. He’d said she was still his best friend earlier, but now she wasn’t too sure. His eyes were stormy with upset. All she wanted was for him to smile again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled her apology, and he awkwardly shook her off. It was then she realized it wa her turn. To ask Rowan.

“Rowan,” she said, her voice shaky. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth…” he answered carefully.

“What else do I need to do to make this better?” she asked. She just needed an answer. Anything to do to repair what she’d clearly destroyed.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

Dorian made a loud buzzer sound. “That’s not a satisfactory answer.”

“Even if I really don’t know?” Rowan answered, exasperated. Dorian shook his head, and Rowan practically growled in frustration.

“Your original dare still stands,” Manon said, sing-song. “You can always decide to kiss Aelin.”

“Fine,” Rowan said, causing Aelin’s heart to skip a beat.

“What?” her eyes widened, clearly not hearing right.

“I’m taking the dare,” Rowan said with an annoyed glare. “I’m kissing you.”

Aelin wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. She didn’t want Rowan to kiss her on a dare. That was not how she’d imagined that happening. Especially not while he was so mad at her.

“No!” Aelin exclaimed, chest thumping wildly as panic flooded her system.

“No?” Manon scoffed.

“I don’t consent to this dare!” she squeaked out.

Rowan wound his arms tightly across his chest, clearly getting more annoyed with Aelin by the second. “It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Maybe not to you, she wanted to scream. But instead, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded softly. Rowan visibly relaxed at her agreement, but as soon as he started to lean forward, Aelin couldn’t help but think how wrong it all was. She didn’t want her first kiss with Rowan to be because of a stupid dare. She wanted him to want to kiss her. And she certainly didn’t want an audience for it. She’d imagined kissing Rowan so many times, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined it would happen like this.

His lips had barely brushed hers when Aelin turned her head to the side, so his mouth landed just beyond the corner of her lips, making full contact with her cheek instead.

“Burn,” Lorcan cackled loudly, causing a flood of embarrassment to rush through her.

“Sorry,” Aelin whispered.

“S’fine,” Rowan mumbled, his cheeks stained with red as he looked anywhere but her.

“Kisses mean something to me,” she finally said.

“Spoken like a real virgin,” Lorcan heckled, and Aelin could feel herself shrink even further. Rowan spun around on his heel, his chest heaving as he unleashed on his teammate.

“What is your fucking problem, man?” Rowan spat as Lorcan stoically raised a dark brow in his direction. “I get it, she made you look like an idiot, wounded your manhood or whatever, but you need to let up.”

Lorcan held his hands up in mock surrender and meandered back to his seat, grumbling something about “stupid sophomores.”

Rowan sat loudly back at his desk, clearly seething as he began shuffling through his index cards again. Aelin flushed with relief at his defense of her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him, but instead she threw him a grateful glance, which he accepted with a small nod. It wasn’t a smile, but she’d take it.

“Game over?” Dorian asked, and Manon nodded quickly, retreating to her desk.

“Virginity is just a concept, anyway. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re losing anything when you have sex,” Manon said too loudly in Aelin’s direction. “It’s a sexist concept created by men to boost them up and control women’s bodies. Sex means different things to different people, and anyone who tries to make you feel bad about your sexual experience or lack of it deserves a special place in hell.”

Aelin had never appreciated someone as much as she did Manon in that moment. Lorcan pretended not to listen and shoved his earbuds further into his ear, slumping back into his seat.

“Thanks,” Aelin said quietly, and Manon shrugged.

The four of them worked quietly for the remaining hour of detention, shuffling the cards back into alphabetical order with methodical ease.

When Principal Havilliard returned at 7pm on the dot, Aelin sighed with relief. “Have a good summer,” he said, effectively dismissing them and walking out the door.

Aelin lingered, hoping to steal a moment with Rowan, but it seemed that he was anxious to get somewhere else.

“Glad I’ll never have to deal with you again,” Lorcan mocked as he made his way to the door. “Fire breathing bitch,” he hissed, passing her by.

Fury steamed at his words, and Aelin stood quickly, wanting to launch herself at him. Her fist reared back, ready to punch, but it was restrained as Rowan stepped in front of her and took his own swing, his fist cracking loudly against Lorcan’s nose.

Blood dribbled from the nose as Lorcan staggered backward, laughing maniacally. “Oh man,” he laughed. “Good for you, Whitethorn,” he said as he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. “See ya never,” he said, glancing between the two of them and giving a half-hearted salute.

Rowan hissed as he clutched at his fist. “Fuck, that shit really hurts.”

“Rowan!” Aelin raced to his side to assess his reddened knuckles. She pressed against the skin gently, checking for broken bones, and he loosened his fist, letting her examine each finger carefully. She glanced up at him, and he was watching her with a cautious gaze. But when she went to remove her hand from his, he squeezed her fingers softly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, squeezing his fingers back lightly. “But thank you.”

“He was pissing me off,” Rowan replied.

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” Aelin said again, and Rowan sighed loudly as he stretched out his sore fingers.

“I know you are, Ace.” He rubbed at his face. “It’s just going to take me a while you get the image of your dead body out of my head. It was… fucked up.”

Aelin was about to apologize again when Rowan stopped her. “And I know you’re sorry. But I’m allowed to be mad for a while, okay?”

Aelin nodded in understanding.

“Well,” Aelin cleared her throat. “Thanks for defending me, even when you’re mad at me.”

Rowan finally cracked a smile; it was the most beautiful thing Aelin had ever seen. “Yeah, well, as infuriating as you might be, no one is allowed to talk shit about you. Except me, of course.”

“Of course,” Aelin replied too quickly. She tried to hide her smile, but she couldn’t. Just a small amount of attention from Rowan, and she felt her heart mending itself.

Rowan groaned, frustrated. “How do you do that?”

“What?” Aelin asked, perplexed.

“Like, two minutes ago, I was still furious with you!” He exclaimed, exasperated. “And now…”

“And now you’re… not?” Aelin asked, hopefully as they made their way to their lockers to collect their things. The school was eerily empty, everyone long gone to their first night of summer plans.

“Just. Never again, Aelin.” She nodded rapidly. “I’m serious.”

“Want to get that truce dinner?” she asked. “I felt too guilty last night to eat anything.”

As if on cue, Rowan’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. And Aelin had a feeling she knew exactly who it was from. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nope,” he said, shoving the phone into his pocket.

“I can’t believe we’ve both punched Lorcan Salvaterre,” Aelin giggled as he led them out to his car.

“Just call us Rocky I and Rocky II,” Rowan said, draping his arm across her shoulders, causing Aelin to laugh wildly.

“That’s not their names.”

“They’re not?” he asked. “Then why are the movies called that?”

Aelin shook her head and leaned into his side. As she and Rowan bantered about the movies he clearly needed to watch in the near future, Aelin finally had hopes for the future. It was going to be a good summer. She just knew it.  

~*~

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[malghra]

tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (1/3)

Darklina Week, Day 7: Soulmates

AO3 link

Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation, and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope. ― Victoria Erickson

"I thought I had raised you to be smarter than this," she told him. "It does not do to fill your head with dreams and fairytales, boy. Love is a weakness the likes of us cannot afford."

Ana Kuya's knitting needles stopped clicking and she laughed softly, shaking her head. "It was just a story, Alinochka. Now, go to sleep." 

.

Aleksander believes his name was Anton, when he first heard about soulmates, or perhaps it had been Leonid, or Vasya. The names and cover stories have all blurred together into an endless succession of lies, he barely recalls them. He does remember the names from the story. Galina and her Igor.

His mother had been serving at some fat nobleman's estate at the time, and Aleksander had snuck out of his room to find a mirror in one of the many chambers in the main house and search his body for a mark. Because of what they were, he had never belonged anywhere, had never known a place he could call home, and probably never would, but belonging to another person sounded almost as good as having a home.

His mother had been the one to find him. He feared she would be cross with him for sneaking into the house, but she only sighed and shook her head. 

"I thought I had raised you to be smarter than this," she told him. "It does not do to fill your head with dreams and fairytales, boy. Love is a weakness the likes of us cannot afford."

Ana Kuya didn't use to tell many stories, and when she did, there was usually some lesson or warning in her tale. But when Alina was seven, Ana Kuya told the orphans at Keramzin a story that had her listening with bated breath.

Alina had always been prone to daydreaming, and over the next few weeks, she often caught herself thinking about Igor and his Galina, while she was doing her chores or picking flowers in the meadows beyond the walls of the estate. Alina had always been alone. She could barely remember anything from before. Someone to belong with, just one person to call her own in this world, it was everything she had ever wanted. 

Alina couldn't wait until she would meet her soulmate and leave the orphanage.

"When will I get my soulmark?" A fever-plagued Alina asked Ana Kuya one night, when the older woman had decided to stay by her bedside to watch her.

Ana Kuya's knitting needles stopped clicking and she laughed softly, shaking her head. "It was just a story, Alinochka. Now, go to sleep."

"I wish we could stay here forever" Luda sighed as she put her head on Aleksander's chest. She looked softer like this, and this fierce woman's tenderness almost surprised him.

"Perhaps we should." Perhaps they should forget about everyone and everything out there, stay in this hut, where it was just them, and kings and allegiances and wars didn't matter. He didn't know if he loved Luda, but he thought he could, and perhaps this would be the only way they could defy the rest of the world.

He'd searched his body earlier, in the light of the candles. No mark had appeared on his skin since he'd met Luda. He wasn't sure he had been expecting to find one, whether he even wanted to find one, but he had still felt disappointed.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" he asked her.

She twisted her neck, bracing herself on her elbow to look at his face. "Why, would you like to see your name on my ass, Aleksander?" she drawled at him with a smirk. The sound of his name on her lips stirred things in him. His mother would call him a fool who never learned if she heard it. 

"What? No," he muttered. "I meant..."

She giggled, nuzzling at his chest before meeting his gaze again, arching an eyebrow.

"You don't have a soulmark," he observed.

"You had yourself a good look then, did you?"

"I had more than just a look," he reminded her, grabbing her by the waist to pull her on top of him. 

"No," she told him as she inclined her head to kiss him. "I don't have a soulmark."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No, Aleksander" she moaned as she rubbed herself on his hardening length. "It doesn't. I won’t let the saints decide my fate. I make my own choices."

He groaned even as her words brought a smile to his face. She was right. He decided in that moment that he did love her, even if he shouldn’t, and apparently that was all his own doing, not some mysterious plan made up by the saints.

Alina was used to having nightmares about the raid on her village, which often left her sweaty and panting, but although the images in her dreams had been much the same, today was different. Her hair and nightgown were sticking to her damp skin as usual, and the dull headache was not unfamiliar either, but the pain in her lower back was, and so was the stickiness on the insides of her thighs.

When she sat up, she felt a gush of warm liquid. She threw back the covers and rucked up her nightgown, discovering bright red splotches on her skin and a darker stain on the bedclothes. She squirmed away, kicking at the covers, almost falling headfirst to the ground as she struggled to get out of the bed. She ended up on her hands and knees, half slouched against the side of the bed, heart hammering in her chest.

"Saints!" she hissed. Ana Kuya was going to kill her for staining the sheets.

To Alina's surprise, the older woman was surprisingly gentle with her as she gave her a bundle of rags and instructed her on her entrance into womanhood. She even allowed her to indulge in a cake and released her of her chores that morning. 

Hours later, she noticed the itch on the skin of her left breast. She rubbed at it lightly through the fabric of her tunic, mentally hearing Ana Kuya's voice chiding her, for it was unseemly for a girl to scratch herself, but the itch wouldn't stop.

