#he could stab someone with that head piece probably

[odysseus-crewmate-number38]

something something destiny something something

[cyberpunkgyu]

Moonstruck — P.SH ✧.*

summary: when your boyfriend won’t stop staring at you or sunghoon falling deeply in love

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: not proofread!!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

sunghoon loves you. there’s no doubt in that.

you are his first love, and hopes to be his last.

sometimes he gets so immersed in his thoughts about the future, and you’re a huge part of it. he wants to marry you one day, loving the thought of being with you for the rest of his life. growing old with you, through thick and thin, and till death do us part.

he would have never thought in his life that he’d be this in love with someone. of course, he knew the concept of it, he did grow up in a loving household, his parents always giving their all to their kids, and to each other. he always felt warm and safe.

and that’s what he felt when he’s with you.

not only that, but your love for him felt overflowing. to him, you were the embodiment of beauty and love.

“i missed you.” arms wrapped around his waist as soon as he entered your studio apartment, giving the boy a soft squeeze as he tried to take his shoes off with his own feet, not wanting to even let you go for just a second.

a cute smile on displayed on his plump lips, his arms hugging you back. he then gently pulled you, your feet dangling as he walked to your bed which wasn’t too far from the door. he plopped you down before pressing his lips against yours, basically caging you around him. “i missed you too, precious. you have no idea.”

you giggled against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his lips. “wait, wait. before i forget.” you pulled away from the kiss, though he stole a quick peck before moving to sit on the edge of your bed, helping you up.

“what is it?”

you slightly jogged to your fridge before taking out a tiramisu cake, your boyfriend’s favorite, which you had made earlier in the morning as you wanted to surprise him with it. surprisingly it turned out well, feeling a bit proud of yourself. baking was never really your thing, but you wanted to gave it a try instead of just buying it at a local bakery, to make it more special.

“ta dah!” you grinned as you placed it on the circle dining table, sunghoon, who had got up looking down at the cake, a surprised expression on his face, lips parted.

“woah. you made all this? i didn’t you could bake.”

“well, i don’t. but i wanted to try it out because i knew it’s your favorite. don’t have high expectations though! i know it’s probably not the best but it turned out okay.”

sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat, gulping at the sudden feeling, his eyes not leaving you. the way you smile while showing him the tiramisu made him feel as if he was floating. how can he not fall in love over and over again if that’s how you treat him? you make him feel so loved.

he loves you so much that he will do everything for you. if there were an alternative universe out there, he wishes that he’ll still be with you. if reincarnation is a real thing, which sunghoon still thinks about from time to time when he’s deep in his thoughts, he hopes that you’ll both find each other, one way or another.

“hoon?” he shook his head to snap himself out, seeing you look at him with such concern, causing his heart to melt.

god, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper for you.

“ah, yeah. let’s go try it.” he smiled tenderly before walking to one of your kitchen cabinets, knowing where everything was as your place was basically his second home.

grabbing plates and utensils for you both, he cut up one for you first, a habit that he formed after he began dating you, before placing a slice for himself. sunghoon quickly pulled one of the chairs for you to sit on, being the gentleman he is. it truly warms your heart whenever he does things like this, as it makes you feel so loved.

he sat down next to you, stabbing a piece into his fork before doing a "cheers" with you, trying the dessert. you watched him take a bite before you did, waiting for any reactions. his brows furrowed as he ate, and a low hum soon followed. "woah! this is really good! good job."

"you think so? i'm glad. i made a lot so you better finish it." you jokingly threatened your boyfriend before eating some more of the tiramisu, pleasantly surprised by your own creation. sunghoon's eyes remained on you as he ate, his eyes twinkling, gaze full of adoration.

he doesn’t realize how much he smiles when he’s around you. pretty sure he only smiles when he is around you. sure he’d smile to others as a kind gesture, but even that was a rare sight, though with you it was different. it was genuine.

he let out a low chuckle when he noticed a small cream from the cake on the corner if your lips, making you look up at him in confusion. “cute.” he mumbled and mindlessly wiped the cream off with his thumb, catching you off guard. your eyes looked up at him, cheeks heating up.

even after months (almost a year) of being in a relationship with him, he never fails to make you shy.

sunghoon licks it off his thumb before he leaned closer to you, lips hovering over yours. your heart felt loud in your ears.

“you have no idea how crazy you’re making me feel.” he whispered with a low and hushed tone. soon his lips pressed against yours, your hand dropping the fork down your plate before you placed it on his arm, kissing the boy back.

his lips felt so warm and gentle against yours. the sweet taste from your lips drove him even crazier, gently biting the bottom of your lips.

he finally pulled away, wanting to give you some time to breathe, though his forehead remained pressed against yours, his hand on your cheek. “what’s gotten into you?” you mumbled shyly, lips swollen and pink.

his eyebrow raised at your question, “what do you mean? can i not kiss my girlfriend?”

“not that… of course you can. just… i don’t know.” gosh, seeing you all shy made him feel some type of way.

“i just really love you. i’m so in love with you, precious.”

you didn’t think your cheeks could get even redder than it was, looking down bashfully.

“well, i want you to know that i really love you too hoon.” you smiled warmly, slowly looking up at him,

his fangs now on display as he grinned, “i’m glad. cause i am never letting you go.”

“sounds good to me.”

sunghoon doesn’t waste anymore time and pressed his lips back against yours, heart and mind filled with nothing else but you.

[jaylaxies]

ENHYPEN REACTION: to you being in the rival house at Hogwarts

PAIRING: enhypen hyung line x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slytherin!hee with gryffindor!reader, slytherin!jay with hufflepuff!reader, ravenclaw!jake with gryffindor!reader, gryffindor!sunghoon with slytherin!reader

WC: 4.7k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 this was requested by my anonnie here and i loved writing about enha and hogwarts omg! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Slytherin!Heeseung x Gryffindor!reader

Trope: Headboy x Headgirl

Heeseung was beyond elated when he got his letter back at the manor, stating how he had become the head boy of Hogwarts. His family of pure bloods were even prouder, however, his cocky smirk dropped the second he met with the entirety of the prefectorial board at the Hogwarts express, prefect compartment to be precise.

Seeing you standing there with the batch stating ‘head girl’ was not something he wanted to see, not when you were someone who came from a non wizarding background, someone who was in Gryffindor.

How could they make you the head girl? How could they think he’d be willing to spend his time working with you of all people. His hatred for your likes was visible from day one, his taunts and threats didn’t bother you, and that’s exactly what bothered him. The urge to make your life living hell was his motto more or less, even more so this year.

“It’s absurd, man. Let her be now, it’s our last year here for Godric’s sake,” Jay huffed out, irritated that Heeseung couldn’t shut up about the new Gryffindor quidditch captain giving you too much attention despite your blood status.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, why do people like her anyway? What happened to keeping the muggles away from the likes of us?” He gritted his teeth, accidentally stabbing the piece of chicken too hard with his fork at dinner. The sight of you snuggling close to the said captain infuriated him more than he let on.

“Well, she’s not a muggle if she can do magic, and extraordinarily well at that,” Jay offered, having done with Heeseung being a dimwit and not realizing the truth behind his anger.

“Wow, thanks for the support, mate,” Heeseung rolled his eyes, looking back at you again.

He’d make sure to wipe that smile off of your face while taking rounds later—at least that’s what he promised himself. Taking rounds was probably the time he looked forward to the most, given that it was the perfect time to criticize and show hatred towards you.

However, the second you meet up at the staircase, telling him to divide areas since you do not wish to work with him anymore, he loses it. He completely loses it, scoffing and grabbing your wrist, pulling you into the room of requirement right behind you.

“What the fuck—” you tried to scream, but he was quick to cover your mouth with his hand.

“What? Can’t even look my way now that you have a quidditch captain chasing you around?” He scoffs, eyes full of hatred, the kind you had never seen before and it made you scoff.

“Well, newsflash, Lee. I never wanted to look your way from the very start. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s you who’s clearly obsessed with me,” you seethed out, not caring about the proximity despite your breathing getting heavier.

“Ah? Me obsessed with the likes of you? Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” he said, tone almost challenging, his hold on your wrist tight, just like the hand that was grabbing your waist now, making you gulp but not back down.

“So, it shouldn’t matter to you if I snog my quidditch captain, or more,” you whispered with a smug smile, feeling his hand squeezing your waist tighter.

“You cannot do that,” he warned.

“Oh but I did—”

You couldn’t finish your statement and nor could Heeseung control his actions anymore, pressing you up against the wall and shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you in the messiest way he could muster to mush out all the sane thoughts coming his way.

This was the sanest he had felt in ages.

“You’re fucking mine,” he groaned against your lips.

“No, fuck I’m not,” you smirked, testing him further, loving how he had finally given in to the truth—that he wanted you.

The room of requirement was sly, preparing a bed as he pushed you on it, getting on top of you while getting rid of his robes, “oh, babe, I’ll show you who you belong to.”

“Took you way too long, Lee,” you chuckled, gasping the second he pushed your panties aside, feeling your wetness on his fingers with a smirk.

“Been waiting, eh?” He asked, cocky as he pushed two fingers in with ease, your back arching as you moaned.

“Talk about yourself,” you smirked, pulling him into another rough kiss, messy of all sorts as he sucked on your tongue, pumping his own cock by lubricating it with your wetness.

He wasted no time, in aligning himself to your entrance, pushing his cock in one go to bottom out, groaning at the tightness that squeezed him, thrusting almost instantly when he saw nothing but pleasure on your face with a promise to claim you his.

“Fuck, I knew you’d make a perfect whore, always so desperate for my attention,” he groaned, snapping his hips to yours, the noise resonating the room.

“You can’t even thrust properly, ah—” he sped up to shut your mouth, your toes curling as you held on to him for support, chanting his name like a mantra the whole time as he proved just how much and how well he can fuck you.

All night.

Slytherin!Jay x Hufflepuff!reader

Trope: Animagi Jay

It took him a lot of patience.

In fact, it took everyone in his friend group a lot of patience to keep their mouths shut for a whole month, a single mandrake leaf resting in their mouths. However, they wanted to do something iconic, which would be—turning into an animagus to cause trouble whilst being unregistered at that. The whole process was tedious.

Jay was losing his last bit of sanity, watching you smiling softly and being kind to others, which was a usual thing per se.

The only problem was how he couldn’t verbally bother you.

It was known to be his favourite pastime, inserting himself in your life and bothering you for existing.

Why? Because that’s what he should do, being a slytherin. He had a personality he needed to live up to, and he knew hell would break if anyone as much as gets a hint about Jay’s infatuation with you.

The solution? To make sure he says the meanest things so he wouldn’t have to see your smile. You don’t get why he’s mean to you. His hatred goes as far as it concerns you, and you’ve never seen him calling anyone else names but you.

So, seeing you being happy and not once thinking about him since he put the leaf in his mouth had his blood boiling, especially when you agreed to attend Slughorn’s party with a random ravenclaw boy. The same party he was gonna ask you to attend with him—or bully you into attending with him, but the smile on your face gets him mad.

He scoffed, ignoring the whole situation and focusing on the transformation process, completely missing the look of sadness on your face when he left without even acknowledging your presence, his mind deep in different thoughts.

Of course you’d be happy without him.

However, the success in becoming an animagi had him smiling. He was a big black cat—a royal panther, while his other friends turned into a bird and a dog.

He went out to explore the place in his animal form, getting out of Hogwarts castle to visit the black lake, not once thinking that he would find you here at night.

Your back looked peaceful as you stared at the lake, and he was silent as he made his way towards you, almost scaring you the second you saw a black panther settling down next to you, a gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes shined under the moonlight.

“Hi, I’ve never seen you around before,” you spoke up, fascinated, extending your hand to stroke his fur.

Jay didn’t expect this, and he knew he didn’t have to pretend in this form, making him purr with pleasure as you gently caressed him. He was a cat after all. The warmth of your kindness was driving him crazy, he so desperately wanted you to like him back, but he knew you wouldn’t.

It became a routine for him to sneak out to meet you at night in his animal form, and he adored how you shared all your secrets with an animal, talking to him, letting him rest his head on your lap and as far as kissing his head in adoration.

He was in love with you.

He loved how you welcomed him with a pretty smile, the same smile which he wipes off your face in his human form.

Everything was going smoothly, to the point Jay had even started staring at you between classes, not being as rude as he used to be before and you never hesitated on smiling back at him, ever so kind. He wanted to talk to you, face to face, and confess.

