#i ALSO want to see art and fic and searing cold takes

[pancakepartyinthevoid]

in every poll ive seen the number of people who responded to the poll FAR outweighs the number of notes which, like, how do you expect people to find the poll you just took if you dont also reblog it?

[sataara]

Window Shopping

Small holiday fic of Ingo and reader walking around the city together, it's short and just plain fluff! I wrote it on request of my good friend Snowy and inspired by this art from twitter!

You can read it on Ao3 too, hope you enjoy and happy holidays!

The warm cup of coffee you held, helped keeping the chill away. Not that you minded much, the cold being much more welcome than the searing heat of summer. As you sat on a bench, just outside the station, you hoped he didn't take too long to finish up for the day, while you held your own drink, his was resting next to you, on a cup holder, the rising steam gave you hope that the warmth would hold until he showed up.

With so many people transiting to and from the station, you didn't notice him until a shadow stopped in front of you.

“I hope you didn't have to wait here for too long, my dear.” You looked up at his warm expression, your own following along with the contagious mood.

“Not at all, love, I've only been here for twenty minutes or something. You're right on schedule as always.” Your smile grew just that bit more at using his own turn of phrase on him, Ingo rolled his eyes fondly.

“A train should always arrive at the station on time to not inconvenience any passengers. Or maybe I just missed you after these busy few days.” He picked up his drink, sitting down where it had been and letting you lean your head on his shoulder. His free arm snaked behind you to pull you closer, hand resting on your waist.

“I missed you too. How did work go?”

After Ingo finished telling you of his and Emmet’s latest battle against Nate and Rosa, you decided to walk, restless after sitting for such a long time in the cold, despite how comfortable you were against your partner.

As you walked, you decided to link an arm with Ingo, wanting to stay close even while moving.

“Do not try and lie to me, I know you're just trying to steal all my warmth.” Ingo said with a playful tone.

“Well, that's just a bonus.”

“I think it's the main goal.”

“How dare you insinuate I'm nothing more than an opportunist.” Your tone exaggerated, a hand falling to your chest dramatically.

“I would do no such thing. It's not an insinuation, it's a statement.”

You gasped with fake offense, making you both unable to contain the giggles bubbling up in your chests.

“Oh, look, Ingo! Isn't that model from the Orient Express?”

Your attention was taken by a store front, the lights shining just right on a few products for people to react just as you did. The decoration around the display also reminding you that Delibird Day was getting close, you already had an idea for Ingo’s present, but you wanted something nice for his brother too. After all, you became good friends since you started seeing Ingo frequently. Not that everyone would know that, since you showed your love by calling each other names.

“Yes, that is, but we have a better model at home, more faithful to the original and with better quality.” You loved hearing the pride in Ingo's voice.

You leaned closer to the glass using his arm as support, so you could get a better look, seeing the almost janky way the locomotive moved on the tracks and many other little flaws, that you only recognized thanks to the many times you were shown the twins’ beloved collection.

“I wanted to give Emmet something nice for Delibird day, I have no idea what, though.” You said with sincerity, eyes still on the objects in display, seeing a chess set with knight like pokemon inspired pieces, the pawniard pawns not very well made, much like the model train.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I feel like everyone that doesn't know you two well just go for train themed presents, easier to get right. I wanted something different, I guess.” You right your posture and go back to walking, Ingo seamlessly moving with you.

The next store is a clothing one but nothing close to your or Ingo’s style, so you glance at it but keep walking.

“Hm, I think it's a nice gesture already, to not go for the obvious, but you need a starting point.”

“I know, I know. Emmet likes gaming too, so I gave his wishlist a look, but after nothing seemed to pop out I thought that maybe a physical present would be nicer.”

You went to take a sip of your drink but when nothing came out you noticed you'd finished while you were talking, your mind so focused on your conundrum that you didn't even realize you were taking sips every pause or so. Ingo brought you back to Earth by taking the empty cup from your hand and throwing it on the nearest trash can, seemingly having done so with his own just before.

“You're thinking plushie? That's always a nice gift.”

“For me, maybe, but all your plushies end up with either Galvantula or Haxorus, I want to give him a gift, not his pokemon.”

“Well, that may be true but at least it means I don't have to share my bed with ten million squishy creatures.”

“I don't understand the issue, they are cuddly and soft!”

“I know that perfectly well when I wake up holding a huge fake dratini, instead of my beloved partner.”

“Don't be a baby, anyone would be lucky to wake up with Catarina in their arms.”

Ingo huffs in amusement, the smile on your face betraying your own statements of annoyance.

“But back to the topic, maybe something pratical then?” Ingo said as you stopped again, this time in front of a bakery, eyes skimming the baked goods with interest.

“What, you want me to give him socks? Extra ten identical dress shirts like the ones you guys use to work?”

“Sure, give him those fuzzy joltik socks we saw the other day.”

“I can give the socks plus something else. Would be a shame compared to yours.”

“Oh?” Interest clear in Ingo's tone. “And what would that be?”

“It's a surprise, I'm not telling you.” You gave him a conspiring smile.

“Hmph, now you just made me more curious.”

You laughed and said nothing as you gave up on the bakery, not feeling particularly hungry. The next store had tacky shirts and mugs on display, one of them making you snort as you read “Of course I love double battles, I'm bisexual”. You pointed it out to Ingo who took a second looking it over before barking out a laugh, getting some eyes on you for a few seconds before people quickly moved on with their business.

Something else caught your attention, a t-shirt with Pier’s logo hung next to others of similarly known artists.

“Hey Ingo, does Emmet have any Piers merch?” You squeezed his arm to make sure he was listening, a plan already forming in your mind.

“He has a simple t-shirt and an autographed poster, but I think that's it.” It sounded like Ingo was following your train of thought.

“What if I called Piers to meet up here after Delibird day? And maybe sending a signed official tour shirt too, if he still has one somewhere?”

“Sometimes I forget that you have some weird connections.” Your eyes met, you recognized the bewilderment in his face.

“Crazy shit always happens to me. And we send each other cute pokemon videos every now and then, his zigzagoons are adorable.”

Ingo shook his head, amused. He looked back at the bakery and pulled you along, but instead of walking inside, he stopped by the wall just at the end of the shop’s window, resting his back against it and pulling you in an embrace, arms around your neck. You snuggled closer as if it was second nature, your own arms around his waist, letting your head fall on his chest.

“I thought you wanted to get a few pastries.”

“I do… But it can wait a few moments, can't it? I… Missed you more than I can put into words, I missed your arms around me, your touch, your voice close instead of over a speaker.” He let out a sigh, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “You were not here, we could talk but not actually see each other, something was missing in the apartment, your music while you moved around the kitchen, your excited talks about the things you love…” He took another deep breath and brought you just a little bit closer. “I don't mean to be sappy, I'm sorry.”

“Never apologize for this.” Your voice was muffled by his shirt, you had to hide your face while he talked, embarrassed by how much those sweet words affected you. “You are extremely sweet and that's one of the many reasons why I love you so much. Don't apologize.”

Ingo's grumbling stomach interrupted the sweet moment, making you both chuckle.

“You did just come back from work, we should go inside and get something to eat.”

“I know but this is so nice, can't we stay here just a little bit longer?.”

“I do not want you passing out on me.” You pulled a bit back just to stare him down and poke at his chest in accusation.

“Dragons, why can't you just let me starve so I can hug you for a little bit longer?” He said dramatically, moving one of his arms to rest a hand on your chin, thumb caressing you softly.

You leaned into it with a laugh, meeting his eyes and resting your own hand over his.

“You're lucky that I love you.”

“I am.”

Your comment was meant to be playful but Ingo's reply made you soft. You moved closer and he did the same, lips meeting sweetly in the middle. For a few more moments you lost yourselves to the kiss, to the feeling of being close, to the warmth shared. Although it didn't last long, his stomach once again reminding you that he had not eaten in a while. You separated, smiling and giggling at each other. Your arm found his and once again you walked close, this time entering the shop while joking and poking fun at each other, your smile was a constant for the rest of the night.

[sotangledupinit]

Writing Patterns

I was tagged for this game by @jrob64 and it seems interesting! :D

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern. (With links to the stories on Ao3. All are also found on my writing tumblr @statustemporary)

Woooo!

Freed to Love (Collab fic with @jrob64 & @snowbellewells and the first sentence is actually my own haha!)

Early morning dew soaks through Emma’s boots to her stockings.

a work of art

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.

and we'll put on a show

When Pan’s curse was coming and Emma tapped into her deep well of highly untrained, incredibly powerful, and equally chaotic magic, she didn’t know what to expect.

running home to your sweet nothings

The castle walls suffocate her. 

a little bundle of icing

“And this Santa Claus… your world doesn’t consider him to be flagrant?”

run, run rogers

Hot water seared the skin on her hands.

Once Upon a Mamma Mia

“What if we did a joint party?”

free fallin'

“Are you absolutely certain you’re okay with this?” David asks one more time. 

just like a ghost whisperer

Packing tape smells horrendous. 

close your eyes, take a breath, and you're home

For being hell, the underworld, purgatory, or whatever his family wants to call it, the place is cold.

I feel like I either start a story with dialogue or a very short establishing sentence hahah. oh well, that's just my style!

Tagging @nachocheese-itsmycheese & @cosette141 & @exhaustedpirate

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Burning Desire;; BBH

Word Count;; ~.6k

Genre;; Yandere + Suggestive

Pairing;; Baekhyun x Reader

Summary;;

Baekhyun expects more from his trained doll and yet you're acting out, pushing his buttons and for what? To be reminded of how he shows his affection? He isn't the type to let blatant disrespect go unpunished.

Request;; 

an ask for the Drabble request Baekhyun + yandere + "bite your lip once more, I dare you" Thank you so much, I hope you have a great day 👉👈🥺

[Part of the Drabble Request Game]

Warnings;;

Yandere!!, swearing, suffocation, degradation, Reader is well trained and therefore a bit unstable!!, use of a belt, master kink??

Notes;;

Lowkey inspired by WriteForMeSinpie’s 2PM Jun.K fic Sapphire Heart!

My Networks;; @supermwritersnet​

Main Masterlist || EXO Masterlist

   His touch burns, leaving an imprint so strong he will forever be engraved in your memory. No matter how much time passes, you will always remember where his hands once lingered. Every bruise is a memento, every scar a testament to your dedication. Your faith in him grows as his hold tightens, your airway restricting under the pressure.

   "Do you take me for a fool, you little whore?"

   Unable to respond, you maintain his glare. Black spots flitter across your eyes. Heat pours south, passing through your core as your blood settles in your toes. You can't tell if it's desire or just the lack of proper oxygenation, your fingers now turning cold. Dizziness licks at the edges of your mind but you refuse to give in, unwilling to lose even a second's worth of his attention.

   There's hell in his eyes. It's the fuel that drives you. He lifts you a little higher until you stand on the tips of your toes. Pain wells in your neck and you relish in it. You're grateful for it. It reminds you that you're alive, and that is his gift to you.

   "Do you want to fuck him too, baby? Am I not enough for you?"

   Baekhyun is all you'll ever need. This you've come to understand. It frustrates you that he thinks otherwise but the promise of a punishment also excites you. These days your skin isn't a mosaic. No longer are you a portrait of his greatest handiwork, the truest piece of art crafted beneath his steady hand. There's no denying that it makes you feel a bit neglected, like he's grown bored of you.

   "Bite your lip once more, I dare you."

   And so you do.

   The movement is brief, almost imperceptible given how little energy you have left. You can barely keep your eyes open let alone make a show of your disobedience. All that matters, however, is that he sees it.

   You're about to pass out when he lets go of you. Air rushes into your lungs through choked gasps and you collapse with relief. Not in control of yourself, you shake, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. There's a part of you that is screaming, terrified of the man before you, but another part of you wishes he hadn't let you go. The fire of his touch is gone and all that is left is a chill that seeps deep down to the bone.

   If he walks away now, you don't know what you'll do.

   There's no you without him.

   You're nothing unless you're his.

   "If you're gonna wallow on the floor like a mutt, I'm going to treat you like one."

   Hope sparks in your gut. Looking up at him with blurry eyes, you hear the clink of his belt before you recognise the movement. He takes his time, unbuckling and whipping the leather free at his own pace, feeding the tension clenching at your palpitating heart. You're torn between punishment and pleasure, unsure if you should prepare for his ecstatic wrath or sit still and pretty like a doll while he uses your mouth as he sees fit.

   "For fuck's sake," he groans, irritation deep in his voice as he slaps you across the face with the tip of the belt. It stings and you whimper, not in pain but appreciation. His presence gives you purpose and his strikes brand you as his. Each infliction sears onto your soul, reminding you that, in this very moment, you are alive. "You really are some kind of stupid. What would you be without your master, baby?"

   You want to tell him, to please him with your deference, but the words are stolen from you by the belt tightening around your throat. It constricts when he pulls on it like a leash, commanding you with force. Holding back a gag, you still yourself. If you struggle, it will only be worse.

   "Now do what you were born to do, slut, and open your mouth."

  – ♡ –  If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

[simon-egg]

Benthan Week Day 1 - Hurt/ comfort

Title: Digging In

1873 words fic with art. TW for blood, torture and injury. Physical hurt followed by comfort with a happy ending. Benji is taken and physically tortured in an unusal way.

~○~

Benji lurched forward as something connected with his torso followed by another sudden movement which caused pain to shoot up his side. His eyes snapped open.

“Get up.” Spat a voice from above.