When she unlaced her tunic to look at the itchy red blotch, it started burning. She he ran to her water basin, hoping cool water might ease the sting. She dabbed at the wound with a rag, and when it stopped burning, she uncovered it to see two words written an inch above her nipple.

A story long forgotten returned to her, and she clasped a hand over her mouth as the realization hit her. She snuck out of her room and tiptoed through the hallway down the stairs to slip into Ana Kuya's bedroom, where she kept a mirror on her dressing table. 

Shifting between twisting her neck and squinting at the letters curling on her breast in the looking glass, Alina deciphered the name written on her skin. Aleksander Morozova. She had no idea who that was. Her heart sank into her stomach, and she realized she'd been hoping for a different name.

Luda died. Aleksander had always known she would. His mother had warned him often enough. It still happened too soon, it was too brutal, too callous, and it hurt so much he could barely breathe. 

Afterwards, he had finally come to accept his mother's lesson that love was a weakness he couldn't afford, but he had still defied her by using merzost in his grief and his rage. Creating the Fold had changed him. He had become a dark god of death and destruction. Even if the small, lonely boy inside of him still craved it, he knew he couldn't risk getting attached to mortals again. 

Hundreds of years later, he decided it was for the best he had never received a mark. Watching every single person he ever met die was bad enough as it was, and he'd learned to shield himself from the grief. But he had also witnessed the heartbreak, the devastating and soul-crushing pain, the sharp-edged, gaping hole tearing a person apart after they had lost their soulmate. He was not arrogant enough to think he might survive that. 

He took lovers over the years. He was still a man after all, and he'd learned that nothing could replace the feeling of skin on skin and human warmth exchanged in the meeting of two, or more bodies. He tried to avoid other Grisha though, at least until after he'd built the Little Palace and he could be sure he had enough power to protect himself from their greed. He had not forgotten Annika. 

There was a Shu princess once, who would become a saint later. She believed in destiny, and though she knew what he was from the moment she first touched him, she wanted more from him than killing him and wearing his bones. Aleksander was sure that she loved him, but he had become incapable of returning those feelings.

He still remembers her eyes searching his body in the soft glow of the firelight after he had bedded her for the first time. He knew her name would not appear on his body, and that suited him just fine. 

Her own mark had been burned off on orders of the King, a king she would bring to his knees years later. She would take his throne and his country, and rule it wisely. He could have stayed by her side for that, but soon enough, he would sneak off in the dead of night, leaving her with a broken heart to protect his own. 

He took lovers, and he enjoyed his time with them, but he made sure to armour his heart, and he never looked for a soulmark again. 

Alina was only days away from her sixteenth birthday when Mal became the first person to see her soulmark. She'd come to accept that he was not her soulmate, but she still hadn't figured out who Aleksander Morozova was, so she told herself there was no harm in letting Mal kiss her in the meadow or behind the stables. 

And that was how she had ended up in the pantry with him. He had removed his shirt and kicked off his boots, unfastening and shoving his trousers down.

Alina was down to her tunic, her own leggings lost somewhere in a corner. She moved to close the distance between them. She pushed herself up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him.

He splayed his hands on her back and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She rubbed her thighs together as she could feel his hardening length against her belly.

He fisted his hands into the fabric of her tunic and started bunching it up. She froze in his embrace.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. 

Alina hesitated, but she had known for a while that she couldn't hide this from him forever. "Promise you won't hate me?"

He frowned, but nodded.

She reached for the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head, resisting the urge to cover her breasts with her arms.

Alina spotted the moment the desire in his eyes shifted to revulsion, or fear perhaps, she couldn't be sure. There was definitely pain, she decided, as she tried to grab his arm.

He flinched and danced away from her touch, not meeting her eyes in the faint light. 

Hesitantly, she reached for him again. "I’m sorry," she whispered, but he was already collecting his clothes and heading for the door.

When Alina wakes up after her first night at the Little Palace, she tries to insist that she is perfectly capable of washing herself, but the army of maids that has suddenly infiltrated her rooms just won't listen to her. They have her out of her clothes and in the bathtub in a matter of moments, and Alina can only sit back and stare at them with her mouth hanging open. 

She doesn't want any of them to see her naked. Mal had been the first, and for now, she wants him to be the last. She even kept her tunic on when she bedded Yuri in the cartographers tent, pretending to be too shy to take it off. 

She can see it happening, and she tries to stop it, but before she can do so, the girl closest to her brushes her hair back and bares her chest. She gasps and whispers, "Madam Safin!", clasping a hand over her mouth.

The tailor who has introduced herself as Genya approaches them and takes one look at Alina's mark, before clapping her hands once and ordering all of the maids out of the room. 

"I'm so sorry," she tells Alina with a sad smile on her face. "I can't fix that."

"I've had it for five years," she says dumbly, not understanding why Genya is apologizing to her. She crosses her arms over her chest and keeps her head down. 

"Ah," the beautiful redhead remembers. "You wouldn't know, of course."

"Know what?" Alina wonders, head snapping back up to look at Genya. 

She kneels next to the bathtub. "Do you know the story of Sankt Ilya?"

Alina nods. Ana Kuya had told all of the saints' stories countless times to the orphans of Keramzin.

"Grisha know him as Ilya Morozova, the Bone Smith," she continues, resting her arms on the edge of the tub. "You've heard the tale of his martyrdom?"

"Yes," she answers, though she remembers there were several versions. There was always a child, though.

"Ilya had two children. We don't know their names, but perhaps one of them was your Aleksander," she mumbles. "Ilya Morozova's children died with him, and their deaths ended the Morozova line."

She shakes her head. "What does that mean?"

Genya sighs, her big blue eyes filled with pity when she looks at Alina. "I think it means you are both blessed and cursed."

When General Kirigan leads Alina into his council room on the night of the winter fete, she hasn't thought about Aleksander Morozova in weeks. And when his lips meet hers she almost forgets her own name.

Alina has been kissed before, drunken endeavours, awkward fumblings, most of them mistakes, often either too tentative or too bold, but this, this is different. Kirigan's mouth and hands are sure, moving and touching with purpose. His body is hard and insistent against hers, but never crossing that line of suffocating aggression, even if part of her wouldn't mind it.

He kisses her like a starved man, desperate and craving whatever it is he may think she can offer him, and Alina feels like she is drowning. Her head is spinning, she feels weightless and too heavy all at once. It's too much, so overwhelming part of her wants to push him away so she doesn't lose herself in the feeling of kissing him and being kissed by him, but she's too hungry for it.

Instead, she grabs the lapels of his kefta, bunching the fabric in her rabid fist and cards the fingers of her other hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling on the strands to ground herself. She's losing herself, but she's never been less afraid in her life. It's not truly loss, it's transcendence, a promise of something far greater, a concord of beauty and terror that has her straining to reach it. 

He groans into her mouth, and she swallows that groan greedily. His lips leave hers to nip at her jaw and suck on her pulse point, drawing a mewl from her throat. His hands are  still everywhere, roaming, exploring, holding, caressing, as are hers. 

She doesn't register the first knock on the door, but the second one makes her gasp, makes her reach for him with greedy fingers as soon as she feels him starting to pull back.

"Don't." She's not begging him, it's a feral growl rising from her chest.

He rests his forehead against hers and chuckles, stealing another kiss that has her craning her neck when he steps out of her embrace. Her heavy eyes flutter open, finding the black pools that are his and she feels liquid warmth swirling in her core. 

"Don't," she repeats, and this time it does sound like a plea, but she knows it's no use. Just a moment ago, he was in as deep as she was, but now he's striding for the door. 

He comes back for her, if only for a moment, but he returns to kiss her, only to leave again. It's a continuation of their game, this push and pull, but somehow there is no doubt in Alina's mind that he will be back. And she'll be here waiting for him.

She still feels dazed, and giddy, caught up in a warm, golden haze, when a creak behind her snaps her slow mind out of it and forces her to whirl around and call the light. 

A panel in the wall closest to her had swung open and Baghra was standing in the doorway it had been hiding. 

"Come, child, come quickly!" she whispers, and despite herself, Alina obeys the urgency in her voice.

"What's wrong?" she manages to ask before Baghra coaxes her into the tunnel behind her and starts walking, Alina following along.

Baghra tells her about the Fold and the Black Heretic, and she warns Alina that she's in danger. She claims that Kirigan is the danger. 

Alina objects. She keeps mouthing, "No!" her voice growing stronger until Baghra's stern look forces her to say, "I don't understand."

"Child," Baghra intones, grabbing her by the wrist. "Aleksander is the Black Heretic."

"What?" she blurts out. She should tell Baghra that she's not making any sense, that what she is telling her is impossible, completely ridiculous even, but she can't focus on any of that. Her hand flies up to cover the top of her left breast. 

"What did you call him?" 

Baghra huffs. "Did you think Kirigan was his real name? It's Aleksander Morozova."

Baghra tells her more, so much more. She summons shadows and shows her a painting, but Alina barely registers any of it. She keeps seeing his face. She hears his name inside her head, over and over again. Aleksander Morozova. Baghra leaves her, orders her to keep walking and to turn right at the fork. Her accomplices will be waiting for Alina there. 

Alina doesn't turn right at the fork. She's not ready to trust whatever Baghra has planned for her. She could wait and return to the Little Palace, follow the tunnel all the way back to Kirigan's—no, Aleksander's chambers, talk to him, tell him everything and demand an explanation.

Alina doesn't go back. She turns left at the fork and keeps walking, speeding up to a jog. Too much has happened tonight, and it's overwhelming her. She needs to get away from all of it. So she runs. 

[beelsnack]

Obey Me! Boys and the Cute Date They Would Take MC On

Lucifer: “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

When Lucifer had mentioned that an orchestra was going to be performing, they had been so excited to go that they nearly vibrated out of existence. But now that they were here, that excitement had morphed into a heavy lump of anxiety hanging out somewhere between their heart and stomach.

Lucifer glanced down at the human with a raised eyebrow. “And what in the Three Realms would make you think that?”

For a moment, they were quiet, looking around at the crowd of demons dressed to the nines. Elegant silk evening gowns and smart tuxedos abound. Their black slacks and dress shirt made them feel so under-dressed that they might as well have shown up naked.

Lucifer, sharp as ever, pulled them closer and leaned down the speak in their ear. “You needn’t feel intimidated, my dear.”

“I don’t feel intimidated, I feel stupid.”

“That isn’t any better.”

They sighed, casting another look around the hall. Golden mantle pieces, an elegantly-winding staircase, chandeliers absolutely dripping with crystals...everything made them feel incredibly insignificant.

“Should I have gotten more dressed up?”

Lucifer chuckled. “So that’s what has you worried?” 

He lead them away from the entrance into the hall proper. “All of these demons are dressed the way they are because they must work at being beautiful. You, my dear,” he stopped in front of them, reaching down to carefully hold the peacock pendent hanging from their neck - the only piece of jewelry they wore. “Are the only one who is naturally radiant enough to wear my symbol. These peasants could turn themselves into pure gold and they would only shine half as bright as you do.”

They could feel their face grow hot enough to catch fire. They opened and closed their mouth like a fish, intent on refuting Lucifer’s compliment, but he gave them no option. With a deep laugh that they felt travel up their spine, he offered his arm to them in a move straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

“Now then, shall we go? You’ll love this orchestra, I promise.”

Mammon: “I can’t believe there’s street fairs in the Devildom!”

It was surprisingly similar to something you would see up in the Human Realm. Strings of fairy lights lit up the cobblestone street that was lined with all kinds of stalls. Food stalls selling a variety of things that probably shouldn’t be deep fried but are anyway, games of chance, craftsman selling their wares - “Don’t buy anything from that one, all of their crap is cursed and they charge a fee for removal.” 