However, that plan went down the drain. The same Ravenclaw boy was seen standing close to you, a conjured flower in his hand which he presented to you with a wide smile while Jay watched it unfold with the nastiest scowl on his face.

So being petty, Jay practically shoved you out of the way, not looking back even after hearing a little “ouch” coming from your direction as you stumbled, ignoring when you called out his name, rather proceeding to the next class.

He didn’t see you there, and he tried not to act affected by your absence, assuming that you’d have gone with the other guy, relaxing when he saw you in potions class again, his eyes never leaving your face which looked distressed. Especially after you took a sniff of the amortentia, the love potion.

His heart lurched, wondering if you smelled the other guy. And in his case, he knew he was doomed the second he took a sniff and instantly smelled of your body lotion and your favourite delicacy. His eyes met yours that very second and he had to gulp, looking elsewhere to pretend that he was fine.

That night, with a heavy heart, he sat down next to you in his animagi form yet again, this time he found you at the astronomy tower, a bandage around your arm.

“Hey, love,” you welcomed the black panther, “it’s such a pretty night,” you sighed dreamily, petting the panther next to you.

“You mind if I talk?” You asked, chuckling when the panther nodded as if he understood what you meant, “I don’t understand boys. I really like this guy but he’s been mean to me to see. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? That I smelled him in the love potion and he’s the reason why I stumbled and hurt my arm—I just can’t help it, I wish Jay would like me back but he doesn’t even look my way without wanting to look away or just comment about how I’m just a weak Hufflepuff girl,” you mumbled, not focusing on how the panther had stood up all of a sudden.

Jay’s heart thumped, he wasn’t sure if he heard it right, but it was too much, he couldn’t wait anymore.

He transformed back into his human form right there, your eyes widening as you opened your mouth to scream, which he put a hand over to muffle your voices.

“That—that was you!” You whisper-yelled, shoving him away.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, grabbing your wrist which made you lean against the wall, “that you like me?”

You could barely breathe, biting your lip as you nodded, “I know you hate me—”

“Oh, you know nothing, baby,” he chuckled, grabbing your nape and pulling you into a kiss, making your eyes widen before he pulled you even closer, making you kiss him back eventually, getting fervent with your actions.

“Fuck, I like you so much. It was you who I smelled, in the love potion, I mean. I’m sorry for being an asshole, I never knew how to handle feeling this way for you,” he apologized, cutting the kiss and leaning his forehead against yours.

Instead of replying, you pulled him into another kiss, letting his hands wander all over your body, his self control leaving his body. He knew he had you now, and he knew he wouldn’t be letting go, especially after the little whimpers leaving your mouth the second he started kissing your neck after leaving your lips all swollen.

You were too sensitive, too forgiving.

Rubbing your thighs together didn’t help either, but the second he squeezed your bare thigh, you knew you were gone. It was the ideal place for you both to be doing this, but stopping wasn’t an option, not when he was so passionately marking you just after you told him you rejected the other boy.

Spreading your legs was easy, asking you to be a good girl and keep your voices at bay was even easier for Jay, and you obliged, your eyes rolling back as he lapped at your cunt, licking big stripes while fucking your cunt with his fingers, trying to be gentle but you were too pent up to ask him to go slower, only urging him to move faster.

That’s how you spent your night, he took you to his chamber, kicking everyone out shamelessly to fuck you into the mattress, his cock not having enough of you and your pussy clenching him, trying to hold him in for as long as you could before you both reached your high.

He knew he fucked up before but now that he actually had you in his arms, he knew he was going to cherish you forever.

Ravenclaw!Jake x Gryffindor!reader

Trope: Yule ball, fake dating

Jake was loved by everyone and he basked in the warmth of it. Being good in academics came naturally to him, he was a Ravenclaw after all. Adding to it, he was selected to represent Hogwarts at the triwizard championship, his fame and name more glorious than ever these days.

The problem? He had everyone’s attention but the girl who he claimed to have a tiny crush on.

He wanted to ask her to be his date for the Yule ball, however, the chances were slim as another Gryffindor boy named Heeseung, asked her right before Jake could even call out her name.

Jake wasn’t the only one suffering. You stood there beside him, watching the scene unfold with the same wrath in your eyes.

You wanted to go to the ball with Heeseung.

“Tough luck?” Jake asked, not sparing you a glance as you both watched him from a distance as they hugged gleefully.

“Talk about yourself, champ,” you crossed your arms, “she didn’t even think twice before saying yes,” you commented, jaw clenching, “she’s gonna get her heart broken, he’s gonna turn her into a situationship too.”

“What? We have to warn her,” Jake spoke, eyes widening.

“Oh, I tried, but she actually really likes Heeseung,” you huffed, “and here I thought I meant something to him.”

“Go with me,” Jake breathed out, finally looking your way, taking your beauty in.

“What?” You exclaimed, turning your head to look his way too.

He was beautiful, there’s no denying him. His hair was a bit on the messier side, lips pink and swollen from biting (he was nervous), and eyes full of hope.

“To make Heeseung jealous, of course!” He defended his statement and your eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh,” you let out, “so we’re doing all this fake dating thing, now?” You teased him, loving how his cheeks got redder but he only stepped closer, shrugging.

“We’ll have fun, you’ll get to be with the triwizard champion, it’s a win-win for you,” he offered, smirking and you smiled humorously.

“Sure,” you agreed, not paying attention to Heeseung who witnessed this interaction of yours.

It was easy to keep up with him, the rumours of you two being together spread like wildfire, especially with the Yule ball coming up, which only favoured you, granted that Heeseung had tried to approach you several times but Jake hadn’t left your side at all.

In fact, you were scared how easy it was to be in his company, “she wanted me to teach her how to ride the broom,” Jake had told you once, and he was one heck of a flyer, despite him not being in the team.

Naturally, you offered him to teach you that instead, watching how his eyes lit up and he nodded. Something about Jake was endearing to you—like how he helped you ride the broom with him sitting behind you. It felt real, too romantic the way he held on to you, smiling as he pointed out the various spots you could see from the height.

And you knew he felt it too, his heart pumping out of his chest as you rested your back against him.

It felt too real to him when you got him a tie that matched the colour of your dress, asking him to match with you, and he realized he had stopped thinking about the other girl completely as he helped you around with studies and you helped him feel alive.

Somewhere along the lines, you had forgotten that it was all fake, simply because it felt real to the both of you. The hand holding, the snuggling closer, the soft smiles on your faces, none of it was fake.

It didn’t hit you till you were on your way to meet Jake, only to find the other girl already talking to him in a corner, your jaw clenched at the sight of them talking about something you couldn’t make out from this distance. Your mind wasn’t sane as you stepped back and rushed to your own room, wondering if they had gotten together.

You knew it could very well be a misunderstanding, yet you didn’t do anything about it, especially when Jake didn’t come to meet you at all today.

You were slightly heartbroken as you woke up the next day, everyone seemed happy to the point they couldn’t stop talking about the Yule ball tonight, doing their hair and skincare already and you tried to join them, knowing that you can’t run away from it no matter what the situation would be.

Now, clad in your gown, you most certainly did feel better, looking in the mirror to find the prettiest version of yourself, you felt beautiful as you walked down the stairs, smiling gently when you found Jake waiting for you by the stairs.

His breathing hitched the second he saw you, eyes twinkling as he took you in, heart beating faster when you stood in front of him. It was magical how he took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “you look beautiful,” he whispered, your face heating up at the compliment.

So, you postponed asking him about the other girl, focusing solely on him as you were called for the first dance with Jake—the Hogwarts champion. He treated you well, he looked like the prettiest man alive, pulling you closer and dancing with you like he meant it when the rock band came out, but after a while, you stopped, pulling him out when he got you drinks to talk by some secluded area—a classroom nearby.

“I saw you guys talking,” you told him, admitting how you would be okay if he leaves you now and he how doesn’t need to put up this act anymore, making his heart lurch, “fuck—no! I asked her to stay away because,” he gulped as he met your eyes, “because I like you, not her.”

Everything felt rushed after, his lips on yours, your fingers in his hair, bodies pressed against one another as he messed up your lipstick, “I like you so much,” he kept mumbling between the kisses, lips trailing down to mark your neck.

He knew what he had to do—kiss every inch of you till you understood the depth of his words. He wants you so genuinely it makes your heart beat faster, his eyes full of earnestness as he comes up to kiss you again, but more than that, he wants to taste you, give you the pleasure you deserve.

Getting down on his knees was easy for him, getting under your gown even easier. You breathed in deeply when you felt him burying his nose in your pussy, pushing your panties aside to lick a stripe of your cunt, leaving a small kiss on your clit right after.

His movements were slow and calm, his hold on your thighs tight as he devoured you, seeming as if he’d be hungry for ages. You could have sworn you never felt this way before, gripping the table you were leaning against tightly, you tried your best not to fall down with how your knees were getting weaker by the second as his tongue was pushing around much faster than before.

“Jake—” you gasped, seeing stars as you finally came undone, your whole body felt as if it was on fire but Jake was just getting started with you.

Getting out, he looked more disheveled than ever, taking your hand and making you feel his hardened cock, “see what you do to me, baby,” he whispered, pulling you into another kiss, unzipping your dress as you cried about how much you need him.

Soon, your dress was on the ground and his body was connected with yours in a slow rhythm, full of lazy kisses and smiles, your face hidden in his neck as you bit him to conceal your moans when he hit that one spot which had your whole body weak.

You looked so beautiful, it made him lose his control, the sight itself had him twitching with the need to fill you up.

When you kissed him again, he finally let go, loving each second of it, knowing that you were truly his now.

Gryffindor!Sunghoon x Slytherin!reader

Trope: quidditch players, enemies to fwb

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

“Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!”

The chants were loud, the crowd going wild at the sight of you and Sunghoon circling around each other before the game—something you always did as a challenge. It most certainly didn’t help that you were on par with each other, both chasers for your respective houses.

Watching you guys bicker was something everyone enjoyed, especially when it was about your houses and their reputations.

“You better watch out, Park,” you smirked, taking your position, “Slytherin is taking the win today,” you sang, watching his smirk grow.

“In your dreams, darling,” he whispered, winking at your right as the whistle blew.

The chants were loud and so was your motivation as you grabbed the Quaffle, successfully throwing it in one of the hoops as the crowd cheered. Watching Sunghoon scowl was a sweet treat, especially when you winked at him, passing by with the quaffle again.

The game continued for a while, your house leading by thirty points, much to Sunghoon’s dismay. You were having more fun teasing him rather than playing the actual game.

However, the second the snitch was caught by your seeker, Sunghoon got hit by a bludger, falling off his broom. You should have been celebrating his downfall (pun intended) yet you couldn’t help but worry, eyeing his figure while your team celebrated their win.

It was out of character for you to visit him in the hospital wing, but you did it, showing up with the pudding he liked—and you had no clue why you knew it. He was surprised to see it, looking away with a scoff, “why are you here, huh? To boast about your win?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, “I came here to see if you were doing well but seeing as you can still work that mouth of yours, I’ll just assume it’s alright,” you huffed, leaving the pudding behind. Sunghoon gulped, watching you leave the hospital wing with a huff before eyeing the pudding and eating it, a sudden warmth spreading in his chest.

The bickering worsened since that day, because you had to overcome the fact that you showed care to him, your friends telling you to fuck the sexual tension out—which you won’t do even in your wildest dreams.

Sunghoon was just as furious cause he couldn’t stop thinking about you showing up at the hospital wing just to visit him, his taunts and that smirk annoying you more than ever now, you just wanted to punch him, or shut him up. It didn’t help that he looked awfully attractive with that smirk of his.

Fighting even during the dinner time was getting on everyone’s nerves, to the point you had to go to detention for pulling pranks on each other.

To diffuse this tension, he met you before the next quidditch match you had against him, “oh, ready to have your ass beat, Park?” You asked him with a mock smile.

“We’ll see who gets their ass beat, darling,” he spoke, invading your personal space by whispering in your ear, “let’s make a bet, if I win then I get to fuck you tonight.”

“What the fuck, Park?” You asked, eyes widened.

“You want it too, baby.” He says, a lazy smirk playing on his face, “besides, I won’t bother you ever again if I lose. So, do we have a deal?”

The deal was too tempting, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you’ll, (1) either be ignored by him or (2) have sex with him.

You grabbed his hand, shaking it with no aim whatsoever, you felt too lost but also determined to put up a good game.

However your mind was busy imagining his lips on yours, the smirk still present on his face, and that’s how you barely put the Quaffle in through the hoops while Sunghoon played with more energy than ever, awfully determined to win the match—win you.