The agent realised he was on a cold, hard floor in a dimly lit space. His chest was bare and he shivered with short gasps. With no recollection of how he got there and a dizzying feeling, he realised he had been drugged. The last thing he remembered was driving home after a long day writing up mission reports which could have been minutes or hours ago. Before his mind was clear enough to fully assess the situation he was in, he was roughly dragged to his feet. Whatever drug they had given Benji had sapped his energy and he sagged, unable to control or defend himself. Benji registered one person holding him firmly upright while another, a man with thick clothes and gloves, began to unwind a roll of barbed wire. Without hesitation, one of Benji's arms was pulled forward and the wire was pulled over his palm and roughly bent around his wrist. The barbs began slicing into his skin and Benji let out a shout of agony to which seemed to spur his captors on. Over and over again, the wire was roughly twisted around his arm at various angles, each coil bringing more barbs puncturing his skin. Grimly, Benji noted that the drug which kept him from fighting back did nothing to stop the pain. As soon as Benji thought the pain was growing too much to bear, the wire was looped through a ring bolted to the ceiling and his other arm was subjected to the same torture. This left him standing upright with his arms trapped above his head. By now whatever drug he was given had worn off enough that he could hold himself up straight. The two men stepped back and in front of Benji, seeming to gleefully eye up the state that they'd put him in.

Benji recognised the men as members of the Apostles who had not yet been tracked down. The one who had used the wire began to speak.

“You're going to die here.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Whether it takes hours or days, it doesn't matter. Just know that all you'll know until you die is pain-“

Benji tried to kick at the men which only caused himself more pain. “Why would you do this?” he choked out.

“You and your friend, Ethan, shouldn’t have tried to stop us. We may not have been able to cause mass suffering but If Ethan finds you strung up here, dead, knowing there will have been nothing he could have done to save his precious friend. That. That is enough for us now.”

Before Benji could think of a reply, the men turned and left.

He could smell his own blood which coated his arms and dripped down past his elbows, some splashed onto his chest and further to the floor with a barely audible wet sound. As time passed, his vision adjusted and he understood from the corrugated iron walls that he was in an old, rusting shipping container but with little light and no windows, he had no idea where he was or how long he had been there. All the while, the barbs caused searing pain and his muscles began to ache as he was forced to hold himself in position.

Light coming through cracks in the door and walls had brightened gradually, indicating to Benji that the sun was rising outside of the box. Some of his blood had dried to a brownish crust while fresh blood occasionally oozed. Hours continued to pass and the only thing keeping Benji from giving up completely was the hope that Ethan might find him. He had to try and stay alive because his captors were right; the thought of Ethan finding him strung up and dead was almost worse than the physical pain he was in. It was peculiar to Benji how those around him, even those he fought against seemed to immediately pick up on the bond between him and Ethan but then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd after all. They had so much faith in one another, kindness, loyalty and shared experiences that Benji found himself growing ever closer to the other agent. In fact, the feelings he had for Ethan had begun to develop past friendship after Kashmir and into something else. Benji made a promise to himself that if by some impossible miracle he was to get out alive, he would tell Ethan how he felt. With his eyes screwed shut against the pain, Benji found comfort in picturing Ethan talking to him, reassuring him, laughing at his jokes and smiling with that kind old smile that he might never see again.

The cruellest part of this torture, Benji came to realise was that despite the exhaustion, blood loss and agony which coaxed him to pass out, he simply could not allow himself to move or relax. He knew that doing so would make the barbs to twist deeper into his flesh. For now, he noted that no barbs were deep enough to hit any major blood vessels or the blood loss would have killed him by now. Despite this, he was still loosing blood and Benji began doubting that he could stay awake and tears began to sting, threatening to spill. Maybe he should give in, even if he died there, at least the dead don’t feel pain.

Benji was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping against metal as the door was forced open and light flooded into the container.

“Benji…” Ethan’s voice echoed.

Ethan rushed closer but Benji didn't move, too physically and mentally drained to respond. He simply stared down with dull and unfocused eyes. Ethan’s gaze flicked over Benji's form, horrified at the situation Benji was in. A gentle hand was on Benji's face, and Ethan's thumb caressed his cheek.

Softly, Ethan whispered "Look at me" and after a few seconds, Benji's eyes flicked up to meet Ethan's.

“i'm so, so sorry Benji...” Ethan felt a rush of anger. He wanted to cry but he had to hold himself together for Benji. He was lucky to have found Benji alive. The two Apostles who took Benji did not anticipate just how determined and fast Ethan would be with the help of Luther who had tracked Benji's location by hacking security cameras. Luther was waiting nearby in a van.

"I can't remove the wire from your arms, it could cause more damage but I promise you, this will be over soon. I'm taking you home"

Benji was too weak to hold himself up and Ethan knew that if he simply cut Benji free, he could collapse and cause more injury. Ethan also understood that removing the barbs there and then would only cause more pain and bleeding too.

He used his left hand to steady one of Benji's arms in place above his head, careful to avoid pressure on the wire, then used a pair of cutters with his right to cut through the wire that held Benji's arm up. Ethan then slowly lowered that arm to Benji's side. He did the same to the other arm then awkwardly shuffled closer to Benji's side and manoeuvred an upper arm to rest across his neck, attempting to steady him. After failing to shuffle forwards holding Benji up like this, it became evident that Benji did not possess the strength to walk at all and Ethan didn’t want to put any pressure on his arms.

“I- I can’t, Ethan, I just-“ Benji coughed out.

“It’s okay, I’ll carry you” and Ethan resorted to gathering Benji up and carrying him out. Benji noticed the bodies of the two apostles outside and the last coherent thought he had before he passed out was thinking of how warm Ethan's arms were.

~

Benji woke up again to find himself in the back of a van. Pain continued to flare up his arms and he groaned, his chest throbbed and his head pounded. A reassuring hand stroked through his hair and realised his head was in Ethan’s lap.

“i've got you, you're going to be okay" murmured his friend. One of Ethan’s jackets had been draped over Benji's upper body to try and keep him warm for the journey and a quick glance up he could tell Luther was driving. “We’re not far from a hospital now, you’re going to be just fine.”

Luther had called ahead to notify the hospital and upon arrival they were met by a team of paramedics. Benji was taken inside and immediately given some strong pain killers along with fluids. The rest of the day passed in a haze, scans were taken of the tech’s arms to determine how close any barbs were to blood vessels, tendons and nerves. Then, Benji was sedated and the painstaking process of removing the wire began.

~

The next time Benji awoke he was relived to find that the wire had been removed from his arms and hands which were mostly covered in bandages. The painkillers had worked their magic and he mostly just felt subdued and so, so exhausted.

“I’d hold your hand if I could” Ethan murmured, catching Benji’s attention. The older agent sat in a chair next to the bed and Benji could have sworn he looked like he had been crying. The comment and Ethan’s expression caught Benji off guard and he briefly wondered if he had imagined it.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan paused, contemplating what to say. “I’ve just… come to realise how much you mean to me, I care about you so much, more than you know and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realise and tell you that. I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

Before Ethan could continue, Benji quietly interjected “Thinking of you while I was in that place kept me going, kept me from giving up, so yes, yes I feel the same.”

“Are you sure?”

Benji perked up slightly “of course, I’m bloody sure!" He chuckled "I love you Ethan Hunt and can not be more relived that you feel the same!”

Ethan beamed and moved closer to the bed, then pressed his lips to Benji’s gently, a sweet kiss that Benji smiled into and a promise of many more in their future.

When Ethan pulled back he spoke again, “I was thinking, if you’d let me, once you are discharged from here, can I come back with you? To your place? You won’t be able to do much without full use of both arms for a while and I want to help you. I want to be there for you and if I’m with you I’ll be able to make sure you’re safe. Not that you’re not capable of looking after yourself I just-, while you recover which I know will take some time, both physically and mentally”

Benji grinned, feeling a wave of affection for Ethan “of course, I’d love to have your company… and maybe you could stick around with me after I’m mostly healed?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

[saturdaysky]

Hello hello, would you tell me more about the Simple Stress Relief WIP? It sounds exactly like my cup of tea :D

(from the ask me about my WIPs meme)

But of course! It may very much be your cup of tea. :)

This WIP began as part of a tiny Valentine’s Day fic & art exchange on discord, and sort of took off from there. Here’s the summary:

The first day of the Aeor expedition goes horribly, and Essek cannot sleep. It’s a good thing, then, that Caleb knocks on his door late at night with an offer: no words. No complicated conversations. Just some simple stress relief.

If only things were simple between them.

Basically, Essek and Caleb have a one night stand in an attempt to Not Think About Things. Naturally, this is an excellent idea that doesn’t have any messy emotional repercussions in the morning.

In addition to writing what I hope are some hot hot scenes, I took the chance to explore a few things I’m interested in:

Essek’s anxiety, made worse by the shitshow of adventuring

Essek’s dedication to making sure the Nein live, at cost to himself

The weight of being trusted with someone’s safety

I reread this WIP and there are parts of it I really like! I hope to finish it sometime. As such, I shall post part of two scenes. They’re long because I’m proud of this and want to share. The shadowgast one is under the cut.

CW for: descriptions of anxiety, injury, blood, canon-typical violence (all this content is also under the cut)

Essek vs an adventuring-induced nervous breakdown:

The fire is low. It’s such a silly thing to worry about, Essek knows, but a chill has crept into the room. It curls in the corners like one of the Tower cats, and twines about Essek in a persistent and annoying fashion. 

He rises and turns the logs with the pretty bronze stoker Caleb had provided as part of the suite. It does little to alter the fire; some effect of magery, he muses idly. Then he settles back in at the gorgeous, thoughtful Vermaloc-wood desk he can’t appreciate right now, and resumes his preparations. Caduceus had given him tea earlier, and the homely cup pins down the corner of Essek’s notes.

(“You look like you could use a bit of soothing,” the firbolg had said, pressing a cup into Essek’s hands. “The Savalas were always good for that, very kind folks.” Essek had not even tried to comprehend the link between the two statements, merely thanked him and left.)

The brew had been good for his nerves when he’d remembered to drink it. Unfortunately, the chill has stolen this too, and the tea has long since gone unpleasantly cold.

He moves to replace the chipped cup on its saucer and stares blankly at his notes on hazards encountered on the first day of the Nein’s expedition into Aeor.

The day was… long. But they have all made it in one piece, so Essek has done his job, if he can only make his body believe it. Energy still thrums in his veins, and every sound, every quiet soothing whisper the Tower makes sets his teeth on edge. His shoulder aches, too, a distant pain he does his best to ignore.

There’s no threat here, in Caleb’s wonderful spell. It’s safe. Very few things can penetrate a well-hidden Mansion, and the Nein are comfortable, so Essek should be as well.

But.

But.

It has been only one day in the shattered city and his friends have skirted death a dozen times. It is difficult, he finds, to chase away the images of blood pooling in broken Aeorian cobblestones. Impossible to unhear the Nein's anguished yells or the soft oh Veth let out when a hidden ward impaled her before Essek’s eyes.

He does not know how to forget the heat of arterial blood as it seeps through his clamped fingers, nor the terrible speed at which it escapes the body of a friend. The phantom warmth of it still courses over his skin when his thoughts wander from his notes, like it has carved a channel in his mind and is flowing still.

It’s not. They’d all made it out, like they always do. But it is worse than he’d ever imagined, to adventure with the Nein. It’s terrifying.

The teacup rattles in its setting. Essek unclenches frozen fingers and lets it go, then presses his face into his hands, as if a barrier of bone and flesh could stop the images from painting themselves across his eyelids when he blinks.

Tomorrow will be better, he hopes. He has twelve and a half double-sided pages of notes on the dangers encountered, with proposed methods of avoidance and disposal. He has fixed them in his mind. Now he needs to rest so he can cast, but if the shocky pulses of adrenaline that hit him with each wayward memory of the day are anything to go by, rest will be elusive.

Well, when the mind is unwilling, the body must make do; he will have to wait for exhaustion to take him, and hope it is enough. He settles himself on the bed — thoughtfully equipped with both a padded incline for trancing and covers for sleeping — and breathes, and waits, and grows cooler by the minute.

It is paradoxically easier to ignore the images if he leans into them, he learns. Veth’s blood, hot and bright. The snick of the ward, which he will remember forever, just as he will the acrid smell of the ward-spell. Pain — an impact, nauseating but unimportant. Heartbreak and terror, on the faces of the Nein.

If he wears these sensations into his mind, the edges of them will fray and become familiar. A steady horror is better than an unsteady drumbeat of shock, at least for resting.

Time passes. Memory frays. And then, there’s a knock at the door.

Caleb proposes a one-night stand:

"I cannot sleep either," Caleb eventually murmurs into the silence. Essek considers what to do with the statement, and then Caleb adds, “But maybe we can help each other.”

He raises his head just enough to look at Essek from beneath his lashes, then leans forward and reaches out a hand slowly, pausing just before touching Essek's cheek. Essek can feel the slight heat of Caleb's skin in the air, and his throat goes dry.

Whatever Caleb wants is going to hurt, he thinks, and it's going to work because Essek is weak.

Caleb’s hand trembles. "You are right, you know. I did not knock on your bedchamber to talk. There is... much between us that requires words, but- This. This could be simple, for now. Tonight, it could just be us. There are many ways to forget."

Caleb is looking at him desperately, hungrily, from beneath those lashes and his regard sears through Essek, knocking the air out of him.

But the feeling sours in his stomach. He is done with that whole game. He lost it, utterly, and couldn’t see it until he’d traded away any chance at winning. Now, his remaining life can be counted in months, if not days. Now, thousands have died for Essek’s fruitless curiosity. Now, nothing is simple between himself and Caleb.

Oh. Perhaps Essek will get what he wants after all. It could be simple. He has done simple before: the garnering of a favor in exchange for his nights. It had been easy enough, sometimes pleasant, and had mostly provided useful leverage in gaining power to pursue his goals.

Tonight, something in him craves the simplicity on offer, of losing one's self entirely in the physical. It thrills him in a way it has not before.

