#autumn treats!! Request

[ennoshitas-princess]

𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼

Hey guys, I am back after the longest break in history of actually posting fanfiction of my own.

Now, the rules are simple. You pick a treat, the flavor, and a drink like this:

I would like a [flavor] [treat] with [drink] for [character]

(prompt if you chose milk)

If you pick milk, please let me know the prompt under the request, but please make it simple so I have liberty to actually use my brain for once.

Here is are a few examples:

I would like a Pecan Pie with tea for Nishinoya

Or

I would like a Pumpkin Rolls with milk for Fukunaga

I want the prompt a beautiful day at the park

I hope people request because my brain has been a bit blank. I don't know how long this event will last, so order because is limited.

All of my fanfics are female readers, so if you want something different, then please feel free to tell me otherwise. If you want chubby reader, please tell me too :)

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖

[azmageddon]

Silence

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: When you get stuck Under the Mountain, your mate finds the sudden silence deafening.

Warnings: none!

a/n: Based on an anonymous request! Requests are so fun! I love exploring ideas I never would have thought of. Keep them coming! This all takes place within the same AU where reader and Azriel kept their relationship secret from the IC (besides Cassian).

Azriel's POV

The silence was deafening. Never in the last 450 years had he felt such empty silence. The bond was never closed. 

But now it was silent and cold. The golden thread that joined him to you floated from the middle of his chest, right at the center of his soul, into nothing. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he saw stars, willing this to be a dream he would wake up from. But Azriel knew better than to think this was a dream. He never slept anyway. 

“Keep Velaris safe,” Rhys’ voice had said. “And don’t come after us.”

Rhys’ voice was calm, yet commanding. It was the demand of a High Lord: something Azriel physically couldn’t ignore. 

At first, he didn’t understand the command. What did he mean, don’t come after us? Keep Velaris safe? You and Azriel had just been having a mental conversation, gossiping over the abhorrent fashion of the Autumn brothers, when Rhys’ voice interrupted you mid-sentence. 

But when Azriel reached back out to you to ask what the warning meant, he was met only with the thick, suffocating silence. 

The bond was never closed. It stayed open when you were hard at work: treating the injured, delivering babies, or easing the pain of Illyrians’ clipped wings. It stayed open when you were angry, or sad, after an argument, especially if you wanted him to feel particularly bad about it afterward.

The bond was never closed. Not when he went on missions for weeks at a time. Not even when he dragged Rhys’ prisoners to the dungeons of the Hewn City and did unspeakable things. You were his comfort. Your shared emotions were what grounded him, reminded him that life was worth living. They were a constant in his life, as effortless to absorb as breathing. 

You had become his inner voice; his conscience. His reminder that he wasn’t the villain of this story. Now that it was gone, he wasn’t sure. 

For 450 years, the bond was never closed, a vow the two of you had made when you accepted the mating bond. But now, that silence was louder than any battle or war he had ever partaken in. 

The memory of when he had found out you were mates played in his head. Azriel couldn’t keep the memory from flooding into his mind and the guilt that came along with it every time he remembered. 

You, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, watching him with worry in your eyes. 

“How long have you known?” He remembers asking, venom lacing every word he spat at you. He was angry and embarrassed; how could he have missed all the signs? How could you keep such an important, life altering secret from him? He couldn’t show that embarrassment, couldn’t show weakness, especially not to you. So he chose anger instead. 

“Since the day we met,” you replied, taking a step and trying to close the gap between the two of you. Instinctively, Azriel took a step back, the shock turning his embarrassment to shame and anger to rage.

“I was eleven when we met, Y/N,” he hissed, implying the absurdity of the time frame. Nearly a century of his fate was kept a mystery to him. Cassian had joined them at that point, pointedly observing that Azriel wasn’t taking the news well. A thought surfaced in his mind. Turning to Cassian, he has to refrain from advancing on his longest friend. “And how long have you known?” Cassian’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Azriel shook his head to clear it, choosing not to remember how you cried at the way he turned away and left you with your heart in his hands, just for him to crush it. 

It all made sense after your confession. He never understood why you insisted on being childhood friends. He was broken and lonely and disowned by his own family, but you had always shown true kindness and friendship. As you grew together, you slowly evolved into innocent adolescence first loves, and eventually adult lovers. It wasn’t until your untimely move from Illyria to Velaris to work for the late High Lord that Azriel never saw you again. That is, until the first war with Hybern and your admission of the truth. 

After Azriel had recovered from the initial anger and shock, your best kept secret had become a shared secret as the two of you accepted the bond. He still remembers the first time he heard your voice in his head. Your lovely, soft voice that wrapped around his mind like the sweetest honey. 

“Old age getting to you?” You teased as Azriel took what looked like a painful blow to the stomach from Rhys during training. 

He was so taken aback by your voice that he even turned to you, thinking you had said it out loud. But you weren’t looking at him; you had your back turned in a combat sequence with your brother. 

The momentary lapse rewarded him with another hit from Rhys, this time on the side of the head. 

“Everything alright, brother?” Rhys asked, concern flooding his voice. 

But Azriel only smirked and turned back to his brother to begin again. 

“You’ll pay for that later, love” he responded through the bond and could have sworn that he saw you falter in your training from his peripheral vision. 

How could he have let this happen? How could he have not foreseen that you would be taken from him? A mysterious invitation calling for the High Lord and his second in command to attend a party Under the Mountain? What kind of Spymaster couldn’t ascertain the danger that now all-consumed the other half of his soul?

Azriels felt something hit his knees, the sting traveling up to make his teeth chatter. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw that he had fallen to the ground of the Townhouse. Cassian quickly knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders to keep him from total collapse. 

Azriel stared at Cassian and saw his lips moving rapidly, but no words came out. He furrowed his brows in confusion. What was he trying to tell him? 

In fact, Azriel heard no sound at all besides the buzzing silence in his ears and his own mind hurling insult after insult of his own sad excuse of being a mate. 

But wait…that was it. Cassian had turned to the others and Azriel was able to read the words on his lips as he spoke to the remaining Inner Circle in the room: She’s his mate.

All at once, too many voices spoke and the sounds came rushing back to Azriel. As if he would keep him from dissolving through the floor, he gripped onto his found brother for dear life.

“Cassian,” Azriel groaned, finding his voice at last. “Cassian, she’s gone. I can’t feel her.”

“We will get her back, brother. I promise.”

[satellite-evans]

you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. ��I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

[starsjulia]

trick or treat! // alexia putellas

a/n ~ based on this request!!! also for some reason i decided my spanish gcse makes me qualified enough to write in some spanish? so bare with me if it’s absolute crap.

warnings ~ tiny bit suggestive, just loads of fluff!!

The crisp autumn night embraces you as you step out of the car with Alexia, who’s dressed as the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Her costume is charming and stylish: a white vest over a crisp shirt, a red bow tie, and bunny ears perched atop her head, with a toy pocket watch dangling from her waistcoat. You smile to yourself, already anticipating the comments from your teammates about the two of you arriving in matching costume.

As for you, you went all out with your Alice costume. The blue dress is snug, the neckline a little low, and the skirt ends dangerously high on your thighs. You paired it with knee-high socks and black heels, leaning into the ‘playful’ side of Halloween. When you catch Alexia’s gaze on you, you can tell she’s noticed. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she takes a slow step closer.

“¿Y esto?” she murmurs, her hand slipping around your waist and trailing down to the hem of your skirt. “¿No se supone que Alicia es más… inocente?” (“And this? Isn’t Alice supposed to be more… innocent?”)

You tilt your head, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, maybe this Alice has grown up,” you tease, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger. “Besides, don’t you like it?” You give a little twirl, the skirt flaring out to show even more leg.

Alexia’s grip tightens on your waist as she pulls you closer, her voice low and playful. “Oh, I really like it,” she admits, glancing pointedly at the hem of your dress. “Pero no quiero que nadie más lo vea así.” (“But I don’t want anyone else to see it like this.”)

With a chuckle, you reach up to adjust her bunny ears, purposely brushing your fingers through her hair. “Then you’ll just have to keep an eye on me all night, won’t you, mi conejito?” you whisper, giving her a challenging look. “Think you can manage that?”

She grins, her eyes darkening with playful possessiveness. “No voy a dejarte sola ni un segundo,” she replies, her voice dripping with confidence. (“I’m not going to leave you alone for a second.”) She tugs at the skirt again, as if trying to pull it lower, then leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Y si alguien se pasa de listo… bueno, ya veremos.” (“And if someone gets too bold… well, we’ll see about that.”)

——————

Inside the club, the atmosphere is electric. Music pumps through the speakers, and the crowd is alive with laughter and costumes that range from frightening to hilarious. You walk in hand-in-hand with Alexia, her hand resting possessively on your lower back, thumb grazing the fabric of your dress as if reminding you of how short it is.

You catch sight of Mapi and Patri, who are dressed as the Joker and a pirate, respectively. The moment they spot you, grins spread across their faces.

“¡Vaya, vaya! Look who showed up looking like a sexy fairytale,” Mapi calls out, her eyes twinkling as she takes in your outfit. “And Alexia, did you come as her bodyguard or something?”

Patri snickers, nudging Mapi. “I mean, you can’t blame her,” she says. “Someone’s gotta keep Alice from causing too much trouble, especially in that little outfit.”

You just laugh and wrap an arm around Alexia’s neck, leaning into her. “Don’t worry, girls,” you say playfully. “Alexia’s already taken the job of making sure I behave.”

Alexia smirks, squeezing your waist. “Eso es cierto,” she murmurs, glancing down at you with a glint in her eyes. “Y no voy a quitarte los ojos de encima, cariño.” (“That’s true. And I’m not taking my eyes off you, darling.”)

Throughout the night, every time you move a little too provocatively on the dance floor or your dress rides up when you sit down, Alexia is there to adjust it, keeping that possessive yet amused smile on her face. It’s clear she’s enjoying the game—acting protective in a way that’s both teasing and affectionate.

When you pull her onto the dance floor, you can feel the tension between you turn into a playful back-and-forth. You dance close, letting your hands trail up her chest to adjust her bow tie, and give her a coy smile. “What’s the matter, mi conejito?” you tease. “Jealous?”

Her fingers grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you against her. “No,” she replies with a smirk, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Just reminding everyone who you belong to.”

—————

After the party, you and Alexia head back to her apartment. The Halloween festivities aren’t quite over yet, at least not for Alexia, who insists on a horror movie marathon. “It’s tradition,” she explains, setting up the first film as you settle on the couch with a blanket.

“You know I’m not a fan of scary movies,” you remind her, giving her a pout that you hope will soften her resolve.

Alexia smirks, sliding in beside you and pulling you into her side. “Pero es Halloween, cariño,” (“But it’s Halloween, darling,”) she says, wrapping an arm around you. “And it’s not that scary… I promise.” The mischievous glint in her eyes suggests otherwise, but you reluctantly agree, pressing closer to her for comfort.

As the movie starts, you try to focus on the plot, but the suspenseful music and creepy atmosphere immediately put you on edge. With every jump scare and sudden movement, you find yourself clinging tighter to Alexia. By the time a particularly gruesome scene appears on the screen, you’re practically buried in her shoulder, your hands gripping the fabric of her shirt.

“¡Dios mío!” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why do people enjoy this?”

Alexia chuckles softly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Tranquila, mi amor. I’m here,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You can hide all you want.”

When you peek up at her, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she gives you a playful smile. “You know, if you’re going to jump on me like this, we might as well watch more horror movies.”

You roll your eyes and push her lightly, but you can’t help but snuggle closer. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-night-only thing.”

She grins, wrapping both arms around you and letting you rest your head on her chest. “We’ll see,” she whispers, “but you’re cute, and i like it when you need me to protect you.”

The movie continues, but with Alexia’s arms around you, the scares seem a little less intense. Whenever you jump or tense up, she’s there to hold you tighter, letting you bury yourself in her embrace. Eventually, you start to feel sleepy, lulled by the comforting rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” she asks, her voice soft as she feels your head droop.

“Maybe,” you mumble, half-asleep. “But only if you promise not to make me watch another horror movie.”

Alexia chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Está bien, princesa. We’ll watch something funny next,” she says. “Whatever you want.”

—————

The next day, you decide to do something a bit more light-hearted and far less terrifying: baking Halloween-themed cupcakes together. It’s an impulsive idea, sparked when you saw a cute cupcake recipe while scrolling through your phone.

You find yourself standing in Alexia’s kitchen, surrounded by ingredients and baking tools. You’re wearing one of her oversized Barça jerseys as an apron and a pair of cat-ear headbands left over from last night, to keep your hair out of your face, while Alexia has pulled her hair up into a messy bun and is already reading the recipe out loud.

“Okay, we need to mix the flour, sugar, and butter first,” she instructs, glancing up at you. “¿Estás lista?” (“Are you ready?”)

You grab a handful of flour and grin mischievously. “More than ready,” you reply, tossing a small pinch of flour in her direction. It lands lightly on her cheek, and she looks at you with mock disbelief.

“¿En serio?” (“Seriously?”) she says, smirking as she reaches for her own handful of flour.

Before you can react, she throws a cloud of flour back at you, and the kitchen quickly turns into a playful battlefield. You’re both giggling uncontrollably as you duck behind the counter for cover, trying to avoid her flour attacks while sneaking in a few of your own.

Eventually, you call a truce, both of you covered in flour, laughing and panting as you lean against the counter. “Okay, maybe we should actually bake now,” you suggest, wiping some flour off your cheek.

“Buena idea,” (“Good idea,”) Alexia agrees, grinning as she pulls you into a quick kiss. “But you started it, remember?”

You stick your tongue out at her before getting back to work, this time actually focusing on the recipe. The two of you mix the ingredients together, taking turns stirring the batter and stealing kisses in between tasks. When it’s time to pour the batter into the cupcake liners, you make a show of ‘accidentally’ licking a bit of the batter off your finger in a slow, teasing way.

Alexia raises an eyebrow, her gaze darkening slightly as she watches you. “Ten cuidado, princesa,” (“Be careful, princess,”) she warns, her voice low. “I don’t think I can resist you if you keep doing that.”

With a cheeky grin, you lean closer to her. “Who says you have to resist?”

She doesn’t need any more encouragement. In one swift movement, she wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, tasting a bit of the sweetness still on your lips. When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathless and smiling like fools.

“Okay, okay, cupcakes first,” you laugh, playfully pushing her back. “Then more kisses.”

Alexia smirks but nods in agreement. “Deal.”

After the cupcakes finish baking, you work together to decorate them with Halloween-themed designs—some with little ghosts, some with pumpkin faces, and a few with sprinkles. You’re not professional bakers by any means, but the cupcakes turn out surprisingly cute, even if the icing is a bit messy.

As you finish, you steal a glance at Alexia, who is carefully adding the last sprinkle to a cupcake. “Thanks for doing this with me,” you say softly, your tone sincere. “I know it’s silly, but it means a lot.”

She looks up, her expression softening as she meets your gaze. “No es tonto,” (“It’s not silly,”) she replies, reaching out to brush a bit of flour from your hair. “I’ll do anything for you, you know.”

You lean in and kiss her once more, savoring the sweet taste of icing and the warmth of her lips. “I love you, Alexia,” you whisper against her mouth.

“Te amo más,” she murmurs back, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close. “Always.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, snacking on cupcakes and cleaning up the mess you made, with music playing softly in the background. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, but somehow, it’s perfect—just you and Alexia, sharing the simple joys of being together.

As the sun sets and you curl up on the couch to watch a much less scary movie, you think back on the last 24 hours. From the Halloween party to the horror movies and flour fights, it’s been a chaotic, laughter-filled celebration. But with Alexia by your side, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[solxamber]

Hello!