The verdict? He won.

And as lost as you felt, you weren’t sad about it, in fact you were staring at Hoon who was celebrating, his eyes still on yours with that stupid smirk on his face which clearly said: you’re mine for the night.

Being in his room was crazy, the fact that he had successfully pushed out all his roomies was even crazier.

“Not fighting back anymore, kitten?” He raised his brows, his features looking sharper up close now that he had you under him, his weight on you barely giving you any space to move, his scent only driving you crazier.

“You’re the one who gave up, Park,” you finally whispered, pulling him closer by the collar with your usual expression full of mock, your finger tracing his jawline, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “you proposed the idea of fucking me—been thinking about me then?”

His fingers traced the curve of your neck, trailing down till he settled on grabbing your waist, “what if I have? What if I wanna see you shut the fuck up when I make you cry on my cock?”

“I’d like to see you try,” you chuckled, pushing your knee up to caress against his crotch, making him hiss.

It didn’t take him any longer to practically rip off your robes, attaching his mouth to your nipples, flicking them with his tongue as he cupped your cunt as a warning to shut your mouth, but you couldn’t let him win, opening your mouth to mock him again, only to have his tongue shoved down your throat, his fingers kneading your flesh, rubbing your wetness with all his strength to have you whimpering under him.

“I hate you so much, Park,” you mumbled, breathless.

“Feeling’s mutual, kitten,” he groaned right beside your ear, finger fucking you now as his thumb worked your clit roughly, yet giving you the kind of pleasure you never thought you’d receive.

You feel hot as the guy you hate makes you moan uncontrollably, stopping right before you were about to reach your high with his same stupidly attractive smirk when you whined out of desperation.

“What’s the hurry, kitten? We’ve got all night.”

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[hotchfiles]

↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

    In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

    “Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth. 

    The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

    “Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

    “My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod. 

    “Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated. 

    “And you? Catholic?” 

    “Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood. 

    Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place. 

    He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before. 

    “She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting. 

    He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date. 

    “I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment. 

    Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?” 

    The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you. 

    “So you believe it’s a man?” 

    “Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited. 

    It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time. 

    “Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open. 

    “If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty. 

    “To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself. 

    “A very shameful execution.” 

    You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

    And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

    “Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

    “Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

    The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

    The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

    You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then. 

    Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

    “Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.” 

    Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

    “Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

    “They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

    “Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction. 

    “Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation. 

    Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

    “Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

    “Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 14

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Darling, I appreciate your faith in me," Bucky said, his voice low as he stepped closer, eyes searching yours. "But…I still want to live."

You didn’t flinch. "I’m serious."

He paused, letting the weight of your words settle. "Just because I told you about Steve doesn’t mean I’m going to stab him in the back."

His gaze dropped for a moment, conflicted. Steve was more than just a mentor—he was the older brother Bucky had always wanted, someone he had looked up to for years. Shawn was never that. Steve had been there when he needed guidance, someone to show him the ropes. But now… now everything felt twisted.

"I didn’t know before this election," Bucky continued, his jaw clenched. "I’ve learned things that should’ve been obvious to me. And now, you probably see me as a coward for turning a blind eye all this time."

He swallowed hard. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay silent forever."

Your brow furrowed as the room fell into silence. Bucky reached out, his hand settling firmly on your shoulder, his touch both grounding and electrifying. "There’s a time for everything. Please, believe in me."

His voice held a plea you hadn’t heard before, and suddenly, you remembered what the priest once said: Timing. It all felt too coincidental. You could see the puzzle coming together in your mind, but the picture was far from complete.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, realization hitting you like a wave. “He picked you because he knew you wouldn’t say no to him. You’d follow his lead without question.”

Bucky’s face hardened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of frustration and guilt. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

“And our divorce?” you added, the words sharper than intended. “It was all part of the plan. To tarnish your image, while he hides his own cracks."

Bucky took a step closer, the tension between you two thick enough to cut. His voice was steady but soft. "For now, please stay quiet about what you’ve found. This could ruin both of us. Or do you want Edgar and Brock to win instead?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. "This is so fucked up. There’s only two candidates."

Bucky's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Hey… we’re not that bad."

"Don’t campaign in front of me," you said, narrowing your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The tension between you was undeniable, the heat rising in the small space as you tried to keep things civil.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, but he didn’t push any further. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was fighting some inner battle to keep his distance. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned away, letting the moment pass.

That night, sleep was impossible. Nate slept peacefully beside you, his small body curled into yours for warmth. But your mind raced, replaying every conversation, every hidden piece of the puzzle that had yet to be uncovered. You needed help, someone with answers. But who?

Then, it hit you. The perfect person. Someone who could get you the information you needed, though asking them for help would open old wounds.

He’s going to hate me for this, you thought, your chest tightening at the idea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Ian stood near the check-in counter at the airport, casually scrolling through his phone as he waited in line. Just as he was about to move forward, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Greg.

"Follow me," Greg's voice said on the other end, no further explanation given.

Ian's brow furrowed slightly, but he complied, stepping out of the line and trailing Greg down a series of quiet corridors. They finally reached a private room, and Ian’s eyes immediately found you sitting there, alone.

He glanced around the room as if expecting someone else. "I’m by myself," you assured him, noticing his brief scan of the area.

Ian folded his arms, his tone cool as he tilted his head slightly. "What honor do I get to have this meeting?"

You met his gaze, trying to keep steady, though the weight of the situation made your heart race. "I know you hate me," you said softly, not beating around the bush.

"More like at your soon-to-be husband," Ian shot back, his gaze flickering with barely concealed disdain.

You straightened in your seat, squaring your shoulders. "Whatever the Barnes family has done, I won’t defend them," you said, a quiet resolve in your voice.

Ian narrowed his eyes, reading the tension in your body. "You must be desperate to come to me."

A small, nervous laugh escaped your lips as you looked down at your hands, fingers fidgeting slightly. "I am."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, the lines of old memories creeping in. This felt too much like the past when you both used to dig into dangerous territory. "Just tell me what this is about. I’ve got a flight to catch."

You took a steadying breath, locking eyes with him. "Do you remember the article I wrote? Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability?"

He nodded, curiosity flickering behind his otherwise guarded expression.

"I think I’ve found someone involved in that conspiracy." Your voice was low, every word heavy with the truth you'd been holding back.

Ian’s face hardened, eyes searching yours. "Who?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

You hesitated for just a second. "It’s Steve."

Ian's eyes widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both disappeared. "Whoa…"

You nodded grimly. "We need to watch out for him. I’m starting to see how deep his connections run. There are scandals tied to him—things you wouldn't expect."

Ian crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious. "Is this about his sons?"

You flinched slightly, your heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t know about Nate. You prayed he didn’t. "What do you mean?" you asked, keeping your voice steady.

"My friend was writing a piece on Steve’s twin sons. They’re apparently bullies at their school, leaders of a gang. But before the article could go to print, the entire office lost power. Threats were made, just like when we published Deals in the Dark."

Your stomach tightened. It made sense now why you always felt uneasy around Steve's sons. You wanted to feel shocked, but it only confirmed what you’d been sensing all along.

Ian smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "This is getting interesting. I’ll dig deeper, see what I can find."

He turned to leave, but you stood, calling after him, "Ian."

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Be careful," you said, your voice soft, almost pleading.

Ian gave a small, crooked smile and nodded. He took a last look at you, he felt that, this might be the last time he'd see you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Back at Bucky’s apartment, Nate sat on the couch, holding his phone up for a FaceTime call. Hazel's face appeared on the screen, still in Paris, her voice warm and comforting despite the distance.

“I miss you, Mommy,” Nate said softly, his eyes wide with longing.

“I miss you too, baby,” Hazel replied with a tender smile, her expression softening as she spoke to her son.

After a moment, Hazel’s tone shifted. “Baby, can you give the phone to your uncle for a sec?”

Nate nodded, handing the phone to Bucky. “Here.”

Bucky took the phone, glancing briefly at Nate before turning his focus to Hazel. “When are you coming back?” he asked, a bit more urgency in his voice than he intended.

“Not until the election is over,” Hazel replied matter-of-factly.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Seriously?”

“It’s for the best,” Hazel added with a sigh, her gaze flickering briefly before she continued, “Please watch over him while I’m gone.”

Before Bucky could respond, the FaceTime call ended, the screen going dark. He stared at the blank phone for a moment, lost in thought.

He knew Hazel had her reasons for staying away, but it still didn’t sit right with him. Nate needed his mom, and even though he was doing his best, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling beyond his control. Watching over Nate wasn’t the issue—it was everything else that came with it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Across town, Steve Rogers stood in a dimly lit room, facing a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling. The city lights glowed faintly outside, reflecting off the glass as he stared into the distance, his hands resting in his pockets. His phone buzzed on the nearby table. He glanced at it, seeing the text message he’d ignored for hours: When are you coming back?

Unread. No reply.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned back to the window, his mind running over the countless decisions he had made in the last few months. The weight of the campaign, his connections, and now…this.

Knock, knock.

A sharp sound broke through the silence. His eyes flickered towards the door. “Come in,” he said, his voice low.

The door opened, and Natasha stepped inside, her expression as serious as always. “We’ve got another notification,” she said, her eyes locking with his as she handed him a folder.

Steve sighed, feeling the tension crawl up his spine. “What is it this time?”

“It’s about the twins,” Natasha explained, her tone clipped and efficient. “We tracked the IP address involved.” She handed him the information.

Steve took the folder, scanning the contents briefly before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I should’ve known,” he muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. As he waited for the line to connect, he leaned against the window, the cold glass pressing against his back. When the call picked up, his voice was calm but determined.

“Can we meet?”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky arrived at the golf course as soon as he received Steve’s call. The air was crisp, and the sun was barely cutting through the clouds, casting a muted light over the manicured greens. As Bucky approached, Steve was already mid-swing, the soft thwack of the golf club meeting the ball echoed in the quiet morning.

Steve didn’t turn around, eyes following the ball as it soared across the field. “Bucky, you know why I want to be President, right?” His tone was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it.

“Yes,” Bucky replied, his expression unreadable as he stood a few feet away, watching Steve with his hands in his pockets.

“We’re this close to winning,” Steve said, setting up for another swing, his movements precise, controlled. He took the shot, the ball cutting clean through the air. “One mistake could ruin us. Our rivals will use any kind of ammo to tear down our image.” His voice lowered with emphasis, a hint of menace lingering in his words.

Bucky stayed silent, but his mind was working. He knew Steve had meticulously planned every step, had considered every angle. Steve’s obsession with maintaining a perfect image wasn’t new. He had a way of knowing when someone so much as whispered behind his back.

Even the online comments rarely escaped his notice. Bucky suspected Stark Technology had something to do with that. Howard Stark, Steve’s long-time friend and the campaign’s biggest sponsor, had deep resources. It wasn’t hard to believe that some of those resources were being used to monitor any potential threats.

Just as Bucky was deep in thought, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Natasha. He opened it, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. His hand clenched around the paper as he saw the name: Ian.

Steve took another swing, his voice calm but laced with tension. “This lackey of Edgar and Brock is persistent.”

Bucky folded the paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, his jaw tightening. “I’ve made sure to shut him down.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head as he lowered his club. “But you’re still too soft.” He walked towards Bucky, each step deliberate, his gaze unflinching. Reaching him, Steve lifted the golf club he’d been holding, pointing it at Bucky with a steady hand.

“I’ve cheated death a couple of times to get here,” Steve said quietly, the weight of his words settling between them. His eyes were cold, calculating. “I’ve sacrificed so much. I won’t let anything stop me.”