"Caleb,” he says in a voice that is less steady than he’d like, “We both know you do not trust me, so why are you offering this?"

Caleb’s eyes take him in, inch-by-slow-inch. His palm settles on Essek's cheek. 

Caleb swallows audibly, and he looks over Essek with naked heat in his eyes. All at once, Essek becomes intensely aware that he’s wearing nothing but an open shell of his robes over a close-fitting black underlayer. There's a lot to see, if one was looking.

Desire hits Essek so strongly he's dizzy with it.

He wants this. He wants to push out the horrible memories of the day and replace them with Caleb’s callused hand sliding under his shirt and holding him close. He wants to hear Caleb’s beautiful voice roughen as they take each other apart, and then he wants to kiss that clever mouth so deeply that Caleb forgets his troubles and thinks only of Essek and pleasure and safety and hope, like those are things Essek could give him.

Caleb drags his gaze back up to meet Essek’s. His hand is distractingly warm. "We don't need trust for this," he says. 

It’s what Essek was expecting, but it stings anyway.

[fullmetalscullyy]

a moment of repose

summary: riza wakes to a light weight covering her shoulders, but the feeling of it doesn’t completely register with her right away. it’s warm and holds a distinctly familiar smell but she cannot place it while still half asleep. the comfort it brings is almost enough to lull her back to sleep, but something within her is fighting the urge. [inspired by fanart]

an: this fic was inspired by the wonderful @mienaime‘s art, which you can find on tumblr and twitter

rating: g | words: 2207 | tags: royai, inspired by fanart, fluff, thoughtful gestures

read on ao3

Roy feels ready to fall asleep at his desk as he approaches the double doors to his office. The hot coffee cup in his hand is the only thing keeping his eyes open. He’s conscious of not spilling it as he walks and the heat bleeds through the supposedly heatproof cardboard holder, searing his fingertips. Every so often on the walk back he had to switch hands to stave off the pain. Roy had even glared at the cardboard once or twice, grumbling about false advertising as he switched for the umpteenth time.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s slept in the office, but he can’t. He’s stayed back with the Lieutenant to finish up some loose ends from the week, so he really needs to buckle down and get to work. He also couldn’t do that to her. Not only because they were working overtime and he’s not that much of an asshole, but also because, unfortunately, they’d somehow uncovered even more work to do while finishing things up, so they were due in for a long night. Hence the late-night coffee run.

The Lieutenant had declined his caffeine offer, opting to remain in the office and continue working. So, Roy had rushed across the street from Central Command and picked up a coffee for himself and a pastry for her. She may not want to eat it tonight, but it would keep until tomorrow, the shop owner assured him. It would be a small surprise and gesture of thanks at least. Far less than what she deserves, but all he can give tonight.

Regardless of their long day, the evening is not all bad, Roy muses as he pulls down the door handle outside the office, because he gets to spend some time with her.

Once inside the office, Roy freezes. He blinks at the sight before him, seeing the Lieutenant’s head down on her desk. Immediately he thinks something is wrong, but the spark of panic isn’t given a chance to form fully. He can see her face and takes note of how relaxed her expression is. He can also see the gentle rise and fall of her back as she breathes evenly. One hand is tucked underneath her cheek, lying flat on the desk, while her other arm is a pillow for her head.

Roy blinks.

She’s asleep.

He blinks again because he can’t quite comprehend the fact.

The sudden burning heat from his coffee makes him hiss in annoyed pain and it jerks him out of his shock. He switches hands immediately.

Once the surprise has worn off a fond smile tugs Roy’s lips upwards because he can’t help but think about how peaceful – and beautiful – she looks. She’s completely at rest and without any worry or stress.

He turns quickly and locks the office door. No one should be making the rounds at this hour, however he knows that if they caught the Lieutenant asleep, not only would she be mortified and be wracked with shame and guilt for succumbing to her exhaustion in the first place, but there would be disciplinary action as well.

Roy contemplates waking her. He knows he should and knows she would want him to do so as well, but he doesn’t have it in him. It’s been an arduous week for all of the team, but especially for the two of them. Their hours have been long, with little time for breaks, and their sleep has been cut short because they needed to return to the office early to make their way through the workload. This is the last night of it all – tomorrow they are free – and, Roy supposes, there is only a small bit of work left to do. He can take over the reins for a while and let her sleep.

Riza Hawkeye simply does not fall asleep at work or at her desk, so she must need the extra rest.

He can give her that for a while. She deserves it more than anyone.

His feet carry him over to her desk, to the side of her chair, and Roy can’t help but smile again as he sets his eyes upon her features, so serene and relaxed. Roy places his coffee and the paper bag with her pastry down atop her desk. He gives in to the urge to reach out to her, placing his hand atop hers. It’s tucked underneath her cheek, so his knuckles brush against the soft skin of her face. The Lieutenant stirs slightly at the contact but doesn’t awaken. Her skin is warm to the touch because of her breath and the heat from her face. Like a welcoming fire on a long, cold night, warming his soul with its presence.

Leaning over, Roy presses a kiss against the side of her head.

“Sleep well, Riza,” he breathes. His lips move against her hair, and it tickles his skin as he catches a waft of her shampoo. It’s the one he remembers, and the one she’s used for years. It is so quintessentially her, that it makes him grin like a fool when he recognises it.

Riza sighs gently in her sleep.

Chancing his luck even further, Roy presses another kiss, but against her cheek this time. When he pulls away, he regretfully removes his hand from atop hers, but then starts unbuttoning his jacket. Once he’s shrugged it off, Roy drapes it over her shoulders, ensuring it’s tucked in securely, so it won’t slip away from her.

He walks over to his own desk with his coffee, leaving the pastry be, and settles in to get to work. The brief moment of affection has invigorated him, for if he works quickly, he can hopefully finish the work before she wakes up. It would spare her from needing to do more work when she clearly needs to rest instead.

Roy takes a sip of his coffee and puts pen to paper, determined and motivated to work.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Riza wakes to a light weight covering her shoulders, but the feeling of it doesn’t completely register with her right away. It’s warm and holds a distinctly familiar smell but she cannot place it while still half asleep. The comfort it brings is almost enough to lull her back to sleep, but something within her is fighting the urge. Her eyelids are heavy with fatigue when she blinks them open, but eventually they manage to pry themselves apart and she comes face to face with a… desk?

Her body jerks upright. In the chair her spine is ramrod straight and a cold sweat breaks across her skin. It has nothing to do with her lingering cold from earlier on in the week, it’s because she realises she’s fallen asleep at her desk. At work.

Panic flies through her and adrenaline courses through her veins, banishing any lingering tiredness immediately. She’s completely alert and awake.

That was also the moment she finally registered the weight on her shoulders. It had slipped off her body when she lurched upright, sliding down her back and pooling in a heap at the back of her chair. Before she can get her bearings properly and look down to see what it is, someone speaks.

“Lieutenant,” a voice greets cordially, as if nothing is amiss.

Her head snaps around to find the Colonel sitting at his desk in just his shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brow is furrowed as he almost glares at the document within his hands. She fears it’s because of her misconduct, however when he glances up expectantly to await her answer, his expression relaxes, and he smiles.

“Did you rest well?” His question is spoken quietly, but it is not mocking, sarcastic, or displeased. He’s completely genuine.

The skin of her face heats up with shame. Before she can open her mouth to apologise profusely, the Colonel holds up his hand to halt her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her. “No harm, no foul.”

“Sir, I am so sorry for falling asleep at my post.”

“Lieutenant, it’s fine,” he replies softly with a gentle smile. “I figured you could use the rest,” he shrugs casually and goes back to his work. “I know I desperately want to do the same, so I don’t blame you,” he chuckles, and Riza realises he’s not lying. She can see the fatigue on his face, around his eyes. Like her, there were dark circles underneath them.

That not the point though, and she tells him as much.

“Either way, the work is… done!” With a flourish he finishes his signature and tosses the pen down on the desk in triumph, looking extremely proud of himself. “I was hoping to get it completed before you… woke up.” He lowers his voice tactfully at the end of his sentence, and she appreciates that.

What if someone had walked in while you were asleep?

Riza internally berates herself again.

While the Colonel stretches in his chair, Riza straightens her uniform. Out the corner of her eye she sees a white paper bag sitting on top of her desk and she frowns at it. Before she can comment, the back of her hand brushes against something. She sees a sleeve of their standard issue jacket lying haphazardly across her lap, and Riza remembers the weight that had been on her shoulders when she awoke.

Riza blinks down at it.

“Is it all right if I take my jacket back?” The Colonel is before her suddenly, speaking in a gentle voice as a smile teases the corners of his lips. His hand is held out, patiently awaiting her to return his item of clothing.

Nodding, Riza reaches around and hands it back. She averts her eyes before standing from her chair to pack up her things.

It’s not lost on her that he covered her with his own jacket while she slept. It was very sweet of him but is something she’ll probably be better mulling over once she’s in the privacy of her own home and away from the source of her embarrassment and disappointment. She shelves it for later, deeply appreciating his gesture, but honestly just wants out of the office as fast as possible, if she can.

“Here.” In his hands, held out towards her, is the paper bag that had been on her desk. “I picked it up for you when I ran out to get some coffee. If you don’t want to eat it tonight, the shop owner said it will keep until tomorrow,” the Colonel explains as he shrugs his jacket on his shoulders.

Peeking inside, Riza is curious.

He’d bought her a pastry.

She doesn’t know what to say. First the jacket, now this.

“Sir…”

“Call it a thank you gift for all your hard work,” he grins. “I only wish I could offer you more.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Sir, this is more than enough. That was very kind of you. Thank you.” She’s completely touched by what he’s done for her. She’d make sure to repay the stolen work time back later, as well as pay the Colonel back as well. It was the least she could do.

“You’re welcome,” he nods happily. “Would you like a lift home?”

It wouldn’t be responsible for her to get behind the wheel. The adrenaline that had been raging through her veins upon the realisation she’d fallen asleep at work had dwindled, leaving her with the same fatigue she’d felt all week due to the workload and her recovering from a bothersome cold. The same fatigue that had betrayed her that evening.

“Thank you, sir,” she agrees.

His grin makes her stomach do a small, pleasant flip.

She reaches for the door and finds it locked. Confused, she turns to see the Colonel pulling a key out of his pocket.

“I took some precautionary measures,” he answers her unspoken question. “And it was also to ensure you would remain undisturbed.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he replies as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, that he would do such a thing for her.

But, Riza supposes, it really is for Roy. He would absolutely do something like that for her.

A warm feeling coils inside her stomach and slowly spreads, climbing up her ribcage and settling gently and comfortably around her heart. It causes a smile to spread across her face as she stares back at him, once again, extremely grateful of his thoughtfulness.

In response, the Colonel's expression softens, and he returns her smile. “Anything for you, Lieutenant,” he murmurs quietly before opening the door and offering her to step through first. “You know that,” he adds, his voice stronger as she walks passed him. “Plus, how many times have you covered for me when I sneak a few minutes of rest,” he winks. “It’s about time I repaid the favour,” he snorts as they step outside.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re purposefully going to continue that habit,” she frowns, then lifts an eyebrow in warning.

He just laughs, and Riza thinks, dryly, that she doesn’t like the sound of that laugh. But the sound of it still makes her smile regardless, like always.

[gravity-lifts]

Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang) 

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and  @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!! 

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last. 

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head. 

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt. 

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold. 

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery. 

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this. 

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here. 

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄

                                                (  ~ Shinsou Hitoshi x Gender Neutral                                                               Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Fluffy Angst!                                                                

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: This one is full of HELLA violence and angst. Talks of blood, suicide (briefly), etc is portrayed in this fic, even suggested drug abuse. There’s also curse words here. Shinso and Reader are aged up to 18. Class 1A and General Studies are mentioned a lot but they’re all 3rd years in this fic, I’m just going by Shinso and Reader only knowing the Class 1A kids strictly BECAUSE they were in the hero course. I’m gonna start clarifying that because, even though these students are generally in my age group, I still don’t want the image of these teenagers going through sexual encounters or heavy stuff like this being broadcasted. At least not from MY platform, whatever platform it may be.

SUMMARY: After a big villain/ hero battle, you and Shinso were the only heroes on the scene forced to flee, the villains having surrendered. You were teetering in and out of consciousness. The villains that were antagonizing you got into your head and you’d pushed those thoughts off to the side until they came back one night a week and a half later...

WORD COUNT: 4498

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

  “HITOSHI!” You screamed out his name as you were becoming surrounded more and more, the villains sneering at you as more came from around the way, your quirk not strong enough to keep them at bay. Not by yourself at least. You took a side glance and noticed that your partner was having troubles too, knowing that he’d be having issues as well as his quirk was even more ineffective in this situation than yours. You were staring at him, watching him get beat up, but as you were about to move you were greeted by a swift kick to the stomach. Grimacing, you shuddered and shakily tried to move towards your boyfriend, feeling your hair getting tugged roughly, yanking you back into place as blood dared to trace your bottom lip. You looked over with glassy eyes as one of the villains came forth from a thick mob of their cohorts.

    “Mmm… Pitiful, weak hero. Calling for someone who isn’t willing to answer. You know…. Hero society is so damn corrupt…” The menace that’d been tugging your hair twisted their hand, wrapping your locks around his fingers causing you to cry out. You tried to reach behind you and you finally let the tears that were in your eyes fall. “L-Let me g-“ you were interrupted by a cold clock jab in your already bruised face, knocking you out.

   Just then you jolted awake, gasping for air that didn’t want to come down, trembling, your face already soaked with tears, meanwhile outside there was a harsh storm brewing up, the wind whipping through the tree’s leaves and branches. You shrieked quietly as you heard something outside break and you whimpered softly, looking down and seeing that your love, Shinso Hitoshi, wasn’t next to you anymore. Where could he have gone at this hour? Especially in this storm? It was 3:30 in the AM, and you shook your head trying to comfort yourself.