I have a request idea

Fem Yuu who is a princess- Crown Princess, in fact, of an empire far away across the sea that hasn't made contact with Twisted Wonderland's mainland for the past 200 years- and the reason the Dark Mirror pulled Princess!Yuu to NRC was to reconnect the lost magic from the Empire to the mainland because they very much need this magic to restore order to the world

Can this be with the Overblot Gang (including Malleus) + Ruggie, romantic hcs about the boys finding out Yuu's a princess after they start dating, and include the boys and Yuu finding out her mission of reuniting TW's magic with the Empire magic from the Dark Mirror? Thanks!

Overblot Gang + Ruggie x Princess! Reader

hi, i love the intricacies in your request! i made them mini fics instead of hcs. i hope that's alright! if this not what you wanted then just let me know <3

Riddle Rosehearts

The crisp autumn air wafts through the window of Heartslabyul’s dorm, and you watch Riddle pacing by the window. His usual composed demeanor is fraying at the edges, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. The letter, the one with the broken seal, sits accusingly on the desk, a constant reminder of the secret you’ve kept for far too long.

A Crown Princess. That’s who you are. Or rather, that’s who you’ve always been, but here, in Twisted Wonderland, you’d managed to push it aside. Until now.

Riddle has always prided himself on knowing everything about the people around him. Rules and order are his guiding principles, but you’ve been an exception to that. You know this must be eating him alive—how could I have missed something so important?

You take a breath, steadying yourself. You’ve faced worse than this—court intrigue, magical politics, centuries-old prophecies—but this feels heavier because it’s him. And he’s looking at you, brow furrowed, his usual clear-cut logic fraying under the weight of the revelation.

“I received a letter,” Riddle finally says, breaking the silence. His voice is sharp, but it wavers at the edges, betraying his frustration. He gestures to the letter, the Dark Mirror’s seal still visible under the broken wax. “From the Dark Mirror. It… told me everything.”

Your stomach churns, but you’ve prepared yourself for this moment. You knew you couldn’t hide your identity forever. “So, you know,” you say softly, stepping toward him.

“I do.” His words are clipped, tension taut in every syllable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You move closer, offering a tentative smile. “It wasn’t about hiding anything, Riddle. I just… wanted to keep things simple between us. I didn’t want you to treat me differently because of my title.”

“You’re a Crown Princess,” he repeats, disbelief laced through his words. “Of an empire that hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years. And your magic—” His voice catches, and you see his expression darken as he recalls the moment of his overblot. “The magic you used to save me… that was your empire’s magic, wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip as memories flood back. The moment you had stepped in, wielding the ancient, pure magic of your kingdom to pull him back from the brink of his overblot. You remember the desperate glow in your hands, the way his distorted form had stilled under your touch, the pure energy surging through you. No blot. Just light.

“It was,” you admit. “That magic is what our kingdom has safeguarded for centuries. Pure energy. Untainted by the corruption of blotting.”

Riddle’s brow creases. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I could have helped.”

“It’s not something I wanted to burden you with,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “You have so much on your plate already. You’re the dorm leader, managing all of Heartslabyul, and on top of that, your own studies. I didn’t want to complicate things.”

He steps closer, his posture rigid but his eyes softening as they meet yours. “You’re not a burden,” he says quietly but firmly. “I want to help you. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Your heart tightens at his words. He’s always been so strong, so in control of everything. But here he is, offering to share the weight of a secret that could shift the balance of the world’s magic.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to say. “There’s more to it. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here wasn’t just to attend NRC. It’s because the balance of magic in Twisted Wonderland has been… fractured. Our magic—the Empire’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago, and now the Mirror believes it’s time to reunite them.”

His eyes widen, the seriousness of the situation settling in. “Reunite the magic? How?”

“I was chosen to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s,” you explain. “My kingdom’s magic is pure and powerful, but without the balance of your world’s magic, it’s unstable. There’s an imbalance, Riddle. It’s why overblots are becoming more frequent.”

He winces at the mention of overblots. He knows that all too well. “So… the Dark Mirror sent you here as part of a prophecy? To fix the magic?”

You nod. “Yes. But I didn’t want to drag you into that. I just… wanted to be normal for a while.”

There’s silence for a moment as Riddle processes everything. His mind must be spinning—ancient kingdoms, magical prophecy, a mission that spans centuries. But then, slowly, he reaches for your hand. His fingers brush against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I’m in this with you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

He straightens, his usual air of authority returning. “We need to make a plan. There’s a lot that needs to be done if we’re going to reunite the Empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s.”

You chuckle softly. “You’re already thinking ahead.”

“Of course,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is too important to leave to chance.”

You squeeze his hand, grateful for his support. You’ve known all along that this mission was going to be a monumental task, but having him by your side makes it feel more manageable.

“No more secrets, alright?” Riddle adds, his tone softer now.

“No more secrets,” you promise, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like the weight of the world isn’t yours to bear alone.

Leona Kingscholar

You’ve always known that keeping your true identity from Leona wouldn’t last forever. He’s sharp—far too sharp to miss something as big as the fact that you’re not just any transfer student. But so far, you’ve managed to fly under the radar. Leona’s laziness and your tendency to avoid unnecessary confrontation have kept your secret under wraps. Until now.

It’s a typical sunny day in the Savanna, and Leona is lounging on his favorite spot in the botanical garden. You’re sitting beside him, staring at the letter in your hand, the seal of your empire unmistakable. The weight of the truth presses on your chest as you glance at him, knowing you can’t keep this from him any longer.

“Oi, herbivore, why you fidgetin’ like that?” Leona drawls without even opening his eyes, his voice deep and lazy, though you can sense the undercurrent of curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around the letter. “Leona, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He cracks open one eye, barely lifting his head to look at you. “If you’re about to tell me you broke one of Ruggie’s bones or something, I really don’t care.”

You let out a small laugh despite the nerves swirling in your stomach. “No, it’s not that. It’s… bigger than that. A lot bigger.”

Leona raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move. “Bigger than the time you saved me from my overblot with that weird magic of yours? You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Your breath hitches at the memory. The power you’d unleashed back then—the pure, non-blot magic that had surged from your very soul to pull him back from the edge. He’d never asked too many questions about it, which had always struck you as odd. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how close he’d come to losing control.

“I’m not who you think I am, Leona,” you say, feeling the weight of the confession settle in. “I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire across the sea. One that hasn’t been in contact with Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Leona’s other eye opens now, and he shifts to sit up, his attention fully on you for the first time. “What?”

You offer a weak smile, holding up the letter. “This is from my family. They’re reminding me of the mission I was sent here for.”

“Mission?” His voice is lower now, a growl edging into his words. “What mission?”

You take a deep breath and begin to explain. “Our empire’s magic… it’s pure energy. It doesn’t generate blot like the magic here. But centuries ago, we lost contact with Twisted Wonderland, and the Dark Mirror believes that the magic of our two worlds needs to be reunited. That’s why I’m here.”

Leona’s eyes narrow as he processes this, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “So that’s why your magic didn’t cause blot. And why you’ve been so secretive.”

“Yes,” you admit. “I didn’t want to complicate things. I just wanted to be normal here.”

Leona lets out a scoff, running a hand through his hair. “Normal? In this place? You should’ve known better, herbivore. Especially being around me.”

You sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk. “I know. I should’ve told you sooner. But I didn’t want you to see me as just another royal.”

Leona gives you a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Another royal? Like I care about all that. I’m barely interested in my own kingdom’s politics. Why would I give a damn about yours?”

You blink, momentarily stunned. “Wait, really?”

He shrugs, lying back down in the grass, his arm draped lazily over his eyes. “Look, princess or not, you’re still you. That’s what matters. And as for that mission of yours—” he lifts his arm to peer at you, “—I’m not getting involved in that mess unless I absolutely have to.”

You laugh softly, relieved that he’s taking this much better than you expected. “Thanks, Leona.”

He grunts in response, already seeming half-asleep again. “Whatever. Just don’t make me do extra work.”

You smile, lying back beside him, your heart lighter now that the truth is out. Somehow, you knew Leona wouldn’t care about your title. He’s never been one to get caught up in the pomp and circumstance of royalty. But now, with him beside you, it feels like maybe this mission won’t be so impossible after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

You sit in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the sleek furniture and polished surfaces doing little to ease the anxiety swirling in your chest. The letter from your family rests on the table between you, the wax seal broken. Azul hasn’t opened it yet, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

Azul likes to know everything. He likes to have control, to understand the pieces in play so he can manipulate the board to his advantage. And now, here you are, about to shatter his carefully constructed perception of you.

“So,” Azul begins, his voice smooth as ever, though you can hear the underlying tension, “what’s in the letter?”

You swallow, glancing down at the envelope before meeting his gaze. “It’s… from my family. My real family.”

Azul’s eyes narrow slightly, the faintest hint of suspicion creeping into his expression. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world, Azul. I’m a Crown Princess. Of an empire far across the sea. We haven’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

Azul’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise flickering across his usually composed face. “A princess?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “You? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit. “I just wanted to fit in. To be… normal.”

Azul stares at you for a long moment, his sharp mind already racing through the implications. “And the magic you used to stop my overblot…?”

“It’s my kingdom’s magic,” you explain. “It’s pure energy, uncontaminated by blot. That’s why it didn’t corrupt me.”

Azul’s fingers tap lightly against the arm of his chair as he considers your words. “So, you’ve been keeping this from me the entire time.”

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” you say, your voice soft. “I didn’t want you to treat me any differently.”

Azul lets out a soft chuckle, though there’s an edge to it. “You didn’t want to complicate things? Darling, you’re a Crown Princess from a lost empire with magic that doesn’t generate blot. Things were already complicated.”

You wince, but he’s not wrong. You knew keeping this secret wouldn’t last forever, but you had hoped for a little more time.

“And this letter?” Azul gestures to the unopened envelope. “What does it say?”

“It’s from my family,” you explain. “They’re reminding me of my mission. The reason the Dark Mirror pulled me here.”

Azul’s curiosity sharpens, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Mission? What mission?”

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “Our magic—my kingdom’s magic—was lost to this land centuries ago. The Dark Mirror believes it’s time to reunite it with Twisted Wonderland’s magic. That’s why I’m here.”

Azul leans forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Reunite the magic? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

You shake your head. “I’m still figuring that out. But… it’s why I was brought here. And why I used my magic during the overblots. I was trying to restore balance.”

Azul’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I see. This… changes things.”

You tilt your head, unsure of what he means. “Changes things how?”

Azul’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Well, if you’re a princess, that means you have access to resources. Power. Connections. I imagine there’s a great deal of opportunity in this… alliance.”

You sigh, giving him a wry smile. “Always thinking about business, aren’t you?”

Azul chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “It’s what I do best. But—” his expression softens slightly, and he meets your gaze, “—I won’t push you. Not on this. It’s… a lot to take in.”

You relax a little, grateful for his understanding. “Thank you.”

Azul nods, though the calculating glint never fully leaves his eyes. “Of course. Just… keep me informed. I’d hate to be left in the dark again.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sense of relief in your chest. The truth is out, and while Azul is already scheming, you know he won’t push you too far. At least, not yet.

And for now, that’s enough.

Jamil Viper

Living in Scarabia means heat, sand, and secrets. You and Jamil have grown close—close enough that hiding your own secret from him has become a heavy burden. He’s already shared so much with you, trusted you with his frustrations, his ambitions, his deepest thoughts. It’s only fair you do the same.

The two of you sit in the common room of Scarabia, the afternoon heat baking the walls outside. Jamil is making tea, his movements precise and efficient, while you fidget with the letter in your lap. He’s been keeping an eye on you, even though he hasn’t said anything yet.

You can feel it in the air—he knows something’s up.

Finally, as he pours the tea, Jamil’s eyes flick over to the envelope in your hands. “You’ve been staring at that for a while now,” he says casually, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his voice. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate, but you know it’s time. You can’t keep this from him any longer. “It’s… from my family,” you begin carefully, watching his reaction. “My real family.”

Jamil’s brow furrows slightly as he takes a seat across from you. “Real family?”

You nod, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’ve been keeping something from you, Jamil. Something big.”

His gaze sharpens, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a transfer student from another world. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. We’ve been isolated from Twisted Wonderland for over two hundred years.”

Jamil’s eyes widen, just for a second, before his expression smooths over into something more neutral. He sets his tea down carefully, though you can see his mind racing. “A princess.”

“Yes,” you say, your voice steadying. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to live normally here.”

Jamil leans back, crossing his arms. “So, why tell me now?”

“Because I trust you,” you admit. “And… because there’s more.”

Jamil’s eyes narrow slightly. “More?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “The reason I’m here… the Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot, and it’s powerful. That’s the magic I used to stop your overblot.”

Jamil is silent for a long moment, processing your words. You can see the tension in his posture, the way he’s trying to make sense of everything you’ve just told him. “So, all this time… you’ve been hiding this from everyone.”

“Yes,” you say softly. “I didn’t want you to think of me differently.”

He lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Differently? You’re a princess from a lost empire, wielding magic that could change the entire world. Of course I’m going to think of you differently.”

Your heart sinks at his words, but Jamil quickly shakes his head, as if realizing how harsh he sounded. “I mean… it’s a lot to take in. But I get why you kept it a secret.”

You exhale in relief. “Thank you.”

Jamil’s gaze softens, though there’s still a guarded look in his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If this mission of yours… if it starts to get dangerous, tell me. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

You smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I promise.”

Jamil nods, his expression still thoughtful as he takes another sip of tea. “Good. Now, about this magic of yours… I’m guessing you’re not just going to leave it at that, are you?”

You laugh softly. “No, I’m still figuring it out. But I’ll keep you posted.”

Jamil smirks, leaning forward. “You’d better.”

Vil Schoenheit

Of all the people you’ve hidden your secret from, you think Vil is the one who would be the least surprised by the truth. He’s always been perceptive, always seen through the facades people try to present. And yet, as you sit in the elegant parlor of Pomefiore, you feel more nervous than ever.

The letter from your family rests on the table in front of you, its royal seal broken but the weight of its contents still pressing heavily on your mind. Vil sits across from you, perfectly poised as ever, sipping tea with the grace of someone who expects perfection in every aspect of life.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Vil remarks, his violet eyes fixed on you. “Something troubling you, darling?”

You swallow, your fingers twitching nervously. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

Vil raises an elegant brow, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. “Oh?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s about who I really am.”

Vil leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Go on.”

“I’m not just a transfer student from another world,” you begin, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea. An empire that hasn’t had contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years.”

For the briefest moment, you see a flicker of surprise in Vil’s eyes before his expression smooths back into its usual composed elegance. “A Crown Princess,” he repeats, as if tasting the words. “Well, that certainly explains a few things.”

You blink, caught off guard by his calm reaction. “Wait… you’re not surprised?”

Vil smiles, though there’s a sharpness to it. “I suspected there was more to you than met the eye. You’ve always carried yourself with a certain… grace. It makes sense now.”

You let out a small laugh, relief flooding through you. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you figured something out.”

Vil’s smile softens, and he tilts his head slightly. “But why tell me now? Why reveal this secret after all this time?”

“Because it’s not just about me being a princess,” you say, your voice more serious now. “There’s a mission. The Dark Mirror brought me here to reunite my empire’s magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. Our magic is different—purer. It doesn’t generate blot. That’s the magic I used to stop the overblots.”

Vil’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze sharpening. “So that’s how you managed to stop those overblots without succumbing to the corruption.”

You nod. “Yes. But it’s more than that. I was sent here to restore balance. To reunite the magic of our two worlds.”

Vil is silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he processes this new information. “I see. That’s quite the responsibility.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Tell me about it.”

Vil watches you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over you as if assessing something. Then, with a graceful movement, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his. “You’ve carried this secret for long enough. I imagine it’s been a heavy burden.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours. “It has.”

Vil’s gaze softens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “You’re not alone in this. If this mission is as important as you say, then you’ll need support. And I intend to be that support.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you squeeze his hand gently. “Thank you, Vil. That means a lot.”

Vil smiles, a genuine smile this time, free of the sharp edges he usually wears. “Of course, darling. Now, about this magic of yours… I imagine it’s quite powerful.”