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[sexilene]

lene we need some 80s slasher JB!!!

ohh shure! he gives creepy summer camp counselor vibes - 80s!slasher!john b

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, blood, violence, death, threats, slapping, spitting, obsessed!john b - ₊˚⊹

you'd gotten the most perfect job for the summer as a camp counselor at a sleep-away summer camp. after meeting everyone at the orientation you've become close to another counselor who will be working with you, john b. 

he was in charge of the boy's cabin and you the girls, and your groups would meet up for activities, bonfires, smores, and lunch. he'd honestly grown really attached to you since you were always doing things together, whenever he'd see you chatting with another guy he'd feel possessive and you weren't even dating! yet john b would also embarrassingly get hard watching you slide down your shorts, staring at how tight your bikini bottoms fit around your ass. he'd spend that night in his cabin jerking off, picturing your pretty body bouncing on top of him, wishing he could grab fistfuls of your ass. he'd finish in his fist all sweaty and out of breath. 

you sat at your group's table in the mess hall facing john b's table, both of you making eye contact every few seconds. 

when the dessert was ready, each table was called to go pick up their plate of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. john b's eyes followed your figure as you walked up to the counter, waiting until all the little girls got their slices. one of the guys that was working inside the kitchen, clearly flirting with you, asks if you want some. you decline with a smile but the young man insists, saying he made it himself, he lifts up the fork with a piece of the warm pie and dripping ice cream to your lips. you indulge him by opening your mouth and closing it around the fork, swallowing the desert you widen your eyes and nod. "it's really good!" you smile, the guy's hand reaching out to swipe the little bit of ice cream that stayed on the edge of your lip. 

watching this, john b was furious, letting that fucking feed you, touch your lips....

that night, the little girls knock on your cabin door, right next to theirs. they complain that they heard someone scream coming from the mess hall and are too scared to sleep. you tell them it's probably nothing and to go back to sleep, that you'll check it out.

the girls do as they're told and you walk over to the mess hall and walk inside the dark space to see what could have been the noise, hearing some sort of noise coming from inside the kitchen you figure it could be an animal that got inside, you press your ear to the swinging door honestly too scared to actually look inside. 

the door then swings open, causing you to stumble back and meet eyes with john b, with blood on his shirt, hands, and on the knife in his hands. you stand there confused...'did he cut himself?' you think, then you see it, through the open door is the pie guy dead on the floor with his blood pooling around his body. john b's hand is quick to cover your mouth before you can scream, "shshsh, you don't need to do that bub, you're fine." he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you. 

you nod your head slowly, chest heaving. 

"i'm gonna let go now okay? need you to be quite f'me, can you do that?" he raises his eyebrows and you nod again, he takes his hand off our mouth. "m'gonna need to take your clothes off...got blood on them..." he tells you rather than asks you, he raises the knife and cuts your top up the middle. 

"john b? what's going on..." you whisper, clearly scared. 

"i can't wait anymore, you drive me crazy, i need to do this." he rambles while tugging off your shorts rather roughly. 

"john b did you stab the kitchen b-" he cuts you off with a rough kiss to keep you quiet. he manhandles you over one of the tables and lifts you on top, facing him. 

you whine as he brings the knife up to your face. 

"don't scream, don't want to whole camp to hear you, n'i don't want to hurt you pup"

you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as he cuts your panties to get access to your hot messy pussy. 

"awww she's so pretty..." he coos, his big rough fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you mewl. 

"jombee...i don't wanna...you killed someone!" you shake your head, almost hyperventilating crying. 

"hey, nuh uh, stop that." he pats your face to get you to listen to him. you watch as he pulls off his bloody shirt and unzips his shorts and pulls himself out, your eyes widening at the size. "he's not the only one i killed." he looks back into your eyes and you swear your heartbeat sped up and so did the pulsing of your cunt. 

"you're a murderer johnbee," you whisper but then gasp when you feel him start to push in, stretching your pussy. 

"i know, m'really mean, huh puppy?" he pouts mockingly and pinches one of your nipples making you squeal. 

"don't like being mean to you, but when you walk around acting like an angel, when i know you're a little tease...kinda have'ta put you in your place," he grunts, pounding into hard now, you can see the little bulge in your tummy. 

"i wasn't! i didn't mean to be! i didn't do anything!" you sob, one hand grabbing onto the table and the other hand gripping his bicep. blood sorta covering both of you from where he had touched you, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look at him. 

"wish you could be my good girl right now n'just take. it." he thrusts harder with his last two words. you wish you could scream at how scared you are of him but also at how good it feels. 

"open." he grunts, squeezing your jaw a little. you shake your head no as best you can, causing him to let go of your jaw and slap you, making your drooly cunt clench around him. "m'not asking again." he grabs your jaw again, and you open your mouth, and he spits into it making you whine in disgust. "swallow." you do as your told and swallow tears continuing to fall. 

"that's how a dumb little doggy gets treated, they get spit on." he grins and pulls out of you, manhandles you off the table, and bends you over, tits and face pressed against the wood. 

"nooo...no.." you drool onto the table. 

he bends down a bit to be right in front of your ass and spits on your other tight little hole, watching as his spit drips down to your pussy. you squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling and sob a little louder. 

he stands up straight again and reaches around to pat your sloppy little cunt now covered in his spit, and slides his cock back in. 

"s-so gross..." you mewl, making him laugh quietly, bringing the back of his bloody hand up to your face. 

"cum around me or i'll smear this on your face, you want that? hmm? some guy's blood on your face?" he threatens. "c'mon..." he bends down to press icky wet kisses to your cheek that instantly make you cum on on him, pulsing and squeezing him as your mind goes dumb. his big hand covering your mouth as you moan.

"there she is, good girl...yeaaah" he praises, thrusting into you more sloppily until he's pumping you full, flooding your poor little pussy. 

after a few seconds, he pulls out and uses his tip to smear yours and his cum around your pussy lips. 

"here." he hands you his bloody shirt for you to put on knowing it'll cover you enough to get back to your cabin decent, you pull his shirt over your head and make sure it covers your ass.

"we'll talk more tomorrow, okay sweetie? gotta go...clean that up." he tilts his head toward the body. "goodnight kiss?" he bits his lip, squinting his eyes, taunting you. you stand there lifting your head, he leans down to give you one last kiss on your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away.  ᥫ᭡

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

[novelmonger]

I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

[theprettywriter]

The devil's darling : Osamu Dazai

Synposis : with your first visit to the port mafia's headquarters, you see the other side of your lover. The one that he never showed you before. It was as if you suddenly remembered that he wasn't just your sweet boyfriend . He was also the most feared man in Yokohama. He was also the youngest boss of the criminal organisation, the port mafia.

Genre/ warnings: port mafia boss dazai, fluff, angst, mentions of blood, knife, mentions of getting stabbed, slightly suggestive

A/n: this story doesn't follow the original beast au storyline. In fact I won't even call it beast au because everything else is same other than dazai being the boss.

Author's pov

You hummed a soft tune as you walked around the huge office, lightly touching the art piece that hung on the wall in fear of damaging it somehow. Now you know you just shouldn't touch the delicate art work but you couldn't help yourself. If you find something fascinating then you just need to feel it once. And you also know that your boyfriend wouldn't blink an eye even if the art piece got damaged. He's more than capable of buying a few hundreds of the same piece if he wants but you'd rather live without the guilt of ruining it.

Deciding that you should probably stop touching it, you took a step back, opting to admire it from a distance. "sweetheart" you perked up at the sound of his voice and turned around, your lips curling up in a soft smile as your eyes met. "hmm?" you hummed silently asking him to continue.

Dazai placed the papers he was going through down on his desk, looking at you with soft eyes "are you feeling bored, my love?" he mumbled and you quickly shook your head. Well you admit that you were starting to feel a tiny bit bored with him silently working on some papers but you didn't want to disturb him so you opted to look around his office to pass some time. You know he's a busy man so you cherished every moment with him that you can spend in comfortable silence.

He looked at you silently for a moment before pushing his chair back slightly and extending a hand towards you "come here angel" your smile widened and you skipped towards him, placing your hand on his. A small smile tugged on his lips as he pulled you on his lap, kissing your wrist when you cupped his face with soft hands.

He hummed raspily when you leaned forward to press a quick kiss on his lips, his one arm wrapping around your waist while the other tucked your hair behind your ear "hey samu" you whispered against his lips before pulling back, giggling when his lips chased yours "hey angel" he mumbled pulling you in another kiss "you know I can tell when you're getting bored, sweetheart. You keep looking at the clock every now and then."

You scrunched your nose smiling sheepishly. Of course he'd catch on "okay I am feeling a little bored but it's fine. Your office is so big I'm sure I'll find something interesting in here" you said tucking a side of his hair behind his hair. You love it when he tucks his hair behind his ear. He hums as his hand slips inside your shirt, lightly caressing your bare waist "do you want to go back home? I can call a car for you -" before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off quickly shaking your head "no no I'm fine. I want to stay here with you. I can wait until you finish your work and we can go home together " you paused before adding "b-but I can go back if I'm disturbing you"

He tched pulling you closer "nonsense. You're never disturbing me, angel. I'm happy that you're here. I was asking in case you wanted to go back" you smiled at that, kissing his nose "then we'll go back together" he smiled softly with his hand going to the back of your neck. Pulling you towards him, his lips brushed against your forehead before he pressed his lips on yours in a deep kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back softly.

At the same time, someone knocked on the door and you pulled back startled, going to get up but dazai didn't let you. You looked at him surprised when his grip around your waist tightened and he held you firmly on his lap while someone entered the room "boss" Nakahara Chuuya's voice sounded in the room and you turned your head to see chuuya standing there with his head bowed and his one hand holding his hat against his chest "they've been taken care of as you asked" who was taken care of? You'll never know and you don't even want to know.

You were just here to spend some time with your lover "good. Now chuuya, you've come right in time" chuuya looked up, silently asking dazai to give him his next orders "see, this is the first time my sweet girl has visited the headquarters and she's started to feel bored so would you mind giving her a tour around the building while I finish my work?" you looked at dazai surprised while chuuya nodded "of course not. I'd be happy to" "samu" you whispered tugging his coat slightly to make him look at you "I'm fine staying here" dazai smiled, running his thumb across your bottom lip "I know your curious little brain is dying to look around the building, sweetheart. So go with chuuya and I promise I'll be done by the time you come back. Then we'll go home"

You hummed thinking for a moment before nodding and looking at him with a smile. He raised an eyebrow when he recognized the mischievous glint in your doe eyes . You bite his thumb lightly, giggling softly when you saw his eyes darken a shade before getting off of his lap and pressing a kiss on his forehead "then I'll see you later Samu" he hummed, squeezing your hip and watched as you turned around and started walking towards the door.

You said a small thank you to chuuya as he held the door open for you and turned around one last time to wave at dazai, smiling as he waved back. You fiddled with your fingers awkwardly as you both passed by the multiple guards whose jobs were to guard the boss's office. Each one bowed towards you and you almost told them to stop bowing so much. You weren't used to it, unlike dazai who wouldn't even glance at them.

The long walk towards the elevator was silent with chuuya walking besides you in a respectful distance. You'd seen him many times before. You're aware that he's dazai's right hand man so you've seen him besides dazai multiple times but you've never talked to him properly so you were a little scared that the whole time will be spent in awkward silence.

So when you both reached the elevator and he pressed the button, you finally decided to break the silence "I hope I'm not disturbing you while you're busy, nakahara san" Chuuya's gaze snapped at you and his smile made you feel a little at ease "of course not, y/n San. I could actually use a little walk right now too. And please just call me chuuya" you nodded smiling softly as you both stepped in the elevator, now feeling more relaxed.

"is there anything you'd like to see first?" chuuya asked before pressing any button. You shook your head and he nodded "then we'll start floor by floor" the moment You both stepped out of the elevator, you were suddenly aware of the many eyes on you and it made you feel very, very uncomfortable. It was like every person in the floor was staring at you and judging you.

Your gaze fell on the floor and you whispered to chuuya "is it just me or is everyone staring?" chuuya kept his eyes ahead, chuckling softly. He didn't need to look around the room to see what everyone was looking at. "don't worry. This is the first time the mafia is seeing their boss's partner. That's why they're all staring. They don't mean any harm" even though he said that, he still looked around the room once with his eyes cold and stern. And once was enough to make all the men look away.

You didn't notice when people stopped staring at you because you were already busy looking around the huge place. There were so many long hallways and even more doors that you were sure you'd get lost in here if you wander around alone. Every person around you stepped back as you walked past them. But thankfully you were distracted enough to pay them no mind.

"this is the security room" chuuya said stopping in front of a black door before opening it. You hummed leaning forward on your tiptoes to look at the dark room. The only light in there being the many monitors that showed each and every part of this building. "you can go inside" chuuya smiled as your eyes widened "I can?" he nodded "of course you can" he held the door open for you but before you could take a single step in, the men sitting inside were already standing up and bowing a full 90°. Ah they must have probably seen you with dazai through the cameras when you had entered the building. Your eyes widened even more and you hastily said "p-please continue your work!" before looking at chuuya who nodded chuckling softly and closed the door.

"let's not go inside any room from now" you look at him sheepishly and he nodded "as you wish" you had a feeling he was trying to be polite by now laughing at you.