“Come on,” Mammon clicked his tongue as the two of them wandered throughout the fair. “Did’ja think the Devildom was all doomed souls and torture chambers?”

“...Yes?”

The demon paused before shrugging. “Ya know, that’s fair. But we have an image to keep, don’t we? Can’t have the little humans knowin’ about our bitchin’ carnivals.”

“I’ll take the secret to my grave.” 

Somewhere a little down the street, they could hear the spinning of a roulette wheel, and Mammon immediately perked up. 

“Aw yeah, now we’re talking! Come on, human, you get to see the Great Mammon in all of his glory!”

A thin spike of fear ran through their body as Mammon grabbed their wrist and tugged them through the crowd. “Didn’t Lucifer ban you from gambling? Like, forever?”

“Whatever, what he don’t know won’t hurt ‘im,” they finally reached the roulette booth. “As long as I don’t lose and you don’t squeal, we don’t have anything to worry about!”

“Mammon, there’s a big, gaping hole in your logic there - “

“Have a little faith, human!” Mammon grinned and he slapped some Grimm down on the counter. The glint in his eyes was damn near predatory, and it sent a different kind of shiver down their spine.

The demon behind the counter chuckled gleefully as they spun the wheel. The crowd surrounding them hooted and hollered and shoved each other to be able to watch the wheel, but Mammon looked surprisingly calm. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes trained on the pointer at the top of the wheel.

If they hadn’t been standing right next to him, they wouldn’t have noticed him rhythmically tapping against the sleeve of his jacket.

It was almost imperceptible, but the clicking of the wheel appeared to be following the beat that Mammon was tapping, slowing as the pauses between beats got longer. Eventually, both Mammon and the wheel stopped...

Right on the number he had bet on.

The crowd groaned as Mammon collected his winnings, some hissing at him as they dispersed. The Avatar of Greed looked truly in his element as he flipped a Grimm in the air. “Told ya.”

“You were...using magic?” the human looked back and forth between the wheel and Mammon. “You manipulated the wheel.”

“Aw, man, I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.” he sighed, pocketing his earnings. “Can’t ya just pretend I have incredible luck?”

“I will if you buy me food.”

“Deal.”

Leviathan: Going to the arcade on a Wednesday at noon was definitely one of Levi’s best ideas.

“Why does your aim suck so bad?”

“Oh, you are SO lucky this game doesn’t have friendly fire, Levi.”

“You couldn’t hit me even if it did.”

They were standing close enough that it wasn’t difficult for them to learn over and bump him with their shoulder. His grip on the orange plastic gun slipped and the virtual bullet went flying off into cyberspace. By the time he managed to correct himself, the zombie he had been aiming for was in the process of devouring the character on screen.

“Hey, what gives?!”

“Oops, sorry. My aim really sucks, you know.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Despite their dirty tactics, Levi still wiped the floor with them, cackling gleefully as their scores tallied up on the screen. "Beat that, normie!"

They pouted and blew a raspberry at him. "Jerk. I want a rematch!"

"You're on!"

Satan: If they hadn’t been in the Devildom for so long, they probably would have been scared out of their mind.

That being said, they had been in the Devildom for a while, and seeing an intricately detailed panorama of a demon cat devouring a person alive was only a little unsettling at this point.

“Wow, that must have taken a while,” they got up closer to the exhibit. “It’s like I can hear the screams of agony.”

“Apparently the artist spent a century just on the expression,” Satan came up behind them, slipping his hand into theirs. “It shows, doesn’t it?”

The Devildom Art Museum was having a special exhibition on Demonic cats, and of course Satan had managed to snag tickets for the two of them. They didn’t particularly want to know how he had managed that.

“So, where to next?” they asked.

“The next room has a collection of cursed cat collars.” Satan nodded his head towards the door. “Apparently there’s one that causes whoever puts the collar on their cat to choke to death.”

“Okay, but if there are any there that harm the cats we’re firebombing the place.”

Asmodeus: “See, I told you this place was cute!”

He hadn’t been lying. The little cafe was tucked into a little side street, and the outside seating provided one of the best views of the lake that they had seen aside from being inside the castle grounds. The moons were just beginning to appear as they sky transitioned from the dark lavender color that served as the Devildom’s “day time” into full darkness, and the reflection from the lake made everything sparkle like diamonds.

“How did you even find this place, Asmo?” they asked as they were seated by the host. “This is pretty hidden.”

“Didn’t you know, darling?” Asmo laughed, reaching across the table to weave their hands together. “Some of the most beautiful things can be found in the strangest of places.”

“That’s pretty, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“I slept with the owner’s son.”

They couldn’t hold back the definitely-not-cute snort. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“I never pass up an opportunity to fuck someone who can cook.” he said sagely. “I want to be fed before I have to do my walk of shame.”

“Don’t you have to have shame for that?”

“Hush,” Asmo giggled. “Here, they have a human-safe section.”

Beelzebub: “I don’t know, Beel, this place, seems awful expensive.”

The conversion rate between human currency and Grimm sometimes threw them off a little bit, but anytime you say three zeroes it was never a good sign.

“Does it?” Beel glanced up from the menu to look at them quizzically before peeking down at the prices again. “Ah, I guess it would. You don’t have to worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not - “

The server arrived, cutting off their protest. From the sheen of sweat on their brow, the human took it that the staff knew Beelzebub and his famous appetite. Even just the appetizer was enough to feed a whole family. When the waiter finally turned to them, he had to flip over to a new page in his pad. He looked rather relieved when they simply ordered water and fried bat wings (which they had discovered early on tasted a lot like chicken wings and it was therefore their go to.)

When the server dashed off to place their massive order, Beel turned back to the human. “What were you saying?”

“I don’t...” they sighed. “I won’t be able to pay you back.”

“Why would you have to?”

They blinked, tilting their head. “Huh?”

“I don’t mind paying. Plus, I get a discount here.”

The human glanced around the fancy dining area. “This doesn’t look like the place to give out discounts.”

“A lot of places give me and my brothers discounts. Well, Mammon lost a few of his, I think.”  Beel shrugged. “I think it’s because we’re considered nobility? I usually leave the discount as a tip though.”

That explained the grin the host had on their face when they sat them.

They smiled up at him. “You’re so sweet, Beel.”

Belphegor: Nights in the Devildom were surprisingly peaceful.

Once you got past the ideas of torture chambers and crypts, the nights were just like ones up in the Human Realm. Quiet, lazy, and on clear nights, you could see the stars.

“Do you know what that one is?”

The human followed where Belphegor was pointing. “Hm...Orion?”

“Ding.” Belphie laughed. “I knew you would be good at this.”

In typical Belphie fashion, he had texted them out of the blue and told them to meet him in the courtyard at midnight. They thought about just ignoring him and going to sleep, but now they were curious. Which was probably the demon’s plan.

When they arrived, Belphie was laying down on a blanket he had spread out on the grass.

“Took you long enough,” he yawned. “I almost fell asleep waiting for you.”

“It’s only 12:02!”

“Bold of you to assume I can’t fall asleep in two minutes. Are you going to sit down or what?”

And that was how the two of them ended up cuddled next to each other and stargazing.

Belphie knew a surprising amount about constellations.He was able to point out which star was named what, and knew most of the myths that the constellations were named after. Unsurprisingly, listening to him talk was very soothing, and they could feel their eyelids drooping.

“If you want to sleep, you can.” he finally murmured, sounding close to drifting off himself. “We can keep each other warm.”

“...I don’t think Lucifer would appreciate finding us passed out on the lawn.”

“All the more reason to do it.”

[namluve]

• paring: seokjin x reader  • word count: 2.3k • genre: smut, ceo!jin, husband!jin, secretary!reader, wife!reader  • rating: 18+ • warnings: hard dom!jin, bratty sub!reader, office sex, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mutual masturbation, name calling - whore & fuckdoll, humiliation, overstimulation, hair pulling, use of colour system, low-key cum play, reader crying, mention of aftercare • note: you can bet your girl never misses the chance to write ceo!jin. 

Your high heels were clicking against the tile floor as you made your way to the elevator. What could your CEO want from you at this hour? You were supposed to be home, cooking dinner for your husband. 

Instead, you were pressing the elevator button leading to the top floor, the floor dedicated to your CEO’s office. You often found it ridiculous, why did he even need an entire floor to himself? 

His office on the west side of the building, having the perfect view over the city and catching a glimpse of the ocean far away. His three meeting rooms, because having one is not enough apparently. The coffee break lounge with enough space to hold ten people. So unnecessary, after all, the only people working on the floor were you, and him.

As the elevator door opened, you walked past one of the meeting rooms in order to get to your desk that stood just outside your boss’s office. Going behind your desk, you bend down to open one of the drawers. Why do have to wear these short tight skirts anyway? If anyone were to look right now, they could probably see your panties as you opened the drawer to pull out your favourite red lipstick. 

Looking at yourself in your phone’s camera, you apply it quickly over your lips. Now you felt a little better about coming in in such a hurry, your messy bun even messier than you’d intended. The dark circles under your eyes, a reminder of how late your husband had kept you up the night before.

Going over to your boss’s door, you hope he finds you adequate as you knock on his door, not wanting to disappoint him.

“Come in,” you hear him say from the other side of the door. His voice a little deeper than usual, the one he usually uses to scold you. Fuck, you think to yourself. What had you done wrong now?  

Opening the door, you quickly closed it behind you as you walked up to your boss’s desk. Seokjin was sitting in his chair, watching your every move as you straighten your back once you reached him.

“You wanted me sir?” You asked, looking eyes with him, remembering all the times he had told you; ‘You should be able to keep eye contact. How else are people supposed to take you seriously?’

“Yes… Where were you at lunch today?” So, this was what it was all about, you thought.

“I was with Kyle from IT, down at Abby’s eating lunch,” you answered confidently. It was the truth after all, Seokjin had told you his meeting would go over time and that you should eat your lunch by yourself today.

“That’s an awfully lot you know about the ‘random guy’ you told me you had lunch with.” He was quoting the exact words you had told him this afternoon, and you were not having it.

“Isn’t a part of my job as your secretary to know about all your employees? Aren’t I... just technically doing my job?” 

“I think that ‘technically’… you are talking back at your boss right now. Breaking one of the rules we have agreed upon,” Seokjin spoke as he got up from his chair, walking over to the side of the desk where you were standing.

You stod on your ground, not taking a single step back even as he entered your personal space, standing right in front of you. Looking down at you, still not breaking eye contact, you could see the slight smirk on his lips as he sat down on his desk.

“Now…” he said as he placed his hands on either side of his body as he leaned back against the desk, crossing his legs, “what happens when someone breaks a rule?”

“They get punished.”

“Bend over the desk, ass up,” he ordered you and for the first time this evening, you broke eye contact with him as you did as you were told. Feeling a shiver going down your spine as you placed both your hand and your right cheek firmly against his desk. Feeling the coldness of the desk through your whole body. Your face cold against the surface. This was not the first time your boss had punished you. The thought of what he had done last time, fucking you against the widow, made you feel shivers down your spine.

What would he do this time? How would he punish you? Would he fuck you against the window again? Spank your ass red? Deny your orgasms? While you were deep in thought, Jin took a moment to just look at you, his pretty little sub splayed out on his desk for him. He already had a punishment in mind. One the two of you had just recently talked about but never gotten the chance to try out.