You chuckle softly. “You have no idea.”

Vil’s eyes gleam with curiosity, and you can tell that he’s already thinking about the possibilities. “Then perhaps it’s time we start planning. After all, if you’re going to reunite the magic of two worlds, you’ll need to do it with style.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Vil.”

And as you sit there, your hands still intertwined, you realize that with Vil by your side, this mission might just be possible after all.

Idia Shroud

You’ve always known Idia Shroud to be an enigma wrapped in blue flames and social anxiety. It’s what made him so interesting to you. His genius and quirks drew you in, even if he spent more time online than in the real world. You started off as friends, but somewhere along the way, things changed. Despite his reclusive nature, you’d found yourself growing closer to him, enough to know there’s something deeper between you two now.

But you’ve been keeping a secret from him. A huge secret. And today, sitting in his dorm room, surrounded by the blue light of his computer screens, you feel that familiar anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

You glance over at Idia, who’s completely absorbed in some new game. His fingers move with lightning speed across the keyboard, his eyes flickering with concentration. “Hey, Idia,” you start, keeping your tone casual, but your hands feel clammy.

He doesn’t look up from his game but hums, acknowledging you. “Hmm? Yeah?”

You take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

He pauses the game—actually pauses it—and turns in his chair, looking at you, his eyes wide with curiosity and maybe a little bit of nervousness. “Uh, this sounds like a boss-level conversation. What’s up?”

You fidget, trying to find the right words. “I’m… not exactly who you think I am. I’m not just a student here at NRC. I’m actually the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea.”

For a second, Idia just stares at you, and you can almost see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. Then, very slowly, he says, “You’re… what now?”

“A princess,” you repeat, feeling awkward under his intense stare. “My empire hasn’t made contact with Twisted Wonderland in over two hundred years. The Dark Mirror brought me here because I’m supposed to reunite the magic of my empire with this world’s magic.”

Idia blinks. Then he blinks again. “So… you’re like, a real-life anime protagonist?” He tilts his head, and his eyes widen even further. “Wait—does that make me… the side character? Or am I the support role??”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “You’re more important than that, Idia. And there’s more. The magic I have—it’s different. It doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

The room goes silent, except for the quiet hum of his computers. Idia’s mouth drops open, and his hair flares a little brighter, flickering with blue flames. “Wha—huh?! You did what?!”

“I used my empire’s magic,” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s pure energy, and I used it to pull you out of your overblot. It’s part of why I’m here. I’m supposed to reunite this lost magic with Twisted Wonderland.”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to have a full system crash. “Hold on, hold on. So, you’re a princess, with special magic, and you saved me with it? Like, an actual OP protagonist moment?!”

“Well… yeah, I guess,” you say, chuckling at his reaction. “It wasn’t exactly easy, but…”

“You’re insane,” he blurts out, his voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. “I mean—cool! But also totally insane. This is like something straight out of an otome game or a fantasy RPG. And you’ve been hiding this the whole time?!”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Idia’s fingers twitch at his sides, and he turns back to his desk, muttering something under his breath. “A real princess… crazy… and you saved me with magic… seriously, this is like level 99 plot stuff.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a bit lighter now that the truth is out. “So… you’re not mad I didn’t tell you sooner?”

He spins back around, shaking his head. “Mad? No way. I mean, okay, a little blindsided, but this is cool. Way cooler than anything I’ve ever played! And—wait—” He pauses, eyes narrowing, “Does this mean I have to start bowing or something? I don’t do that royal etiquette stuff.”

You laugh. “No, Idia. You don’t have to bow.”

His shoulders visibly relax, and he sighs in relief. “Good. ‘Cause, yeah, not happening.”

There’s a moment of silence as Idia processes everything, his brain probably running a million calculations at once. Then, very quietly, he says, “You really saved me, huh?”

You nod, feeling a soft warmth spread through you. “Yeah. I couldn’t let you go.”

Idia looks down, his cheeks flushing pink, his flames flickering more erratically. “Th-thanks. I guess… I owe you, big time.”

You smile, reaching out to gently take his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Idia. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He glances at your hand in his, eyes wide, and then back up at you. “So, uh… does this make me, like, your royal confidant or something? Sidekick? Player two?”

You laugh again, squeezing his hand. “How about just you? That’s more than enough.”

Idia blushes harder, his hair flaring a bright blue, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Okay… I guess I can live with that.”

As you sit together in the soft glow of his room, the weight of your secret finally lifted, you feel like everything is falling into place. Maybe the Dark Mirror knew what it was doing after all.

Malleus Draconia

The air in the halls of Diasomnia feels different today, charged with a strange energy. Malleus Draconia, the formidable heir to the Thorn Fairy legacy, has always held an aura of mystery, but you’ve come to know him as someone who protects his friends fiercely. You’ve grown closer with him, and the bond you share has blossomed into something deeper.

But there’s one truth that still lies between you—your identity as a princess from a lost empire. You’ve kept it hidden for so long, but now it feels like the right moment to reveal your true self.

As you and Malleus stroll through the gardens, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you decide it’s time. You can feel your heart racing, but the beauty of the moment encourages you.

“Malleus,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence that’s enveloped you both. “There’s something important I need to share with you.”

His emerald eyes focus on you, curiosity piqued. “What is it, my dear?”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not just a student here. I’m the Crown Princess of an empire across the sea, and I’ve come to reunite the magic of my empire with Twisted Wonderland’s magic.”

For a moment, Malleus is silent, his expression unreadable. “A princess?” he finally says, his voice low and smooth. “Is this why you have been avoiding the subject of your past?”

You nod, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “Yes. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Malleus tilts his head slightly, his long horns catching the light. “You think I would judge you for your title? You are the same person I care for, no matter your origins.”

A rush of warmth floods through you. “Thank you, Malleus. I was worried you might think I was hiding something from you.”

His expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “You carry a great burden, and it is only fair that you share it with those who hold you dear. But there is more, is there not?”

You bite your lip, hesitant. “Yes. The Dark Mirror brought me here for a reason. I must reunite our two magics—the magic of my empire, which has been lost to time, and the magic of Twisted Wonderland.”

His eyes gleam with interest, and he nods slowly. “And you possess this magic?”

“I do. It’s pure energy that doesn’t generate blot. I used it to help stop your overblot.”

Malleus’s expression shifts from curiosity to admiration. “You wield such power? That is remarkable.”

You feel a rush of pride at his words, but also an ache of vulnerability. “I want to do this, Malleus. I want to restore balance and reunite our worlds.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Then you shall not do it alone. I will stand by your side, and together we shall see this through.”

Your heart swells at his support, and you nod, feeling a sense of determination wash over you. “Thank you, Malleus. That means the world to me.”

As the sun sets behind you, casting a golden hue over the garden, you realize that you are no longer alone in this mission. With Malleus by your side, the path ahead feels bright and full of possibilities.

Ruggie Bucchi

Life at NRC is never boring, especially when you’ve got Ruggie Bucchi at your side. Dating Ruggie had been an unexpected twist of fate—he was sly, resourceful, and could charm his way out of any situation. Plus, his loyalty and sharp wit made him someone you could always rely on. And after Leona’s overblot, when you had used your strange, powerful magic to stop him, you and Ruggie had become even closer.

But there was something you hadn’t told him. Something that’s been weighing on your mind. Sitting on the worn couch in Savanaclaw’s lounge, you glance over at Ruggie, who’s happily munching on some snacks he’d stolen from the kitchen.

“Hey, Ruggie,” you begin, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “Can we talk about something?”

He looks up, still chewing. “What’s up?” His tone is casual, but his sharp eyes pick up on your serious expression. “You look like you’re about to drop some heavy news.”

You take a deep breath. There’s no easy way to say this. “So… remember how I stopped Leona’s overblot? How I used magic that wasn’t from this world?”

Ruggie stops chewing, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, how could I forget? You were shining like the sun and stopped him without a scratch. Pretty wild stuff.”

You swallow. “There’s a reason for that. I’m not from Twisted Wonderland, but that’s not the whole story. I’m actually a princess—the Crown Princess—of an empire across the sea. The magic I used is the lost magic of my empire, and the Dark Mirror pulled me here to reunite it with this world’s magic.”

Ruggie freezes, the snack he’s holding slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he just stares at you, blinking. Then he bursts out laughing. “Ha! Good one! You really had me for a sec there.”

But when you don’t laugh back, his chuckles die out. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re… a princess?”

You nod, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. “Yeah. The Dark Mirror brought me here because it’s time to reconnect our magic with Twisted Wonderland’s. It’s my mission.”

Ruggie blinks again, his mouth hanging open slightly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” He rubs his head, as if trying to process everything. “You’re telling me I’ve been dating royalty this whole time?”

“Well, technically, yes.” You manage a small smile. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Ruggie is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to compute what you’ve just said. Then, with a sly grin, he leans back against the couch. “Well, I guess I always knew I had good taste. Didn’t think I’d end up with a princess, though. What’re the odds?”

You laugh, feeling the tension in your chest loosen slightly. “Does it… bother you?”

He shakes his head, though he still looks a little dazed. “Nah. I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I’ve always been good at rolling with the punches. If anything, it explains a lot about you. That magic of yours is on a whole different level.”

You sigh in relief. “I was worried you’d think it was too much.”

Ruggie grins, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Too much? Nah. I mean, I’ve dealt with Leona for years, right? Besides, this just means I gotta up my game. Can’t have a princess thinking I’m slacking off.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you’ve ever slacked off.”

He smirks, but then his expression softens. “But for real… you stopping Leona’s overblot? That was something else. I’ve never seen magic like that. You saved him.”

You nod. “It’s the magic of my empire. It doesn’t generate blot. It’s pure energy. I’ve been trying to figure out how to use it properly, but it’s… a lot.”

Ruggie leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. But hey, you’ve got me now. I’ll make sure you don’t burn out or anything.”

You smile at him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “Thanks, Ruggie. I really appreciate it.”

He winks. “Anything for you, Princess.”

You playfully punch his arm, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. Despite everything, Ruggie always knows how to make you feel at ease.

As the day goes on, you both continue lounging around the dorm, the weight of your confession already feeling lighter. And as you sit there with Ruggie, you can’t help but feel grateful that, out of everyone, it’s him by your side.

Later, when you return to your room, you find yourself thinking about everything that’s happened since you arrived at NRC—the overblots, your magic, the Dark Mirror’s mission. You’ve been carrying this secret for so long, but now that Ruggie knows, it feels like a burden has been lifted.

But then you remember the rest of your mission. You have to reunite your magic with Twisted Wonderland’s, and that’s no small feat.

Still, with Ruggie by your side, you feel like you can handle whatever comes next.

Masterlist

[mrskokushibo]

Lead us not into Temptation

Kokushibo x nun!reader

Warnings: Sex, Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+

Summary: A young nun struggles with her carnal desires, and in the midst of that, she gets corrupted by a hot demon.

Masterlist

…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen. (Matthew 6:11-13; King James Version (KJV) of the Bible).

This was the fifth consecutive night that you were kneeling alone at night in the convent’s empty chapel, saying the Lord’s Prayer repeatedly. Your thoughts were, to say the least, impure, and this was the penance that the friendly old priest administered you in the daily confession. With autumn at the threshold and the harvest over and done with, there was much less physical work for the nuns. Autumn and winter were the time for prayer and withdrawal. A time to give the tired physical body rest after the intense labour of spring and summer. The convent’s gardens and orchard were breaming with fruit and vegetables, the bee hives full of honey, and the poultry barns overrun with chickens, geese, and ducks. Everything was now harvested, prepared, and stored for winter. Enough food to provide for both the convent’s needs as well as to help the impoverished families in the nearby settlement.

But your body was as fertile and ripe as the gardens in summer, and rest was not what it seemed to crave… You often wondered what it would be like to belong to a man. Your family could not afford the dowry, and there were only two choices for you: the brothel or the convent. When the latter was chosen, you knew you would never experience a man’s love. The former option, however, would have only given you a corrupted and twisted mockery of such love.

When you first stepped over the worn-out stone threshold of the large, grey medieval building, you felt apprehensive, to say the least. One look at the large crucifix, the only thing adorning the spacious vestibule, and the worry of a lonely and cold life were gripping you as tight as a vice. With time, you learned how wrong you were about life here. The nuns were warm and kind and since this was not one of the strictest orders, you were allowed to venture out to the village bringing food and medical aid to the inhabitants, who in turn treated you all as if you were angels. This was not a bad life. You enjoyed the gardens, and your favourite chore was tending to the animals.

At last, you finished your fiftieth Lord’s Prayer and slowly stood up, straightened your black nun’s habit, and readied yourself to walk back to your cell. The shortest way was to walk through the glorious sacred garden in the courtyard adjacent to the chapel. The cells were situated in the cloister, the open gallery walk that wrapped around the courtyard. The garden was magnificent in autumn, with leaves turning all shades of fire and sun.

As you stepped on the gravel pathway, you stopped in your tracks. There, in the corner near the large acacia, was a tall figure, judging by the broad shoulders, a male. You realised this could have not been any of the priests as they did not stay at the convent at night, but also, none of them was this tall… Apprehensive at first, you cautiously decided to approach him, your natural curiosity was always stronger than fear. As you were getting close, suddenly three pairs of eyes stared at you. They were red with golden pupils. Was this a dream? Who was this?

‘Who are you…?’ You spoke with a slightly hitched voice, but before you managed to finish your sentence, he was gone.

You stood for a while as petrified but then hurried to your cell. It was a sparse room, big enough for a simple bed, a closet for your habits, and any other garments you needed. There was also a desk, a chair, and several candlelights, which you requested, especially since you were an avid reader and writer, and the convent’s library had a wealth of approved literature.

After finishing your bedtime routine and saying your prayers, you crawled into bed, the last thought occupying your mind being the strange sight you encountered in the garden.

Without the candles being lit, your room was pitch black. You could barely make out the contours of your furniture. Suddenly, you heard a quiet rustle next to the foot of your bed…and then six burning eyes appeared out of the dark. A large hand started caressing your thigh and moving up toward your groin, a sudden light kiss on your lips, and a hand stroking your cheek and neck. You almost flew up, but the same strong, large hand pinned you down in place.

‘Shhhh, someone will hear you.’

A deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the eyes. You were speechless, this was surely a dream and well…you were curious as to what would happen next… A hand was now massaging you between your legs, not moving in under the cloth of your undergarment yet, but this was enough for your juices to slowly overflow. You moaned quietly, and this was encouragement enough for the male to slide his fingers under the cloth. As he was spreading your slick-covered folds, your pleasure was slowly taking over you. He was rubbing you up and down between your labia, not even yet touching your clitoris, a long finger slowly tracing circles around your opening and another prying its way inside you…

‘Father, forgive me for I have sinned.’

You touched yourself so many times before, but this was so entirely different. The anticipation of where his touch was to land next was the difference between a deliberate move of your own fingers. This was indescribable. You were trying not to moan too loud, but staying quiet was not an easy feat. When his touch finally reached your erect little bud, you were close to bursting. It did not take him long to push you to your orgasm and as you climaxed, you released your juices all over his hand. The next moment, you woke up, still riding out your orgasm. You were completely soaked between your legs from all the cum you squirted out. Sunlight was peering into the room through the narrow window, it was most obviously morning. You were in bliss, but also shaking your head at the dream that left you in this state. Because… this surely must have been a dream… This would be an interesting confession…

*****

The old, kind priest sighed as you uttered the routine phrase.

‘Is it the same… as usual, dear child?’

‘Yes, father, but this time it felt like someone … did things to me. I was not touching myself at all. Well, it was a dream, actually. But it evoked an indecent response from me… The thing that did trouble me, was that even though that someone was human, at the same time, he did not seem to be. He had six eyes and had a demonic aura about him.’

The priest sighed again and shook his head.