The next half hour went by a blur. Walking around the building, with him showing you the various rooms. You actually managed to see the inside of their training room because it had glass doors instead of the black wooden ones. From the outside you could see various types of guns hanging on a wall and many men training. And After only seeing men on every floor, you were surprised and very happy to see a girl outside the training room. She was wearing a mask so you couldn't see her face but before you could stop yourself, you waved at her with an excited smile. Your smile softened when you saw her eyes widen for a moment before she shyly waved at you and bowed before entering the room.

"that was Gin" chuuya said as you both walked towards the elevator "gin?" you looked at him and he nodded "Gin akutagawa. She is Ryunosuke's sister" your eyes widen in recognition "I didn't know he has a sister. They seem completely opposite of each other " you smiled at the image of the two siblings "they are" chuuya replied shortly.

After walking around the building for another 10 minutes, you were starting to feel tired. You've been walking around since 40 minutes but there are still places left to see. It seems like chuuya noticed your pace getting slower and stopped before turning around and looking at you "are you feeling tired, y/n San?" you smiled slightly and nodded "a little" ''would you like some water?" chuuya asked pressing the button on his ear piece and you nodded again "yes some water would be great. Thank you" he gestured for you to follow him "this is the resting area. You can rest here for a while and then I can take you back to the boss's office" he told you before saying something in his ear piece.

You wanted to tell him that you were fine and that you can continue the tour but before you could say anything, you both heard a commotion from nearby. Chuuya's gaze snapped towards the voices and he looked at you for a second "please wait here for me y/n San. I'll be back in a second" you know that you're safe here. This building literally belongs to your boyfriend and all these men work for him. But still the idea of being left alone in between all these new faces made you a little uncomfortable so you shook your head and stood up "I'll come with you" he nodded and got in front of you. All this time he was walking besides you so you were confused as to why he suddenly got in front of you "I'd like You to stay behind me" all the warmth in his voice had disappeared and you recognized the coldness in his voice. You've heard it before when he's doing his job as dazai's bodyguard and second in command.

You followed him as he walked towards the direction where the voices were growing louder and louder, until you both reached what looked like a room made for holding different types of weapons. You peeked around chuuya to see a small group of men standing at the center of the room but your eyes widened when you saw him "dazai?" you whispered, a smile blooming on your face but it soon dropped when chuuya growled "what the fuck are you doing?" you realised that the words weren't directed to dazai but the man standing in front of him.

"y/n San don't come any closer" chuuya said without looking at you and rushed by dazai's side. Your nervousnsess seemed to grow when you sensed the tense atmosphere in the room. Dazai looked calm at once glance but if you looked closely you could see the coldness in his eyes as he raised a single hand "chuuya. Stand back" Chuuya's jaw clenched but he didn't argue and stood a step behind dazai.

"now" a shiver ran down your spin when his lips tugged up in a smile. Not the smile that he gives you. But a cold and humorless one. "why don't you continue?" his voice was calm when he spoke to the man in front of him and only then did you look at the unknown man. While dazai looked as calm as ever, the man in front of him seemed to be shaking with fear. You looked at dazai nervously when he took a step ahead, causing the man to step back "you were saying something weren't you? Cat caught your tongue?" his lips pulled up in a smirk and there was almost a pleasant glint in his eyes when the man opened his mouth to say something "you're crazy" he sneered causing an empty laugh to slip past dazai's lips "oh really? I wouldn't have known until you told me"

Suddenly your eyes caught the movement of the man's hand and your eyes widened when you noticed the shine of a knife in his belt. For some reason the only thing going in your mind was that you had to take dazai out of here. So your legs started moving before you could even comprehend it and you were already running towards him. The man stumbled back when you got in between him and dazai and you breathed shakily reaching up to cup his face "samu" you whispered, your thumb rubbing his cheek softly. You didn't know what you were feeling when his gaze fell on you. That cold and empty gaze looked at you for a moment before a smile pulled up on his lips. But that wasn't the same smile he gave you almost an hour ago. That smile was full of love and warmth but this one lacked both of those emotions.

Chuuya had pulled his gun out the moment you stepped in but you were too busy trying to find your dazai to notice that. Your eyes searched his and you felt his hand gracing your waist in a light, feathery touch. And then as you continued looking in his eyes, trying to find the same warmth, you realised with a sinking feeling that you weren't looking at your lover right now. You were looking at the most feared man in the city.

"sweetheart" he mumbled, his fingers digging in your skin slightly with his voice void of an emotion. He always calls you that so why did it feel so different right now? "go back to my office. I'll be there soon" he wasn't asking you. He was telling you to go back. But that didn't stop you from shaking your head. You needed to get him out of here. "come with me" you whispered with pleading eyes, gripping his coat and hoping that your dazai would come back.

Before he could say anything, you heard chuuya yell "oi!" and all of a sudden, your were in dazai's arms. His arm was wrapped around your waist tightly and you were pulled in his chest. Your heart was pounding when you looked up, noticing that every man standing in this room were pointing their gun at the man who was arguing with dazai. "d-dazai?" you called him turning your head back and a fearful gasp left your lips when you saw dazai gripping the sharp end of the knife with his bare hand. The knife that was inches away from touching you. You looked up at him, tears filling your eyes when you saw the blood dripping from his hand while the man holding the knife stumbled back with wide eyes "samu y-your hand-" he shushed you softly. Placing a hand on the back of your head, he pulled you in so that your face was hidden in his chest. Once he was sure that your vision was blocked, he kissed your head and mumbled the words that only you could hear "those pretty eyes were only made to look at beautiful things, angel. Not at these worthless and pathetic beings"

Because your vision was blocked, you couldn't see him flipping the knife around in his injured hand. But you heard the blood curdling scream that left that man's mouth when dazai raised his hand and stabbed straight above the man's heart. Your eyes widened and your hands trembled as you gripped his coat tightly at the same time another scream echoed the walls.

A cruel smile lifted dazai's lips as he twisted the knife in the man's flesh. His smile widening at the screams and cries of help. "you know" he mused digging the knife deeper "I would have loved to hear you talk, had you not made the mistake of thinking you could get away after trying to hurt my love" with that he pulled the knife out only to stab him again. A small whimper left your lips when you heard another scream. The one that caught your lover's attention even with all the screams and cries. It was as if your voice snapped him back from his deranged haze. He dropped the knife and looked at chuuya who nodded, ordering a few men to take away the body.

He rubbed the back of your head with his uninjured hand, mumbling "don't look back angel. I want you to only look at me. Do you understand?" your reply was a small nod as you slowly pulled back and looked up with teary eyes . His jaw clenched at the sight but he didn't said anything and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, walking towards the elevator. The whole way towards his office, you didn't say anything but your bottom lip trembled when your eyes caught the sight of his bloodied hand hanging by his side. Chuuya took a different elevator and followed you both at a distance as dazai guided you back to his office.

As you entered the room, you turned around and looked at chuuya, your voice coming out shaky "c-can I get a wet towel and a first aid kit please? " "right away" chuuya replied and you saw him speaking something in his ear piece just as the door fully closed. You didn't say anything as you took his good hand and guided him towards his desk but you felt his eyes on you the whole time. When a knock sounded, you rushed towards the door and opened it to find chuuya standing there with the things you asked for. Taking the kit and the small basket of wet towels from his hands, you whispered a small thank you and turned around not waiting for his reply.

Still chuuya nodded as the door fully closed, and he turned around, standing there on guard with his hands clasped behind him "no one is allowed to enter this floor until I say so" every guard in the hallway nodded before passing the order in their ear pieces.

You found dazai leaned against his desk, watching you silently as you stood in between his legs, holding his injured hand gingerly and started cleaning the blood off of it. He didn't as much as blink an eye but you felt your own getting teary when you saw the blood staining the whole towel. You exhaled shakily, treating the wound as gently as you could all the while avoiding his eyes.

He observed you silently. His sharp eyes not missing a single detail from your shaky hands to you avoiding looking at him. His looked away for a moment, his voice coming out eerily calm "are you scared of me?" your movements halted and you finally looked at him. Again, his face seemed calm but you didn't miss the subtle tense in his jaw and the many emotions swirling in his eyes. Holding his uninjured hand for a moment, you said "I'm not scared of you, Osamu" his gaze fell on you and he gently squeezed your hand "then why are you avoiding me?" he asked quietly and you looked down again, resuming yout work "i-i'm not'' you both know that was a lie.

Placing his pointer finger under your chin, he tilted your face up, mumbling "look at me angel" you were trying to avoid his eyes to stop yourself from crying. You didn't want to appear so weak in front of him but you couldn't help it. A single tear ran down your cheek and dazai pulled you to him swiftly, wrapping an arm around your shaking form "i-im sorry" you whimpered burying your face in his chest while dazai's brows furrowed "why are you apologizing? You've done nothing wrong sweetheart" he whispered, his hold around you tightening as he pressed multiple kisses on your head "y/n please don't cry" he buried his face in your hair, exhaling the sweet fragrance of your shampoo "y-you got hurt because of me" you pulled back slightly to look at him and wiped your tears, a smile almost pulling on your lips when you saw the visible confusion on his face "what do you mean I got hurt because of you?" his honey eyes stared in your own as he patiently waited for you to finish your sentence.

"well" you looked down "i-i feel like if I hadn't come in between, then you wouldn't have gotten hurt. It was silly of me. Chuuya and everyone else wouldn't have let you get hurt even if that man had tried to attack you. But because I came in between.." you trailed off fiddling with the buttons of his coat. He tched shaking his head with a small sigh and made you look at him "angel I didn't get hurt because of you. That shit head was thinking about swinging his little knife at me before you were there too" your eyes widened at his words "y-you knew he was thinking about hurting you?" a raspy chuckle left his lips as he nodded, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses on your fingers "of course I did" he mumbled "then why didn't you move away? O-or-" he cut you off with a small smile "because thinking and doing are two different things, doll. He was thinking about it. He wanted to do it but he couldn't. He didn't have the guts to stab the boss so he decided to be a fucking coward and tried to hurt you thinking he'd have a chance to escape" his eyes darkened at the last sentence and his arms wrapped around your form, pulling you in his deep embrace again.

You hugged him back, noticing all the tension leaving his body as he relaxed against you. His voice much more soft now "you didn't hurt me angel. You'll never hurt me. So stop worrying that pretty little head, you hear me?" you nodded pressing a soft kiss on his jaw "Samu?" he hummed nuzzling his face in your neck causing you to giggle softly as you placed one hand on his shoulder while the other stayed wrapped around him "what did that man do? Y-you looked angry when I got there" you asked hesitantly not knowing if he'll even answer it or not. He has told you many times before that the less you know, the safer you will be. But there are only rare times when dazai truly gets angry. So you couldn't help yourself but ask.

He sighed tiredly and pulled back a little to cup your face with one hand "we found out that there were a few spies in the mafia" your eyes widened at that "chuuya had managed to find every one of them expect one person" "you knew that man was the spy?" he nodded looking proud at how quick you catch on "I had my doubts but I didn't want to risk him running away so I stayed quiet until my doubts were cleared. When he saw me he got flustered and you know a flustered human will always make mistakes. He didn't have any chance of escaping so he started babbling nonsense" he didn't want to tell you that the nonsense he was speaking, included you. He was already planning on how to make him see hell on earth but you gave him a quick death by coming in between. He wasn't mad at you about it. If anything, it made him realise the difference between you and him once again. While he's out here killing people, you're saving them without even knowing. And a quick death wasn't known as a punishment in his books.

He noticed you've gone quiet again as you absentmindedly played with the locks of his hair "sweetheart" you looked at him questioningly, his hands a little desperate as he pulled you in "tell me I didn't scare you" you smiled softly cupping his face and leaned forward until your lips brushed against his "I'm not scared of you, Samu. You didn't scare me. I was just a little... I can't find the right word for it but I'm not scared of you" he looked at you quietly for a moment before exhaling and pulling you back in his arms "I love you" he mumbled kissing the side of your head and you smiled "I love you too samu"

After a few moments of him holding you, you turned around in his arms so that your back was pressed against his chest and his one arm was wrapped around your waist . He watched you silently as you gently cradled his bandaged hand close to your chest "does it hurt?" you whispered and he could only manage a small shake of his head as he felt his heart skipping a beat when you raised his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

He knows what you were feeling. The emotion you couldn't name and neither could he to be honest. He was damaged since the early age of 14 so blood and gore didn't have any effect on him. Catching and punishing spies wasn't any surprise either. But this was the first time you, his precious angel witnessed something like this. And he was mad at himself for every letting you see something like this. When he was walking you to his office, he was convinced that he had scared you. That you will start hating him after seeing the side of him that he desperately wanted to hide. That this morning was the last time he was able to see your sweet smile. So imagine how he must have felt when you still welcomed him with open arms. When you still kissed him and heard him and held him with that smile and gentle warmth.