“I see my whore is finally behaving,” he said as he got up from the desk. You heard as he took of his suits jacket, the fabric rustling as he gently hung it up on the wall. He took his time. Closing the door, pulling down the blinds over the windows until he finally stood behind you. Uncuffing his shirt, pulling up the sleeves. The anticipation killing you, and he knew this.

You were getting wetter by the second. Wanting nothing more than for him to just finally touch you. Waiting patiently as Jin thought for a while.

“Skirt up, panties down.” Still keeping your face on the desk, another rule that Jin had for you, you struggle with the tasks you were ordered to do. Jin loving every second of your struggle. Using your legs to try and get your panties go down your legs. Catching them on your heel, bending your leg upwards, trying to catch your panties in your hand. With your leg bent, arm stretched out, Jin watched you, and you felt his gaze burning through you.

Once you finally got hold of them, you held your hand out, Jin taking the panties from you. Putting them in his back pocket. Smirking, he got his chair out, sitting down on it. Unbuckling his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers as he began playing with himself. Groaning as his hand slowly strokes his cock.

You could hear him, but you didn’t dare to try and look back. You were confused at where he was going with this punishment. Was he just going to leave you like this? Cum to the sight of you and then just leave?

“Make yourself cum,” he commanded, and you whined. Finally, your neglected clit and pussy hole would get some attention. Brining your hand down, you began making small circles on your clit. A relieved sigh leaving your lips at the contact. The bundle of never wound up from all the anticipation.

“Not talking back now are you?” Jin says and you know this is his way of being pleased. Pleased that you are obeying him, following his orders. Switching between circling your clit and pumping two fingers in and out of your clenching hole, you lose yourself in the pleasure. Jin still slowly stroking his cock, getting impatient with how you drag out your own pleasure.

“I told you to cum, didn’t I?” He questions and you take a deep breath, switching all your focus to your clit. Circling it fast and a little bit harder, cumming in a matter of seconds. The high washing over you quickly and you stop touching yourself.

At this, Jin pulled his pants up, securing them around his hips. You don’t notice as he walks up to you, still in bliss from your orgasm.

“I didn’t tell you you could stop now, did I?” He said right before plunging two of his fingers in your pussy, collecting some wetness before he moved over to your clit. As he started to quickly circle it, you arched your back. Your hand trying to take hold of his. The stimulation right after your orgasm being to much. Raising your head as you looked back.

Jin was quick to take hold of your hand, placing it behind your back. Pushing you down onto the desk again. You screamed out in both pleasure and pain, a few tears escaping your eyes at the sudden over stimulation.  

“I didn’t tell you you could fucking move either now, did I?” He asked and you tried everything in your power to get away from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. Knowing you could say your safeword at any given time and he would stop. You honestly just wanted to know how deep you’d pushed his buttons this time. Pretty far judging by the situation you’re were in.

You tried closing your legs as your second high was quickly approached, Jin immediately noticing. Kicking at your feet to widen your stand even more. Almost making you lose your balance if it wasn’t for how tightly he pressed you against his desk.   

You were a sobbing mess, falling apart as you came on Jin’s hand. Him slowing down his movements as you did. Still holding you down by the desk, he removes his fingers from your clit and you wince. Breathing uneven as you try to come back from your incredibly powerful high.

Once Jin saw that you were starting to regain your balance and could hold yourself up, he let go of your hand. Your whole arm feeling sore from having it behind your back for so long. Finally, you could have both hands on either side of your body and balance yourself.

Behind you, Jin was staring at your gaping hole as you clenched, wetness running down your legs from how hard you just came. Pulling his pants and boxers just below his ass, he aligned his cock with your entrance.

“Colour?”

“Green,” you answered and Jin smirked. Pushing his dick inside of you. As he entered you fully, you were a moaning mess. Tears continuing to run down your cheek. Jin grabbed a handful of your hair, tugging you upwards as he started whispering in your ear.

“My pretty little fuckdoll never gets enough of my cock, does she? Your makeup is all ruined darling, you should know that you tears never get you anywhere.” And with that, he lets you rest on top of his desk again. Starting to fuck you at a brutally fast pace, chasing his own high. The pain combined with the pleasure making you feel as if you were on cloud nine.

With a few more strokes, hitting as deep as Jin could, he came in you. Taking a moment to just breath before he pulled out. Putting his dick back in his pants as he notices his cum starting to run out of you. Taking two of his fingers, he pushes it back inside. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Keep it there until we get home.” He orders and you close your legs together, trying to keep in as much as possible. You rest against his desk, not moving. Trying to catch your breath. Jin picks up his jacket and pulls out his keys from his desk. Looking at you still trying to comprehend everything that had just happened, he smiled.

Tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear as he kissed you on top of your head. Helping you push down your skirt again.

“You took your punishment so well baby girl, now let’s get home.”

“I think you’ll have to carry me to the car.” Jin chuckled. Helping you stand up, turning you around so you could rest your ass against the desk. Looking into your eyes, smiling he places another kiss on top of your forehead.

“I think you are a big girl who can use her legs.”

“Not after you fuck me like that no I cannot.” You answer and he chuckles. Taking your hand in his. He begins to walk towards the door, taking you with him. You take a step and that’s when you feel it. His cum slowly making its way down and you freeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jin asks as he stops as well, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You forgot to give me my panties back?”

“I didn’t forget anything.” Jin said while shrugging his shoulders and you begin to puzzle it all together.

“You mean… I’m supposed to walk with it all the way back to the car?” You ask, and he nods.

“Exactly.”

“What if it spills out?!” You panic and he just shakes his head smiling.

“It won’t because you will be keeping all of it in that pretty pussy of yours. Otherwise, I’ll just push it back in when were alone in the elevator.”

“Jin!” You hiss as you playfully slap his arm. Tugging at your hand, Jin gets you to walk with him.

“What’s for dinner?” He asked on the way over to the elevator and you rolled your eyes.

“I never got to finish it as my boss-“

“Husband.” Jin quickly corrected and you let out a sigh.

“-Called me into the office.”

“For valid reasons,” Jin said as the two of you made it into the elevator. You didn’t even answer him. There was no point. Well… at least now you knew how to really push his buttons. A nice lunch with Kyle and you would get punished until you were seeing stars. Oh how a little thing that could get you in so much trouble and give you so much pleasure. Next time… you knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of your husband.

With that on your mind, you and Jin safely made it home. Him running you a bath as soon as you got home and finishing cooking dinner while you cleaned yourself up. A reward waiting for you for keeping his cum safely all the way home. Never was a day the same with Jin, and you couldn’t be more thankful for it.

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 3

Summary: What do you get when you mix Hayward and the Xmen? A pissed off Erik that's seriously trying to not murder the man!

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, 

Chapter 3: The Maximoff Anomaly

They had settled in fast. The older man that had intercepted them was called Hayward. He seemed very distraught at their arrival and made them go into an unused building. The director hadn’t listened to their protesting, he preferred having them out of the way. For what ever reason, Erik wasn’t sure. They soon realized that time worked differently in this universe. While they had already seen the episode and moved on, it had just ended as they arrived. Charles had told him with amusement that Hank would go crazy over the possibilities. Thankfully, the bunker contained televisions that monitored the town and the broadcast. Hayward had deemed necessary to make sure only people close to him knew of their arrival. They were all sitting around a table when he demanded their story. Charles spoke up. “We’re not from your Earth,” he started.

The director had looked at Kurt with a raised eyebrow, “I had that much figured.”

The professor continued, “two weeks back, one of our members went missing and the broadcast was all we could find. Our universe seems to be ahead of you with the episodes, but we are behind in years.”

“How so?” Questioned the woman sitting next to Erik.

“To us, it’s the eighties.” Charles waited a few moments, letting the people around some time to understand. “We come from a world where people are born with mutations, Kurt here can teleport.” The teenager looked at the professor, silently asking for permission to show his powers. Charles nodded and the blue mutant teleported from one side of the room to another. Hayward seemed shocked as the rest of the people gasped. Charles continued, “this is Raven, she can shapeshift.” Erik smirked as Mystique changed into a perfect copy of the director, making him jump out of his chair in surprise. She turned back into her human form and watched with amusement as Hayward slowly sat back down, eyeing her with caution. Probably seeing how unsettled the agents were, Charles decided to end this quickly. “I can personally read mind and Erik can control metal.”

Erik rolled his eyes as the military people looked at them with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to demonstrate his powers; he had done enough of that with Shaw. The team seemed to get the message that there would be no more demonstrations and moved on.

“So,” said the lady next to the director, “why are you here? Other than the broadcast.”

“Oh well, like I’ve mentioned before, we had a member of our team go missing.” The professor wheeled himself close to a screen and rewound the episode to when Peter appeared. “You see this young man? This is Peter, we had no clue where he went. We watched the broadcast in hopes for answers and we finally found him. Though in a tighter spot than we’d expected, but he does have a knack for trouble.”

Erik smirked at the joke; the speedster had always found himself in the strangest place at the wrong time. He was basically a magnet for trouble.

The director broke the silence. “So, this is not Pietro Maximoff?”

Erik shook his head, deciding to speak up at last, “no, he is not your Pietro, this is Peter Maximoff; my son.”

Hayward seemed surprised that someone other than Charles had spoken. “Is he like you all, enhanced?”

“Yes, he is a mutant,” answered Raven, clearly uncomfortable about the man’s tone. “He has superspeed.”

The director closed his eyes and sighed before turning to his colleague. “Bring the files concerning the Maximoff anomaly, they need to know.” The woman nodded and left the compound. He turned to the other members that hadn’t done much but gape at them and ordered them out. Apparently, he didn’t want people to witness what was about to happen. That left the man alone with the X-men. “Look, I get what you people can do, you barge in and act on an impulse; fix what you think is a threat and leave the rest of us to deal with the mess you leave behind. You might think you’re right, but this is my base.” Erik tensed up at the man’s words, this speech being all too familiar. “I don’t want you meddling in my stuff, Wanda Maximoff is a threat that needs to be dealt with no matter the price. You can go get your friend after.”

It was now official; he hated this man.

Though, before he could show him just how much he despised him, his colleague came back. She didn’t react to the lack of personnel, perhaps she had been expecting it. She was holding a significant number of files and what seemed to be a tv remote. Hayward thanked her and opened a file labeled ‘confidential’. It showed a picture of Wanda. Only she seemed younger, and her hair were a dark brown; there was also a man with bleached blonde hair at her side. They were in a crowd of people, their faces twisted in rage as they seemed to yell to something the picture didn’t show.

“This is Wanda Maximoff, back when she joined a Nazi base and accepted to be experimented on. This is how she got her powers.”

“Director, with all due respect, I believe your thoughts betray you,” interrupted Charles, to the man’s frustration. “I think it’s important to complete your statement and precise that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.”

Erik secretly praised his friend and his telepathy; Hayward was obviously trying to antagonize the woman. It was obvious they now had to take his version of events with a grain of salt.

“Yes...” grunted the director, obviously upset about being caught in a lie. He pointed to the other man in the picture, “this is Pietro Maximoff, Wanda’s twin, the real one. He too had superspeed.”

He switched on a screen that was flatter than any television Erik had ever seen. It showed Wanda and Pietro in what appeared to be a lab. There was a sort of casket all plugged in with tubes. The pair seemed to be arguing with two older men. There was no audio, so their discussion didn’t make much sense. Suddenly, a blue blur raced through the lab, removing all the tubes in mere seconds. The blonde man stopped next to the casket looking thing and threw the last tube on the floor. It was strange, seeing another version of his son. Their powers were very similar yet very different. While Peter’s trail was silver, Pietro’s was blue, he also left some blue energy lingering in the air. It lasted a few seconds as he stopped before it disappeared. From the few dates in the documents and video, this Quicksilver seemed to have developed his powers only for a few months. It was probably why he seemed to be a little slower than his son. Hayward spoke again.