‘Look, dear child, what you are experiencing is normal for someone young. Believe me, we all had such thoughts in our youth. Just try and work on changing the focus of them. As for the form of your assailant, well, do not dwell on that too much. I am sure it is not possession or anything unholy like that. The human brain is blessed with the capacity to imagine, so do not dwell.’

He paused and smiled a little to himself.

‘You know, you are a good kid, the villagers adore you for your kindness and help. I am sure the Lord will overlook your recent troubles with yourself.’

With that, he drew the sign of the cross in the air in front of him and said the prayer of absolution:

‘(…) I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

The week that followed was a blur. For every day that went, your focus on daily chores and routines was diminishing as the wet dreams were increasing in length and intensity. Your thoughts were preoccupied with…him. The six eyes were etched in your mind like an unholy vision. Every night spent in the chapel on your penance prayers was wearing you out and making you more and more susceptible to daydreaming of being ravaged by the male. You were imagining what he looked like, what his manhood would feel inside you…Every time you were dismissing these thoughts in a futile attempt to regain some sanity, they were hitting you twice as hard as soon as you lost your slightest focus. It was all a dream you were telling yourself…

It was a particularly dark night when you ventured back into the empty chapel after the Sunday evening mass. A part of the penance was to tidy up and blow out the candles, leaving you with only a couple lit at the altar near the main nave, where you usually knelt to say your prayers. At this point, you started to feel like maybe an exorcist would be your best option.

Your obsession with carnal pleasure and that demon or whoever that was that invaded your thoughts was becoming unbearable. No matter how many wet dreams, how much you touched yourself, and how much you repented and tried to push these thoughts away, your senses seemed to not even come close to being satiated. You knelt in resignation, the burning sensation between your thighs as intense as ever, wetness pooling between your legs at the only thought that was occupying your mind.

‘… and lead us not into temptation…’

but the temptation was only getting stronger. At that moment, you sensed a presence behind you. The already dark, sombre space suddenly grew darker. You turned around only to see the six ferocious eyes staring down at you. But this time, you finally got a chance to see their owner. You gasped at the sight. The demonic eyes and strange red marks on his face and neck aside, he had a fully human form. A tall, solid-built male with a huge mane of thick red-black hair. He wore an outfit whose origin you did not recognise, but it did do his figure justice. Apparently, he was a warrior of some kind as there was a foreign-looking sword at his side.

‘Greetings, holy woman’ his polite words were laced with scorn.

‘Greetings’ you managed to stammer in reply.

He was foreign-looking. How could he speak your language? He could apparently read your thoughts as he indulged your curiosity:

‘I am an ancient demon, and human language is a mere trifle to me.’

A demon, so your fears were confirmed… How did this happen? Did you somehow manage to summon him?

‘You did not summon me, you foolish girl. I roam this earth, and when I stumble upon something that appeals to me, I merely claim it as mine.’

His self-indulgent speech was making you nervous but also weak at the knees from anticipation.

‘The dreams when I touched you were not dreams at all, I was there with you, and I already savoured your sweet juices. I could have ravaged you many times over, but you humans are a special kind. Playing hard-to-get and pretending to be pious and oh so holy. But deep inside of you all dwells a beast so ferocious that it makes us demons seem like angels at times. But now, it is time you give in to me and to the beast inside you. I will fuck you right here, for your Lord to see. And he will watch while you begin to serve a new Master.’

His deep, melodic voice was sending shivers down your spine. It resounded perfectly in the solemn space of the empty chapel. His lewd words gave this medieval temple more justice than any sermon you ever heard…

You stood up in the last and futile act of defiance, but in that instant, you were pushed by the large male toward the nearest wall. His large frame dominated you and pressed you into the hard stone of the wall behind you, making you almost breathless.

‘Look at you, so beautiful and innocent. A flower ready for picking’ he was talking in a hushed, slow tone.

‘I bet you will not be as innocent once I show you what real pleasure feels like.’

His handsome face was now adorned by a smile, a vicious one at that, as the thought of corrupting this holy servant of a God so many worshipped, was making him crazy with lust. It was his work as a demon, to kill, enslave, turn people into demons, and corrupt women into the deepest abyss of carnal yearning. He enjoyed this, the power of it, as centuries went by and his strength grew, so did his desire for more conquers.

His hands were slowly starting to take possession of your body, gently, but deliberately caressing your face, neck, bottom, and breasts. He lowered his head and kissed your lips with the lightness of a falling rose petal. He kept on kissing like this down your neck and then back up to your lips again. This time, the kiss claimed more of your lips, and his tongue slowly snaked its way into your mouth.

Your mouth welcomed him greedily, and soon you were intertwined in a passionate kiss. He held your head in his large hands while kissing you, and when he let go, he helped you remove your clothes and went down on his knees before you. He cupped one of your breasts with one large hand and started spreading your swollen, slick-covered folds with the long, calloused fingers of the other. You were now so familiar with this from all the wet dreams that were not dreams at all. The coil in your belly was tightening slowly, and you were starting to edge when he moved to rubbing circles around and on your blood-filled clitoris.

He then leaned into your sex, blowing soft kisses on the outside of your pussy. His tongue started darting over your clit, flicking it lightly, eliciting even more moans from you. The warmth in your belly was turning into burning heat. You felt like soon you would be losing all control over yourself but before that happened, there was something you wanted to know. Without asking him directly about his identity you posed a more indirect question.

‘Don’t you want to know my name?’ You moaned.

‘I already do, y/n. And my name is Kokushibo. Remember it well because after tonight, it will be the only name you will need to repeat in your prayers.’

With that, he stood up again, and you automatically wrapped your legs around his strong hips. He was now carrying you in the direction of the altar, and soon enough, you were shamelessly splayed on top of it. Not lifting his burning gaze from your naked form, he started removing his own clothes, leaving you to admire what was slowly being unveiled to your vision.

If it wasn’t for the scars that covered his entire torso and arms, he might just as well have been a statue that came to life. His body was as if carved of stone, with skin deliciously stretched over the defined muscles. As he removed the last clothes covering his body, a black, skirt-like garment tied with ridiculously long belts, you could now admire his manhood in its full glory. It was already erect, huge, straight, and veiny with a bright red tip.

At this point, there was not a clear thought in your head, your lust fogging up whatever reason and decency that was left. All you wanted was him inside you. The tingling in your belly was increasing as if a swarm of butterflies was attempting to find a way out of your insides. Your craving was that of a beast, your inner muscles spasming and clenching on air, slick pooling out of your cunt, all in expectation of him finally granting you the fullness you so much lusted for.

And you did not have to wait very long because as if in response to your body’s call, he grabbed you by the hips and slid you closer to his rough ones. His cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance and he slowly started pushing into your clenching walls. The sensation of being filled up like this was making you delirious with pleasure. Every inch he gained was adding more and more to your already peaking arousal. At last, he bottomed out, but before starting to move, he stretched out his arm and grabbed your chin with his large hand, tilting your head so that you could look at the crucifix above the altar. His lips were contorted in a frown, he was baring his fangs.

‘He is looking at you. And now, I want you to tell him who is your new Master. Say it.’

With that, he started slowly thrusting into you. You were moaning, but his grip on your chin did not lessen.

‘Say it!’

‘Lord Kokushibo is my new Master, my only Lord.’

You moaned out, your breath getting heavy. Satisfied, he let go and increased the force and pace of his thrusts. It was as if time had stopped, and there was only now you and him, in this sacred space, performing this unholy sacrament. Your juices mixed, your bodies intertwined. Every spot inside you was stimulated. You could feel the veiny texture of his dick rubbing back and forth on your plush and swollen walls. If this was a sin, then you for sure belonged in hell. Because this was something you no longer could live without. And when your body finally reached the limits of what it could take before being plunged over the edge and into the eruption of your orgasm, you knew that this demon would be your bane. You were indeed possessed.

As you were riding out your climax, he kept on pumping into you with unchanged force. It was now his turn to grant himself a release. He pulled you closer to him, changing the angle slightly so that his rough hips were even closer to you. The sound of flesh smacking flesh, the wet squelching of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy, and your lewd moans echoed through the sacred building. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back, a glorious fallen angel with a halo of black hair with red tips that in the dim light of candles made it look as if he was emerging out of the fires of hell. His thrusts were not losing any of their strength or speed as you started to feel another orgasm approaching.

‘Kokushibo, my Lord, I am…. going… to come again’ you managed to moan out in your hazy state.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze.

‘Then I want you to say my name when you do and tell your old God who your new one is.’

He said with a vicious smirk while increasing the pace and strength of his actions. Every thrust was sending you closer to your climax, and when it was time for you to come again, you moaned out loudly

‘My Lord Kokushibo… you are… the only God… for me now’

And with that, you climaxed, and your consciousness started to blur.

He leaned over you now, small droplets of sweat running down his chest, making his skin glisten in the dull, warm light. His breath was very heavy, and his thrusts were getting sloppy. ‘I am close now’ he hissed through gritted teeth ‘I will fill you up with my demon seed, and from now on, you will forever be parched for it.’ With a final powerful thrust, he climaxed and emptied himself inside you, riding out his high with a few slower thrusts at the end. You were so overfilled, that his semen was pouring out of you around his cock and onto the altar. This was sacrilege, a sin beyond repentance. Yet, you knew, that this was just the beginning of your journey to hell and that you would not allow anyone to exorcise this demon out of your life.

You were still lying flat on top of the altar, breathless and blissed out, looking up at the crucifix and then at your demon lover’s face, when he finally pulled out, resulting in the remaining semen flowing out of you shamelessly onto the sacred stone. He smiled at the sight and lifted you up toward his chest, landing one last deep, hard kiss on your lips. He moved the hair out of your face and caressed your back, you reciprocating the action, barely able to reach around his large torso.

‘Will you be back?’ You asked in a weak voice.

‘If you pray to me, I will.’

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging my friends in this re-release: @doumadono @muzansfangs @sunsblaze @warringwarrioridiot @horror4themasses @cursetopia2 @misslauravillanueva @sunandflame

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While Bradley thought it was unfair of the Navy to mess with him while he was still in his honeymoon phase, he certainly did love getting mail from you.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

That autumn....

As soon as you led Bradley inside after he drove the two of you home from Salvatore's, you ran your fingers along his cheek and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You had a lunch picnic with Thai food on the beach. And then you got pasta for dinner. Do you have any other requests?" you asked, using your strict classroom voice which made Bradley's mouth water. 

"I do, actually," he whispered, melting into your touch. "How about some of that lingerie you picked out in Paris?"

The honeymoon was almost three months ago, but not an hour went by where Bradley didn't reminisce about the days he got to enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower and the view of your ass while he fucked you. It always left him with a smile on his face. But his smile started to falter when he remembered that he was shipping out tomorrow, and he wouldn't return until after the New Year. At least he would be allowed to communicate with you this time. That was the only thing saving him from almost certain despair.

"I think that can be arranged," you told him with a smile, unbuttoning your top as he stumbled along after you. "But you have to wait out here until I'm ready."

Bradley groaned and leaned on the wall in the hallway, watching you bounce along to the bedroom without him while you laughed. He didn't mind waiting a few minutes, because he was going to love whatever you were about to do. He was also going to miss you desperately. The honeymoon stage was still going strong, and quitting you cold turkey right now was going to be rough. There wasn't a moment when you and he were together that you weren't touching each other.

He hadn't even finished packing his duffle yet, because he didn't want this to feel real. He was planning on doing that tonight with your help, kissing you as you folded up his shirts and lined up his socks on the bed. But that was going to have to wait a few minutes. You opened the door to reveal the sheer nightie hugging your body as you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

Bradley was pushing away from the wall, heading right for you. "Gorgeous," he murmured, pulling you against him and walking you backwards to the bed. "Baby, I'm going to miss this too much."

His heart was pounding in his ears, hands full of your lace covered ass before you dropped to the bed on your back. "I'm going to have to wear all of my honeymoon goodies for my own entertainment for months," you whispered, tits spilling out of the lace as you arched your back.

"No, no, no," he scolded softly, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his jeans. "Don't be a tease, Baby." You grinned as you turned your head to the side, and Bradley stepped out of his remaining clothing before he climbed in bed. He was hovering above you, lips pressed to your ear as he whispered, "You'll wear the goodies for me, too. And you'll email me every mouth watering photo that you take of your fingers shoved deep in your pussy."

"Bradley," you whined, bucking your hips up until he had to hold you in place with his big hands on your body.

"I want a little treat every time you touch yourself. And I want to know that you're thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you."

Your words were an ego boost. Just the kind of thing that would get him through this work assignment and back into your arms. "When you're alone and thinking about me, I want some pictures, pretty girl. A whole inbox full of them. Some sweet ones," he crooned, kissing his way along your jaw to your lips. "And some dirty ones," he added, mouth teasing your skin until your nipple was between his lips and you were whining. He sucked gently, tugging until his lips popped free, leaving you begging for more with your fingers in his hair.

You stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago. The two of you decided to go with the flow and see what happens next. It felt nice to keep that kind of pressure out of the bedroom, especially when Bradley knew he'd be just as content with six kids or none. It's not like he needed anything besides you, and he told you that every single day.

"I'm going to miss my wife," he crooned, guiding his cock inside your slick perfection as soon as you spread your legs. He rocked in and out of you slowly, enjoying the feel of your body and your voice and your sweet scent. Memorizing everything. Telling himself he could get through the time away from you as long as he could come back to this.

It was so late when Bradley finally left the bed. You and he were wrung out and fucked out. Fingers laced together, barely moving, unable to go for a fourth round. "That was wild," you laughed when he finally rolled away from you, dizzy as he stood and looked at the wrecked bedding around your naked body.

"Shit, Gorgeous." He was laughing, too as he said, "I still need to finish packing in the next five hours."

You eased yourself up and stood next to him, assessing the blankets and his open duffle sitting on the floor against the wall. "What if I told you this was all just a ploy to keep you here with me instead of getting you ready to leave?"

"Then I would say I love you."

----------------------------------

Waking up for work in a bed that was half cold was not your idea of a good time. You shivered every morning that Bradley was gone, especially when November brought with it a chilly bite to the air. The commute from Coronado to Mira Mesa and back each day felt like a punishment when you knew you weren't going to arrive home to a husband who was excited to see you and hear about your adventures in teaching.

Instead, you did the best you could to make it home to your computer where you could type paragraph after paragraph to him, letting him know what was going on back in California. You sent him a plethora of photos, some of which didn't include your face as a precaution. You even went into detail about how much you missed him at bedtime.

And the best part was, you got just as much, if not more, in return. His days were largely repetitious, but there was always something new he was telling you about. His gym selfies never disappointed, and neither did the paragraphs where he told you in an abundance of detail how much he missed waking up next to you.

While you made it a point to spend time with Natasha, Edith, Ruby and Marty, the loneliness was somehow worse now that you had rings on your finger. The best thing to happen was the arrival of the day when your new fourth grade class started their unit on aviation.

Your students had been anticipating it for weeks, and you had some eager faces looking back at you on the Monday morning when you stood at the front of your classroom and said, "We're about to embark on a flight that will take us through our math, science and language arts classes for weeks to come. As we learn all about aviation, we'll be writing to a naval aviator on an aircraft carrier, and we'll even get to visit a local naval base for a field trip. Let's start out by learning the definitions of a few words that we'll be using frequently."

Later that week, you had a sizable cardboard box packed up with letters and snacks for your husband. Instead of telling him exactly when the first package would arrive, you left it as a surprise for him to stumble upon.

-------------------------------

Bradley was exhausted. The mechanical crew on this deployment was nowhere near as kind or competent as Marty, and he found himself constantly visiting their shop to work through issues with his aircraft. He missed his friends and his home and his wife. He missed you so fucking much. All of the letters and emails you sent him were fantastic, but he even missed having a bunch of pen pals to converse with at the end of the day.