As he saw you softly caressing his injured hand, he wondered how you can treat him with the same love and affection after witnessing his true side. Holding you again was another thing. He was terrified that he won't ever be able to see you and your warm smile again. It scared him more than he expected. And this was the first time his expectations had gone wrong but he was so glad they did went wrong. Because he fell for you all over again. He loved you a little more than yesterday and he held you just a little tighter as you kissed his cheek, asking if you both can go home now.

Home. He never thought he would have a place that he could call home but here he was, letting you decorate his lifeless penthouse with your yellow cushions and curtains and flower pots and what not.

Smiling softly, he nodded, holding you just for a second more before pressing a deep kiss on your lips.

"let's go home, sweetheart"

[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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[cas-kingdom]

For drabble requests how about something for Greys Anatomy where while Derek is busy in surgery the reader comes in injured and Amelia is there to comfort her and make the medical decisions? It doesn’t have to be anything serious really, I’d just love some reader and Amelia bonding 🥰🥰🥰

The walk of shame along the corridors of Grey Sloan was not altogether unfamiliar to you. Many times had you trudged reluctantly along the polished floors of the surgical unit, clutching some injury or another, purposefully trying to avoid the eyes of anyone you knew--which, in such a unit, was pretty impossible.

Years ago, you would have been slightly less embarrassed. Kids always got into medical equipment, right? At least kids of surgeons who were constantly working. But now, it didn't seem quite right. You were a month away from Johns Hopkins, had aced all your exams and probably wouldn't have even needed the reference letters from half the surgical team, and here you were, head hung low in disgrace as you held your bleeding hand to your chest.

If it weren't for the fact you knew your dad would absolutely murder you if he found out you had hidden an injury from him again, you would have locked yourself away in a break room somewhere and attempted to patch yourself up best you could. Alas. Your father was Derek Shepherd. And after the broken nose you'd managed to keep from him for almost twenty-four hours a couple years ago, he'd all but held you hostage until you promised on his life you wouldn't do it again.

So, here you were. Reluctant as hell but somehow still not regretting the situation that had lead you to this moment.

"Hi, have you seen Dr. Shepherd around?" you asked a passing intern. When he made to walk over to the surgery board, finger already pointing at one row in particular, you visibly grimaced.

"Uh, no, the other one. Amelia Shepherd?" You had no intention of crying to your dad today. Your pride had been smashed to pieces enough.

The intern pointed down the hallway and you saw your aunt walking around a corner with another nurse. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you thanked the intern and followed after her. Your pace was fast enough not to lose her but slow enough that you had time to rehearse your lines before you were bombarded with judgment.

Amelia ducked into a radiology room and you steeled yourself before pushing the door open. "Amelia?"

"Y/N. Why are you holding your hand like that?"

You wouldn't have been surprised at the question, in fact you had fully expected it, if Amelia had turned around to actually see who had walked through the door. Your aunt could do powerful stuff, but mindreading was not on that list.

"I saw you earlier." Amelia turned, arms crossed, brows raised. "Well done, by the way. Meredith thought it would take you longer to find someone. I said it would take..." She glanced at her watch and shrugged. "Twenty minutes. Not bad."

Her supposed victory was short-lived when she looked up. Her eyes fell on your hand and her face dropped as she walked quickly over to you. "I'd rather you not drip blood on the floor," she said, an obvious tease behind her words, as she gently pulled you over to sit down.

You made a face, not having realised. "Oops."

"Oops is right, kiddo." Amelia knelt in front of the swivel chair and let you uncover your hand, humming under her breath when she noted the long, jagged line running down the side of your hand from the base of your wrist to the middle of your pinky finger. "How'd you manage this, huh? Don't tell me you found the electrical saw again."

You rolled your eyes. "I stabbed myself, actually," you said matter-of-factly.

"Ooh, that's a new one. With what?" When your reluctance finally kicked in, Amelia looked up. "With what, Y/N?"

Your hand began to throb and only then did you decide that answering your aunt's questions was probably the easiest way to getting relief. "A needle," you said. "I found a suture practice kit and, oh my God, Meelie, you know that's like giving me candy. I couldn't just leave it alone."

Amelia nodded along, gently probing at the red skin around your wound. "So you practiced sutures on fake skin and, what? Sewed yourself?"

"There was a noise outside and I jerked my hand," you deadpanned. Amelia glanced up, on the verge of laughter, and you looked away stiffly. "It hurts."

"Well, lesson learnt. For now," she added after as a second thought. There was a short silence after that was broken only by your hiss of pain when Amelia touched an exceptionally sensitive spot. Sucking a breath through her teeth, the surgeon sat back on her heels and looked up at you. "How were your sutures?" she asked. "Straight? Neat?"

You lit up, Derek's smug smile curving your lips not a second later. "Straightest and neatest you'll ever see."

"That's my girl." Amelia squeezed your knee before standing to her feet and taking out her phone. "Now, what do we tell your dad when he sees you later with stitches in your hand?"

You couldn't have groaned louder. If the chair didn't have a straight back, you would have fallen backwards with the force of it. When you righted yourself, a fierce look of indignation on your face, Amelia wasn't even attempting to hide her amusement.

"I need stitches?"

"Yup. Aaand, lucky for you, I think Derek should be out of surgery by now." Chipper as ever in the face of her niece's almost tangible disgust, she held open the door and nodded in its direction. "Come on, kiddo. He'll be glad to do a little needlework. Bring him back to basics."

You rolled your eyes once more as you got up, cradling your hand to your chest. "Like brother, like sister," you grumbled as you passed your aunt.

"What was that?"

"I said: like brother, like sister, you sadist."

Amelia snorted.

Grey's Masterpost

[death---dealer]

I was just going to ask you if you were thinking about writing about Proximus, they beat me to it hahaha. I'd love to read that! Proximus has potential 🫦🫦

I love you and your books, and how you write and AAAA-

I dont write characters like this very well someone kill me im crying im just gonna crawl into my hole and never write for him again </3

Title: Nightly Reading. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: ( Mildly, I am easing myself okay ) SUPER VAGUE Implied! Proximus Caesar x Human! Reader. Rating: K. ( Not fluffy, but not like, bad lol. ) Words: 2.3K Summary: You were brought in to share duties with Trevathan. The only task was to read to a King.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Books were such fascinating things. All of Human history had been documented, years and years upon knowledge now sitting in your hands at once moment like all the time was squeezed out, like lemon. Your fingers flitted across the page as if your touch alone was going to memorize the words that your eyes were able to read and make out, some faded and lost to the same concept that marveled you about them. Time. 

Admittedly, three-hundred years was bound to do something to the poor pages despite some groups of Humans trying to keep them safe. But, once Apes got their thick hands on them, you thought bitterly and let your eyes glide over to the Bonobo sitting atop his throne, most didn't care and they were left to ruin just like the rest of Humanity. Water damage was prominent in the book you held in your grasp, finger gliding right along the spine and feeling the imprint of the title against your fingertips.

Your movement was full of intent and was languid, almost sitting on the notions of flirtation. Proximus Caesar has never said anything to you about it out loud, but the glances that often fell on your hands were nothing short of curious morbidity. He was probably thinking just how easy it would be to get them all to snap off, one by one in his own hand, if you refused to read for him, if you refused to teach and entertain the ideas of a very clear Tyrant. Swallowing softly at the feeling of a lump in your throat, your gaze skirted along the rather delectably decorated room itself. Draped in red, the window off to the side let in enough of the Summer breeze and you were blessed with the scent of sea water. It was clear that he favored Roman History, just from the sweep of his throne that any Emperor had to be jealous of, the copper shining of his head dress, a crown not strewn of delicate greens of an olive branch usually depicted in the books you read to him, the draw of the chest piece, same flushed color as the head dress, draping down the taut muscles of his chest that you knew could rip you limb from limb without remorse. 

You dwindled at that, as you so often did in the recent meetings you had with him. The allure of his tapering waist was substantial before you snapped yourself out of it and focused on the encapsulating red of the drawn in shawl around his admirable waist, tucked so intricately that you had to wonder to yourself which female Ape he chose to tie it every morning. Or maybe he did it himself, there was nothing there to cure your curiosity on that. If you weren’t flushed with red that matched his dress, you were now as you let your eyes linger on it momentarily, almost admiring the stance of which he sat. 

The elongated table that Caesar himself could have been stabbed against was next to beckon homage. The table was strewn with a dance of fruits, some nuts, and a neatly sat pile of books and the gaze Proximus had moved from your hands to your face was clearly stating and demanding that you begin reading. In comparison to the earlier mentioned table, you felt small in your seat, and even smaller when he would graze his eyes from head to toe, as if he were able to pierce the wood of the table itself to do so.

Afraid to meet his gaze, you brought your knees in together and looked at the book once more, taking a note of the words on the spine rather than feeling them. Today’s topic was a personal favorite of your own you realized, drawing many parallels that the Bonobo was going to refuse to see even if you were adamant and you had the pleasure of spilling each sadistically-sounding word to him every other day, coordinating the duty with Trevathan. 

Proximus, in all his glory, had blessed you with a one-on-one conversation when you first arrived in the Kingdom. And, looking back at it, it was very obviously a coy play against an already starved and half-alive Human, a tactic you knew he enjoyed using if you used or said something he disliked and he’d pull the rest of the meals from coming to your door for the rest of the day as a punishment. He liked variety, that his other advisor only told him what he wanted to hear, not what he needed to hear. It was recognizable that you were fastened to do the same thing, but you were more able to play the game that Proximus himself set up for you, at least that’s what you thought when you took the agreement just to get some food and to save your own life.

He valued more than one opinion, and thus the idea was born that you would also read the same things that your human counterpart offered, and give your counteractive opinions to see what the King thought was best. You had to give it to Proximus --- While you did not agree with his ideology, he was remarkably smart to think of these things on his own.  Given the topic, it made no sense to have a juxtaposition position though. It was history, and nothing, not even a crazed Bonobo with piqued interest in you, in the very history sitting in your hand, was ever going to change. 

You simply told him what he wanted to hear, more subtly than Trevethan who had a hard time even facing Bonobo face to face when he knew what he was saying was being taken out of context. A spineless snake, you thought to yourself, like you were any better. Proximus only took you in because you were able to read, and in return, he gave you refuge. Only part was you were able to play the same game that Proximus played, and deep down, you loved it because you knew that it kept waiting for more, and kept him eager to keep you around instead of the other human. More chance for your survival that way. 

Now, two months later, you found yourself in a dance with Proximus every other evening, sometimes in the mornings if he never sent for you in the evenings, knowing it to be a point of contention with you, a stickler for schedules. You knew all the pieces, pawns, queen, knights, and at times, when he came towards you with intense movements, his feet racketing the ground and sending shock waves through your entire body, his eyes focused and incredibly darkened,  you thought that he had figured out your game, but nothing ever came of it and you needed to remind yourself to stay calm. 

Proximus would just ask you a question, or he’d move towards you to point at the book, emphasizing that he wanted you to explain further. Never with the intent to kill you, never with the idea that he knew what game you were playing against him. You had to bargain with yourself that while you were indeed playing chess, you left him to play checkers.  A shiver exploded down your spine in pride that you were able to pull the wool over his eyes, using the charm of Humanity rather than the easier tactic of laying over. Still, the prospect rose from time to time. You were just a Human, he was just an Ape. It became a teetering routine that you were beginning to enjoy.

Now, telling him that History was just that and there were no opinions to be made on it, and getting into the vault was going to prove fruitless was going to get you skinned by either Lightening or Sylva. You held your tongue. Probably both at the same time, one taking your bottom half off and the other taking the top, when you stopped to think about how truly sadistic these Apes were, but you tried to push it to the back of your mind upon living with them. At the very least, you were alive now and even though you had to climb your way up the theoretical tree to gain favor with the King, and even though the Ape who gave you sick solace in life also gave you the option of death, you liked your position of power. Maybe, you laughed sarcastically, that’s why Proximus was so relentless to keep it. 

“Caligula.”