“The twins were working against the Avengers, those in charge of defending our planet. There was an army of robots threatening to destroy the world, they had sided with the robot in charge.” He glanced quickly at Charles. “They eventually changed sides, but Pietro didn’t survive.”

The footage changed to show a man and a child trying to take cover as a trail of bullets grew nearer. Suddenly, they were out of harm’s way and the speedster was in their place. His shirt was riddled with holes that quickly soaked with blood and he fell to the ground, dead. Fear seized Erik as he watched the man fall to the ground; momentarily seeing Peter in his place. Would a similar thing have happened had Mystique not disguised herself as one of the horsemen?

Hayward continued, showing footage of Wanda fighting in a group against other people, explaining how this event had led to the Sokovia accords, which was nothing more than a differently named mutant registration act. Except this one was actually approved. She had refused to sign and went into hiding, only to resurface when a titan had attacked the Earth. He apparently needed something called infinity stones, one of which was in Vision’s head. From the next chain of event Hayward told them, the titan had apparently succeeded in retrieving the stone. The real mystery was how the Vision was back to life; the director insisted that it was Wanda who resurrected him. She had been blipped, like half of the universe, and had came back grief stricken and ready to do anything to have a perfect family life. She had taken an entire town hostage and made them into her puppets. There was no telling what she might do to achieve her goal. Apparently kidnapping an alternate universe version of her brother wasn’t out of her reach. As Hayward continued telling them about Wanda’s life and what she had done, Erik had only one pressing thought: just how powerful was Wanda?

“How many people are in this town?” Wondered Charles.

“A little more than three thousand. They’re not all casted as roles, most are simply background characters.”

The wheelchair bound man nodded in comprehension. “Have you identified them all? Warned their families?”

He shook his head. “I believe it’s in everyone’s interest if we keep this low, we don’t want to alarm anyone. Especially when the world just came back.”

“You idiot,” raged Raven, “if they can’t reach their loved ones, they will ask questions. They will panic. Your logic is awfully flawed.”

“This is not your dimension, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” argued Hayward, clearly annoyed with them. “I will try to urge the identification process, but you people stay here. I don’t want more superpowered people and their associates getting in my way.”

With that, the man just left the place, followed by his colleague. Whether it was intentional or not, they left their documentation behind. Erik took one of the many files from the pile and opened it. This one described Vision’s origin and whereabouts until he had been destroyed in-

“Charles,” he said, not taking his eyes off the numbers. “This here says that the android died in 2018, five years ago.”

“We traveled 40 years in the future?” Said Kurt, understandably a little overwhelmed by the situation.

Raven put a comforting hand on the teleporter’s shoulder before looking at her friend. Her eyes showed how the situation affected her just as much as it did them. He didn’t blame her; Erik wasn’t sure if he truly grasped the gravity of the implications yet. For now, he preferred to focus on Wanda and her past; the more he knew about her, the better of a chance they’d have to retrieve his son safely and unharmed. The later wasn’t looking too hopeful. From his own experience with mind control and the co-worker’s reaction to being awoken, Peter would likely have a long and painful recovery once he would be back to himself. He just hoped that the differences between their timelines meant that he hadn’t been controlled since he had gone missing. Perhaps, by some luck, he would have arrived a little before he appeared on screen. He didn’t let himself think of what the speedster could have endured before being put under the woman’s spell. Especially if he had been her puppet for the entire two weeks he had disappeared.

“Erik,” interrupted Charles, “I can hear your concerns and I can assure you; your son is a fighter. His mutation is a natural telepath repellent, he’ll be just fine.”

The man smiled at his friend’s words, momentarily comforted. But then, a terrible thought creeped into his head. “Then tell me, old friend, if he is so immune; what horrible torture would he have to go under, so that his mental shield would be lowered enough for him to be vulnerable?”

The silence that followed his statement seemed to confirm that no one had even considered how Peter could be controlled in the first place. They had been too panicked at seeing the young man on the screen and then focused on getting to him to even think of the logic of his newly casted role.

“B-but he’ll be alright,” stammered Kurt, his tail anxiously twitching behind him, swinging, and curling unto itself. “He’s Peter, he always comes out alright.���

Charles smiles weakly at his student, “of course he will, Kurt,” he reassured him, “but we will have to give him time to heal and let him do the first steps when he’ll be ready.”

Erik shared a worried look with Raven, the professor seemed hopeful that the speedster would turn out fine, but he didn’t seem to realize how ahead he was thinking. They were on a military base that had studied for nine days this seemingly all powerful being that didn’t let you in without her consent and a rewrite of your life. And they hadn’t gotten far. From what they had learned, Peter would not be free of Wanda’s control unless she herself brought down the dome. But how could a grief-stricken mutant with powers never seen before just give up what she perceived as the perfect life she deserved?

...

They had stayed up late, learning about Wanda’s past and being horrified at what she had to go through. Erik wasn’t sure how he felt about the woman. She had gone through awful events, a struggle similar to his own. He did feel pity towards her, but he couldn’t look past the fact that she had his son playing her twisted game. The group had eventually settled down for the night, sleeping as good as they could without beds or blankets. They were suddenly awoken by some agitation on the base. Charles stared off into the distance before turning to his team, “Hayward has kicked off people from the base that were being disrespectful to him, now he’s coming our way.”

Indeed, barely fifteen seconds after he had spoken, the director opened the door. He seemed annoyed. “I’m just here to tell you that a new episode should air in the next twenty minutes.”

The blue teen looked at the man, “what happened outside just now?”

His question apparently wasn’t a welcome one since Hayward clenched his jaw in frustration. He answered nonetheless, “I got rid of nuisances. Nothing that concerns you or your team.”

That shut the boy up, but Raven stepped in front of him protectively. “You don’t get to talk to him like that, or to any of us.”

The director narrowed his eyes at her. “You should be thankful,” he snarked, “I could have you all arrested and locked up for the rest of your days, along with your little friend. Yet I haven’t even told anyone about your presence. I’ve been more than benevolent. So, I suggest you watch your mouth.”

Rage built up in Erik, he had heard these words so many times from government figures that disguised their hatred by saying what they could have done but didn’t. The metal bender was well aware that men like him wouldn’t hesitate to sell them out for a raise. What he didn’t appreciate was the way he threatened to imprison Peter as soon as they would get him free from Wanda’s control. Erik felt the metal in the man’s outfit and forced him closer, bringing him at his level. A sliver of fear was seen for a split second in Hayward’s eyes and a feeling of satisfaction crept into his chest. That man was a coward. “You listen to me,” he growled, “we can take out this base in seconds if we feel like it. I’ve seen your kind before, you crush others to rise in rank, but deep down you’re scared. You’re terrified because you’re aware that you are nothing. And if you drop your facade even for a second, they will see you for what you truly are. So, you take out the competition before it even has a chance to realize its potential. But guess what? You’ve met your match because I see you for what you truly are.” He paused as he stared into the man’s eyes. It was a competition of stares that lasted for a few seconds. Erik’s unwavering gaze pierced through the man’s pitiful attempt at intimidation without much effort. Finally, he let his grip go and kept his ground as Hayward took a few steps back. “Here’s a deal, little man, stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.”

The director glared at him and then switched to the other people in the room, probably wondering if the threats he had said had a chance of becoming reality. Whatever he concluded, Erik didn’t know, but the man left the room fuming. The room was silent for a few seconds before Charles wheeled himself closer. He was about to speak but the metal bender beat him to it. “Don’t try to reason with me, old friend, that man had it coming. I only spoke the truth.”

The bald man shook his head. “Yes, you are right, and I don’t blame you for this, but perhaps threatening the director of the base we’re staying in wasn’t the greatest idea?”

Before he could argue, Raven intervened, “I think you did good. It’s been a while since I had seen one of your Magneto speeches; that Stryker knock off deserved it.”

He snorted at her comparison; Hayward was very similar to their own impersonation of the anti-mutant feeling back home. Kurt seemed a little unsettled by Erik’s speech. But he didn’t have time to make sure the teen was alright. Suddenly, the television in their little bunker flickered on; a new episode was starting. They all scrambled to sit down as the screen showed one of the twins running around with a camera in his hands. The upbeat intro song was echoing through the room.

‘Wanda!

WandaVision!

Don’t try to fight the chaos

Don’t question what you’ve done

The game can try to play us

Don’t let it stop the fun’

He opened the bathroom door, showing Wanda brushing her teeth; she also had rollers in her hair. She closed the door with her magic and Tommy ran downstairs to Vision who was reading the newspaper.

‘Some days, it’s all confusion

Easy come and easy go’

Erik watched the screen anxiously as the family members were shown, what would she make her son do?

‘But if it’s all illusion

Sit back, enjoy the show!’

The twin went in the kitchen, their neighbor was looking in the fridge. After a distasteful close up of the woman’s behind, Tommy was now headed for outside.

‘Let’s keep it going

Through each distorted day

Let’s keep it going

Though there may be no way of knowing

Who’s coming by to play’

A blur came out from the house and Erik’s stomach twisted as his son appeared on screen. He was wearing a grey and black shirt and jeans shorts. He briefly stopped in front of the camera and pulled his tongue out like some sort of rock star. He ran out of the shot and came back holding the long-haired twin under one arm. The screen froze to simulate a family picture being taken. The logo ‘WandaVision’ in red and yellow hues.

“Pietro Maximoff as himself?” remarked Raven unimpressed. “Really?”

Erik didn’t react to her voice; he was all too focused on his son. While he didn’t seem that different than usual, he couldn’t help but notice his hair. His usual silver mess of hair were now a bleached blonde. He stared at the screen in disbelief.

This woman had taken away one of Peter’s most unique traits, a part of his personality, to fit her narrative.

He continued looking at the screen with a mix of rage and anxiety. If she had changed him so easily to fulfill her illusion; there was no telling what else she could do if she found out he wasn’t truly her brother.

***

Notes: Next chapter: the halloween special! (and something else)

[seacottons]

steel heart: — [ soulmate au ]

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

wc: 5k

genre: trash

notes: some swearing. set in wave-era. the early 90s? this was supposed be a long, slow-burn kinda fic, but in my defense i suck ass at strangers-to-lovers, so. yes. not proofread bc idc.

summary: yeosang took joy in pickpocketing all of the naive tourists in town, until he realized he stole his soulmate’s wallet.

The pads of your fingers gently brushed along the row of cat food cans, your orbs flickering to each one as you squinted in concentration. Picking a can up, you observed it curiously and failed to notice a shadow loom over your figure from behind. A hand grasping a can above your head startled you, and you swiftly turned to glare at the person invading your personal bubble.

The stranger paid you no mind as he walked away, can in one hand and skateboard in the other. You scoffed, opting to silently glare holes into his back before turning around to continue your search, vehemently spitting out, "Rude jerk."

After filling your cart with all the necessities, you made yourself over to the checkout. You fished for your wallet from your bag, brows furrowing in confusion whilst failing to locate it. You were absolutely certain you didn't leave it at home.

Your felt your stomach practically drop at the memory of the man, head snapping up to glance around your surroundings frantically. Was he still here? Had he taken it? Had you accidentally dropped it somewhere in the store?

With an embarrassed smile, you hastily explained your situation to the unamused cashier and excused yourself to take a look around the store. Half an hour ticked by, and you're sure you've looked through every aisle about three times each, but your wallet was nowhere to be seen.

And to think your new life here was sailing smoothly.