Every happy thought that entered his mind seemed to be pushed aside when he realized he was still a long way from returning to San Diego. He considered skipping dinner in favor of collapsing in his bunk, but he could tell he was already losing weight. You weren't around to keep him well fed, so when his stomach started to rumble, he made a point to head for the noisy mess hall. 

The cabbage rolls were disgusting, but at least the aircraft carriers were consistent. He picked at his meal and then ate two plates of dessert to make himself feel a little bit better. When he was sorting his dirty dishes and tray into the appropriate place, he was surprised to hear his name being called amongst some others.

"Bradshaw! You've got unclaimed mail!"

He perked up immediately. How did he have something else to claim? He picked up an enormous envelope from you the other day along with a card from Edith. Did you send him a handwritten note again already?

When he went to the small window in front of the mail center and gave his name, a box was thrust into his hands. Bradley's heart leapt when he saw the return address was from Mira Mesa Elementary School. He should have been expecting this, but he was suddenly happy you kept it as a surprise. A smile curled along his lips. He could have some regular pen pals to correspond with again. His smile grew wider when he looked at the way you addressed the box to him in your tidy handwriting.

To MY US Naval Aviator (Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw)

---------------------------------

Bradley has the ultimate pen pal in his wife. Thanks for reading this series which ended up being so much longer than originally intended! Thanks for all of the love and feedback along the way! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[raven-cincaide]

Get To Know Your Wife

Summary: You can’t fight your arranged marriage with Megumi Fushiguro. But you’ll do everything you can to ensure it doesn’t become one of those loveless, boring marriages on paper. Even if that means you have to be the biggest pain in his ass, you could be.  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (future husband,arranged marriage) Megumi Fushiguro Sweetober prompt 8: Farmers Market  WC 1.3K Warnings: Suggestive (dirty jokes and light humiliation/being a pain in the ass/dick jokes) cursing, fluff

“This is a pointless waste of time.” 

“ Hey, you take that back!” you spun around on your heel to face the brooding, pouting, cross-armed Megumi Fushiguro, who merely raised an eyebrow at your outburst and disrespectful tone. As you came closer, one hand on your hip and the second pointed an extended index finger in his face the tip of your nail was just inches away from his nose, and he merely scoffed.

You stepped closer, your nail just barely graced his nose.

Megumi swatted your hand away from his face as though it were a fly. “I said this is pointless,” he repeated slowly, as though you lacked some marbles or were a very dense child unable to keep up with the obvious adult talk. “ We will be married regardless of our thoughts or feeling; all this is just a waste.”

He made an open palm motion towards the farmers market all around you, the lovely-dovey couples sharing autumn treats, the families playing market games, high scholars messing about at the pumpkin carving contests and just passers-by enjoying the farm fresh veggies, hand-crafted items and stories from travelling merchants. 

It was a place where tradition met modernity, the new met the old, and there were indeed activities to fit both your tastes. Typical topics to talk about, childhood memories to share, heck even just as simple as learning about each other's favourite and hated fall treats could be something to talk about. 

Anything that wasn’t marriage or clan-related. 

Or at least, that had been your plan for the day. A feeble attempt at connection. You even went through all the formal hoops to request a sliver of his time, all according to customs and expectations and ridiculous rules between your clans. However now that you finally made it to the farmers market, he had the audacity to call all your effort ‘pointless’. 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you would have slapped that self righteous expression right of his condescending face. The piercing glare that was soon accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. The way he drew his own conclusions from your actions  “I’ll take your silence as agreement, now then we’ll head back-” 

“ -I’m not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage.” you cut him off. Your arms moved to cross over your chest, your foot tapped away at the ground in a nervous tipp-tipp-tapp sound- a dead giveaway to your anxiety. 

Megumi raised an eyebrow at your statement. “You think a trip to a farmers market will somehow turn this into a love story? You’re more naive than I thought.” 

You hated how he looked down at you. How he thought he knew everything because he was the zenin with the greatest technique that could make him the strongest in the world. How the power so obviously had gone to that spikey head of his and turned it so empty he became a sea urchin “No, I am giving you the opportunity to learn to treat me right before the marriage ceremony takes place” 

“ Or what?” 

“Or I will be the biggest nuisance to you, turning this marriage into a living hell” You threatened. When he didn’t relent, you smiled almost too sweetly, taking a deep breath. “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Instantly he was on you, his hand covering your mouth and the obscenities it spewed. 

“ What the hell?” Megumi growled,his face an awkward shade of red as he heard several passers by repeat your sentence. You weren’t done yet. Using the old, stick out your tongue and lick, trick, you felt him yank his hand away from your lips in disgust. 

Then you graced the passers by with another well timed, embarrassing comment: “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick and doesn’t know how to use–!” 

His hand was back over your mouth, blush unmistakable as he peered at you through narrowed eyes. “ Will you shut up!” Megumi growled as he began to pull you away from the centre of the marketplace. “You’re humiliating yourself!”

“Mphhmmm mmm phm” his hand muffled your words and insults that you tried to scream right out,  insults which turned into laughter as you dug your heels into the ground, making him stumble and struggle to drag you away. A sight that definitely attracted attention much to your delight and his humiliation 

“Fucking hell, shut up and move will you?” Megumi snapped, yanking you particularly hard the same second as you raised your leg,which made you lose your balance and hit his back, sending him flying forward. Megumi caught himself last second, and by extension you caught yourself by crashing into his back. “Ouph you little- Don’t you dare!”

You didn’t realize why he got snappy, until your eyes landed on some of his clansmen and a few familiar faces. You took another deep breath readying to scream your most humiliating insult yet. Should you do another dick jab? Maybe the next one should question his choices? Or his inability to find a lover unless his clan bribed someone and-

“Okay fine!” Megumi snapped over his shoulder before you could finish formulating your thought. “Fine.” He sounded defeated as he turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “Where do you wanna go first?” 

You were tempted to send him to hell, to humiliate him in front of his precious friends and clansmen. But then you reasoned your ammunition against him would bleed dry even before the day was over. So you bit your tongue and plastered a huge smile on your face as your eyes landed onto one of the jewelry stalls a distance away, “We start over there” You nodded in the stalls direction and began walking there. “Oh and by the way you’re paying today. Your punishment for being ungrateful.” 

Megumi shot you another dark look as he fell into step beside you. “Whatever” he muttered with a huff. His hands were in his pockets but even without seeing them you could tell they shook in anger. An unmistakable frustration at being outsmarted by a girl. 

“Oh, and try to smile, will you?” you knew you were toying with him, but you had to know the limit to your power.

“Tsk” 

Okay, no smiles you concluded just as your eyes ran over the market patrons and landed on a familiar tall white-haired man you were certain carried the title of your soon to be’s adoptive father.“ Megumi has–” 

“ Will you shut up already with the dick jokes?!” Megumi snapped his voice loud enough to make the white-haired man turn around, and his lips split open into a huge grin. You swore the sight of it, and the subsequent ‘My son’ made Megumi hate you just a tiny bit more. “See what you did?” he mouthed pulling you in another direction as the man made a beeline for you, leaving you to wonder whether you should take mercy on your soon-to-be and sneak away before Satoru Gojo met you, or if you should dig your feet in again just for the sheer amusement of it all. 

After all, if Megumi had taken the time to get to know his soon-to-be wife, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament. So he had only himself to blame for this situation, right?

Author note: I'm dying beneath uni studies, work and my upcoming trip, but I still wanted to update something more this week. Hope this was worth the wait!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Getting fucked by ghostface!Billy in an alley on your way back from Tatum’s. He tried to scare you and pull this little stunt, but you figure out it was him

More Billy, YES (this is 1.5k, enjoy)

Please read the warnings before reading this one, some of the content might make you uncomfortable or be triggering for you

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, semi-public sex, p + v, non-protected sex, creampie,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Dewey to drive you home? He should be there at ten,’’ Tatum asked again as you were getting ready to leave. ‘’The psychos are out at this hour...’’ 

You declined her offer. ‘’I can’t. My parents will have my head if I'm not home before curfew.’’ You grabbed your backpack and opened the door. ‘’See you tomorrow!’’ You waved at her before stepping out and closing the door. 

The chill autumn air brushing your face and the fallen leaves swished on the ground around you as you walked down the Rileys’ driveway and took the sidewalk. You didn’t particularly enjoy walking alone at night — no women did, honestly —, but Tatum’s house was only a few blocks from yours. 

On the way, you admired all the carved pumpkins out on the porches and other halloween decorations, making you miss when you were kids. Halloween was still fun as a teenager, but no parties could beat trick-or-treating and exchanging candies with your friends. 

As you turned on Elm street, a growing unease pricked at your senses. Someone was following you. Your steps became quicker, but not quick enough that your change of pace would alert the person behind you. The last thing you wanted was to let him know that you knew he was following you. He could take a run after you and it would be done for you.

You thought of going back to Tatum’s, maybe Dewey was home from work, but you were almost home. Instead, you took the shortcut to your house and turned in an alley, thinking you could kick a trash can at your pursuer's feet in case he tried anything, but a shadow loomed over you. Panic surged through you, and before you could react, a gloved hand swiftly clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape.

Fear pulsed within you, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. You struggled against the grip, your instincts kicking in as you fought to break free. The scent of leather filled your nostrils as you twisted and wriggled, attempting to loosen the stranger's hold.

A distorted voice pierced the air, its chilling words sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’Don’t you know walking home by yourself at night is a danger-magnet? Especially with a tight little skirt like yours,’’ he said as the hand that wasn’t over your mouth slid up your thigh, making your heart race in fear of what was going to happen. 

A sickening feeling twisted in your stomach. Maybe you should have waited for Dewey to drive you home. Your parents would have been mad for not respecting your curfew, but at least you would have been safe. 

You tried to scream again, and fight back, but the stranger only laughed at your attempts. 

‘’You’re not gonna escape me, babydoll,’’ the distorted voice laughed, tightening their grip and pressing your front against the brick wall of a building. ‘’If you try, I’ll gut you like a fish.’’ Something cool touched your leg and tears pricked in your eyes. 

A knife. 

Tatum was right about psychos being out at this hour…

You turned your head slightly, trying to see who was holding you, but all you saw was a strange halloween white mask with a black hood. 

‘’Have you ever been told how good your ass looked in that skirt? Bet your boyfriend likes to take you from behind, uh?’’ The hand that was on your thigh moved up, pulling your skirt and lifting it up, making your skin crawl. 

The night air hit your bare ass, completely exposed to the masked stranger, and you pressed your thighs together. You doubted it would stop the man from doing anything, but you could at least try. 

‘’Mmh, what a nice ass,’’ he pointed out, smacking his hand on your ass-cheek, the sound resonating in the alley, and grabbing it. You squeaked at the impact. ‘’I can’t wait to feel it against me as I pound in your tight pussy.’’

Your stomach churned. Your night was turning into a nightmare. 

‘’Now, I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but if you dare scream…’’ he trailed with a threat.

You nodded, having no other choice. He was the one with the knife.

‘’Spread those legs, hands on the wall,’’ he ordered, the distorted voice glitching a little, causing you to hear the man’s real voice. It sounded familiar, like you had heard it before, but a lot of men had similar voices. 

Shaking that thought, you obeyed and parted your legs, holding a hiss when pressing your hands against the rough brick.   

‘’Now what?’’ you spat, looking over your shoulder.  

The stranger chuckled, then pushed himself up against the curve of your ass, letting you feel his erection through his clothes, the hardness and heat radiating from his body admittedly kind of hot. ‘’Now I'm gonna stick it in you and rearrange your insides, you dumb fucking bitch.’’

You gasped at his words, arousal leaking through your panties. 

A car drove by on the other end of the alley, making the both of you go completely still. Minutes ago, you would have been relieved that a car was driving by. Not anymore. A sick and twisted part of you wanted the masked stranger to fuck you against that wall. 

Once the car was out of earshot, the masked man another grope of your ass, then pulled aside your underwear, running a gloved hand over your folds and discovering your little secret. 

‘’Is this…turning you on?’’ 

You kept quiet, disgusted and ashamed of yourself. 

He laughed, keeping going with the teasing by pressing a finger inside you, making you gasp as you automatically clamped around it. ‘’It is turning you on.’’ You heard the smirk in his voice. ‘’Dirty little slut.’’ 

You whined at his words, his finger moving in and out, but not nearly enough. ‘’Please,’’ you surprised yourself by saying, chasing his finger. ‘’I need more.’’ 

If anyone were to see you right now, you would be mortified. Not only were you getting sexually assaulted by a masked stranger in an alley, but you were enjoying it. It was sick.

Much too soon, he removed his finger, making you whine in protest. You turned your head to glance at him, but his head was down and you couldn’t see much. 

‘’Think you can handle my cock in you? Your slutty little cunt is weeping around my finger,’’ he said as he reached beneath his robe, fighting with his belt buckle and zipper to free himself. 

Your stomach bubbled with excitement, your teeth catching your bottom lip when you felt his hard cock pressing against your entrance. You pushed back against him, the hard press of his tip prodding at you, his pre-cum mixing with your leaking arousal. 

Your jaw dropped as you felt his cock part your folds, pushing himself all the way inside before stilling for a few seconds. Fuck. His dick was filling you so good. He gave a first snap of hips and a moan escaped from your lips, louder than you were expecting. 

Behind you, the masked man stopped moving, clamping a hand over your mouth as he hissed in your ear. ‘’Keep quiet or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt. Can't get caught, can we?’’ he warned, forgetting to use the voice distorter and giving himself away. 

‘’Billy Loomis, you sick fu—’’ 

Your words were cut off as his thick cock plunged back into you, making you moan instead. 

Billy laughed. ‘’Surprise, babydoll.’’ He gripped your hip firmly with one hand, the second coming around your throat while he was pounding in you from behind, stars flying around in your vision as the pleasure filled your whole body, explicit groans and muffled moans filling the dark alley.

‘’Always so fucking tight,’’ he grunted, getting really hot under the mask. Halloween costumes were not made to be worn during sex. 

You tried your best to brace yourself, both hands flat on the brick wall as Billy kept pistoning into you, your legs were shaking with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. ‘’Ahh, yes, just like that!’’ 

After he emptied himself and rode the waves of your respective pleasure, Billy slipped out from you, a white string of hot cum connecting you to him. He smirked under the mask, loving to watching himself leak from your abused pussy and drip out and down your leg. 

‘’You’re insane,’’ you said, turning around to face your boyfriend, your wrinkled skirt still bunched up at your waist. 

Laughing, Billy pulled the mask off his face, his lips curved into a wicked grin. ‘’The best people are.’’ 

You both fixed yourself in silence, having enough played with public indecency for tonight. As thrilling and exciting as this had been, you didn’t want an actual stranger to see you exposed like that.  

‘’How did you know I just left Tatum’s?’’ 

‘’Stu,’’ he explained. ‘’Tatum called him saying you just left, so I put on that sweet little costume and decided to surprise you. Did you like it?’’ 

You grabbed the front of the black robe and kissed him in response.

—

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

moth to a flame

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her. 

It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers. 

You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly. 

You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you. 

“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk. 

You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you. 

Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there. 

“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.” 

“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.” 

“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles. 

“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.” 

“Oh, you work there?” He asks. 

You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks. 

You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.” 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.  

You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex. 

“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.” 

“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.” 

“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?” 

“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.” 

“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.” 

“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter. 

The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener. 

“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?” 

“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky. 

“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?” 

“I brought cider and--” 

“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.” 

Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.” 

“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away. 

Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute. 

“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.

There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.” 

“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.” 

“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?” 

“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.” 

“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.” 

“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off. 

She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot. 

“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.” 

You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth. 

“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.” 

Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you. 

“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.” 

“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.” 

“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.” 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again. 

“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly. 

“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.  

There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them. 

“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer. 

“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.” 

“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?” 

“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.” 

“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?” 

“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?” 

He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.” 

“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes. 

“Oh, yeah--” 

“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?” 

“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces. 

“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.” 

He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.” 

“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?” 