Your words always put him on edge, so different from Trevethan! He wondered about that. The fact that you chose to stay rather than choosing death - Many Humans were fast to do that once Proximus had offered a deal. Very sad, but he never rested on it for long and would have them slaughtered. Not full of fear or pandering, you were honest, at least that’s how it came across, he never knew the malice that you held towards him. It was gentler in nature, but still packed a punch when you inflicted your words a certain way, garnering you more favor to him as he liked the way you pronounced words.

Infliction was a strong thing, and Proximus himself took a lot of what you said based purely on the tone you chose to use. Flirty at times when you knew he was taking in the delectation of how your smooth lips formed the words, softer at others when you were speaking of the Roman Emperors wives or lovers, something he found intensely interesting as he himself only had concubines, as far as your knowledge went. Never anything serious, never anything to the level of standard he held himself to, harder and more adamantly aggressive upon talking of the concept of Wars waged in the past. 

“We usually read about Julius Caesar,” You noted almost dully having admired the book and knew the change of topic beforehand. Tilting your head at the Ape a few feet away from you, the action and your words seemed profusely innocent --- Always intended and always strategic. “Why---” You were cut off.

“Something… New,” Proximus’ voice leaked torturous enthusiasm which made your stomach turn in on itself. Not terrible, but it wasn’t something you’d want against the shell of your ear in the moments of intimacy. Too hard, too mean in all aspects. But, the idea did hit the back of your mind vaguely at that. For such a Tyrant, he looked at you with eased gentleness that never came naturally to him. Make the Human feel more comfortable, the action usually yelled at you but it did the very opposite once you were able to see what he was actually doing. It was usually faux, but for a moment as you stared at each other, it seemed a thoughtful idea was that he --- was genuine, giving you something new to read about, genuine, giving you more grace and time rather than Trevethan.

“Thought it good… I learned about the… Other Rulers."

Proximus staggered to his feet, the movement leaving your entire body on edge, hair raised. That was one thing that always struck you; he moved with such innate aggression in even the simplest of actions.

Your eyes widened at the pure strength and power in his gait as he sauntered closer to you, one foot after the other, shoulders bobbing with the walk. Mindlessly, your throat closed as he stood beside you, letting a finger tap against the book cover. You only looked at his hand, having him so close in proximity. Your breath escaped your lips, hitting Proximus at his wrist and you watched vividly as the fur against his forearm wrestled with your exaltation. He got close, often choosing to sit next to you but this--- 

Your eyes looked upwards towards him, catapulting you into a panic at the look of his canines as he was resting in his usual scowl. You’d never seen them that close, and your fingers twitched mildly at the idea of just… Touching them to see how sharp they truly were. Eyes were remarkably different than any other Ape you’d been in close quarters with. Not very many, but you knew that they had sharp, intuitive and smart green irises.

While Proximus’ were similar in color, the backdrop almost seemed… Black, like the rest of his fur, but upon further inspection they appeared more blood shot. You noticed the hackles rising and falling when you brought your gaze to his shoulders, admiring the density of the fur that cushioned against his chest piece.

You swallowed, suddenly hit with a fluttering of fear that ravaged the front of your skull. Why was he so close? Why was he so----

 “Is he… a good one? This…” Proximus brought his lips together and coated his mouth with saliva, a few droplets ultimately falling on you when he finally spoke again. “Emperor?” Your eyebrows furrowed at that question and your mouth popped open as you scrambled for an answer, cursing yourself silently for getting so distracted. Usually Trevathan would read to him first followed by you the next night, always the same book, he just took in the way that you both read the material. This was the first time that Proximus was asking you to read him new material exclusively. 

Patting yourself on the back for finally climbing your way into his lap, you raised your eyebrows now at the question and processed. From what you knew about Caligula, he was quite a fervent and crazy leader. Wild things were done under his rule and all the things were done with the justification that he was indeed the Emperor and he set the standards for his people. He was known as the Mad Roman Emperor for a reason. Huh. That sounded familiar. 

Gracing Proximus with a smile of sorts, baring your teeth in the way that you knew he found amusing, you nodded and whispered softly for only him to hear as he was so kind as to bring his entire being so close that you were able to smell the crisp nature of gunpowder mixing with crisped sand and ocean water clinging to his fur. Green gaze fell to your shoulders out of curiosity, a very easy way to see if Humans were lying was to see the rapid nature of their breathing but you forced yours to stay rational and calm.

“He’s a great one.”

Kind of crazy, actually really, really out of his mind, you wanted to tack on but only smiled to yourself as you watched Proximus leave your side, finally allowing yourself to take a deep breath in as he sat across from you, fingers cracking open the book to finally proceed with the lesson.

[oiveyzmir]

Living with Eddie is… well, it’s an experience.

It’s not a bad thing, not in the slightest. There’s nothing Steve loves more than the fact he gets to fall asleep next to the love of his life, wake up to his soft little snores, and go about their lives together. There’s a soft kind of domesticity to it Steve wouldn’t give for the world.

He loves their routine so much he’s even willing to move past the little things Eddie does that make him lose his mind, like the way he never washes the sink properly after doing the dishes or how he constantly leaves the cabinet doors open. He can even move past how Eddie will come home from a late night shift at the bar when it’s raining and forget to take his shoes off, leaving a muddy trail of footsteps anywhere he goes. Hell, Steve’s even willing to excuse Eddie’s phases.

Wayne had warned him about those when they first moved in together three years ago. “It’s just that he gets easily excited about things,” he reasoned then. “Which doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Steve didn’t get what it meant then.

He surely gets what it means now.

He found something- a bout of inspiration- and hyperfixated on it until moving on to the next. There was this one time Eddie got really into gardening and bought 11 different herb seedlings, only for them to wilt and die three weeks later when he got into water coloring, then moved on to filmography, then to operas.

He had that month once where he’d developed a sudden interest in learning to play the violin (It’s for a song, Stevie, did you ever listen to Skyclad?), so he stayed up until 5 AM to play something that resembled music (but was closer to being nothing but) with the instrument he burrowed from Robin’s then girlfriend. That month was so close to being a breaking point for Steve, but he loves Eddie too much to do anything about it. He honestly believes that if he managed to live through Eddie’s Violin Month he can live through anything.

He lived through Eddie’s sewing phase, his novel-writing phase and his (honest-to-god awful) baking phase, and survived to tell the tale.

Nothing had prepared him for Eddie’s current phase, though.

It seemed harmless at first. It was even kind of adorable, really; the way Eddie’s eyes glinted with excitement when he sat Steve down to watch him do a cute little card trick, the way he laughed triumphantly when it was, in fact, Steve’s card.

It got less cute when Eddie got himself cuffed to their bedpost for hours in the most unsexy way Steve could imagine, refused Steve’s offer to let him out and making him feed him since his hands were, well, preoccupied.

It also wasn’t cute when Eddie stabbed himself with a pencil in attempt to make it disappear.

But it’s plain rude now, when Steve’s trying to get a little nap after a terrible day at the school where he’s started teaching. Eddie knows he’s sleeping, Steve made sure to call him on his way home and let him know he had a bad day and that he’ll be spending as much of it as he can sleeping it off. He trusted Eddie enough to keep it down that he didn’t bother to close their bedroom door properly, and he had also kinda hoped Eddie would see it as the invitation it was for him to cuddle up to Steve and make his awful day just a bit better.

Yet here Eddie is, an hour or so after he got back home, seemingly running into every single piece of furniture they own.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles, and Steve has to give him credit for at least trying to be quiet. “Come back here.”

Steve sleepily opens one eye at that. There shouldn’t be anyone out there but Eddie, right? He listens intently to hear someone else speaking, but he can’t hear anything but the quiet thump of someone hitting their kitchen table and Eddie’s frustrated grunting.

“Please, babydoll. Come back to me.”

And now Steve’s interest is really piqued.

Steve opens his other eye and sits up. He debates heading out there and seeing whatever happens out there himself, but decides to let it all play out just a little bit longer. It’s not like he believes Eddie is capable of cheating on him; he knows Eddie loves him too much to make him go through something like that, and he also isn’t dumb enough to do so when he knows Steve is sleeping in the other room.

He listens as Eddie makes some quiet tsk noises with the tip of his tongue. “C’mon, princess,” he whispers, not loud enough to wake Steve up, but definitely loud enough that Steve hears now that he’s really listening. “No, no, don’t go there, Steve’s sleeping, fuck.”

Steve lies back down quickly when he hears the door creak a bit wider to pretend being asleep, covering himself up to his eyes with their blanket. He can hear something’s small feet tapping on their bedroom tiles before hearing Eddie’s steps, and is he tiptoeing?

Even when he’s almost panicked about whatever it is Eddie had brought home, Steve can’t help but have a fond smile spread across his face. There is love in this, so immense and great, and Steve can be nothing but grateful and madly in love as well.

The tiny feet keep running around and Steve can vaguely imagine what it is- a kitten, or maybe a puppy, but relatively tiny ones at that. The tapping sound comes to a short stop then starts off again.

Eddie sighs, relieved, and it sounds like he crouches down. “Come on, come on,” he whispers. “There you go, good girl.”

The sound of tapping feet stops and Eddie gives the thing a kiss. “Don’t ever make me go through this again, babylove.” He mutters accusingly. “How can I trust you in battle if you pull this kind of shit on me?”

Eddie turns to go. Steve can imagine the kitten cuddling itself in Eddie’s arms. Knowing Eddie, the kitten’s probably black, maybe missing an eye or an ear, whichever makes it harder to adopt for regular people. Eddie’s not a regular person, though. The mental image he created is so endearing to him that he can’t help but loudly yawn. “Baby?” He says, trying to make his voice sound as sleepy as he can, even though he’s been wide awake for a while now. Eddie stops and turns around.

The room is dark, but even in the darkness Steve can see that whatever it is Eddie’s holding is both white and obviously not a cat.

“Hey, Stevie, did I wake you up?” He whispers, his tone apologetic, like a kid found out with his hand in the near-empty cookie jar.

“What’s that?” Steve asks back instead of answering.

Steve turns his bedside light on, and after the initial shock of light momentarily blinding him he can clearly see it; a white bunny being cradled in Eddie’s arms.

“She’s my assistant,” Eddie explains, as if it explains anything, “her name is Jessica. Get it? Jessica Rabbit?”

“Your assistant.”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.

“For the…”

“Magic tricks?”

“Oh.”

“I’ll take care of her, though,” Eddie sits down on the edge of the bed, Jessica sitting in his lap, “take her out on walks and feed her and everything. You wouldn’t even notice she’s here.”

Steve sits up and motions for Eddie to hand him the bunny, which he dutifully does. Her fur is so soft, probably the softest thing Steve had ever felt. “That’s not how you take care of a bunny,” Steve says as he rubs his hands gently through her fur, “she isn’t a dog.”

“How do you take care of a bunny then? ‘Cause I bought, like, a bunch of carrots.”

Steve laughs. “Oh god, I love you.”

“That means we’re keeping her, right?” Eddie takes his shoes off- Steve pointedly does not think about how their living room might look like- and cuddles up in bed next to Steve. He looks up at him so hopefully Steve is flooded with warmth and love, so flooded he can’t even remember what annoyed him so much at work today.

Steve kisses his forehead, then his nose, then softly his lips. “Sure. One condition, though.”

“What is it?”

“Can you teach me the pulling her out of a hat trick?”

Eddie grins wide. “Of-fucking-course.”

[lotus-n-l0ve]

"𝐀-𝐀𝐫𝐞........𝐀𝐫𝐞, 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐡-𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐌𝐞?"

— Ken 'Draken' Ryuguji x Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When a hoodie and picture makes Draken think that you are cheating on him.

☯ WARNINGS : Cursing, making out at the end, cock-blocked, 1.2k words.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. Since you guys liked Mikey one so much I decided to write one for his best friend as well. Tumblr is being such a bitch. I can't save darfts, edit my works or anything. I hade to do this one for at least nine times.

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Draken waits patiently outside of your house for you to open the door and bless him with your beautiful face. This was going to be the first time he came to your house. He was pretty nervous. Can you believe The Draken is nervous?

Finally the wait seemed to be over when the wooden door opened, revealing your adorable form. You were almost drowning in the sage green hoodie that you were wearing, paired with matching socks.

Your face lit up when you saw your giant but gentle boyfriend, "Draken, you are here? Come in, come in."

You grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind with your leg. Draken chuckled at your antics. Someday you will be the death of him. You can stab him with a knife and he will let you.

You dragged him to your bedroom where you were going to watch the new airing anime with him. You were so excited to spend some time with your boyfriend and enjoy the anime.

"Sit here."

You told him to get comfortable as you fetch your laptop. In no time Draken was sitting in the middle of the bed with his back resting on the headboard and you were sitting between his legs, your back on his chest.