Trudging back home begrudgingly, you made a silent note about the man's appearance. It didn't help that you only caught a glimpse of his backside, but you only had chestnut brown hair and a skateboard to work with. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

"Don't give me that look," you scolded your cat gently, "I'll bring you tuna another day."

The gray feline gave you a blank stare before curling against the windowsill.

In all the days he's lived, Yeosang thinks today is most likely his worst. He pays no mind to the scrambling and angry Seonghwa, who is trudging around the house with an apron and gloves, grumbling (read: yelling) to himself about how the place looks like 'a disgusting man-cave that even a pig would be ashamed of'. Sure, the coffee table and kitchen were always littered with half-drunk, chipped coffee mugs, used tissues, torn magazines, San's cat treats, and random phone chargers, but in all honesty, it wasn't that bad.

Also, Yeosang had a major headache, and Seonghwa's nagging really didn't do anyone any favor. And quite frankly, he didn't give a rat's ass; He had other important matters to attend to.

"Wow," a loud laugh rings throughout the large living room, "You've royally fucked up this time, haven't you?"

"Who fucked up?" Mingi asks from the kitchen. He carefully stirs a pot of noodles while his blue haired companion stares impatiently from over his shoulder. If the lack of hygiene didn't kill them, it'll be the sodium instead. That, or San's crumb-filled, backwash water bottles.

"Yeosang fucked up," Wooyoung replies in amusement at his friend's dismay. The brunette picks his head up and gives the laughing boy a menacing look.

"Shut up," he grumbles, a hand running through his locks in frustration, "They don't need to know."

"What don't we need to know?"

As if on cue, a redhead plops down onto the sofa beside Wooyoung and a snickering San. There's some suspicion in the tone of his voice, and Yeosang doesn't like it. Hongjoong peers at the two in question, his eyes then studying the look of betrayal on Yeosang's features.

The brunette bristles angrily from his spot, "Don't say it-"

"Yeosang apparently stole a wallet," Jongho mumbles quietly from his spot on the floor. He squints in concentration at the word puzzle below him, not paying the older boys any mind.

Hongjoong quirks a brow, not quite understanding, "Okay? But doesn't he do that daily? What's the problem?"

Yeosang shifts his annoyed glare to the giggling San.

"Apparently, the wallet belongs to his soulmate," San smiles deviously, quickly snatching the brown leather item from the coffee table to showcase to Hongjoong, "See? Same birthmark and all."

Hongjoong's eyes widen as he assesses the identification card within the wallet, his jaw going slack.

Mingi noisily slurps his noodles while entering the living room, Yunho trailing behind him not too long after, "Oh, wow. Yeosang really did fuck up this time," he says with a mouthful of noodles. He and the blue haired male share a look of amusement, before both erupting into fits of laughter.

The brunette dropped his head once more into the safety of his arms, shoulders slumping in defeat at the sound of the other boys' laughter, "Why me?"

Another week and another paycheck later, you finally had enough for a recent trip to the market. You peered down at your work attire, grimacing at the embarrassing sight of red sauce stains. It'll be a quick run, so maybe nobody will take notice.

Grabbing a few cans of cat food and other items, you grimaced at the heavy weight of the hand cart straining your muscles. You sighed gently, turning to walk into another aisle when a blur of man invaded your vision. A heavy weight sent you flying to the floor, the items in your cart spilling and rolling down the aisle as the stranger groaned atop of your frame.

"Shit, I'm sorry-"

Your mind took a few extra seconds to process just exactly what occurred, and when you blearily took note of the flipped skateboard to your left and the mop of brown hair invading your vision.

A pair of wide eyed brown eyes met your own, and you silently gaped at the handsome stranger sprawled on top of you. You gaze at him as if you truly saw the sun for the first time, utterly captivated by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. Swallowing thickly at the close proximity and the soft puffs of his breath fanning your burning face, you study his features intently, "Oh, wow.. you're.."

You really don't think you've ever seen a man as handsome-

You suddenly gasped.

"You!"

The man hastily sat up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he wordlessly took in your disheveled appearance. Before he had the chance to open his mouth for an apology, you fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to assert dominance, "You took my wallet, didn't you?"

Instead of replying, he casually brushed the hair from your face and leaned forward to gaze at your left eye, his own widening at the sudden sight. You hastily slapped his hand away with a scoff of disbelief, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Your birthmark.."

He suddenly snapped out of his train of thought, eyeing you in mild amusement while digging into his back pocket for an item. When you caught sight of the familiar brown leather of your wallet, you released a gasp of disbelief, giving him an accusatory look of anger, "I knew it!"

"I was looking for you actually- to return it," he curtly started, brows quirking up as you quickly snatched it from his hands. He gives you a brief glance, a glint of amusement in his eyes, before he stands and offers you a hand, to which you stubbornly ignore. You hurriedly stand and save the small crumb of dignity you have left. You quickly study the inside of your wallet, brows knitting in confusion at the untouched money.

"Cut the bullshit," you scoffed, dusting your uniform and shooting him an unamused stare, "You stole it—" you blinked down at the skateboard before returning your hard stare at the male, "Who even rides that thing inside- I- nevermind."

You ignored his attempt at helping you pick up your items off the floor, defensively snatching the canned goods from his hands, "I don't need your help! You've done more than enough!"

"I'm Yeosang," he hesitantly offered his hand. He towered over your frame with an awkward smile.

"Yeah? And I don't care," you grumbled, turning away to saunter off to the cashier. The smile instantly vanished from his features, and he reached over to grasp your elbow.

"Wait-" he calls after you, "Give me a minute to explain!" He tugs you back, and you nearly stumble against his chest.

In all fairness, you've just found the thief who stole your wallet, and you quite frankly don't think he deserves any form of respect whatsoever.

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grasp, but he only tightens his grip with a determined expression on his flushed face.

"You have five seconds to let go of me, or else."

The fumes of Hongjoong's nail polish in the air and an obnoxious splutter of laughter greeted him once he stepped foot inside the large home. Why did he ever agree to live with seven other monsters?

His brow twitched in annoyance.

Three heads from the living room turned to gaze questioningly at the frustrated brunette.

"What the hell happened to you?" wheezed an amused Wooyoung from the sofa. Yeosang wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face and-

"I take it things didn't go well for lover boy," San grinned from the floor, hands occupied with running along his cat's fur.

"Got his ass handed to him by his soulmate, you think?" Jongho added casually whilst adjusting his posture and clicking away at the remote. The other two snorted with amused laughter.

"Aren't soulmates supposed to be infatuated with each other at first sight?"

"I don't know, San. Maybe Yeosang's case is special."

"I mean, he did steal-"

"Can you three please just shut up," he seethes, rummaging through the freezer for a bag of frozen vegetables. He simply walks past Yunho's confused form in the hallway, grumbling about how he doesn't want to talk about it.

You thought you had seen the last of that pest, but the very next day, you practically choked at the sight of the male walking into the coastal cafe you worked at.

"What are you doing here!?"

"Y/n, wait-" he grimaced, hands raising up defensively, "Give me a minute to explain."

He even had the audacity to dodge your question.

"How do you know my-" you gave him a puzzled look, before your expression darkened, "Oh. Right. You stole my wallet, of course you snooped through my ID."

He gave you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "I forgive you for giving me a black eye."

He notices your dumbfounded look.

"Huh. I don't recall ever apologizing to you," you begin, "And I never told you where I work, either. You've been stalking me, haven't you?"

"No. You were wearing the uniform of this place yesterday actually," he points a matter-of-factly. Clearing his throat, he peered around, thankful at the lack of customers this early in the morning, "I uh.. I think- I think you're my soulmate."

You pause your ministrations.

"Come again?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighs, shoulder slumping as he repeats himself whilst pointing to his left eye, "I think we're soulmates. You and I share the same birthmark and-"

A loud laugh escaped your lips, "You are most definitely not my soulmate. Birthmark or not," you turned to assemble utensils and napkins, fully disregarding his presence, "I'm not interested in thieves. Now if you'll leave me alone, I have some work to do."

"But you felt a connection too, didn't you? Yesterday, in the market-" he drawled in amusement, leaning over the countertop in a teasing manner, "I know you feel it when you look at me."

"The only thing I feel when I look at you is a mind-splitting headache," you grumble while adjusting the radio station to your liking.

A minute of silence passes. His face scrunches in distaste.

"What on earth is that insufferable noise?"

"That's called rock music." You roll your eyes, "Now leave me alone."

You take sudden interest in the dirty speckle you find on one spoon, and maybe if you stare hard enough at it, he'll disregard you and leave.

Your head perks at the sound of a chair dragging against the floor.

"Serve me."

"What the hell did you just say?" you spluttered belligerently, turning around with a look of pure disbelief. Your eye twitched at the sight of him taking a seat so casually on one of the booth chairs. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"I honestly don't, but—" He studied you with humor in his eyes, his fingers drumming along the wooden countertop, "my friends say that I am."

"I don't know who you think you are, but you-"

"A customer."

"Oh, piss off," you give up and turn to continue wrapping pairs of utensils together, "I'm not serving you."

"Is everything alright there, y/n?" called the tiny, elderly lady from the back, "Do we have a customer already?" Your head turns to eye the small, gray-haired woman exiting the kitchen, "Oh! A handsome fellow. What would you like to drink, young lad?"

Your eyes widen and your heart nearly drops to the floor.

Your orbs turn to slits as Yeosang gives you a sleazy smile, "Coffee for now, actually."

The poor napkin crumples into a wrinkly mess in your fist.

Oh, this bastard. This slimeball. You'll make him pay.

"Y/n! Take the man's order and start brewing the coffee!"

"Yes, Mrs. Lee!" You turned back to give the brunette a sour look, "The faster you order, the faster you'll leave. So what the hell do you want?"

The next day was much busier than the last.

You're particularly disturbed by the way two males stare at you like deer in headlights every time you pass by their table. They're young looking, maybe around your age. Kind of handsome, too- but they really don't know how to be discreet in the slightest.

Tired of the staring, you pause suddenly, giving them a look of concern as they suddenly dart their eyes and find extreme interest in the salt and pepper shakers in between them, "Is everything alright here?"

For a moment, they stay quiet.

"You're fine," the black haired one replies with a delirious smile, his head resting in his palm. He startles as the blonde elbows him in the side with a harsh whisper of Wooyoung!, and he jumps upright, back stiff and voice growing louder, "Uh! I- uh, I mean- it's fine! Everything is fine!"

"Okay.." you slowly draw out with furrowed brows.

The blonde grimaces in embarrassment, shielding his face with his hand as he looks off to the side in shame, "Can you at least try not to embarrass us?"

"In my defense, Yeosang never said his soulmate was that hot in person!? I could've used a warning, y'know?"

The bell on the door jingles and immediately catches your attention. You walk to the front with a smile only for it to instantly fall at the sight of the familiar mop of brown hair.

"Not you.." you sigh, your head in your hand as you stare in dismay out the window, "Why does the universe hate me?"

"Why are you complaining?" He quipped back with a playful bite, "Weren't you the one staring at me all day yesterday?"

"I was making sure you weren't going to steal anything," you narrowed your eyes at his growing smirk. He leans over the flaky, wooden podium and simpers at the sight of your panic stricken face, "Stop, you look like a creep."

"I know a liar when I see one," he sighed with a shake of his head. Reaching over to pluck out a stray fuzz of dust from your hair, he shoots you a determined frown, "The only thing I'm ever going to steal from here is your heart."

"I- that's kind of gross. Flirting is against the law on these premises," you stutter out, brows furrowing and nose flaring. You refuse to give in to his flirtatious remarks. You're also thankful the podium conceals your wobbly legs.