    “I-It’s just a nightmare…” You felt your clammy sweat sheening your forehead, only illuminated by the occasional lightning that cut across the sky.

     “For fucks sake…” You tangle your fingers in your hair and crush your head between your knees, screeching as a loud thunder clap knocked on the roof of the house, everything shaking and photos even falling off of the wall. You feel your chest get tight, your palms moist with sweat from having your hands balled up, more tears non consensually running down your face, searing into your skin as your flashback prevailed.

    “What a worthless weakling like you. A hero that can’t save anyone much less yourself… Hah.. Funny. ‘Hero’ scum…” The villain smirked as they leaned in closer and examined your face. “And stupid too.. Why are the two of you fighting for a system that hates you?” They scoff as they cross their arms, dragging the tip of their knife over the underside of their chin. “You, me, and that purple haired fellow… We’re not so different y’know.”

   “I-I’ll NEVER be like you! You have n-no p-power over me!” 

   The villain smirked once more and clicked their tongue. “Hmm…. Are you sure about that? Any of it?”

  Damnit. They’d noticed and picked up on the uncertainty in your voice and now they’re using it against you, maybe. The heroes love you, right? They supported you… Right? The heroes are… Fair for everyone… R..Right?

  You slap your head trying to bring yourself back to reality and then the villain’s words had branded their spot into your brain rent free, your breathing shaky, your lips trembling, your eyes darting around the room.

    “I’m just like you… My quirk so… Useless that it might as well be like I don’t have one in the first place. Huh… I’m just somebody that the heroes cast aside because I couldn’t be of use. I used to be in the hero course too, yknow. What they don’t tell you is, ‘if you don’t have use; not conventionally attractive, no flashy quirk, and not a money maker, then nobody loves you, and they’ll throw ya out’.. Just like they did to me. Like that damn All Might. And he’s supposed to be a teacher for you guys- what a joke. I mean look at me! My tooth is all chipped… My hair is super short… My hands and face tainted with scars… You’re one of the pretty ones… And he’s not half bad looking either… Though he could do with more sleep. While I’m at it, you could to..” The villain stroked over your cheek and  you flinch, finally letting tears fall, your nose burning as you held back and tried to hold out for back up that’d never come to your aid. “Shinso over there deserves a spot in the hero course- More than about three of those damn pesky hero wannabes- and that’s just off the top of my head,” The villain continued to press on. “… So tell me why exactly you’re both in general studies or whatever?”

   As much as you didn’t want to believe it, it was the truth. Did it irk you so much because those words that you heard your late parents utter come from a villain’s lips? Why did you feel so much about it? Why did you feel so much for the villain? Why the FUCK should you care?… But also, what’s with the hesitation? They’re the enemy! They tried to kill you at the end of the day…. And you know that they damn well easily could… But they didn’t.

You threw the covers off of you and you shook your head quickly.

    “NO! No no no no!!!! Get out of my head!” You hit your head against the mattress, your body aching and coated in lazily wrapped up bruises, cuts, scars and slashes that’d scabbed over and opened back up, the blood searing your skin-or so it felt like- as it slid down from your injury. You suddenly remembered where Shinso went- out to get a medicinal refill. One for your pain and another for these harsh flashbacks. You tried to relax, sliding out of the bed, the thunder rumbling making you way more jumpy than usual. You made it to the bathroom and locked yourself inside, pressing your back against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the ground, hugging your knees, crying in the darkness, your eyes narrowed out in rage as you relived the scene, the villain now jeering at you as you squirm helplessly within their henchman’s grasp.

    “O-Of course I’m sure…” But were you really? You winced as you felt the villain closing in, smirking, his lips practically touching your ear, his hands on your hips… Protectively? You try and kick away and you’re roughly pushed against a broken building on fire. They smirk as you squeak, trying your hardest to push them off of you but you can’t muster up the strength from your broken body and you end up a mass of tears. How the fuck did you even manage to escape the henchmen and fight them off long enough? You might as well have stayed held up… You cornered yourself. Freedom short lived but also at the hand of Shinso’s safety.

    “If only I was smarter… He would be able to fight off longer…”

       “Aw, honey. What are you so scared of,” they teased and taunted, wiping your tears gently. You tried to think… What WERE you afraid of? You assumed already that becoming a hero wouldn’t be an easy or particularly safe job, you knew what you wanted- to save people. Were you scared that suddenly you were powerless against a pretty powerless villain? Or that none of the bigger heroes had came to your aide? Or… Maybe it was what the villain said was true and you didn’t want to accept it. Maybe it was because you didn’t have much power, and because of that, the death toll of surrounding civilians continued to climb higher. Maybe it was the fact that finally you might be dying. Maybe you were scared for Shinso? But… He was still fighting. Why couldn’t you? Your face overcame a weak shade of red as you heard the villain snicker in your ear, their breath tickling at your ear lobe. You flinch and try and push away, a sharp shard of debris from the broken building plunging into your skin and muscles, narrowly missing your spine. You wince and yell out loudly, wondering how long you could keep going, your knees weak, hero costume torn and tattered, your knees giving out as you lean against the enemy for support wondering when your fucking support was gonna come. It’d been HOURS and you and Shinso have been holding your own both of you wishing you could’ve ended the fighting sooner, but physically unable to.

    “I guess… In the end, they were right. I DO indeed make a much better villain… These people.. They give me everything I could have ever asked for… A home. Acceptance.. But you fucking assholes… You’re trying to take that from me! WE DON’T NEED MONEY OR ANYTHING FLASHY TO SUCCEED! I’m sick of the world only saving certain people. That’s why we do what we do… SO the world can save everyone… But you motherfuckers don’t see it.. You’re trying to destroy it… And guess what? I have backup and you don’t. OUR family is more loyal than yours… You know they can all see you right? You’re the face of everyone’s screens… You’re on the heroes’s radar. But they don’t give a DAMN. You’re. Not. Them. Now.. Enough of that. I asked you a question. Be a good little hero and answer it or I’ll just have to kill you,” they shrugged, unsheathing a beautiful blade with vines engraved so neatly, the shine reflecting orange and yellow on your skin. They started dragging the tip up your arms. “Was it what I said? Are you realizing that it’s the truth,” they hissed in your ear.

    “Mmm.. Cmon… Speak up. I can’t hear you.. But before you lie to me��� Look around. Where’s that beloved All Might of yours? Where’s Endeavor? Or Ecto, or Orca? Eraserhead? Your own teacher?! Nowhere. Just you and Shinso. How the hell are you two supposed to defend against all of us? They sent you out to die. They know where you both are but they aren’t here. Huh. And yet-“

    “SHUT UP,” you cried out, wiggling against your restraints trying to push those thoughts to the side. “Fuck fuck fuck… Please… Please shut up!” They ran their fingers through your hair, leering over you as they admired the beautiful tears that fell from your face at first from being scared and then next from realization. “Oh sweetheart~ You say I have no power over you, just you wait,” they winked and they backed away dropping their weapon and ogling you. “I’ll just help you out. We ALL surrender,” he retreated, yawning, the spotlights falling over you and a beat up Hitoshi, panting and bleeding though you were more broken, the villains surrounding the both of you receding into one clump. Your knees gave out and you dropped to the ground having no crutch, the villain antagonizing you having fell back. You were falling unconscious practically, your eyes fluttering and unresponsive. 

   “(Y/N!)” You heard Shinso’s smooth voice barely before you tried to answer with a small grunt. You felt new warmth taking over as he dropped next to you, brushing your tattered hair out of your face, his eyes wide with rage and worry. “(Y/N), answer me,” he said softly, cradling your head against his chest.

    “Y-Yeah..” You managed a small response, your mind instantly becoming foggy and your body warm as he activated his quirk, his voice chiming quietly in your head.

    “Just stay with me, baby. We’ll get you to the doctors… Rest…” And that’s all you heard before you’d slipped, your body tingling from the blood  loss. 

   You were ripped from this flashback and you were cradling yourself, trembling on the cold tiled floor of your bathroom waiting for Shinso to come back, knowing that you couldn’t take much more of this.

    “They were right,” you whispered quietly. You went to talk to All Might about what happened, asking to seek counseling and help because of these severe PTSD episodes and he simply brushed you off with, “All heroes are expected to perform at top! Meds and further counseling could be damaging to your performance,” and Endeavor pretty much told you to get over it. You remembered how all of the villains had back up and they even seemed to have your back too. They knew that they could all kill you AND Shinso in the same breath but instead they surrendered and opened your eyes. You didn’t want to believe it… Did you really belong in the hero course? Were they just saying that to get in your head? You didn’t know what was going on anymore.

    “Why are those fucking hero course kids treated like fine china?? Why do they get special counseling, training, and shit and we’re stuck here?! Why?! WHY! I’m trying to work my ass off even more than they do because they have flashy quirks!” You slowly stopped crying, sitting up on your knees absolutely enraged as you stared at the floor.

    “They had loads of support… Where was everyone when we needed them…? Did they really send us out to die?” You rubbed your arm as you tried not to slip into your previous mind state, waiting patiently. There was a gentle knock on the door, causing you to jump and shriek.

    “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” It was just Shinso… The very person you’d wished to see. But why did suddenly it feel all wrong? You heard a small paper bag rustling on the other side and you sighed softly, draping your hand over your forehead, slowly unlocking the door, your knuckles broken and bloodied from pounding at the floor. Shinso’s eyes widened. He knew that your episodes were bad but you never went so far as to do this. It was mostly just crying and trembling. The answer was obvious but the both of you didn’t really care for the honest truth. You’d broke… You lost faith and hope. Your hard work, busting your ass trying to catch up to the hero course kids— Even MINETA! He’s a fucking perv that wears a bowl as his hero costume!

   “(Y/N)… What happened..?” He asked with caution, probably already knowing what’d gone down in his absence. Your eyes teared up as you saw his expression, his eyes swirling with intense dejection and brood. Suddenly you felt that you were in the way. In the way of his happiness and your fellow students. But… How could you just stand by and watch as your friends try and fail to reach the impossible status of the Hero Course kids. You didn’t hate Class 1A for this, it’s not their fault after all. It’s always been like this even before they knew how to say UA High. You were deflated instantly, but still you were determined to find answers but too weak to accept the truth if it came from a villain’s lips. Shinso noticed the lax that seized your posture and he sat on the ground beside you as you refused to answer his question. You zoned out.. AGAIN, your eyes now fixated on that white paper bag that sat beside your boyfriend’s foot.

   “(Y/N)?” He snapped in front of your eyes a couple of times and you jumped, snatched back to reality, his messy purple hair sunk in front of his eyes, his eyes looking even more tired than usual. You couldn’t help but to think it was because of you. Then, he saw that you were back with him and not the monsters of your mind, his sleepy smile replacing the look of worry that was on his face when he came back to see you broken on the ground. 

    “H-Huh? O-Oh! S-Sor-“ And just like that, you were under his spell. He’d asked a question and you responded. His eyes were a little more hopeful and you gave in immediately to him as he gently commanded you around.

    “Come here and cuddle me,” he said softly, his words the only thing present in your head. With each command he gave, your body had a surge of warmth flowing through your veins causing you to shiver. This was the most relaxed you’d felt since… Since you got accepted to UA. You scooted a little, sitting up and straddling his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head rested on his chest. He smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, picking both you and the bag up off of the floor and walking back to your room.

     You snuggled into his chest, your mind still fuzzy as he sat down at the foot of the bed, hugging you tighter, the bag now rested at the side of you.

     “Relax, baby,” he whispered in that soothing tone in your ear and suddenly, your body’s tension melted away and you leaned into him more. “Good kitty,” he chuckled softly as he started to rub your back. “Now.. Tell me what happened.”

       Before you knew it, you were spilling your guts starting with details of the fight to the breakdown you were going through and he grunted softly with a small nod, his jawline tensing up. “Hitoshi,” you whispered softly against his chest. “When will it get better?… When will I stop looking at pill bottles with malicious intent… When can we finally be good enough for everyone. I mean fuck.. We’re third years now and the kids that were in class 1A are still held on the highest possible pedestal,” you whimper as the pain of your injuries become more apparent, your brain coming down from the numbing high he put you under. “…When will I stop getting in the way of you,” you added quietly, shifting a little and wincing, holding back more tears as you bury your face in his chest. Why’d you let it slip? He stroked over your hair and he continued to lull you into relaxation with his words.

    “Hey… Listen to me, (y/n),” he started, his hand on your hip the other ducking under your chin, his eyes locking onto yours as he guided your head up. “You’re NEVER in the way of me, okay? I understand… You think your hard work was all for nothing… Hero society is kind of.. Fucked up in that way, but listen to me. Okay? Are you listening?” His jawline tensed as he stared at you and you nodded slowly, brushing his sleek purple bangs out of his face.

     “You’re everything to me… I know you’re thinking of ditching this UA bullshit.. Hell I was whenever everyone told me how great of a villain I’d make because of my stupid quirk,” he said lowly, his voice a little wavery as he began to well up himself.

      “But…. Why can’t we become heroes that save everyone? We could.. I dunno make a smaller group.. For people with smaller quirks when we become pros. It’s not a matter of if.. And we don’t have to be super popular. I mean, think about it… Eraser isn’t too popular… But everyone knows his name and knows him as an underground hero.. And he’s got a quirk just like us. If he could do it then we definitely can… Just stick it out with me a little longer, baby. I promise you that things’ll get better.” He caressed your cheek gently and you let his words replace the villain’s. You pushed your head into his hands and you looked away from his eyes and down at his chest.