Draken had his hands wrapped around your shoulder, caressing his thumb over it occasionally. Your attention was on the laptop in your lap while he had his on you. Don't get him wrong, he did like anime but this one was just not his type.

He tightened his hold, pulling you in his chest even more. He buried his face in your nape, taking a long breath. But his face soon turned into a frown. Draken took another sniff and the frown deepened.

Your hoodie smelled of a men's cologne. Draken knew because Sanzu always wears this one. But since when do you like this kind of smell? Till today he knew that you liked floral scents and this was anything but floral.

Draken stopped himself before he concluded something stupid. You were not the type to cheat. You were too nice and kind to cheat. Yes, nothing happened. You probably tried something new.

Draken reassured himself but that quickly broke when his looked to the side. On your nightstand, there is a photo framed in gold. The picture is of you with a guy, not much older than Draken himself.

The problem isn't that. The problem is you had your arm wrapped around his neck while he had his around your waist. You were kissing his cheeks and he was wearing the sage green hoodie you had on right now.

Were you really cheating on him? Was he not enough? Did you even love him?

Draken could feel his heart breaking into millions of pieces. You were the light of his dark heart. A fresh breath of air in his suffocating life. But now he was not even sure whether all this was even true.

His hold around you loosened, diverting your attention from the anime to his, now loose, arm.

You turned your head to the side, "Draken, What happened?"

Your expression morphed into a confused one when he didn't answer. You called him a few more times but he remained silent. You could feel something was wrong. Draken never ignored you. Even if he is fighting someone, if you call, he would pay all his attention to you.

You paused the video, put the laptop on the bed and turned to him, still between his legs, "Draken?"

His head was hung low, so you could not see his face, a dark shadow casted on it. You brought yourself down and saw his face, only to gasp. Draken was clenching his jaw hard to not let the glistening tears that had gathered in eyes fall. His lips were pressed in a tight line, trying to suppress the sobbs.

"O my gosh! Draken?" You panicked as you cupped his face in your hands and tilted it up, "What's wrong baby?"

Draken refused to meet your eyes as he stuttered with a breaking voice, "A-are……..are, are you ch-cheating on me?"

His voice reduced to whispers at the end. Your eyes widened with shock at his acquisition.

"No, why would you think that?" You asked, wiping the falling water down his face.

He brought his both hands up and gripped your hoodie by the waist, "Who-se h-hoodie is this?"

You tilted your head slightly, which Draken would find endearing had he not been looking down, "My brother's, see."

You said as you pointed at the same photo on the nightstand. His head snapped up hearing your answer. He followed your finger pointing and saw the photo. Suddenly Draken felt so stupid. Of course you would never cheat on him, or anyone else for that matter. You can't even lie to save your life.

Suddenly Draken threw his hand around you, pulling you in his chest and catching up off guard. His head buried in your neck. You could feel him taking deep breath. You wrapped your arm around his torso, running a palm on his back to calm him down.

What am I going to do with this gentle giant?

You shake your head. As you understand the sudden behaviour of Draken, you fail to surpress the laugh and before you know, you were cracking up like there's no tomorrow.

"Hahaha, Draken you really thought I was cheating on you?" You almost choke on your words, "You accused me of cheating and now you are the one crying? O you cry baby."

Draken gave you a tight squeeze, "Stop making fun of me."

"Ok ok, you cry baby." You said but made no move to actually do so.

Draken pulled his head back, glaring at you, "Will you stop?"

You nod but the pout on his face made laugh even move, "The great Draken is crying."

"So you want to laugh huh? Let's see just how much you can."

In a flash you were lying on the bed on your back and Draken hovered over you. Draken slammed his lips on yours. The teste of your lip balm filled his senses. His plams slides up your hand to your palms and interwinded your fingers, holding you in his firm hold.

He broke the kiss and drifted kisses down your throat, drawing moans out of you. You throw your head back to give him more space. His touch glided at the base of your throat.

"Uh-nn……. Draken, fuck!" You whispered. Your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

"Why aren't laughing anymore huh baby? Cat caught your tongue?" Draken taunted.

You watched with confusion as he released his hold on you and got off the bed.

Draken started walking out of the room, "Good bye, baby. I have to go meet Mikey."

"Wait! Draken Where are you going?" You shouted, panicking, "You can't leave like this. What about me?"

Draken turned his head back to face you and said with a teasing tone, "You should have thought about that before making fun of me."

With that he walking walking out of the house, leaving you hot and horny. His lips curled up to a smirk when he heard your frustrated scream. This was your punishment but he will make sure to take care of you tonight. So much that even your parents will hear how much of a whore their daughter is for him.

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[beansmack2021]

She's Yours Now

Teen!Reader x Platonic!Hazbin Hotel Characaters

Summary: Someone decides who gets to go to Heaven and who is sent to Hell. But, who would send a sixteen year old to Hell? Especially one who seems so... quiet.

TW: Mentions of abuse, mentions of death in childbirth, justified murder, blood, violence

“You little bitch! You ruined my fucking life, and now you want my money? My food? Get a fucking job, you ungrateful piece of shit, and buy it yourself!”

“Please, I'm hungry. I just wanted a sandwich. I won't even use the mayonnaise.” Y/N begged and pleaded, but she knew she wouldn't get anywhere with her father.

He was drunk more often than not, and he was totally unreasonable when he'd gotten a few beers in his system.

Y/N decided she'd just go to the kitchen later, when he was asleep, and sneak a sandwich or some crackers. She'd also toss his cigarettes in the toilet bowl. He'd probably know it was her, but it'd be funny to watch him fish around in the toilet water for the pack. It'd be worth the yelling.

She'd started to smirk a bit, still enjoying the idea of making him look like an idiot, when she was suddenly struck with intense, sharp pain. She raised her hand to her temple, gasping as she took in the crimson that stained her fingers. Her ear was ringing, and she saw the amber colored glass that littered the carpet.

He'd hit her before, sure, but he'd never smashed a bottle over her head before. She didn't have much time to try and make an escape to her room before he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her up. He wasn't much taller than her, so her feet barely left the floor, but that didn't stop her panicked frenzy.

She punched him, clawed at his arms, and tried to bite him. He spit in her face and dropped her on the floor like a sack of potatoes. She gasped as she landed. She'd tried to catch herself and instead felt a bone in her wrist crack. The broken glass in the carpet dug into her palms and legs. Blood started to seep through her jeans and into the rug. She knew better than to scream. It'd only get her into worse trouble.

Her father reached across the table, grabbed another empty bottle from the table, and launched it at Y/N. She closed her eyes, trying to use her arms to shield herself. The glass smashed painfully against her bare skin. She cried out and immediately regretted it. Her cries prompted him to start getting more physical. He pulled her hair so that she was forced to look up at him as he kicked her ribs. Bam, bam, bam! The room was spinning. She heard one sickening crack and then another. She didn't know what to do. She was scared. Every part of her wanted to scream. She was sure her neighbors would hear her. She couldn't force it out of her throat, though. He knelt down next to her, yanking her chin up toward him, and grumbled in her face. “What did we learn?” He growled. He'd say that any time he thought she'd learned a “valuable lesson”. She felt around the carpet, wincing whenever another microshard of glass dug its way into her palm. She finally felt the neck of the bottle and grabbed it. “That you're a fucking asshole.” She stabbed him in his thick neck, and he clutched his throat as he bled out. He fell over, nearly collapsing on top of her, and gasped his final breath a few minutes later. Y/N was dying. She could feel it. She'd call for someone, but there'd be no point. She'd lost a lot of blood from the gash across her head, and her broken ribs had probably punctured her lungs. At least she'd gone out with a fight. She prayed that she wouldn't end up in the same place that he did. She closed her eyes, whispered an apology to her mother, who'd died giving birth to her, and asked whoever would listen that she'd see her mom on the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was really, really quiet. Normally, this would be absolutely wonderful. Normal doesn't exist in Hell. Quiet meant something was going to happen. Charlie didn't like to admit it, but sometimes, even she knew it wasn't going to be a “happy day in Hell”. She tried to relax as Vaggie massaged her scalp, but as soon as she'd finally calmed down enough to actually enjoy her girlfriend's hands in her hair, her phone started ringing. She picked it up, took a glance at the caller ID, and smiled to herself. She and her father had finally started to reconnect, so check-ins over the phone had become more and more frequent. Maybe that's what she'd been in anticipation of. She'd finally be able to relax. She heaved a sigh of relief and answered Lucifer's call. “Hey, Da-” “Charlie. We've got an emergency.” He cut her off, and she was instantly thrown off by how serious he sounded. “What's wrong? Is it Heaven? Did they make the extermination date even sooner?” Charlie started to panic, her blood running cold at the idea that she had even less time than she believed to rally the troops to defend her kingdom.

“No, Char. It's nothing like that. It's serious, though. There's a new arrival.” She was confused, now. New people arrive in Hell every day. If her father felt he needed to call her and let her know personally, there was a chance that the sinner could pose a serious threat. “She's young, Charlie. Really young. She…” He faltered. He sounded emotional. “She needs you. She needs the hotel. She doesn't belong here. Please, take care of her.”

Charlie was quiet. Her father wanted her to take in a sinner, but it sounded like he didn't feel she was a sinner at all. He was concerned, that much she could tell. She just didn't know what the girl could've done to end up in Hell of all places if she was so young and innocent. She decided, with finality, that everyone needed a safe space. “Alright, Dad. Where can we find her?”

[remushrts]

getting a piercing with barty . . .

— pairing: barty crouch jr x gn!reader

— a/n: inspired by my friend who wanted company to go pierce her ear <3 (not proofread)

— warnings: needle mention and brief description of getting a piercing (yk the process), no blood or anything though, and i think that's all!

For all of his faults, one of Barty's biggest qualities was that he was up for anything. It didn't matter how insane - some might say the more insane or stupid, the better when it came to Barty - or how late or how unusual, if you could pitch him an idea, he was in for it. This time, you thanks the gods he is. The only word that had made through to him was "piercing", and he was up and ready to leave despite it already being the middle of the afternoon.

"Didn't we need to schedule or something?" You ask as Barty drags you by the hand through streets and more streets, seemingly lost, until he turns two corners over and spot the place he got his piercings at, after Dorcas insisted they would get inflamed if he kept doing it at home (his ear was already nearing infection, to her credit).

"Nah, don't worry, trouble." He shrugs it off, holding the door open so you can enter.

The place is small, decorated with a black, white and red theme and many goth, almost grotesque art pieces on the walls. The one that attracts your attention the most is a heart on the wall, stabbed with pins and piercings jewels on display. You hear Barty talking to someone as you analyse the different types of needles and jewelry, thinking about which one to get.

"Trouble, you're up!" You hear his voice, looking in his direction confused, he has nothing but a smile as he points to the counter. The assistant gives you a sheet of information to fill and once you're done, takes you to a different room. Barty of course, goes with you.

"Evan's doing it for you. Same guy who pierced my bridge and most of my ear, and my tongue... You get it, right? He's good." He tries to calm you down.

"Yeah, and if you faint, I'm piercing your septum." A blonde guy enters the room and jokes, preparing a needle and instructing you to lay down on the stretcher in the middle of the room as he puts on a pair of gloves. You can't say the hospital-like smell is any calming for your nerves.

"Two for the price of one!" Barty smiles as you hold your breath nervously. "Don't worry Ev, trouble's not gonna pass out." He double checks with you, standing on the opposite side of the stretcher you're laid on, his fingers finding yours to give an encouraging squeeze. "We good to go?"

You take a deep breath before nodding, and Evan holds your head in place before stabbing the needle through your skin. A sharp pain blooms in the spot, and you squeeze your eyes at it, expecting blood or more pain, but it never comes. Despite from a little discomfort and some warmth, there's nothing. Evan gives you a smile, letting you know he needs to put the jewel in place. Barty pokes his head to watch, as you flinch slightly at the sensation.

"See, we're done already." Barty says, helping you sit up, his hand supporting your back. "Trust me, doesn't hurt as bad as a regular needle. And you'll probably take better care of it than I would, so it's gonna be easy." You all but nod to him, praying for him to be right as you get a ton of instructions to follow, what to not eat and what to avoid in general, all while Barty makes commentary and Evan cuts off to correct him and tell you to actually do the opposite and finally, come over if there's any problem at all. He's sweet, makes you think even if there's none, maybe you'll come around for another piercing soon enough. Maybe let Barty on the waiting room this time.