"Who the hell made that stupid rule?"

"Me. Now what do you want?"

"Such welcoming service skills you have there," he mumbles sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"Let me guess. You want chicken and a soda, right?"

Across the room, the two boys shared a quick look before one leaned over to whisper in the other's ear. They both nod in unison, before throwing you knowing grins and snorting as they munched quietly on their food.

"Correct," he says with a steady cold voice, "And a body-bag if you have any, please."

Before you processed his words, he sauntered off to the table of the two boys, their complexions paling at the sudden angry demeanor of the brunette. His hands quickly reach forward to tug both of their ears as he quietly berates them.

"I told you not to come here!" he ignores the way Wooyoung laughs and whines in protest as he's practically pulled off his seat by his ear.

"We're not doing anything! We're just eating!"

"Eating my ass, you're-"

"Oh, gross. I'm not gonna do that. Maybe you should ask y/n-"

You and other patrons stop to gaze at the commotion at the back of the cafe, and you roll your eyes at the disturbance, before walking back over to another table to collect the money and bill.

A few minutes pass and kitchen bell rings. You look back to see the fried chicken plate steaming on the countertop, along with a large glass of bubbling soda.

The duo discreetly peek up to stare at your form, only to startle at the unwavering glare from Yeosang.

"Fried chicken and a large coke?"

"Mhm," Yeosang meets your eyes, and you internally pester yourself at the sensation of your cheeks and ears flaming. How absolutely dare he make your stomach churn like this, "Thanks, y/n."

"Say, y/n. Are you new to these parts? I wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours if I saw one," mused the black haired male. Yeosang threw a hard stare at the younger, and the latter shrunk a bit in his seat, the same mischievous smile unwavering on his features.

"I moved here about a month ago," you stated simply. A moment ticks by and the trio argue in a hushed manner.

"Well, we'll take our leave now!"

"Good luck, Yeosang!" the blonde called out suddenly, throwing a thumbs up in the air whilst hastily making their way out of the cafe, the little bell signaling their departure.

His eyes glance at you momentarily, before he clears his throat and looks away.

Your eyes narrow suddenly at the brown haired man.

"You're paying for their lunch, right?"

He chokes on a bite of his chicken.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Yeosang says hurriedly, fingers stumbling as he attempts to tie his laces.

"Where?" presses Wooyoung with a large smile.

Yeosang doesn't reply and instead throws open the coat cabinet to look around for his ripped, acid-wash jacket.

"Guys! Yeosang's treating us at y/n's cafe!"

Excited jeers come from some of the rooms, and Yeosang can only stare in utter horror and disbelief at his best friend.

Today was definitely going to be the worst day of his life.

A week passes by, and you suddenly catch yourself feeling almost disappointed that Yeosang hadn't come to visit you.

You want to slap yourself for having such thoughts, and take out your frustrations by wiping one of the tables aggressively.

And the bastard was spot on about that stupid feeling you got in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of him.

But, you were keen on wanting nothing to do with him.

Not after the trouble he put you through.

Soulmate or not.

Besides, he was technically a criminal. Sort of.

He had a charming smile though. And really pretty lips.

And maybe you found him to be the most handsome man you've-

"He's not handsome!" You blurted to your reflection on the wet table. A table of customers feet away pause their conversation and give you a look of bewilderment.

"Uh," a voice pipes from a few feet away, "Table for eight, please?"

Your heart suddenly leaps at the familiar voice and thw corners of your lips perk up in happi-

Pausing, you internally scold yourself for being unable to conceal your excitement.

This stupid attraction you had towards him left your mind scrambling for coherent thoughts- and curse that feeling of your stomach doing back flips. You fight the urge to punch your gut to rid yourself of that disturbing sensation.

You internally groan, not even bothering to turn around to know who had just spoken. You stand up straight, clearing your throat and awkwardly folding the wet towel in your hands. Yeosang stood at the entrance, an unamused expression on his face as the other seven behind him nosily peered over each other's shoulders to spare you a curious glance.

"Uh," you begin, looking back at the empty tables, "You can sit right here. I'll go grab some menus."

As the eight men made their way to the table, you overheard one laugh loudly to the others, "Wooyoung was right! Y/n is pretty cu-"

A jerk underneath the table and loud yelp caught your attention, and you instantly threw Yeosang a look as the other boys timidly settled in their seats. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

Oh, the nerve he had.

And to think you actually missed his presence.

You learned that the seven other boys were a loud bunch, often saying something to fluster and piss off the brunette. Especially when you were in earshot. And, sweet heavens, they can eat.

Your arms were practically sore from the amount of times you walked back and forth carrying their orders.

You watched as Yeosang finished with his meal and leaned against the adjacent wall, arms crossed in annoyance and face turned to the side to stare out of the window. Your eyes study the others before flickering back at him, and you can’t help but feel a small, knowing tug of want in your chest. You instantly straighten up at the thought, shaking your head in dismissal, before walking over to collect some of the empty plates.

"Would any of you like some dessert?"

A blue haired man wiggled his brows.

"Yeosang wants some, isn't that right-"

Another kick and another glare.

"Actually, we'll just have four cheesecakes if you don't mind."

Ah. Finally. A decent, well-mannered being really does exist.

You can immediately discern that the red-headed man, despite being the smallest, held a leader-like aura to himself, given how the other boys suddenly fell quiet when he spoke. They look amongst each other and nod in agreement.

When the boys wrapped up and fought amongst each other about the payment, your shift neared its end. You nodded with a polite smile as they filed out the door with boisterous cries of 'thank you, y/n'!

"Sorry," a voices suddenly says, and you give the brunette a quizzical look, "If they were too loud.. or embarrassing."

"That's okay," you shook your head and shrugged lightly, "It wasn't a big deal. I'm used to loud customers."

"Right. So, uh.." he pursed his lips, words dying out in his throat as he glances around the cafe with nervous eyes, "Thanks- ah, for the food. See you soon!"

Before you had the chance to reply, the bell chimed and you were left alone in the cafe.

"You have a cat!?"

Your nearly jump out of your skin at the loud remark in your ear, and you immediately spin around threateningly.

Hovering behind you were those same two boys from the other week. You mentally make a note to find an ENT doctor soon. And perhaps a cardiologist.

"Yeah-" you squint in confusion as the black haired male leans forward to study your features. You gently push his face away with an uncomfortable grimace, "What are you doing?"

"You really do have the same birthmark as Yeosang, I can't believe it."

"Yeah, neither can I," you hum sarcastically, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a cat to feed."

"What's your cat's name?" The blonde practically bounces in his step as he follows you into another aisle. You want to ask why he's filming the rows of snacks with a small video camera, but you decide to save yourself the headache and not bring it up.

You peer back at the duo with a look of disbelief, "Why are you following me?"

"You're interesting."

"Right."

"We should really have a cat play-date. Is your cat a boy or a girl?"

You sigh as you place a bag of chips into your cart, deciding to amuse them for a brief moment, "Pepper is a male."

"Great! Byeol needs a man," the blonde, San- you think, nods in excitement.

"What kind of a friend are you? Set up your friend before you set up your cat," scoffs Wooyoung with an amused snort. His hands grab at the large bags of barbecue flavored chips, and you contemplate giving the back of his head a whack when he sets them into your cart.

They continue to follow you through the aisles, and while a small part of you wants to tell them off, another part of you can't help but laugh in amusement and endearment at their antics and bickering.

Once you've finished shopping, you bid them a farewell, handing Wooyoung his chips and strolling over to the cashier. Your head suddenly perks up at the commotion over by the fruit section, and you only can stare in bewilderment at the ruckus the other boys create whilst shopping for necessities. A store employee stares nervously as one of the boys juggles a bundle of bananas and oranges, while another nearly stumbles back from the other two dancing aggressively in the aisles. You wonder if this was a regular occurrence, and judging by the way the manager walks by without a care in the world, you conclude it indeed is.

You step outside afterwards, placing the bags into your bicycle's basket, before mounting it and debating whether to look back into the market at the rowdy bunch.

Your eyes catch Yeosang staring at you, and bite your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. He's riding that damned thing again, and he pauses for the briefest moment to give you a wave.

You find yourself mindlessly waving back, and you abruptly stop once you realize your actions. You hastily throw your arm down to your side and attempt to glare in his direction, but he's already looked away with a large smile plastered on his features.

Most days working at the cafe were fine. People ate, some lingered longer to catch up with friends and play round of card games, and others came to take advantage of the happy hour specials.

But then there were some days you wanted to throw all your dignity in the nearest disposable bin, and wrestle down obnoxious patrons.

You huffed in anger at the sight of an empty table.

What kind of grown up decides to dine and ditch?

Isn't that what... children do?

It's when you stack their empty plates in your hands and turn towards the kitchen do you spot Yeosang walking towards you.

"Now is not the time," you start, hoping your annoyance isn't that obvious.

He silently hands you a wallet.

You quirk a brow, setting the plates down onto the table, "That's not mine?"

"Open it," he says with a roll of his eyes.

You swear if he does that again, you'll roll his head.

You furrow your brows and snatch it out of his hands. Your eyes widen at the picture of the very same man who left without paying, and you instantly shifted your attention to the brunette, "You did not just.."

"I'm sure all that cash is triple the amount his lunch costs," he replies with a wink, "It's no big deal."

"I can't," you swallow, shaking your head and handing him back the wallet, "I can't take this. It's considered stealing."

He gives you an unimpressed look.

"So?" he reaches over to flick your forehead, earning him a glare, "Stop being such a goody two shoes. He stole your service, so you steal his money. It's only fair, right?"

"I'll just take the amount he owes.." you speak unsurely, brows knitting in contemplation. He hands you a few bills, and you nod, "Yeah. This is just enough to-"

"And a tip."

He shoves the remaining money into your apron and your hand flies to smack his arm in shock, "No! I said-"

"Yeah, well I said you deserve a tip!"

"It's not my money!" you scold him.

"I stole it, so it's considered mine now, and I want to tip you! Stop being so stubborn, and just accept it!"

It's when you stop struggling do you notice the extreme proximity of the disgruntled male. He's so unbelievably close that you can make out the borders of the birthmark that mirrors your own. You don't waver as you stare back him with widened eyes.

"Y'know, you're kind of cute when you're mad," he begins sheepishly, eyes narrowing in thought as he inspects your features, "Uh. Since you're new to town, maybe I can show you around whenever you're free?"

Stepping back, you brush out the wrinkles of your apron and straighten your back.

"I'm not going on a date with you," you counter simply. You turn your face to glare out the window, but he stares knowingly at your burning face.

"Whoa, hold on," he smiles in amusement, "Date? Who said anything about it being a date?" You flush at his words, eyes narrowing. He laughs at your lack of amusement, "It's not a date, okay? Just think of it as a.. friendly welcoming gift. And an apology for, y'know. The whole stealing your wallet thing. Besides, my friends want to come anyway."

You cross your arms defensively and ponder for a while.

"Fine, but I expect an ice cream cone as a welcoming gift as well," you try and ignore that absurd feeling of butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You want to roll your eyes as his features suddenly brighten at your agreement, but you don't. Unable to breathe within the awkward atmosphere, you turn to clear the remaining utensils and plates off the table, "So, uh. I'm free tomorrow, I think. I guess you need my number, right?"

"Oh, no need. I already saved it." You swivel around to see him quirking his brow at your phone.

Oh, he didn't.

You instantly slap your hands onto your back pockets, your heart nearly dropping at the lack of the device, "Y'know, you really should put a passcode on this thing. Also, nice background picture you got there."