    “They surrendered for us… Toshi.. They were more of a family… They were together… And once ONE said to back off they all did… H-He said that the heroes could see us.. We were on the radar and we were ignored… How am I supposed to take that? I just.. I want a place where I can finally feel fucking normal.. Safe… Protected… He said it in the best and worst way.. We’re not the money makers here… So big name heroes don’t help… We exist too…”

   Shinso nodded and a small smile crossed his lips as he shed his jacket and wrapped it around you, the harsh punches of hard rain hitting your window finally subsiding a little.

     “Baby. So what if they saw us? They didn’t help and that’s on them. WE’RE known now though… If they are doing it for the money… Well then they’re not real heroes. We’re becoming heroes to save people.. Not… Money. Not fame. We’re gonna be the ones that save everyone and not just certain people… And maybe- just maybe.. We can coax those villains that we were fighting against out of villainy and maybe they’ll join us… Who knows?”          

      You smile at his hopefulness and you sit up again, pressing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He returned the kiss, both arms around your waist, a soft breath escaping him as he pushed into the kiss more. After a long, lingering moment, your drowsiness is more apparent and you pull away slowly, your lips still barely touching his, his forehead rested against yours. He opened his beautiful, exhausted indigo eyes and he stared into yours and you both sit there smiling at each other.

     “I love you, Hitoshi,” you whisper quietly as you start to play in his hair.

     “I love you too, Kitty,” he smiled more and held up the bag. “Let’s get you something to eat so you can take these okay? I think… Maybe a counseling session is in order? Since… We’re not hero course kids… We’ll have to pay for it ourselves, but it’ll be worth it! I promise,” he smiled at you as you take one of the bottles out of the bag. Once again, his pep talks calmed you down but this one inspired you. The incident was now seen in a new light… YOU weren’t the victim.. And you were gonna see to it personally that nobody else ever went through what both you and the villain did. You were going to make it, the villain’s and Shinso’s words to be the driver of your success.

      “Hey Toshi?” You asked quietly as he set you on the bed and made his way into the kitchen. You followed him and leaned in the doorway, playing with one of the smooth pills in your hands as you looked at him

     “Yes baby?” He rose an eyebrow as he sifted through the cabinets.

     “…We’re all in the same school… We’re all students trying to be heroes.. So why are the rest of us treated like shit?” He made his way over to you, kissing your forehead, a pack of fruit snacks, a small container of cookies, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water in hand.

     “You know.. That’s a good question… Maybe you should ask that when we’re top pros. I’ll be right by your side… Every single step of the way. I promise.” Your face burned with a bright blush and you grabbed Shinso’s hand, something slick and drenched rubbing against your legs. You jump and squeal quietly.

    “AH! WHAT THE FU- Oh! Snowball? Why were you outside during the storm??” You picked up your fluffy cat and Shinso smiled, holding your waist from behind, kissing the cat in the middle of his ears. He’d begged you to get a cat for so long and you finally got one, against the advice of the teachers. You guys were adults now. You were gonna act like it at least.

     “Hey… I have to take a shower… I’m all bloody and stuff.” He dragged you into the room, picking you up and tossing you on the bed along with the snacks. “Toshiii!!” He hopped on the bed next to you and climbed over you, kissing you gently everywhere but your lips, even attacking your neck a little.

     “Kittyyyy,” he mocked you and rolled his eyes playfully. Snowball made his way in between the two of you and he took his place on your chest purring loudly. “I think Snowball wants you to stay. And I do too.”

    “But-“

    “Shhhhhh…. Just stay a little while, okay? Then I’ll let you go take a shower.” You smile a little at his words and he lays down on both you and Snowball. Snowball purrs louder and stares at your boyfriend, his arms draped over you and his eyes closed as you play with his hair, his head rested next to Snowball’s on your chest. He hummed quietly as you take the pill, your fingers massaging at his scalp. He and snowball both fall asleep on you and you just stare at them, playing soft music from your phone. Despite Shinso’s talk, you were still afraid to sleep, however.. You didn’t mind staying awake, staring down at your beautiful boyfriend with his jawline so sharp it could fucking chop cheese, his messy purple hair still sprawled out though it rested more in his face than it did a few years ago. The pain of your injuries began to subside. Your mind was clear. You look at the purring cat and he looks at you through his squinted eyes before he falls asleep.

    Just his luck that the last thing he saw before he went to sleep today was that beautiful smiling face of yours.

[adorablele]

what would your moots be like if they were an aesthetic?

ANON I FINALLY DID IT. yes, I sat on this ask for a million years because I didn’t know any aesthetics and I still don’t know many aesthetics but I managed to get help (this is all thanks to leyna who gave me a whole bunch). so when I originally did this, I had a scenario in mind because I wanted to do it like how those people on uquiz do (like choose an aesthetic and it’s a scenario filled with imagery) but I don’t think the scenario captured the aesthetic well so feel free to skip over it an just go to my bulleted explanation lol. however, I’d like to mention that the explanation may not be the best as to why I gave that moot that aesthetic. ANYWAYS I DID IT AND NOW I HAVE THREE OTHER ASKS ABOUT MY MOOTS THAT I WILL SIT ON FOR LIKE TWO MORE MONTHS.

this was very long and has details no one asked for. and I didn’t proofread this so if there are spelling errors or just errors in general, sorry.

@nzeeten allie - minimalist 

A sneeze echoed against the walls of your attic. You brushed away the dust on the box, smiling faintly at the little scribbles on top of the lid. Opening it caused memories to roll down your cheek. A lump lodged its way in your throat and you couldn’t help the melancholy swell in your heart. Your phone rang. There were unfinished papers littered on your desk. Your laptop screen started to fade to sleep, work not saved. It didn’t matter to you. You didn’t pay attention to the weight of adult responsibilities, not when your younger self smiled at you.

ngl allie gives me these really mature vibes, and who knows, maybe it stems from the fact that she wants a be a ‘kickas*’ lawyer. the overall mood of this scenario is nostalgia but in no way shape or form do I feel nostalgic when I’m with allie. she’s very fun and chill and amazing and outstanding and i love her- anyways, somehow the nostalgic vibe fit with minimalistic aesthetic? like I pictured an apartment with very simplistic features but you can tell what that person cares about through the pictures or the items that they keep. hmm I’d see some polaroids in her moodboard if she had one; maybe a single rose (in the middle) surrounded by different thorns that have little memories in each one? 

@sleepingrenjun cherry - baddie (new moot that I hope she considers me a moot too dkslaf)

Even after everything, you still went back to business. There wasn’t a care in the world as you glanced back down at your screen, files scattered on your desk and fingers tapping away at the keyboard. There wasn’t a care in the world as a pack of cigarettes were thrown back onto your desk and loud slam of the door. There wasn’t a care in the world when you returned to an empty bed, one meal, and one toothbrush. You sat out on your balcony and stared at the unlit cigarette in your hand. You felt no urge breathe in its toxic fumes, a voice in the back of your head scolding you for even touching the death stick. Tears streamed down your face and you raised one brow, smiling slightly. ‘what a shame,’ you whispered, looking up at the stars. maybe there was a little care in the world. 

so maybe this is based off of my most recent tag. it popped into my mind when I thought of cherry. this most likely stemmed from breathe me and idk if it quite fits with the baddie aesthetic...anywayssss I was aiming for a heartbreaker vibe! because cherry breaking hearts out here with her fics 🤧 kind of a lonely lifestyle of a very successful business person who doesn’t care about anything but their business (they actually do care a lot which [spoiler alert] is why mc doesn’t smoke in the end). heartbreaker gave me a baddie aesthetic. 

@passionfruithyuck clarie- soft grunge, dark academia

No one visited the library. You didn’t understand why. This age old building was still in pristine condition, exuding out elegance like no other. The tables were lonely and the chairs were cold. The bowl full of mints never lessened, the counter always empty. Time was all but a concept once you invested yourself in the shelves that were still polished with youth. Each book had its own personality, each page filled with questions, answers, secrets. No one ever visited the library, and you didn’t understand why. 

uhm yeah so a pristine hidden gem of a library came to mind. this, I think, stemmed from the fact that she know12s multiple languages (so a lot of knowledge) and it’s an honor that she’s my moot (a hidden gem). clarie, to me, is lowkey bada** which is why she’s soft grunge. if she had a moodbard, I think there would be some pastel and books (maybe some idaf pictures).

@renjunwrites denise - cottagecore 

You always passed by the quaint little flower shop whenever you were on your way home from work. Every now and then you would see someone exit, but most of the time it stayed empty. In need of a bouquet, you visited the store. Vases full of flowers furnished the tables, some unmatched as they littered the counter. The petals looked delicate, so delicate you were afraid that your breath would shatter them. Each step you took padded softly against the walls, no sound other than you, no one other than you. Simply you and the flowers.

that blurb is 🤮 I’m sorry I’m bad at explaining things omg. I honestly pictured an empty, neat but messy, flowershop when I thought of denise. she has this delicateness (missing renjunlite, can’t lie) to her like flower petals. I also get a vibe that she’s an organized mess, hence the mismatched flowers (because it’s a beautiful mess). 

@jisvngy dahler - plant mom aesthetic

It was another day at school. Another day filled with ‘the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do’. Another day filled with the scratching of pencils and shuffling of paper. Another day filled with slumped backs, bored eyes, and the slow ticking clock. It was also another day for secret notes, hidden jokes, loud lunches and knowing looks with your friends. Your friends. They broke your day dreaming, made you laugh, copied your answers, stole your pencils, distracted you during presentations, all mundane things. Mundane things that you would never forget.

ngl I feel like I would become friends with dahler through school and she would honestly be one of the reasons why I look forward to school. you may be wondering how this associates to plant mom but okay hear me out. this scenario is kind of like everyday life, you know? like small things. plants are in our everyday life, whether or not we grow or acknowledge them. uhm yeah so connect those two and yay an aesthetic for dahler! would picture some succulents in her moodboard.

@jeonginks eiko - e-girl, fantasy academia

you were always told to never take things from the forest. you were never told why, so you thought there was no harm to taking a rock because, well, it was only a rock. it was a pretty little rock lying near the clear stream of water that glimmered under the rays of the sun. the green leaves above swayed gently with the wind; it was peaceful here, you thought to yourself as you slowly started to walk back home, the rock heavy in your hand. with each step, the trees seemed taller, the sun seemed dimmer and the river sounded quite loud despite you being miles away from it. suddenly, you couldn’t move, grounded by the roots on the ground. the rock started to burn in your hand, so you threw down, only for the searing to continue. you screamed as marks were carved into the palm of your hand. from behind you, a voice laughed, ‘weren’t you told not to take things that aren’t yours.’

is fantasy academia a thing? if not then just fantasy. e-girl goes with her fashion sense (if I’m assuming correctly cause your boots) but uhm fantasy because of her writing. go on her page and you’ll see so many people call her writing magical. so with that in mind, this scenario popped up. now she could be the rock, or she could be the river, or perhaps the trees, or quite possibly, the voice,, who knows, I don’t know, that’s for sure. her moodboard would be filled with nature.

@haechaaaaaaanssi janna - mermaid/fantasy, medieval 

The fire crackled, ashes gracefully flying out from the orange hue and up into the darkness of the sky. Your marshmallow sat on the paper plate, your stick abandoned next to it. You weren’t around the bonfire, no, you were along the shoreline. The chatter of your friends was distant, much quieter than the sea. It was calling you. The waves beckoned you in, pulling you farther and farther away from shore. The sand wasn’t grainy anymore, it was softer, mushier. The full moon shone above you, a spotlight you didn’t ask for. You kept walking, entranced by the sound. What was that sound? Goosebumps rose to your arm, the water swishing at your waist. What was that sound? It was like the tick of a clock, the whoosh of the waves, the whisper of the wind, but that’s not what you were looking for. What was that sound? You were neck deep until you remembered, you didn’t know how to swim, but it’s okay. You found the answer to your question. 

okay i’m not saying that janna is a siren (who knows maybe she is)! this isn’t what i’m trying to say lmao. it’s just the fact that her work is so angsty and immediately popped into my mind when I thought of an aesthetic for her; somehow it led to fantasy/mermaid? like the ocean is mellow, beautiful and elegant but sometimes can be very powerful, loud and boisterous. in other words, janna can be exquisite and sometimes a mess. would see (obviously) the ocean in her moodboard, maybe a campfire or the night sky. 

@jensungf leyna - art mom/vintage

You struggled to yawn with a toothbrush slumped between your lips, arms up and above your head as the muscles tensed and the bones cracked. Your face was dazed with drowsiness and you languidly continued with your morning routine. But there was always something that made your mornings brighter. That something was the bakery down the street. Each time you stepped through the door, your nose was flooded with the sweet aroma of pastries. The taste of the treats were sweeter, always balancing out the bitterness of coffee on your tongue. You always stared at the crumbs of comfort on your plate, fascinated how it hugged you better than anyone you’ve met.

okay so maybe I should’ve put bakery as her aesthetic? but idk if that’s an aesthetic sooo,, but I can see her as an art mom aesthetic mixed with a little vintage. if she had a moodboard, possibly some fairy lights or some pictures of a really chill looking bakery, can’t not include sweet treats either.

@glossyjaems louna - skater, neon

Laughter filled the air, cracks of the bendable glowsticks echoing in the night. You twirled the one on your wrist, the green liquid neon against your skin. Mischief sighed with each step your friends took as they neared the metal fence. Your heart was pounding, hands clampy and eyes wavering at the faded red sign. It glared at you, ‘keep out’ it warned. That didn’t stop your friends, ‘and it shouldn’t stop you,’ they told you. The what ifs swirled on your tongue and rolled the eyes of your friends. ‘It’s going to be fine’ they reassured, and they offered you a hand. ‘Let’s live in the moment, yeah?’

ultimately really fun vibes. I pictured the recklessness of youth and dream’s go era when I thought of louna. would see like spray painting or maybe neon lights or glowsticks in her moodboard. 