You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.” 

“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.” 

“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye. 

“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped. 

Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes. 

“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.” 

Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all. 

“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?” 

“Charming,” Steve comments. 

“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.” 

Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.” 

“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks. 

“Ummm,” you glance around nervously. 

“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.” 

He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”

He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.” 

He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm. 

“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.” 

He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.  

The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction. 

🔥

The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think. 

“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.” 

“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating. 

“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.” 

“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey. 

“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says. 

“Thanks, that’s nice.” 

“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away. 

As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat. 

“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.” 

He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on. 

“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem. 

“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.” 

“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there. 

“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something. 

“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.” 

You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.” 

“You sure?” He angles towards you. 

“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say. 

He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.” 

You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table. 

“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.” 

You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?” 

“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--” 

He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider. 

“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.” 

He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.  

You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh? 

You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be. 

You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’ 

Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave. 

He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?” 

“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them. 

“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists. 

“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.” 

You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.” 

You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm. 

“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.” 

You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...

He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.” 

“B--B—B--” you stutter. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.” 

He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you. 

He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend. 

“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing? 

“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad. 

“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.” 

His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either. 

[reverieblondie]

Scary Movie Night

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Full nelson, Oral, Cum eating, Reverse cowgirl.

Summary: Halloween Night and horror movies what could go wrong?

A/N: I can not do kinktober because I write to slow, so this is my Halloween fic instead. Also if you have sent me a request I am working on it so please be patient! If you enjoyed this Halloween themed Fic, please checkout my Halloween Fic with Peter B Parker here.

Word Count: 6,582

“Oh no please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I want to be in the sequel!” 

Halloween night, alone with no plans but to watch the horror movie marathon on TV, pass out candy to trick-or-treaters, and gorge yourself on candy and popcorn.  

The movie marathon was going strong. You had started with Nightmare on Elm Street, and now you have moved on to Scream. The marathon was the perfect way to get into the Halloween spirit. Halloween was the perfect night to get your spook on, everyone is entitled to one good scare on the spookiest night of the year. However, you didn't foresee yourself getting scared from the movies with having to constantly get up to pass out candy to eager trick-or-treaters. 

The doorbell rang out causing you to heave yourself from the couch dusting popcorn derby from your chest you flip on your interior lights and answer the door. 

“Trick or Treat!” 

The little Bundle of kids cheered. Ranging in ages you surveyed the group with a smile. A sweet little princess, an impressive robot, and an oddly adorable zombie, with them a tepid teenager with his scary werewolf mask on top of his head. You assume the babysitter for the night.  Quickly complementing their costumes you gave them each a handful of the sugary treats they were so desperate for. Chirping a thank you they all run off to the next house over. 

Smiling as they run off you scan the crisp autumn night watching the masses of excited children cheering and laughing as they run from house to house. As you are greeting some more treaters running to your door, something catches your eye. 

A dark figure seems to be slowly walking in the shadows of the sidewalks carefully avoiding running children and lights as it walks carefully by, surveying the rows of houses. Watching intently you quickly pass out the candy while trying to get a good look at the figure. Then one of the kids chirps a thank you causing you to smile down at them, once the kids run off your porch you look for the figure in the night and it seems to have disappeared. Okay, that was creepy. Maybe it was just a harmless kid, don't work yourself up. 

And you didn’t the whole weird sighting had completely left your mind. You had finished Scream and moved on to Halloween, is it even truly Halloween if you haven't watched this movie at least once? Enthralled in the movie your lights are turned dim to get you into the atmosphere of the film. Then something makes you jump, and it wasn’t the shape on the screen.  

Whipping your head towards the sound, it's like a soft tapping and it's coming from your window. This caused only one thought to rush through your brain- did I lock the window…

Slowly approaching the window you hear the tapping continue and you swear as you inch closer it becomes more rampant. Then as you reach for the curtain it seems to stop. It's probably just nothing, but the thought of that shadowy figure made all your confidence waver. If this is something you are screwed…maybe if you had some company you would be calmer. 

Not wanting to be a horror movie cliche you start looking through your phone's contacts. You need someone dependable, scary, and someone you wouldn't mind hanging out with, like…

You stop scrolling and stare at the contact name: Miguel O’Hara…

Dependable- yes, he can be kinda a hardass but at work, he is always ready to give a helping hand to you every time you ask, even though he would not shy away from giving you shit when given the chance. Though you have grown to enjoy the teasing.  

Scary- Uh, the dude is 6 '9' and built like a brick wall. It was one of the first things you noticed about him, The dude was huge! He could probably crush you if he needed to, though would that be so bad? It has become an office joke that when he's not at work he's living at the gym working out like crazy. How else could he be so big? 

Now Miguel is your friend, you two had gotten close through your jobs at Alchemax, So it's only natural for a friend to let another friend come over right? Even if this said friend is quite attractive, with a gorgeous face, broad back, slender waist, and the best ass you have ever seen. Yeah, hanging out alone in your house shouldn't be a problem…Right?

Taking a deep breath you press the call button. 

-Bring…-

-Brriinnngg…-

“Hello?” 

“Um, Hey Miguel, are you busy?” 

You hear Miguel shuffling around before he answers “What's wrong?” 

Wow, he's pretty perceptive, you didn't realize how shaken up you sounded for him to ask you that so quickly. “Uh, I was wondering if you could…come over?”

There is a long moment of silence then what sounds like an exasperated sigh on Miguel's end. He busy…Maybe you should tell him never mind, you're the one who decided to watch horror movies alone and-

“Okay, I will be there shortly.” 

Well that took zero convincing, “O-okay, see you then”

-click-

——-

Making sure to pick up your living room a bit you anxiously await for Miguel to arrive. The random tapping has stopped but you're still walking apprehensively through your home. Turning back on your lights you continue to watch the movie trying to distract yourself but you feel your hands getting clammy and anxiety rising. Were these movies just getting to you? Or Is there stuff happening? Worse than that, Is Miguel going to think you're crazy? 

Checking your phone every couple of minutes waiting for a call or text from Miguel. He said he would be here shortly but it feels like forever, where is he? Having nervously eaten all your popcorn you go to make another bowl. Throwing the bag in the microwave you start the time and think about how you just saw this same situation in Scream. Waiting patiently you're starting to think you're overreacting a bit. That tapping could be anything, maybe when Miguel gets here you two can laugh at this. He has the most amazing laugh…

Then a sudden thumping breaks your daydream. Frozen, you don't move a muscle, you don't even dare to breathe as you slowly move your gaze to the window where the tapping had been. But, the thumping noise is fainter, and it's almost like something hitting something on your windows. For a second you think, is someone egging me? You thought you could avoid that because you got the good candy. Is someone messing with you? Maybe this is all in your head? 

The thumping then turns into a window-rattling, like it's being pried open, your blood runs cold…

Eyes flicking around the room, your gaze gets glued towards the bathroom, and you clutch your cell phone tightly, is this happening…do I look? Absolutely not! Frantically you look at your phone. Where the hell is Miguel? 

Then the sound of your doorbell chime sounds like a saving grace. Quickly you rush to open the door, but it doesn't budge. Danm-

Fumbling with the lock you quickly swing the door open and there he is. Miguel O’Hara, in all his beautifully intimidating glory. God, you could just kiss him. You didn't even care that he was looking at you like you were insane. Without a second thought, you're pulling him by his shirt inside, slamming your door shut. Turning to him with wild eyes the hysteric words flying from your mouth.  

“Canyougocheckthebathroom, Iheardanoise and I’M Freaking out!” 

Miguel just looks at you baffled before he swivels his head around responding with a casual sigh. “Where's the bathroom?” 

Timidly you point down your dark hallway and Miguel instantly starts walking that way. Following close behind it takes everything in you not to cling to his jacket. Now you are usually a lot braver, but the oddness of the whole situation has you in a tissy.  

Miguel stops at the closed bathroom door, turning his head over his shoulder he points his index finger to the door in a silent question. Nodding with a yes he opens the door with a confident swing walking through. You're more apprehensive as you peer through the doorway holding your hands tightly to your chest. Looking through your bathroom it's completely normal, apart from the mountain of a man looking around at it. 

Turning to face you his chiseled face in a quizzical glare of ‘okay?’ 

Pointing to the window you meekly say “I thought I heard the window being opened..” 

Nodding Miguel parts the curtains to reveal a shut window, going the extra mile he even tries to open it but it's locked. Closing the curtains back he turns to you placing his hands on his hips.

“Anything else?”

Looking at the shower you nudge your head at it. Seeming to roll his eyes slightly he opens the curtain to reveal an empty shower, murderer free. Sighing, your tension starts to ease up, everything seems fine, other than you acting like a damn spaz.

“You okay scaredy-cat?” he says with a smirk. 

Rolling your eyes you're not amused by the nickname, “Yes I am fine, now can you give me a minute?”

Miguel shrugs with a smile and walks out of the bathroom, he turns like he's about to say something but you quickly slam the door closed, locking it.  Pressing your back to the door you run your hands through your hair and down your face feeling ridiculous. Nothing is here to get you…plus Miguel is here you need to get a grip.

After regaining your composure, doing your business, washing your hands, and maybe putting on some mascara and fixing your hair a bit, you finally exit the bathroom. Walking into your living room you are met with the sight of Miguel walking out of the kitchen, jacket removed, revealing a black tee shirt that does everything for his muscular physique; the cherry on top, he has taken your popcorn from the microwave and poured it into a bowl. -well just make yourself at home the O’Hara

Feeling a bit awkward you decide it's the polite thing to thank him, “Thank you for coming over and checking my bathroom…” 

Miguel nods plopping down on your couch and placing the popcorn on your coffee table, “you know, Maybe you shouldn’t be watching horror movies by yourself if you're just going to get scared by them” 

Touché-

“Well…That's why I have you, you get to be my bodyguard”  You say with a chuckle as you turn off your lights and slide down onto the couch next to him. 

“I don’t know, I was working before you called…” 

“Working?” This shouldn't be a surprise, of course, he was….”Well that's not a very fun Halloween” 

“And getting scared by cheesy horror movies is?” 

“Hey, At least it's festive, plus it’s not the movies that spooked me, some weird person was lurking around and this odd tapping, then the window…” 

As you speak you look up and see that Miguel is listening intently, hanging on to each word that leaves your lips, you can't help but feel your cheeks blush from his fervid stare. 

“I don’t know…maybe it was the movies…”

“I’ll stay”

“Huh?” You look at him confused 

Miguel casually grabs a handful of popcorn “I said I’ll stay, I don't have to finish that work right now and you seem genuinely scared, though I think you have just been watching too many movies niña” he playfully nudges you with his elbow and you nudge him back making him laugh causing you to blush again. 

“Plus…” he adds while dragging his eyes over your face, then down your body, studying your form for a moment “It will be..festive..” he looks back into your eyes and quickly averts his gaze to the movie, eating his popcorn casually. 

-------

This is not how you saw your evening headed, alone in a dark room with Miguel. Sure you have had the odd fantasy of this moment before but there was no TV playing, and there were also no clothes…the popcorn was still present though…

Trying to be engrossed in the film you can’t help but take your eyes away to look over at Miguel. Fidgeting around on the couch, Danm, you need to relax. Miguel is being a good friend and just trying to watch a movie he doesn't need to be ogled by you!  

As you continue to be at war with yourself your fidgeting and sighing must have gotten Miguel's attention. Because he’s then carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you in close. Feeling your face turn through three variations of blush you allow yourself to be pushed closer till your head is on his shoulder. Before you can even fumble with a response Miguel is speaking up. “You seem like you're scared…”

Not scared, just burning in desire for you, but I will take what I can get. “Thanks, Miguel.”

Completely ignoring the movie now, you don't even know what's on, you are just enjoying the closeness of Miguel's warm body. He might be the world's most cuddly man despite appearances. The best part was when a  jumpscare would suddenly happen, he would hold you tighter like he was trying to protect you. His calm rhythmic breathing and how his fingers subtly rubbed loose strains of your hair it was so calming. Calling him over was the perfect move, everything was going great. 

But there was something that just didn't make sense to you, “How come you're not at some kind of Halloween party or something?” you inquire looking up at his sculpted jaw. 

Miguel shrugs, moving his eyes away from the screen to look at you  “How come you're not at a Halloween party?” How come he can’t ever just give a straight answer-

Rolling your eyes you scoff “I’m not a fan of parties they tend to be overwhelming and usually kinda a letdown. Like I’m not going to go there and meet some sexy masked man to sweep me off my feet by fulfilling my every desire…” 

Miguel looks at you confused and you just giggle “Heh, I read a story about it once…Anyways I like staying home to pass out the candy, it’s fun getting to make the kid's night.” 

“You like kids?” he quickly asks. 

“Sure, I mean I want some of my own one day.” As you answer you look over at Miguel and you think you see a slight smile on his lips as you speak. 

“Seriously though, how come you weren't doing anything on Halloween?” you ask, trying to get the truth. “Didn't you get invited to go out?”

Miguel sighs, “Well yeah but, I’m like you, I don't like parties, horror movies are not my favorite, and kids don't trick or treat in my building, Plus…I was kinda waiting”

“Waiting? For what?” you say furrowing your brow at him.

“Well, I was waiting to see if you were going to invite me out” His sudden confession has your heart warming, and before you can get too mushy you slip out a laugh elbowing Miguel in the abs. “If you wanted to hang out you could have just called, you know?”

“I know, I guess I’m lucky you freaked yourself out so much you needed my company, scaredy-cat.” he teases leaning further into you and making your body warm.

“Hey! I was hearing and seeing things, Mister.” you poke his chest, almost hurting your finger in the process.

“Sure you were…” You and Miguel are both leaning pretty close by now, still laughing with each other. Then you two seem to notice the sudden proximity that has you both turning your heads quickly. 

Miguel and you continue your playful banter as you watch the movie. He complains how everything is predictable, proving his theories by telling you who will die and in what order, you call him a buzz kill and playfully pinch his sides as he continues to ruin the movie. Miguel meets your pinching by doing it to you, this quickly escalates to a pinching war on the couch.

Lost in the playful fight you and Miguel feel the tension building around you until the ring of the doorbell cuts through the laughing. Sounds of excited laughter following the ring, you look to the door and smile at Miguel “Well, duty calls,” Miguel moves so you can slip past him, and you head towards the door. To your surprise, however, you notice that Miguel is following you. Looking at him confused he averts his eyes and places his hand on the back of his neck, “Thought I could help….” -what a cutie

Smiling wide you place the bowl of candy in his large hands. Swinging the door open you see a group of giggly kids eagerly holding out their baskets. They all go to sing out their Halloween phrase but suddenly stop with wide eyes and gasped expressions. 

Looking at them confused you wonder what has them looking so shocked till you turn your head and look at Miguel. With the lights dimmed down in your house and the porch light only hitting parts of his face he looks terrifying, also are his eyes glowing red? What?

The youngest kid dressed like a fairy starts to cry, turning to hug her mom's leg. The others are too scared to even move. Miguel, in his infinite wisdom in social cues, leans over slightly and lets out a simple question “What will it be? Trick or Treat?” 

Noticing the kids getting upset and equally the parents, you are quick to soothe things over. Flipping the door light on you makes it easier to see Miguel, making his faceless obscured, this seems to make the kids relax a bit and the moms and dad blush to see his strong physique and chiseled features. 

“Wow! Miguel, don't all these kids look great? Don’t you love the costumes?” You nudge Miguel with a smile trying to get him to smile back. 

Miguel, confused at first, doesn't understand, then lighting up he seemingly catches on “Oh yeah definitely all good, I like the Spider-Man” Miguel points to a kid who is dressed in the Blue and red vigilante outfit (A popular costume since the masked hero started saving Nueva York) the kid gives a thumbs up that makes Miguel smile that has everyone’s heart squeezing.