This obnoxious little-

He laughs out loud as you swipe the phone angrily from his hold and snap the dry towel onto his chest in retaliation, "Stop pickpocketing me!"

"I can't! Not until I have your heart," he leaves with an amused wave of his hand and a soft laugh, "Besides, you make it too easy. See you tomorrow!"

"Who was that?" asks Mrs. Lee as she waddles out of the kitchen with a large tray of pastries. Her eyes are wide behind her wide-brimmed glasses, and she attempts to tip-toe over the countertop to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure outside.

You contemplate your next words for a moment and bite your cheek to keep a smile at bay, "My stupid soulmate."

[bonelymonsterclub]

(1) Branded For Carnage

“No, no, no...” you moaned, desperately twisting the rusty knobs of your cramped shower.  The pipes groaned within the walls, water trickling from the shower head, then with an ominous rattle, the water stopped.  Again.  “Shit.”  You raked your fingers through your hair, grimacing at the built-up grease from a weekend of vegging on the couch and wishing for the sweet embrace of death.  Now the weekend was over, and in little over an hour, you were to begin your new job at a bar-slash-restaurant called “Grillby's”; it was a monster-run establishment, but over the five months since monsters were freed from beneath the mountain, it was quickly becoming one of the most popular eateries in Ebott City.  You wanted to make a good first impression, and you certainly couldn't do that if you showed up looking like Death himself had personally paid you a visit, not to mention your probably smelled like sweat and junk food.  “Shit!”

You paced the limited width of the room, biting at your thumbnail, before you finally slumped against the sink and succumbed to your fate: you'd have to suck up your pride and ask one of the neighbors to take pity on you and let you clean up in their bathroom.  That wouldn't normally have been a problem, except you'd only been existing in your apartment for about two and a half weeks and, being so busy between job-hunting and unpacking your shit, you hadn't bothered to introduce yourself to anyone.

What a great first impression I'll be making, you thought sarcastically as you finally left the bathroom, your clothes for the day tossed over your arm.  You'd never had to do a walk of shame, but you imagined that it was something similar to how you felt as you exited your apartment and dragged your feet until you were in front of your neighbor's door.  You knocked lightly on the worn wood and popped your knuckles as you waited.  Thumping footsteps sounded from within and when the door swung open, you looked up... and up.  Before you stood a monster made of bone and pure spite, if the way he was glaring at you was any indication.  He was dressed in really tight-looking black pants, a long-sleeved maroon shirt, and curiously enough, despite it being the beginning of summer, a tattered red scarf and a pair of red gloves.

“Human,” he growled, crossing his arms.  “What Reason Could You Possibly Have For Interrupting The Illustrious Papyrus' Morning Routine?”

You swallowed thickly.  Now, you had no problem with monsters, considering you'd be working under one for the foreseeable future, but this had to be the most intimidating one you'd ever laid your eyes on – the deep scars across his eye socket enhanced his terrifying appearance.  Your mind couldn't help but compare him to the image humans held of the Grim Reaper.

“I See.  I Should've Known That A Mere Human Would Be Struck Speechless In My Awesome Presence,” he sighed, sounding greatly put upon.

“N- no!” you finally managed to stammer.  “That's not it.  Sorry, um... Papyrus, was it?  I'm one of your neighbors and my shower isn't working, so I was hoping I could possibly use yours?  It'll be quick; ten minutes at the most.”

Papyrus stared at you inscrutably for a moment before scoffing.  “Nice Try, Human.  You've Underestimated My Brilliance.  I Am Not Foolish Enough To Allow You To Infiltrate My Home So You Know The Layout To Raid It Later.”

You gaped at him in disbelief for a moment.  Is he serious?  “But-”

“ENOUGH!”  You jumped.  “Scurry Back To Whatever Hole You Crawled Out Of And See To It That You Don't Pester Me Again.”  He appeared to deem the conversation finished after that because, without giving you a chance to speak further, he stepped back and slammed the door in your face.

You bit your lip when you heard another door somewhere behind you click shut softly.  Papyrus' words were probably heard by all of the occupants of your floor – the whole apartment building, perhaps, considering your apparently lackluster luck.  You weren't sure you wanted to take a chance with anyone else after that – perhaps you could call up your sister, but though she didn't live very far, the travel time in addition to your shower would likely make you late.  Before you could slunk off to hide away in your apartment and try to wash up with the kitchen sink, the door in front of you swung open again, making you flinch.

“I- I was just going!”  you yelped; however, it wasn't Papyrus who was staring you down this time, but another skeleton who appeared quite a bit shorter, rounder, and all-together too tired.

Clad in a red turtleneck, black shorts, and fuzzy pink slippers, this new skeleton didn't seem quite as threatening as Papyrus.  He was a few inches shorter than you and had prominent fangs on display; he also had a scar, though it was on the top of his skull rather than directly on his face.  However, it wasn't his appearance that sent a chill down your spine.  This skeleton had a presence that not even Papyrus had managed, and it made you all the more nervous when he apparently finished his silent assessment of you and made eye contact.  (Well, you thought he was making eye contact; his eye sockets were as empty as Papyrus'.)

“*come on in,” he said, stepping aside slightly.

Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn't that, and you gaped at him for a moment.  His brow furrowed after a moment and your panic began anew, thinking you'd offended him, but he just opened the door wider.

“*well?  you wanted t’ take a shower, didn't ya?”  His mouth was set in a permanent grin, but somehow, you could've sworn it grew a little bigger as he teased, “*we ain't gonna bite, sweetheart.”

You grew flustered and shuffled past him when he waved you through the doorway.  You peered around meekly as he nudged the door shut.  The layout wasn't much different from your apartment, though they had a lot more stuff cluttering the floor.

“SANS!”

You would forever deny the startled squeak that escaped you when Papyrus barged out of the kitchen area.  He glared at you so hard that you thought you might combust on the spot.

“Sans,” he repeated in a quieter, much eerier tone.  “What, Exactly, Is That Human Doing In Our Home?”

“*they're gonna use our shower,” the shorter skeleton – Sans – replied casually.  “*geez, paps.  ya realize that makin' a good first impression ain't just not killin' someone on the spot anymore.  ya gotta show some kindness.  ‘member?”

“But Not Killing Them On The Spot Is A Kindness!”  Papyrus insisted.

“*ya wanna take that up with the kid?”

Somehow that seemed to mellow Papyrus out.  He returned his gaze to you and sighed heavily.  “My... Apologies, Human,” he said lowly through clenched teeth.  “Please, Feel Free To Put Our Shower To Good Use.  Heaven Knows That Sans Doesn't.”

Despite how... forced the apology sounded, it sort of felt like he was attempting to joke around at the end.

“Thank you so much!”  You could've cried with relief.  “I promise I'll be out of your way as soon as possible.”

Was it you or were Papyrus' cheeks turning red?  “See To It That You Do.  Sans, Breakfast Is Waiting.”

Sans pointed out the bathroom to you – though you could've located it yourself, seeing as their apartment layout was similar to yours, you were grateful for his help – and you hurried into it, locking the door behind you for good measure.  You set your work clothes on the counter, turned the shower on as hot as it would go, then stripped and hopped in.  There weren't any cleaning products you could use – just a large bottle of Mettaton's Patented Bone Bleach, which you were sure wasn't made for humans –, but you weren't too concerned.  You had post-shower products you could put in your hair and deodorant, so you scrubbed yourself down thoroughly before getting out.  It was only after you shut off the shower and stepped out that you realized that you hadn't even checked to see if there were any towels, but you saw a fluffy white one folded and set on the other side of the sink from your clothes.  You were pretty sure there hadn't been one when you walked into the bathroom, but considering that you locked the door, it wasn't like your hosts could've snuck in and set it there.  You marked it down as you being oblivious to it on your way in and set to drying yourself off before redressing.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, dirty clothes bundled under one arm, you almost collided with Papyrus’ rib cage.  You shuffled back enough to look up at him, though he stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, glaring a hole through the door behind you.

“Human, Allow Me To Make Up For My Discourteous Manners By Treating You To Breakfast.”

He gestured towards the kitchen, where you could see Sans sitting at a high-set table, groggily shoveling spoonfuls of red mush into his mouth.

“There’s really no need,” you protested.

“I Insist.”

You had a feeling you weren’t going to win this argument, especially with the way he was now scowling at you.  That’s how you found yourself seated at the table, next to Sans and across from Papyrus, with that aforementioned red mush piled onto a plate in front of you.

“Can I ask what this is?”  You prodded at the paste with your fork, thrown off by its jello-like consistency.

Papyrus scoffed as he dug into a bowl of oatmeal with dinosaur eggs.  “Honestly, You’ve No Eye For The Culinary Arts.  It’s Lasagna, My Personal Recipe!”

You stared blankly at the heap of… lasagna on your plate and wondered if it was even safe to consume.  But Sans was eating it with no problem - he’d even gone for seconds -, so it couldn’t be poisoned at the very least.  You briefly met Papyrus’ expectant stare, then scooped up a forkful of the stuff and shoved it into your mouth before you could second guess your decision.  As soon as the slop touched your tongue, you had to clamp your jaws together tightly to fight off your gag reflex.  It took everything you had to not let your face scrunch up in response to the indescribable flavor.  You somehow managed to choke it, and the next several forkfuls, down, sending Sans a grateful look when he slid his half-full glass of milk over to you, and you took a swig before daring to look Papyrus in the eyes again.  Sans had finished his meal at this point and was slumped over the table, his face buried in his arms, but you could somehow feel the threatening expectations he held for your next words.

“It… was great, Papyrus,” you said, offering him a smile.  “Nearly as great as you.”

Sans began to snore as Papyrus sat ramrod straight, looking proud - and was that a hint of relief you saw there?

“W- Well Of Course It Was!” he boasted.  “It Is The Only Meal I Learned To Cook Back In Snowdin.”

The only meal?  No wonder Sans could handle it without a problem; his poor taste buds had probably been rotted away from Papyrus’ concoction.  (Did skeletons even have taste buds?  Did they even have tongues?)

You dared to tread into unstable territory.  “This is the only meal you know?  But surely, with your cooking prowess, you’d have more in your repertoire.”

Papyrus sputtered and though he didn’t look up, Sans’ snoring ceased.  The taller skeleton’s face was turning all kinds of red and you knew you had to conclude this quickly.

“Oh, I have an idea!”  you announced with a gleeful clap of your hands, as if a thought was just coming to mind.  “I happen to have went to culinary school for a time, and I know how to make all sorts of food.  Let’s make a deal, Papyrus.  In exchange for me using your shower until mine gets fixed, how about I teach you some recipes I know?”

Papyrus mulled over this - visibly putting a hand to his chin and humming aloud -, then seemed to come to a decision with a firm nod.  He stood from his chair and leaned over the table to offer a gloved hand to you.

“You Have Yourself A Deal, Human.”

You stood as well, shaking his hand and altogether relieved your risk would be well-rewarded in exchange for something you genuinely enjoyed doing.  Your phone began buzzing insistently in your pocket - your alarm alerting you to head for Grillby’s now or you’d be late - and you gathered your clothes once more from where you’d set them beside your seat.

“I have to go now,” you said.  Papyrus’ eyes darted to your uncleared plate with barely disguised disappointment and though you knew you’d probably regret it later, you stole another large forkful of food.  It was worth it to see the spark of surprise and delight on the intimidating skeleton’s face.  “I’ll come see you later to set up our dates.  Thanks for breakfast!”

“D- DATES!?”  Papyrus’ shriek exploded behind you as you escaped their apartment to beeline to yours to deposit your clothes and slap on some deodorant before you headed out.