@the32ndbeat // @juyeonzz qiu - vintage, dark academia 

You watched as people skied down the slope. Your hands wrapped around the warm mug of hot chocolate, the little pillows of marshmallows replicating the hills of snow outside. It wasn’t long until you heard the loud clamors of your friends as they made their way towards you. A smile found its way onto your lips as they bickered over whose snowman was the best. ‘Guys,’ you announced, causing everyone to quiet down, ‘clearly, it’s mine.’ back were the overlapping voices. You leaned back in your chair, eyes glossing over each of their faces. How funny that the impromptu road trip took you here. 

originally I was thinking summer vibes and the beach, but I already used the beach so why not the mountains? where there’s snow! cuz sledding and building snowmen with your friends is very fun. I know that this doesn’t really have anything to do with qiu’s aesthetic but when I thought of vintage, I got a lot of free-spirited, really chill vibes that I associated with road trips and friends. a lodge in the mountains and hot chocolate reminded me of dark academia somehow? yeah I don’t know how my brain works either. but anyways, I see books and hot chocolate in her moodboard if she were to have one.

@neocitybynight sunny - glam

Life was busy in hollywood. The snap of the director, the brushes of makeup artists, the tears of actors, the flashing of cameras, the questions of reporters, the tailors of dresses. At the end of the day, you always returned to your apartment on the highest floor. Barefaced, you change into an old oversized t-shirt, soft music floating to your ears as you think about your schedule tomorrow. The kettle starts to whistle, the boiling liquid warming the tea bag in your cup. The sun had retired, reminding everyone that the real stars weren’t on TV but in the sky. Though, cars still drifted the streets, lights still remained on, people were still awake. You opened up your book, a sigh falling between your lips as the drink soothes your throat. You glance once more out the window at the bustling city before falling into the world of your book. Life was busy in hollywood. 

yeah so this was what I imagined, I don’t know if that’s an aesthetic but I associated it with glam. like I also imagine those 90′s heartthrob edits if you were to make a moodboard for her. you could also fit in dark academia.

[wishfullyeternal]

Crowley x Reader- Hellhound

Crowley x Reader- Hellhound

Words- 1210

Warnings: Violence, fighting, gore descriptions, angst, death, language

A/N- A kind of different fic I went for here, more angsty and dramatic then most of the fluffy stuff I have been writing, my requests are open as always and of course, exercise caution as you read, this is not the worst, but certainly not pretty. Love you lovelies!

“Fuck” you hissed under your breath, Crowley scolded you,

“Language missy! I told you not to get into any trouble with squirrel and moose while I was gone-” You interrupted him sharply,

“Fergus!” You started, clenching your teeth,

“I know what you told me, and guess what?” You shrugged your shoulders, causing Crowley to put one hand on them to keep them steady, he was currently tending to a deep gash a vampire gave you.

“I,” You lowered his hands from cleaning the wound.

“Don’t,” Looking him in the eye you caught a glimpse of those beautiful brown eyes. He flicked them red and pushed you down whilst you hollered,

“Care!” Crowley put both of his hands on your shoulders, keeping you seated. You went to push him away but was met with a searing pain in your shoulder.

“Y/N!” He growled, “I was going to clean it so I could heal it better, but since you obviously want to disobey me and my orders, which are for your protection” He added,

“I might not” You pushed back your emotions and stopped resisting, Crowley sighed softly.

“There we go darling, now let me tend to that gash before I heal it, then you can get something special.” He winked at you before looking back to your wound that had freshly reopened, not like it had really closed in the meantime. Blood dripped down onto your blouse and you rubbed your hand to your shoulder to keep from staining it to no avail.

“Darling, just let me work my magic, okay?” You nodded and he grabbed a piece of gauze and doused it in alcohol. Molotov Cocktail anybody? You thought to yourself. He put it to your cut with no warning and it left you hissing in pain.

“Bitch!” You instinctively pulled away,

“At least warn me!” Crowley shook his head,

“And they called you the strongest hunter in the midwest.” You bit back a retort and resorted to sitting in the chair, letting him work his magic.

“Would you like me to tell you everything I’m going to do princess?” He mimicked you in a high voice. You stayed silent.

“I’m going to heal your gash now, princess.” He put a soft hand to your gash and a familiar warmth left his hand, the pain suddenly dissipated and you were left with new skin to injure again.

“Now don’t get into any more trouble with the Winchester boys, I don’t fancy seeing you hurt and I also don’t fancy giving them another visit, seeing what they did to me last time.” He cringed in remembrance.

“I’ll be seeing you soon I presume,” You shrugged,

“You know where to find me,” You winked at him, he waved goodbye and just like that, he was gone.

A few weeks passed and soon you were, ah, what was it? Praying? Praying to Crowley? God, it sounded rhetorical, but you needed to know what that present was going to be. Crowley, to your surprise, popped right into your bedroom.

“Hello love,” You heard panting and realized that there was a hellhound next to him.

“Juliet?” You guessed, Crowley shook his head,

“No, not quite.” Crowley held out his hand for you to hold and put it onto the hound’s fur. It tickled your fingers and Crowley said to you quietly,

“It’s your present darling.” You gasped,

“Me?” He nodded, “You need something to protect you since the Winchesters are…” He paused, looking for the word,

“A little, self-concerned so-to-speak,” You pet the hound a little more while he explained,

“So, to combat them whilst I am out doing King of Hell duties, you get to have this lovely little creature.” The invisible hound sniffed your hand as Crowley put your hand to the hound’s head. He murmured a few words under his breath and took away his hand, a sliver of your power seemed to be seeping into the hound’s fur and suddenly it became visible. A beautiful black coat with the perfect amount of sheen. Piercing red eyes that were paired with the body and strength of an Alaskan Malamute, your favorite dog.

“Oh,” You paused, asking Crowley the gender,

“He’s beautiful,” You corrected yourself,

“Handsome” You petted him more and he wagged his tail, just like a regular dog.

“So,” Crowley stated, “What are you going to name him love?” You paused for a few seconds, looking over the dog, and then Crowley.

“Romeo,” You said, Crowley smiled, the first true smile you saw him put on.

“Oh, I knew you’d find the right name.” You hugged Crowley tight and he hugged back. You found out a long time ago that the cruel King of Hell was one hell of a softie.

“Hey!” Crowley picked you up and laid you on your bed, he kicked off his shoes and climbed in next to you. Romeo jumped on the bed as well and laid towards the end. You put your feet gently against his fur and relished the hellish warmth he radiated.

“Crowley he’s like a damn radiator” You pointed to him and he chuckled,

“They are from hell, you know.” You blushed and cuddled up against him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” You said against Crowley’s chest. Crowley sighed and cuddled you closer. Romeo got up and managed to squeeze himself between the two of you. You cuddled with the both of them and slowly but surely, through the warmth of two of the most feared creatures in hell, fell asleep.

To tell yourself that Romeo didn’t help you was a complete lie, you loved him. He helped defeat vamps, ghosts, skinwalkers, and banshee’s alike. He got a little beat up at times, but Crowley would heal him and he would heal at three times the rate of a normal dog. He also could take on a lot more than the normal dog, a deep gash that would be life-threatening to a regular dog would be just a scratch to him. To say you didn’t spoil him would also be a lie. You treated him like royalty, making Dean build him a doghouse (even though he slept in your room most of the time), giving him the best food, (and no, not dog food) even though Romeo technically didn’t have to eat, he enjoyed the activity. So when Dean was cooking, or Crowley was snapping in a meal, they knew to make another portion for Romeo. A few months passed and every day started the same.

“Romeo!” You called, he came barreling into the room in puppy-like fashion, sitting at your feet obediently.

“Who’s a good boy!” He wagged his tail erratically,

“You are!” You pet him all around and he pretended to bite you. You heard the door of the bunker open and listened to the sound of Dean’s footsteps down the metal stairs.

“Dean!” You yelled to him, you received no response.

“Dean?” You asked again, Romeo growled,

“Romeo? It’s just Dean.” Romeo didn’t back down from his protective stance and backed towards you, barking loudly. Dean appeared in front of you and had a completely blank face to him.

“Dean?” You asked him again, “Stop fucking calling me Dean!” He yelled, what the fuck you thought. This was not Dean, Romeo barked again, louder, growling and baring his teeth.

“Back your hellhound off,” Dean ordered,

“You aren’t Dean,” You yelled at him,

“Who are you!” Romeo barked again as Dean took a couple of steps towards you,

“I’m the angel, Uriel.” You sneered,

“I’ve heard of you,” You yelled at him again,

“You hurt my friend!” He nodded,

“And I’m here to do the same to you,” You quickly prayed to Castiel and called to Crowley. Uriel laughed,

“Castiel can’t hear you from here, I’ve blocked angel radio.” Fuck you thought. Romeo kept to your side and you pet him comfortingly. Uriel pulled a blade out of his sleeve and charged at you, Romeo charged back and bit him in the forearm. Blood poured from the vessel’s body and you called to Crowley for help whilst looking for something to defend yourself with. Deciding on a dagger from a table Sam had been researching on earlier suited you. You didn’t care at that point if he needed it or not but you needed to get the hell out of here. Romeo went to your side as you parried the hit of Uriel and countered it by stabbing him in the side of the stomach, he lurched in pain and spit out red crimson blood. Romeo bit him again and shook his leg relentlessly. You screamed as Uriel brought the knife to Romeo.

“Romeo!” You screamed, the dog yelped in pain as the angel blade went through his shoulder. It poked out of the other side, diagonally through his body, cutting through the tough muscle and fat that surrounded the joint. You heard a sickening squelch as the knife was pulled and suddenly Crowley appeared.

“Y/N!” He quickly seized Uriel and avoided his stab. Putting a hand to his head he knocked him out and teleported them both away.

“Romeo…” You whispered to him,

“Oh, Romeo…” He laid on the ground, blood pouring from the deep wound on his flank.

“Romeo, Romeo, Romeo…” You whispered the rest of the quote,

“Wherefore art thou Romeo” Tears pricked at your vision as he laid there. He lifted his head from the ground, seeming taking an immense amount of effort. He licked your hand and laid his head back down. You screamed in your head for Crowley.

Crowley! Please help, Romeo, R-Romeo is gonna… You couldn’t finish the sentence. Crowley didn’t come, and you were left with your hellhound, unable to do anything. A regular dog would die, he would die too, his blood seeping out onto the wooden floor. You kissed him softly and sang to him. You didn’t even like the song but knew that Romeo would like the words.

Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

I’ll be waiting, all you have to do is run

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess

It’s a love story-

Romeo laid his head down and closed his red eyes, his flank stopped moving and he slowly let out his last breath. He was gone. My baby, my Romeo. My love. He was gone. You began to sob uncontrollably. Your hands were shaking as you kept stroking the every growing cold body of your once beloved hellhound. You screamed, your voice tearing through the rooms of the bunker, echoing around the space. Creating a tense volume of tears and bloodshed throughout the room.

“URIEL!” You screamed you kept on repeating his name, crying into your dead hellhound’s fur. Crowley appeared out of nowhere, seemingly drawn to your outburst of such raw unbridled emotion.

“Oh love,” He stammered, “Oh darling,” You cried to him,

“Crowley, t-there’s got to be something you can do, can you heal him, you’ve got to. You have to save my Romeo.” Crowley frowned at you,

“Darling, there’s nothing I can do, he’s already gone. You know I can’t bring back the dead.” You cried into the ground, crumbling into a ball. Crowley picked you up and laid you in a chair in the bunker, away from the sight of Romeo. He grabbed a washcloth and began to wipe the blood of your hound off your hands. You stared at the red blood, somehow wishing it could stay so you would have some memory of your friend.

“I’m sorry,” He started, he lost his words and stayed silent.

“What about Dean…Is he okay?” You felt bad for not caring about your friend,

“He’s fine love, Uriel didn’t use Dean’s body, he made it seem like it was him.” You asked Crowley again,

“What about Uriel?” Crowley answered softly, wiping off the rest of the blood off of your hands.

“I’ll take care of him, I have him captured, don’t worry, mourn your loss. I’ll be here whenever you call, you know that.” He washed the cloth and lifted you off the chair. He led you to your bed and tucked you in.

“I’ll make sure Romeo is taken care of, you can bury him later, or cremate him, whichever you prefer.” You nodded,

“Thank you Crowley, for everything.” Crowley kissed the top of your head before heading out,

“There’s no need to thank me love, I’ll always be here.”

[midnigtartist]

Spicy Mermauk

long time since ive posted anything for this au but I promise its still going strong

this fic is m rated and set after Molly and Caleb are already together

also @millimauk did some amazing art to go with it uwu

Caleb knows its Mollymauk who’s entered his study by the sound of gentle foot falls with no accompanying voice announcing their presence. Instead he hears the snap of the door as its shut. Hands come to rest on his shoulders as Mollymauk drops a kiss to the top of his head. Caleb sets aside the pen he was holding, instead reaching up to lay his own hand over Molly’s.

“Hallo Schatz” he murmurs, swiveling his chair around so that he can see the mermaid.

He’s grown so used to Molly walking around stark naked at this point, and maybe that’s not great, but that familiarity is what makes the times Molly does put something on more noteworthy. Currently he’s wearing the long, loose skirt he enjoys so much, Caleb suspects it has something to do with keeping his legs free. He's offered Molly trousers before, but he finds them to constricting. So on the rare occasion that Molly does wear something around the house, it's often this, as well as the bandages around his middle that hide his abdominal gills. They’re as much to keep them from Jester and Beau as they are to keep irritation away from the sensitive organs.

As Caleb turns around Molly drapes his arms over his shoulders and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Working?” he signs.