Finally with the kids more relaxed and the parents thoroughly flushed you crouch down, pulling Miguel with you to drop candy in the kid's bags. You take the time to ask each kid what they are and compliment the outfit. Miguel keeps his smile placed as he watches you with the kids. He seems to enjoy this. Finally, with all the kids giving their sweet rewards you and Miguel wave bye.

Nudging him in the side you get his attention “Try not to scare the kids huh?” 

Miguel rolls his eyes “I didn't do it on purpose.”

Miguel walks back inside towards the movie and you go to reach for the light, but some sudden movement catches your attention. It looks like someone or something running down the side of the neighbor's house. Stepping out into the night air you look and see if you can see it. Inching closer and closer you're trying to catch a glimpse but then the sound of a playful scream down the road makes you jump. Looking back you see a father lifting his daughter and tossing her into the air making her scream and giggle. Taking a breath to calm yourself, you head back inside. Not seeing that the bushes have been rustling…

———-

Settling back onto the couch you are happily eating away at your candy. Trick-or-treaters are heading home for the night leaving the rest of the treats for you to enjoy. Miguel's eyes are focused on you as the candy slips past your lips. 

“I can’t believe you actually can sit here and eat all that sugar” 

You side-eye Miguel “Oh let me guess you don’t eat candy?” Probably not have you felt his abs in that shirt, completely solid-

“I just, haven’t had any that I like” 

“Well, do you not like sweet things?” 

Miguel looks at you for a moment like he wants to say something but quickly changes his mind “It depends…” 

“Well here try this, it’s one of my favorites” 

Quickly unwrapping the candy you hold it up for Miguel to take, but instead of grabbing it from you he leans down and takes it with his mouth. 

Staring at him your thoughts seem to evaporate.- 

Wait, did I just…did he really…did I feed him chocolate?

Staring at Miguel you meet his gaze with wide eyes, is he…no! He probably just took it because he just really wanted the chocolate…

While you're consumed by your thoughts your eyes stay locked with Miguel, he looks nervous. Like he's also surprised that you fed him chocolate, but he was the one who leaned in and ate from your hand! He fed himself! 

Moving his eyes away for a moment he turns away and quickly swallows the candy, as he turns he seems like he wants to say something but instead his intense stare stays on your eyes. Feeling his arm on your shoulders move slowly to your hips curling tighter around you, a crashing wave of excitement washes over you. He slightly leans forward keeping his eyes on yours, it feels like you can’t breathe. 

Heart is beating a mile a minute, all your nerves are on high alert, brain feels like it's frying. His scent, his touch, his intense stare! Wait, are his eyes red again, must be the lighting. 

All of it is overwhelming. With ease, his large hand gently grabs your neck, bringing you closer to touch his plush lips to yours. Eyes shutting instantly you lean into the kiss, pressing yourself closer to his warmth. Seemingly groaning in surprise he leans more, parting his lips slightly to guide you through, mouth moving in tandem with him. Feeling the kiss deepen to a more intense passion you feel Your arousal ruining your panties and body heat reaching a fever pitch. 

Breaking from the kiss to get air you stare at Miguel's face as he catches his breath, he looks downright majestic huffing for air it drives you wild, tightening your thighs together. Taking everything not to pounce him you back up brain scrambling from the hot man panting at you.  

“I-is it Hot maybe I should o-open up my….Window! Yeah, open up my window!” Quickly you scramble to your window pushing past the curtains and lifting the window. The sudden cool breeze does nothing to cool your heated body. Standing there you take deep breaths to calm yourself, then large hands grabbing your hips make your attempts to calm down fail. Feeling Miguel nuzzle into your hair, then his breath fan against your neck has you almost moaning, you just can't help melting at his touch. 

“I’m sorry if that was too sudden, I just…I’ve been wanting to do that..” His arms wrap around you in a hug making you fall into pure bliss

“For how long?” you say breathlessly leaning into his hold. 

Humming Miguel thinks for a moment “About….five months now”

Your eyes shoot open and you turn around and swat his shoulder “You have liked me for five months and you haven't done anything about it!” 

Miguel takes your playful hits for a few more moments before catching your wrist and pulling you in close, “you know if you wanted to kiss me you could have?”

“What? No way, I have been leaving hints this whole time you needed to meet me halfway!” 

Miguel leans in closer, silencing your nagging with a kiss that you quickly fall into, playing with his hair as his hands roam over your body. Breaking away Miguel smiles down at you, “Is this meeting you halfway?” 

Giving a slight pout you look at him with doe eyes “All I'm saying is that we could have been doing stuff sooner if you would have done something.” 

Miguel quickly lifts you kissing you passionately carrying you blindly to the bedroom, when you feel your back hit your bedroom door you break the kiss looking down at his smirking face. “Well let's make up for lost time, shall we?” 

Fumbling with your doorknob trying to open your door, but he swiftly moves your hand, opening the door in a fluid motion. Unable to contain your desires, you feverishly pull on his shirt while his hands fumble with your leggings. Once his shirt is off you take a second to admire his body he just chuckles at you before he's undoing his pants, while taking your top off you watch as his cock springs out from its confines slapping against his abdomen. 

Now fully exposed to one another he can't help but lick his bottom lip taking in all your soft curves. You're equally hypnotized by his monstrous phasic and the massive length that causes your legs to shake. Seeing your nervousness he's quick to relax you. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good.” Running his hands all over he gets behind you and walks you to your bed. Pushing you against the bed you're falling on the plush mattress on your hands and knees. 

Miguel's large digits can be felt spreading open your wet folds, you can only whimper as he runs his other finger up and down teasing you. 

“Danm, you're so wet…” 

Before you can give a rebuttal you feel him lick a long strip up your cunt. All you can do is let out a squeak as he ravenously eats your pussy, licking at your slick walls. All you can do is drop to your elbows moaning his name, as he hums and prods his tongue in your quivering slit. 

Finally needing to break for air he moves away, his warm breath fanning over your wet cunt making you squeeze your legs together. Turning your head over your shoulder to look at Miguel and you almost cum right there. He's panting like a damn animal as a mixture of your arousal and his spit coat his chin in a shining sheen. The most alarming thing is that his eyes are blown out in hungry lust “Miguel…” you whimper his name breathlessly. 

“Sorry hermosa, you're just so sweet..” with that he's spreading you open and back to eating your pussy like a starved man making you approach your high. Feeling your body reaching its peak you grind your hips into his face making him latch onto your swollen clit, sucking and twirling his tongue on it. 

“Oh my god! Miguel! Ah!” 

Knowing exactly what he's doing he leans in, humming onto your clit more, sliding two fingers into your slick cunt. moving his fingers in slowly he's spreading you open to accommodate every enticing inch. Once he's knuckle deep he starts pumping his large fingers in and out. Practically drooling now from his pumping plus the hungry licking and sucking of your clit you feel in bliss. It's not until Miguel is letting out a low groan into your cunt that you start seeing stars. 

Trying to squirm away you try to prevent what's about to happen but Miguel grabs a hold of your hips not allowing you to move, continuing his low groans and deep pumping. The white-hot rush washes over you and all you can do is scream his name as you cum, Miguel not wanting to waste a drop of your sweet essence quickly licks and sucks every drop from you, helping you ride your high on his face. 

Coming down from your high you feel Miguel's large hands squeezing your waist, “So good for me baby, so fucking sweet..” 

Before you can even fully get back to your senses Miguel is Pulling you up to press your back to his chest, “now keep being my good girl and ride me..” he growls into your ear. 

Laying down on the bed he steadies your hips as you grab his massive length angling it to tease your slit. His hot tip feels so good teasingly poking at your slit. Looking over your shoulder your eyes fall to Miguel, he looks like he can't take any more of your teasing. Grabbing your hair he roughly pulls making your back arch suddenly “Fucking ride it,” 

Slowly lowering yourself on his cock you feel the stretch making your toes curl, Miguel's large hands rub soft circles on your hips as you stretch yourself full. You're unable to help your mewing of his name as you fully press down to take him all. Not even moving yet your eyes are rolling at the way his tip is already nudging your cervix. Miguel continues to rub his hands up and down your back cooing sweet nothings about how you're such a good girl, his good girl. 

Feeling him throb in you, you're ready for more so you slowly start raising your hips and bringing yourself down, with each motion your cunt clenches down on him savoring the stretch. Once you're accommodated to his size you pick up your pace moving faster and pushing him in deeper, his hot tip has you losing your mind. Grabbing onto your breast pinching and twisting your buds, you're losing it moaning and crying out his name. 

Egged on by your enthusiasm Miguel grips your hips and thrusts deeper, “That's my girl, take it, baby, ah fuck, my cock is yours” 

“Its mine..ah fucking mine” you cry out bouncing faster 

You start to feel the coil in your stomach tightening, feeling your body heating up to a fever pitch. Miguel is right with you approaching as high as he thrust harder cock throbbing and heating to a mouth-watering burn. Grunts falling on deaf ears you're too lost in the chase or your second orgasm, your only focus is to milk him dry, to feel his thick seed fill you. 

The chase gets halted when suddenly Miguel is leaning forward kissing the back of your neck, hooking his arms under your knees. Locking his hands behind your head, the contorting has him fucking your pussy impossibly deeper, his breath is ragged as he moans, “I'm going to ruin this fucking pussy!”

“Fuck! Ruin me miggy!” You didn’t need to ask him twice he's fucking you hard, his in your stomach at this point. The arousal from your cunt is dripping down to your ass as he just takes full control over you. Chest feels on fire as you gasp from his pace which shows no sign of relenting till his cumming deep inside you.   

Practically there you feel your coil about to give, and then Miguel slows his strong thrust to a stop, his breath getting quiet. Turning back to whine at the sudden loss of friction you hear it too…the sound of your living room window sliding up. Still caged in his grip from the Full Nelson you can only look up in horror, your house is being broken into! You weren’t paranoid! 

Miguel slowly releases you from his hold and gently slides out of you moving you to the side of the bed. You can’t help the slight moan you give from not being full of him anymore. Miguel stands up and looks at you placing a finger to his lip reminding you to be silent, his intense eyes looking like they shine red. Quickly following his silence demands you cover your mouth with your hands. 

Slow footsteps can be heard walking through the house and your eyes widen. Who was in here? What is happening? 

Miguel slowly and steadily puts his pants on (disregarding his underwear) and you wrap yourself in a robe. Miguel goes to open the door of the bedroom but you quickly grab his hand to hold him back. Looking up at him with pleading eyes you try and urge him not to go out there, it’s dangerous he could get hurt. 

Without words, Miguel places his hand on your cheek and gives a soft kiss to your lips, a reassurance that everything will be okay. You hate how much it calms you at the moment but can’t help how you surrender to it. 

Miguel goes to open the door but it’s too late, the door flies open and you see a masked intruder dressed in all black. Screaming in terror you hide behind Miguel’s tall stature. To your surprise the intruder also screams when you are, jumping backwards they pin themselves to the wall. Wait? What kind of intruder jumps in surprise? As you shake in fear and confusion Miguel just stares daggers at the person. 

Before you know it the intruder is cussing and running towards the door but Miguel is not having it, he pursues the intruder in a quick sprint. It was honestly a pathetic sight, the intruder scrambling to unlock your front door while the monster of a man Miguel goes to grab him. 

After successfully slipping through the door the masked person starts running down your driveway. However, they were not quick enough, with an incredible force Miguel grabbed the masked person’s shoulder and slammed them to the ground in one swift motion. With the way he swiftly maneuvered it was like Miguel has done it thousands of times. 

Thoroughly pissed off Miguel lifts the now limp figure in the air. Now seeing the comparison between the two you see how the guy didn’t even stand a chance to Miguel, in fact, the figure now seems to be quite slender. Carefully you approach Miguel and the figure. 

 in an animalistic growl, Miguel finally speaks. “What are you doing breaking into y/ns house…” 

The figure lets out a whimper of “Who?” the continues in a pathetic plea,  

“Please sir don’t kill me,” Sir? What? That’s not how intruders sound. Miguel lifts the mask off the person's face to reveal a young man probably a freshman in high school looking like he’s about to pee himself. The young man turns to you with desperate eyes. 

“Ma’am, can you tell your husband to put me down?” Okay, not my husband but I’m not going to correct them. 

“Um, first you need to explain why you were breaking in before I call the police “ 

The kid lets out a whine  “Please don’t! it was just a stupid prank, I was supposed to scare Kenny Crain.” The kid's face flushes and starts to cry

Looking at them confused, you ask, “Kenny Crain?” 

The kid sadly nods and Miguel’s grip tightens, You continue “No Kenny Crain lives here?” Gesturing to your house. 

The kid's tears stop and he looks at you in shock “wait this isn't 945?”

You shake your head “This is 925” 

The kid stops crying and looks to a nearby bush “TYLER YOU FUCKING IDIOT! You scoped the wrong house!” 

A bush rustles before letting out a pathetic “sorry-“ 

Miguel drops the teenager from his grasp to the ground, he makes a sit-down motion with his hand and the teen eagerly obeys. 

With long strides, Miguel goes to the bush and plucks the other teenager out lifting him by the collar and placing him next to his friend. 

Watching as Miguel scolds the teenager you feel a smile creep across your face and that same tingly feeling in your stomach, Miguel O’Hara your hero. 

Walking over you grab Miguel’s arm causing him to fall silent from his reprimanding of the two teens. 

“Miguel, I think they learned their lesson.” You look at the two pathetic-looking teens and they nod urgently. 

Miguel stares at the two young men again, not over what they did “You two, go home and don’t ever do anything like this again. Or else….” 

With that the teens start scrambling and apologizing, running off into the late Halloween night. Your eyes fall to Miguel, his bare chest heaving as he watches the boys run off in irritation, he looks gorgeous. Miguel had come to protect you again, it’s only right you repay him. Sliding your arms around his waist you press soft kisses to his warm body. 

Tease muscles begin to relax with each passing kiss from your soft lips. Swiftly he turns around and looks down at you. You thought he looked fantastic during the day right now he looks damn ethereal. A soft kiss is pressed to your lips, it's caring and full of passion. 

Slipping his tongue past your lips you suddenly feel the night air grazing across your ass as Miguel lifts your robe before his warm hands come to grip you rear, making you whimper. 

Breaking the kiss in one fluid motion Miguel scoops you from your feet and carries you into your home. The kiss becomes hungrier with each passing moment, and before you know it you're crashing onto your sofa with Miguel over you caging you beneath his hard body. Moans escape your lips as he gropes your body, his hands quickly undo your robe, then quickly grab a hold of your breast to play with your sensitive buds, his tongue drags over them coating them in his saliva.  

Pulling away you look at him with blown-out eyes buckling your hips uncontrollably toward him, it's like your in heat. Chuckling softly he bites his lip and he starts to undo his pants, you're still shuddering with anticipation when his cock springs out. 

“You didn't want to go back to the bedroom?” you ask in a shaky breath, holding your hands out to him. Did you want to go back to the room, no you just want to tease him. 

Grabbing a hold of your hands he leans in placing kisses on your fingers and your knuckles before he pins them over your head. 

“I thought you wanted to finish your silly horror movie marathon,” he coos

Grabbing his length with the free hand he slaps it against your aching cunt causing you to jolt your hips up with a quick moan. Proud of himself for the reaction he gets from you he continues as he rubs his cock through your wet folds to gather your arousal, 

“figured we could multitask.”  

With that he slowly seathes himself into your wet heat, your moaning and clawing in back relishing in that fullness you're sure to get addicted to. Miguel can't help but throw his head back at how your pussy sucks him in tightening around him instantly and he's not even fully in yet. Miguel just keeps pumping his hard cock through your velvety tight walls, watching your brain get hazier with each thrust that kisses your cervix, keeping at this you're sure to forget to even breathe let alone watch a movie. 

The Tv seems like a faint buzz between the sounds of Miguel's thrusts and grunts married with your whimpering pants and squelching pussy. The TV catches your attention for a single moment -” Don’t go away, we are playing all Your horror favorites till the witching hour!” 