Caleb nods. “Ja, ja I am going through my notes so that i can compile them into a usable thesis for the conference.” he flushes at the fact that he can find very little in his notes about Molly that aren't riddled with undertones of pinning or outright too vulgar to put in a presentation. “But aahh, you know I think I’ve been at it long enough for now.”

Molly grins, planting his hands on the arms of the chair so he can lean down and capture Caleb's mouth in a searing kiss. When he pulls back, Caleb is almost dazed.

“Good” Molly signs, before taking Caleb’s hands and pulling him out of the chair. The creak of his joints tells Caleb he’s definitely been sitting here too long. “I’ve missed you today.”

“I’m sorry I have not been able to make much time for you today, Mollymauk.” he says, wrapping arms around Molly's waist.

Molly shrugs, nuzzling up against Caleb instead of replying, twining his arms around his neck.

Caleb had never considered how utterly touch starved he was before Molly took up residence with him. But Molly is not shy with his affections and Caleb finds himself growing more and more willing to indulge himself in his idle touches. So he pulls Molly close by the hips and ducks his head down to bury his face in his soft curls, letting some of the tension of the day ebb out of his body. Molly stretches up to press the length of himself to Caleb’s front. Caleb can feel his breath against his neck. It makes him shiver. Hes about to pull away when Molly tightens his grip around his shoulders, nudging his hips forward just enough that Caleb can feel an unmistakable hardness pressing against his thigh. He sucks in a sharp breath. His face flushes with heat as the tone of this chaste embrace quickly shifts

“Mollymauk,,,?”

Molly hums into his ear, the sound quickly becoming a rumbling purr in the other man's chest as he presses impossibly closer.

“Mollymauk are you-?”

A nod against his neck, and then Molly pulls away, looking up at Caleb with his fathomless red eyes.

“I really missed you today” Molly signs. “I was really quite bored, so I had to find ways to entertain myself.” and he smiles a knowing smile that has Caleb’s heart doing flips in his chest.

He sets his hands on Molly’s waist, over the bandages, and Molly shivers. It's almost more than Caleb can stand. Beautiful Mollymauk in nothing but a long, flowing skirt, a noticeable tenting in the front of it that makes his mouth dry with want. “Do ahh-” he lets his hands wander. Slides them down over the swell of Molly's ass to the backs of his thighs, slowly gathering the material in hand until he can brush the pads of his fingers over Molly’s warm skin. “Do you want help with this?”

Molly nods eagerly, rewrapping his arms around Caleb’s neck as Caleb slips his hands up the back of his skirt. It's easy to push the fabric aside and run his palms over every inch of Molly's soft skin, stopping just short of the denting in the front. Molly makes a mournful noise in the back of his throat. Caleb captures it with his lips.

“Okay” he murmurs against the other man’s mouth. “Okay, okay ja, give me one moment.”

With one hand still cupped around the back of Molly’s thigh, Caleb pivots them, turning them towards his desk. Its littered with pages of notes and scraps of paper and other, more important things, he's sure. He disregards all of that, sweeping it aside to make a clear space on the desk. Things go scattering to the floor, Caleb pays them no mind. Instead he bends and wraps arms around Molly’s legs, hoisting him up onto the desk, no small feat in his mind as his thin arms aren’t meant to lift more than a peer reviewed study. Molly quickly tangles fingers into his hair, dragging him down into an open mouthed kiss that causes a groan to catch on the back of Caleb’s tongue. With fumbling fingers, Caleb reaches up to the bandages around Molly’s torso, undoing them with clumsy, stumbling fingers. The wrappings go slack in his hand. Slowly Caleb unravels them, relishing in the way Molly shudders at the soft fabric brushing against tender skin. All the while Mollymauk lays kisses over his jaw, and nips softly at his lips. Clearly desperate. Desperate at the thought of him. Gods, Caleb had not even given himself a moment to consider. To consider Molly bored and listless in his bed, occupying himself with thoughts of him. Touching himself to the thought of him. Caleb draws back to muffle a groan into the side of Mollymauk’s neck, stomach hot and heart throbbing against his rib cage. He’s hopelessly smitten with this beautiful creature, and he cannot fathom how the feeling could be mutual, and yet it is. Surely it is, as Molly takes his face in hand and guilds him back up so that their lips meet.

“A moment-” he breaths, prying Molly off just long enough to get the words out. “A moment bitte”

Mollymauk complies, drawing back with a final nip at Caleb’s lips that leaves him breathless. He presses a swift kiss under Molly’s jaw, where he can feel his pulse hammering under the skin.

“I need to get the door. Just one moment, mein Schatz.”

Molly sighs deeply, but nods, unknotting his arms from around Caleb's neck with an air of deepest disappointment.

Caleb finds that he can't get to the door fast enough. Outside of Mollymauk’s embrace he feels cold, and even his stumbling feet seem to protest the separation. How weak he is for the man. But it wont do to have either of the girls barging in on them. They are already convinced that the time the time he and Molly spend in here is less than scientific. They would only be right about forty percent of the time. Most of their time spent locked in Caleb’s study is utterly professional. And yet sometimes,,,,

As Caleb clicks the lock into place, he hears Molly let out a breathy cry, and he whips around to see what’s happened.

Gods hes looks so debauch like this.

Without a shred of decency, Molly’s leaned back against the wall and thrown his legs wide, palming over the prominent bulge in the front of his skirt. Little, voiceless sighs leave him. Caleb is back at his side in an instant. Sliding between his legs and tipping his head up to catch the mermaid in a deep and desperate kiss. His hands find purchase on Molly’s sides, thumbs ever so gently stroking over the tops of his gills. They flutter and twitch ever so slightly under the rough pads of his thumbs. Each brush of his fingers causes Molly’s breath to hitch until the other man is squirming under his touch, chest heaving every so slightly. He buries his face in the side of Caleb’s neck and keens soundlessly. Occasionally he bites down, drawing a low groan from Caleb himself. Caleb lays a line of wet kisses along the length of his throat. Molly’s hands tighten on his forearms, a request without words.

He's not sure why he's hesitant to bring a hand down to palm Molly through the fabric of his skirt. The majority of the times he's known the mermaid he’s been nude, and certainly this isn't the first time they’ve been intimate with each other. But there’s something about touching Molly’s clothed form that sends a thrill down his spine. Like him being covered adds a layer of obscenity to the whole thing, like Molly is something to be unwrapped, by him, and him alone. He shuddered at the strange thought, and strokes Molly lightly through the loose fabric feeling the hot curve of his cock against his palm. Molly’s back arches, pressing up as Caleb touches him, feather light.

He loves the shiny magenta flush in his cheeks, and how his mouth silently forms the shape of sounds his throat can’t make. Soft cries and low guttural moans that still ring clear in Caleb’s ears from the so few times he's gotten to hear them. Caleb kisses the curve of his horn, then his temple, before bowing his head to kiss his shoulder as well. He feels Molly drag a hand down his arm over his hip, before finally coming around to  cup Caleb through the front of his trousers. Caleb's breaths out harshly through his nose at the contact.

“Nien,, nien Schatz”  he mutters, careful removing the hand from his crotch.

Molly looks worried, confused as he pulls back, so Caleb brings his hand up to kiss the back of his knuckles and smile fondly at him. “I am going to focus on you right now.”

A light of recognition sparks in Molly's eyes.

“Research?” he signs.

Caleb sighs, cupping Molly’s face in both hands and kissing him sweetly. “I wish you would stop calling our intimate moments ‘research’ I thought that I had made it clear that you mean far more to me than that.”

“Oh I know that” Molly signs. “It's just a good joke yeah?”

Again Caleb sighs, but its colored by the smile that he cannot contain. “If you say so.”he says, kissing Molly sweetly once more before descending upon his throat. He kisses over his clavicle, layer marks over fading marks in a familiar pattern over Molly’s flush and lovely skin. By the time he's made it down to his stomach, lavishing kisses over the expanse of brilliant lavender, Molly is panting.

“This is very lovely.” Caleb says, kissing just above the waistband of the skirt. He’s sunk to his knees, kneeling between Molly’s spread legs. His straining cock pushes against the fabric of the skirt, creating folds that Caleb finds himself rather taken with. “It would be a waste to take it off so soon- if you are willing to leave it on a bit longer, mein Schatz” his gaze flickers quickly up to Molly, who nods.

“Yes” he signs shakily. “Yes” over and over until Caleb drags blunt nail gently over his inner thigh and suddenly Molly’s hands become too preoccupied with gripping the edge of the desk.

Caleb hums against his belly once more. “Alright”

It’s harder to see Molly’s hands from here, he can't see if he's sloppily signing anything. All he has to go on as he kisses and nips his way up the length of the other man’s thigh is the sound of his stuttering breath catching in his chest and sharp, silent gasps. The barely there sounds still sit warm in Caleb’s belly as he drags chapped lips over the inner seam of the mermaid’s thigh.  As he approaches the hem of the skirt, he ducks beneath it, drawing a startled gasp from his companion. Fingers tighten against his shoulders, and Caleb presses his self satisfied smile into the heat of Molly’s flushed skin

It's dark under the fabric, the light muted and dim. The air here hot, and thick with the smell of sweat and prespend. He can see Molly’s cock now, pressing insistently against the inside of the skirt that does  little to provide him modesty. The fabrie falls over it like drapery where its stands heavy and hard between his thighs. The head is flushed a deep shade of mauve. Caleb feels a pang of sympathy for him. How long had Mollymauk lay there, palming himself before coming to seek Caleb out, Caleb wonders. He draws fingers over the heated flesh, slow and reverent, gently touching each flushed ridge on the underside of Molly’s cock so that his legs tense on either side of him. Had he let idle hands wander across his belly before touching himself over the fabric of the skirt? Or had he hiked it up and out of the way before taking himself in hand. Caleb curls his own hand around the base of him and gives two loose pumps. A hand uncurls from his shirt to grip at the back of his head instead.  Caleb imagines Molly with knees bent and a hand fisted around his swollen dick, and he rushes to muffle his strangled moan against the crux of Molly’s thigh.

He wants nothing more than to take the flushed, rigid thing into his mouth and bring Mollymauk all the pleasure he deserves. Wants to bring Molly off to a quick and desperate orgasm, but he forces himself to have some restraint. He leans in, Mollymauk whimpering at the feeling of hot breath along his cock, and kisses the base, feeling Molly shiver all around him as he does. So he does it again. And again and again, kissing his way to the tip of his cock, his head now forming the tent in Molly’s skirt. Caleb gives the tip one shy lick, gathering the sharp taste of it on his tongue, before parting his lips and sliding down the length of him.

Molly thighs go tense around him as hands descend upon his head, scrabbling to find a hold in his hair through the fabric of the skirt. Caleb can hear the way his breath has grown ragged, sharp and desperate, feels the slight quiver in his hips under his hands as he fights to hold them still for Caleb. Caleb draws the flat of his tongue along the underside, eliciting a full body shudder from the man above him.

Only now does Caleb realize that he’s played himself. While under the skirt like this has undoubtedly been sexy, he realizes he's cut himself off from Molly’s pleasure. With no real voice to express it, all Caleb can hear are the sharp, strangled breaths as they catch in Molly’s throat. But he can’t see him. he can't see his face tight with need, a thin line of pleasure creased between his brows. Can’t see the way his mouth hangs open as he pants with it. Can’t watch what the feeling of his lips wrapped around his dick do to him. His head thrown back against the wall, eyes clouding over with desire as Caleb draws those high pitched and keening cries from him. Gods he wishes he could hear him. The deep belly groans and the shouts of pleasure as Caleb sucks him off are a phantom ringing his ears. He grips tighter to Molly’s thighs as the other man’s hips start to thrust forward of their own accorded, and draws back to lick over the head with the flat of his tongue. There’s a disappointed huff of air above him, and Caleb’s lips curl up in a smile.

“You know I do not mean to tease you.” he says, a bold face lie that Mollymauk is not convinced by.

The mermaid whines, a high shrieking sound, and he thrust his hips forward, cock bobbing eagerly into empty air.

“Hush libling.” he soothes, even as his thumbs rubs deep circles into his trembling thighs and his lips ghost over the underside of his cock. “I will see to it that you are taken care of, ja?”

And he does makes good on the promise, taking Molly back into his mouth as far as he can. Sucking roughly as he own resolves begins to break, and bobbing his head up and down the length of him until his jaw is aching in the sweetest way. Above him he can hear Molly’s breath grow shallow and quick. Each breath a gasp and squeak of pleasure as his hands grip tighter to the back of Caleb’s head and his hips move in small aborted thrusts to meet his lips. Caleb takes him deep into his mouth and holds him there in the warm wet heat of it. Until the taste of spending grows sharp against his tongue and Molly’s legs start to quiver, and he quickly releases him.

“Hhhhhaa!”

The sound the leaves Molly’s throat nearly topples Caleb with need. He has to reach down and grip himself through his trousers just to take the edge off his own painfully hard desire. Molly’s cock twitches weeps, a painful looking bruise color now, ball loosening as he draws back from the very edge of his orgasm.

‘Hhhaa haa haaaa”

Even his breathless panting sounds so ruined, and Caleb feels his chest filled with pity and affection. How long had Molly teased himself before seeking him out? How long hand he let his fingers linger on himself before drawing them away in favor of the touch of Caleb’s hand?

“Hush mein Stern” he mutters. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of Molly’s thigh and he jumps at the contact. “Hush Schatzie” he coos, drawing back from under the skirt. “I want to see you.”

Loose plum curls hang over Molly’s eyes and stick to the back of his neck, matted with sweat. His arms quiver and his chest heaves and a flush stains his skin a startling shade of wine from the tops of his cheeks all the way down to his belly. His lips partly slightly, his eyes glassy and features pinched tight with need.

“Ahh ahh”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and sweat dews along his skin and suddenly Caleb feels a bit bad for teasing him so much.