Miguel grabs your chin and brushes his thumb across your wet lips, a mischievous smirk on his lips makes your sex tighten on him, “Looks like we’re in for a long night baby.”

[memepocalypse]

Autumn / Spooky memes!

Requested by anon!

"Oh, I love it when the leaves start falling."

"I think it's going to storm."

"I love a thunderstorm."

"Look at all the colours! It's beautiful!"

"Aw, man, I always get sad when it goes cold."

"Do you want to go pick out a pumpkin?"

"Look at this tiny pumpkin!"

"We need to get a good carving pumpkin, I left it too late last year and got a really weird one."

"I'm making pumpkin soup."

"Ugh, I hate all this pumpkin spice stuff."

"Ooh, I love this pumpkin spice stuff!"

"I really want to curl up by the fire with a good book."

"Time to get my cardigans out again."

"This sort of weather deserves a golden retriever."

"Do you want some hot cocoa?"

"Nothing like the first hot chocolate of the year."

"Mmm, this is really nice. You should try some."

"I'm making apple cider!"

"How have you never had hot apple cider?!"

"This is my favourite time of year."

"Let's get the hallowe'en decorations out!"

"I'm going to buy a twelve foot skeleton this year, I don't care what anyone says."

"Did you get candy for the trick or treaters yet?"

"I bet we can see a ghost if we go out tonight."

"Wait, wait, I'm gonna put on a bedsheet and scare these kids."

"I hate hallowe'en."

"I love hallowe'en."

"I'm going to eat so much candy tonight."

"Are you taking the kids trick or treating?"

"It's the first time taking the kids trick or treating! They've been so excited."

[hamsterclaw]

Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.

[rainystarshower]

‘Halloween!’

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chara : Aventurine, Blade, Dr. Ratio, Jing Yuan, Sunday

cw : pure fluff, slight teasing, ooc charas?, Veritas Ratio is a warning, DAD YUAN!!!!!!!, slight Yunli x Yanqing?

a/n : HAPPY HALLOWEEN !! Here’s a drabble from Reii♪

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈✩┈┈┈┈┈𝄞

Aventurine

“I’m not a big fan of Halloween” Aventurine says, yet his house is covered in Halloween decor. He has never had fun during Halloween, gobbled up in all his work of course. What time would he have to spare for a silly holiday that happens once a year? He doesn’t find it pointless, but he doesn’t find it fun either. Until, he met you. For the first time, Aventurine wanted to celebrate Halloween with you. He saw a couples Halloween costume whilst walking the autumn covered road and immediately thought of you. “This looks fun...” He whispers to himself. He wasn’t actually hoping to match or even celebrate this year, yet he still bought it on a whim. He had never expected such an event like this to be fun! After you had taught him how Halloween is celebrated, he decided to participate for your sake. Little did he know, he would enjoy it to the maximum! After a bit of effort, trying to get Aventurine into the groove of Halloween, he’s practically the one guiding you about Halloween now! Every year, he takes a day off work just for Halloween. Only if it’s spent with you!

Blade

“Halloween? You want to celebrate Halloween?” Blade looks at you, puzzled. He never took you as the type that celebrates these things, nevertheless, he decided to indulge in your antics for your fun. He didn’t expect to have fun, but he was certainly happy spending an entire day with you making pumpkin themed food and decorating the place! You convinced Blade to join in on making a haunted maze right beside your house. Reluctantly, he agreed. You two set up a maze, and got into costume. Getting him to become an actor for your maze was hard, but it worked! He gave in eventually. He really scared everyone out of there though, maybe he’s too scary for Halloween... He seemed to be having fun? Was that good or bad... “But that’s what Halloween is sorta about...right?” You thought, trying to console yourself.

Dr. Ratio

Dr. Ratio rather much spend his time doing research than to participate in silly Halloween activities. You practically had to beg this man a week before Halloween to do at least some activities with you! At first, he was serious. In the end, he was just teasing you, he had already accepted but he just never told you. You followed him around everywhere, pestering him to spend Halloween with you even though he kept ‘declining’. He had also been buying more stuff recently, as you see the bill on your shared card but perhaps it was just for his research? So you ignored it. Expecting to spend Halloween bored in your house, all alone, he barges in with face paint and the costumes you had been eyeing prior to begging him to join in Halloween activities. “Oh? Did you take it to heart this much? Well, let’s improve your mood then.” He tried looking serious, but the tint of tease and his smirk crawling up onto his face made it very obvious he’s just messing with you. God you really should punch him! Maybe that could be his costume! A reindeer with a red nose!!

Jing Yuan

The general is always slacking off, what’s at steak if he slacks off just for one more day? Halloween was no different, well, until he heard Yanqing’s request. Originally, Yanqing hadn’t planned to go trick or treating or even wear a costume, but you and Yunli pushed him into it, now he’s asking Jing Yuan if he could do something fun for Halloween this year! Because of you and Yunli, Yanqing wanted to propose the idea of having a small festival. It could attract tourists and give fun to the people of the Luofu. Jing Yuan — intrigued, agreed. Now he finds himself dragging you along with him to enjoy the sights of the Luofu on Halloween. He’s spoiling you, playing many games together, some by tourists and some by the natives! “You seem to be having fun. Shall we do this again next year?” Jing Yuan chuckled, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. You nod. That was all Jing Yuan needed to confirm before making it a yearly tradition, specifically for you two! Thanks Yanqing!

Sunday

Shopping with Sunday, he buys more sweets than usual. When you ask about it, he says it’s for Halloween. He gives kids candy on Halloween? You never thought! Although, the previous years you did see some kids come to Sunday’s house to ask for candy, but other kids just totally avoid his house like the plague! You never understood why until you witnessed the scene of Sunday giving one candy to each kid. Kids are greedy monsters, they’d definitely want more than one. “Strange, there are less kids this year... Is this candy not good?” He asks, oblivious. He seems a little down, seeing as everyone’s avoiding his house. So you take a handful and distract him with a kiss on the cheek, dumping your hand of candy into the kids pumpkin buckets. Now that there’s more kids coming over, he feels much happier. It doesn’t take him long to realize you’re the reason why. Nonetheless, he’ll hug your back and plant few kisses on your face and shoulder as a ‘thank you’

-----------------------------

These might be a little less romantic (especially near the end) but I was FRIED making this okay😢

[thesweetestofdreams]

a date at the pumpkin patch.

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (820 words)

warnings: should be none, just a fall date with the boys

a/n: I couldn't let the idea of walking through a fall fair with the marauders, so please enjoy a seasonal fall treat. P.S. If you so happen to have any requests or ideas I'd love the chance to write some for you

Fall leaves crinkled underfoot as you walked through the dirt path of the pumpkin patch. A local affair of corn mazes and caramel apples that you'd looked forward to all year. "I want to find the biggest one. I mean almost too big to carry," James said, arms spread wide to emphasize his declaration.

"You do realize you'd have to find a way to bring it home, Prongs." Sirius said, hand lazily intertwined with James's as it swung with his movement. 

"And all the way up the stairs" you added. 

"How about a regular pumpkin, one that won't swallow our entire flat?" Remus tried, ever the voice of wisdom, but James just waved away all of your comments. 

"Found it," James said, gesturing to the massive pumpkin sitting in front of the four of you as you turned. It was a part of the pumpkin growing contest and it most certainly wouldn't fit through the doorway to your home. 

"If you can pick it up then you can bring it home," Sirius joked. Remus sent him a half serious "no he can't" glare. 

"Do you think they'd let me?" James asked, looking around for the owner of the gigantic beast of a pumpkin. 

"Surely not," you mused. The mood of the evening had you walking an autumn high. Everything smelled like it was sprinkled with cinnamon through a fresh wind. It bit at your cheeks and chapped your lips, but you didn't care. You were with your boys in an orange wonderland, everything painted gold by the slowly sinking sun.

You slid into James's side, settling next to your living furnace. 

"Are you cold, dove?" Remus looked at you scanning you up and down like he was looking for the cold sticking onto you somewhere. 

James squeezed you into him. "We can go home if you want," he said, pumpkin forgotten and concern wrinkling his brow. 

"No no, the haunted corn maze starts at sundown. Sirius has been looking forward to it all day." 

"Don't worry about it doll," Sirius said ready to pack up the car in a moments notice. Your boyfriends with all their love could be a bit overconcerned. 

"I'm okay promise. Especially next to James," you said feeling warmer by the second. 

"Okay well if you do want to go just say the word," Remus said. 

"We won't let her freeze Moony," Sirius said patting a hand to Remus's chest. "I'll show you."

Part of you thought he might come kiss you. He always joked at the heat coming from your cheeks when he did. It stroked his ego too much but you couldn't help it. Instead he guided you all to a small booth. Paper cups full of amber cider sat in lines pouring tiny plooms of steam into the air. Sirius bought three ciders and one hot chocolate for Remus. 

"And here I thought you were going to kiss me," you said as he passed you the cup. He halted it in front of you not giving it up. 

"And who said this was free hmm." He cocked his head to one side, smug as you smiled. 

"Not a fair trade," you said even as you leant in for his waiting kiss. 

He pressed cold knuckles to your cheek. "She's fine." You took the cider feeling the hot cup make quick work on your numbing fingers. 

James downed his cider far too quickly and denied any accusations of burning his mouth. As you made your way towards the haunted maze he confided to you that he did indeed burn himself. If only there were someone that could kiss it better he whispered into your ear. 

The sun set and James and Sirius went into the haunted maze. 

You and Remus sat together on a bench nestled against the fiery gold treeline. "You would tell us if you wanted to go home right?" Remus asked, rolling his hot chocolate cup in his hands. 

"Of course Rem," you said. It was true. "But why would I want to go home? This feels like a dream." You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be. 

"A good dream." He nodded, you felt it ruffle your hair.

Sirius and James would soon come and join you insisting it was too cold to stay any longer. The two would deny it later, claiming the maze wasn't at all scary enough, but you swore you heard them scream a few times. 

The four of you went home with three small pumpkins and one James-approved larger pumpkin. The rest of the night was spent with warm blankets and old movies you'd all seen a hundred times over. You fell asleep lazily untangling the knots in Sirius's hair.

[wandasreallover]

Tthsi request^

Sweetest devotion|college!lizzie x fem!reader

College!au

Warnings: fufffff, fluffiest shit iv ever written, rage bait(woken up by a guitar)

The campus of yale University radiated with the vibrant energy of college life—a cacophony of laughter, conversations, and the rustling of leaves in the autumn breeze. Elizabeth olsen more than just another student; she was a presence, a force, with an aura that drew people in like moths to a flame. And in that immense world, she seemed even larger when she was with you, her roommate.

Every morning began the same. You woke to the gentle sound of lizzie's music wafting through the shared dorm room. The soft strumming of her guitar intertwined with her lilting voice, creating an atmosphere that was impossibly cozy and inviting. Even though you wished for just a few more minutes of sleep, you couldn't help but smile at the warmth and creativity of your best friend.

Today was no different. You blinked awake to find her perched cross-legged on the edge of your bed, her bright eyes sparkling beneath the strands of her dark hair, a hint of mischief dancing in them.

“Come on, sleepyhead! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us,” she teased, flashing that signature grin of hers that could light up even the gloomiest of mornings.

You stretched, momentarily groggy, but lizzie's joyful energy was infectious. “Okay, okay. Just give me a minute to brush my teeth," you replied, pulling the quilt off and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

After a quick wash-up, you donned your favorite hoodie and jeans. As you stepped out of the small bathroom, you were met with lizzie’s approving nod. The simple act of her presence made you instantly feel like the softest, most cherished version of yourself.

“Ready to go?” she asked, a sparkle in her eye that made your heart flutter. You had gotten used to this routine—

Lizzie would hop on her bike and insist on giving you rides around campus, her laughter spilling into the air as you clutched onto her waist.

The campus was sprawling and filled with the chatter of students, but all Lizzie could focus on was the soft rhythm of her heart as she waited by her bike, having gotten boredof waiting for you to get read. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and the breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves.

When you finally appeared, a bright smile lighting up your face, Lizzie’s heart soared. “Hey, ready for another adventure?” she called out, her voice smooth and inviting. You nodded eagerly, the thrill of the ride always infectious.

With a practiced grace, Lizzie helped you onto the bike, ensuring your safety while still maintaining a casual dominance that came naturally to her. You settled behind her and wrapped your arms tightly around her waist, the heat of her body warming you against the cool of the evening. She always enjoyed this part, the closeness, the connection, knowing you felt secure with her.

“Hold on tight,” she teased as she revved the engine. The roar startled a flock of birds into the sky, but you felt safe nestled against Lizzie’s back, every bump and curve of the ride sending adrenaline racing through your veins.

The world blurred past as Lizzie expertly weaved through the streets, the wind whipping through your hair and laughter spilling from both of you. She loved the feeling of you clinging on, the way you turned each ride into a moment of pure joy.

You could feel the rush of wind against your skin and the rhythmic cadence of her pedals, mingled with lizzies's joyous squeals as she weaved through the crowd. At that moment, with her laughter reverberating in your ears and the world whizzing by, everything felt right. You were home.

“lizard, slow down!” you laughed, the thrill of speed becoming electric.

“No way! I love having you close like this!” she teased, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk. You could see the self-assurance in her face, how she treated every twist and turn as an opportunity to show just how much she enjoyed your company.

When you finally reached the library, your hearts were racing, not just from the bike ride, but from the easy rhythm that tethered you two together. As you walked through the dimly lit library, you could see various students huddled over books and laptops, lost in their own worlds. Yet you and elizabeth created a little bubble of your own, filled with whispers, giggles, and the closeness that both warmed and grounded you.

Settling down in one of the cozy study nooks, you pulled out your textbooks while Wanda flopped down next to you, pulling you closer with a nonchalant maneuver that found you nestled against her side.

“Okay, let’s get studying!” you said, flipping open your notebook, but Wanda had other ideas.

Mid-sentence, as you explained a concept that made sense in your mind but perhaps not in words, you felt a soft brush of her lips against yours. Her kiss was sweet, soft, and entirely unexpected, leaving your thoughts jumbled. It was moments like these that took your breath away.

“You just looked so pretty and kissable,” she murmured, her cheeks slightly flushed.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a giddiness spread through you. “You’re going to distract me,” you said, feigning seriousness, but there was no hiding the grin on your lips.

“Good,” she replied, pulling you into her lap. The warmth of her body enveloped you like a cozy blanket, making it hard to focus on anything but her. The little study session became a series of shared giggles and whispered secrets, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm while your book lay abandoned.

Minutes turned into hours—elizabeth, soothingly protective, would lightly scold you whenever she caught you staring at her instead of your notes. “Concentrate! We’re supposed to be studying,” she teased, lacing her fingers through your hair, as if to keep you tethered to the material.

In those simple study sessions, you discovered a deeper side of her. Beneath the playful banter and laughter, Lizzie was fiercely protective, her desire to see you succeed matched only by her softness. When you struggled with a difficult concept, her encouragement would wash over you like a balm.

“Hey, you’re brilliant,” she would encourage, her voice low and steady. “You just need to approach it from a different angle. Let me help you.”

And so, you’d find yourself curling closer, losing track of time as she patiently guided you through the material. But more often than not, a lingering kiss or a playful comment would pull you right back into her orbit. She had a way of making you feel like the most cherished secret in the world.

As evening rolled around, the golden hues of sunset streamed into your dorm room. Wandering outside, you both settled on the grass, a blanket laid out beneath you. The sky transformed above, responding to the soft whispers and laughter you both shared while you lay against her.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” she asked softly, idly twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers.

“Sometimes. But right now, I’m just glad to be here with you,” you replied, tilting your head to look into her warm eyes. “You make everything better, Lizzie .”

She smiled, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours. In that moment, the noise of the world faded, and it was just the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You knew your college journey was far from over, but with your lizard by your side, you felt invincible. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you had found a home in her heart, and you weren't planning on letting go any time soon.