“Oh Mollymauk.” he murmurs, pushing himself to stand so that he can cup the other man’s face between his hands.

Molly wastes no time pressing up into the touch. His hands scramble to find purchase on Caleb, tangled in his hair and gripping at the front of his shirt. He whines as he pulls Caleb in, pulling them flush so the can press up desperately into his chest and stares at him with wide pleading eyes. Trying to beg without words. Caleb is quick to draw him in for a kiss, pushing his tongue past the seam of Molly’s mouth so he can taste himself on Caleb’s lips, and Molly groans.

“I want to see you” he repeats, shoving the skirt to the side and taking Molly in hand with little preamble. Molly arcs wildly against his chest. Caleb loops his arm around his waist as he strokes him in earnest now, laying kisses over his jaw. “Mollymauk,,,,,”

“Haaaaa!”

It only takes a few rough strokes to bring Molly to completion. He trembles in Caleb’s arms as his cock leaps in his fist and hot and sticky cover Caleb’s fingers and Molly’s stomach and the skirt too. Caleb gently eases him though it, touching featherlight to his softening dick and kissing his cheeks and his temple until Molly stops shaking in his grasp. When he draws back, Molly is smiling at him, exhausted but content, eyes half lidded and heavy. Caleb’s heart swells and he rushes forward to kiss him, chastely. “You are lovely, mein Schatz.” he says as they draw back. “Was that ahh- that was alright?”

Molly nods languidly, wrapping his arms around the back of Caleb’s neck. Eventually his chest stops heaving and the flush starts to leave his cheeks. Molly droops forward into Caleb’s shoulder and he can't help but chuckle. “Tired?’ he asks. Again Molly nods. “I suppose I ought to get you to bed then.” another nod.

So Caleb helps him down from the desk onto his shaking legs and lays a hand against the small of his back to steady him. They're About halfway down the hall to Molly’s room when Caleb feels a tap on his shoulder He turns, giving Mollymauk a questioning look. The mermaid smiles a tired, but knowing smile at him.

“Again?” he signs.

Caleb feels his flagging erection leap at the single word. He swallows around his suddenly dry throat.

“Gods, Mollymauk,,” He glances at the clock. The girls are not due to be back for another few hours. “I suppose there’s  ahhh- time for a bit more “research’,,,” he says in a rush

Molly throws his head back in the silent laugh and Caleb hurries them down the hall.

[kyarymell]

A Little Less “Concern for Demons”, A Little More “Touch Me”

Pairing: V x F!Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: PWP. Following a bet with Nico, you convince V to fuck you in a phonebooth. Note: Art trade fic for the beautiful @mysticalkhfan​ who drew me an ABSOLUTELY DELECTABLE Erron Black fanart. Hats off to you! I tried to fill in as many requests as possible LOL.

You were a force to be reckoned with.

Equal parts alluring and dangerous, only you could convince him to partake in debauchery in public. The pair of you were on a routine mission, clearing out some demons for a client. When the task was completed, you all but dragged him into a phone booth.

“Not this again! Let’s go, kitty. You too, boulder boy.”

V’s familiars were used to your insatiable desire for their master, already removing themselves from his person. Tattoos faded and hair returned to white, the summoner felt exposed. Unfortunately for him, this was only the beginning.

Pushing him against the glass, he gasped as you pressed heated kisses on his neck. Biting on the soft skin near his collar bone, you moved your hand to palm V through his jeans. Despite the (worry? thrill?) of being caught, he’s getting hard.

How could he not? Even if you’re too much to handle sometimes, you’re still his lover.

…You’re also pretty skilled with your lips.

“Ah-You’re getting lipstick everywhere.”

“That’s the point.”

His concern only rewards him with you kissing him squarely on the mouth, tugging at his soft hair. V yields to your attack, lost in the pleasurable sensations you’re giving him. You only let him go when he’s struggling for breath.

The aim was to have him inside you as soon as possible, lest the two of you get discovered. Leaning forward you distract him with another heated kiss, your nimble fingers working the strings of his vest. Pulling the clasp free, you step back to admire your handiwork.

The flimsy material falls to the ground, revealing more of his pale skin. For a moment he shivers, a slight chill in the air. Lipstick smeared across his mouth and neck, lips glistening with saliva, he’s sure that he’s a mess.

V can already imagine what his other self would say.

“Foolishness. Why would you leave yourself exposed and vulnerable in front of someone?”

Thoughts returning to the present, you’re moving to unzip his pants. V catches your hand, regaining enough sense to take control of the situation.  

“Do you really think you’re in charge?”

His eyes are dark, grabbing a hold of you and switching the positions so that you’re in full view if anyone were to walk by. You’re smirking because despite the fact that he’s being more impulsive, you’ve effectively convinced him to get down and dirty with you in public.

Wrapped around your little finger.

Such a prim and proper person he was, never getting involved in the grit of battle. Now, he’s making short work of your button-up shirt to access the skin underneath. Pushing the fabric up and over your head, V immediately presses kisses along your spine.

To think that this all started from a bet- he was so easy to tease.

From the debriefing, you knew it was going to be an easy job. You were busy most days, so this would be an ample opportunity to wear the new skirt you bought last week. Not the most combat-ready gear in the world but you had confidence in your abilities.

Nico left the engine off, the two of you waiting for V to arrive. Cigarette between her lips, you’re both leaning against the side of the van.

“I dunno what you see in Mr. Poetry over there. He seems so uptight- never the type to fuck in an alleyway or anything like that.”

Crossing your arms, you tilted your head curiously.

“Is that supposed to be a normal thing that happens? What brought this up?”

“In all the time we’ve been colleagues, I never thought you interested in them quiet types.”

You shrugged, a moment of silence passing between the both of you. Tapping a finger on your chin, an idea came to mind.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“You know I’m always down to gamble. But what we bettin’ on?”

“Whether or not I can get him to fuck me in public. Fifty bucks.”

Nico’s eyes were blown wide, snorting like she was trying not to laugh. Shaking hands with you, she crushed the cigarette butt under her heel.

“Sure. You’re about to be fifty bucks poorer. That’s a fact!”

When you were finally alone with the summoner, you made sure to take the most forward approach. Reserved as he is, he’s still unable to resist you on attack mode.

It started with subtle things, touching him a lot more in and out of combat. Eventually, you worked up to making flashy moves while killing demons, giving V an eyeful when possible.  

All the teasing you did throughout the day seemed to have worked, for V was riled up enough to leave bites along your shoulder and shove you against the glass. His hands are on your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

“Is this what you wanted,” he grinds his hips against your backside, “to be indecent like this?”

A hot tongue presses against your ear and you whimper in response. It’s seldom that he’s rough like this and it satisfies the masochistic side of you deep within. He’s clearly not pleased with your lack of words, for he moves to pull on your hair and pinch one of your nipples.

“Answer me.”  

“I…”

V switches tactics, tracing circles around the band of your skirt with his fingers and then moving to stroke the skin at your waist. You’re almost too distracted to answer, he’s touching too lightly for your liking.

How the tables have turned- it was your intention to turn him into a blushing mess, but you’re the one stifling moans against your hand.

The summoner clicks his tongue, lifting the back of your skirt. You shivered, feeling his fingers slide between your thighs. It’s suddenly feeling all too warm in the phone booth, your shaky breaths causing condensation to form on the glass.

“So you want to be stubborn, is that it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling V push aside the delicate lace of your panties. He slides his finger against you, before slipping it in with no resistance. The man hisses, imagining just how easy it would be to shove the entirety of his length inside you. You’re already wet with minimal touching.

“V…”

“I see. This was your intention all along. You wanted this.”

He stroked your insides painfully slow, adding another finger even when he knows you can take much more. It’s polarising, the fact that he can be domineering but still ensuring that you won’t be hurt. Then, he hits your sensitive spot.

“Please-“

He stills his fingers, making you groan in frustration. You wiggle your hips, hoping that it would entice him to continue. V smirks as he barely brushes against the spot once more.

Damn those long fingers of his!

“Please what?”

“Don’t be mean, you know what I want.”

The fingers leave you completely. That was the opposite of what you wanted to happen…!

“You must apologise.”

Pulling his cock free of his jeans, he stroked himself. Taking his turn to tease you, you felt it rub against your entrance, smearing pre-cum on your thighs. You’re trying to get him inside you by pushing backwards but the summoner has you pinned against the glass.

“F-for what?” you hate how your voice is trembling.  

“Apologise for being indecent in public and I might just consider your request.”

Play along. Play along. You were the one that got yourself into this.

“I’m sorry for acting… indecent… please V. Please fuck me-“

After what seemed like forever, V finally pushes into you- making you gasp at the sensation. He starts slow, even if you don’t need it. Thoroughly frustrated from the earlier teasing, you turn your head to face him, meeting his lips in a searing kiss.

That was all the encouragement needed, for he set a brutal pace that had you gripping the front of the glass for dear life. You whimpered when he brushed against your sensitive spot with the tip and it had you pushing back and meeting him halfway. It was deeper like this and you found yourself crying out his name…

…until you heard voices not too far away.

“Quiet.”

V pressed his partially gloved fingers in your mouth, trapping your tongue with his fingertips. A cheerful group of teenagers passed by, talking animatedly amongst each other.

The summoner just kept moving.

“Did you see the movie I recommended last week?”

The way the summoner rolls his hips are sinful and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut.

“Yeah, I guess I cried a little…”

“Aw, really?”

Heat pools in your stomach, almost overwhelming as he nudges your legs apart. V was large despite his slim build, the burn of the stretch sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey, did you hear something?”

You tried desperately to be quiet, V holding you in place with his punishing stokes.

“No way. Don’t scare me like that!”

Please, please let them be gone…

“You did well.”

You could practically hear the smirk on his lips. What a smug bastard. Oh, you were definitely going to get him back for that.

With one particularly hard thrust, you tightened up considerably and the summoner removed his fingers from your mouth. Unable to hold back your voice, you yelped as he spanked you with his other hand, the ring adorning his middle finger cold and leaving a mark.

From there, V timed his thrusts with his palm striking your ass. His gloved hand moved to your hip in order to get a better angle. Not long now until you would come undone, your toes curling in delight. Hair sticking to your face, you whined as he pulled out completely and shoved his cock back in all at once.

“V!”

Snapping your eyes open at the sensation, you arched your back. V was seldom aggressive like this and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The summoner was breathing heavily now, stopping every so often to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

Completely at his mercy, you felt him pound into your sensitive spot over and over again. Your legs trembled, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold yourself up. Tears gathering in the corner of your eyes from the over-stimulation, you leaned your forehead on the glass of the phone booth.

The cold surface gives you a short reprieve, until V grips your arms, pulling them back. You’re almost sitting backwards on his lap when you reach your peak, stars bursting in your vision. It was embarrassing how fast he pushed you over the edge.

“Just… a little more…”

“Not inside!” you didn’t want anything dripping out, especially since you were wearing only a skirt.

Becoming more vocal with every thrust, you knew that he was close. Wrenching yourself free from his grasp, you dropped to your knees. Taking his length into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the tip, hand stroking the underside. V became flustered at the sight of your ruined mascara, tear-streaked cheeks noticeable in the low light.

Losing his confident demeanour, he gently tries to pry you off by tugging on your hair.

Payback is a bitch. You loved seeing V turn suddenly shy- it was seldom that you pleasured him in this way and as a result, it had a huge effect on him. Pushing his hand away you sucked, drawing all sorts of pleased noises from the summoner. He threw his head back, biting on his lip.

Unable to hold back, he starts bucking into your mouth making you choke slightly. He tries to apologise but he’s already so close. Remnants of lipstick smudged on his most intimate parts and you couldn’t help but feel like you owned every part of him.  

“Wait, I might dirty you-“

His orgasm hits him unexpectedly when you hum and he subconsciously pulls away, leaving a mess on your cheeks. V is doubled over, leaning on the glass of the phonebooth, legs trembling and breathing erratic. Swiping your tongue across your mouth, you taste his bitterness. Smirking, you couldn’t help but crack a joke.

“Thanks for the meal.”

V runs a hand over his face, sighing. He tucks himself in and goes to wipe your face with the edge of his coat.

“So vulgar. I do not know how you were able to convince me to… do this…”

“But you wouldn’t have anyone else, would you?”

He helps smooth out your clothes, brushing stray hairs away from your face. You understand that it’s difficult for him to put his feelings for you in words, but his actions show how much he cares. Watching you button up your shirt, V holds his hands out, tattoos re-appearing on his skin.

It’s only when his hair returns to black that he runs a hand through the unruly mop to look decent once more.  Thankfully, his lust-addled brain hand enough common sense to set his cane against the wall before tangling with you. In turn, you found your weapons resting on top of the phone.

Adjusting your skirt, you attempted to wipe the ruined mascara from your cheeks. It would’ve been nice to have a reflective surface handy but you did what you could. V saw your struggle, licking his thumb and reaching over to assist you. Heart seizing in your chest at how gentle he was, you gave him a quick peck on the lips.

The summoner smiled in return.

Exiting the phone booth together, V twirled his cane around and tapped it on the pavement.

“Let us make haste to the van. We are overdue for a shower.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Griffon chose that moment to appear.

“You two are disgusting, you know that right?”

In a rare show of childishness, V rolled his eyes, opting to not humour his familiar with a response. He didn’t complain when you looped your arm around his, leaning against his side. Griffon scoffed and dissipated into ink once more.

 ---

Call it woman’s intuition (or the fact that V was bruised and covered in lipstick), because Nico immediately knew what transpired. V went to shower and you sauntered over to the driver’s seat, shooting the gunsmith a smile.

“I gotta hand it to ya, I did not see this coming.”

Leaning over, you held out your hand.

“Looks like I’m fifty bucks richer.”

Waving you off the mechanic frowned, reaching for the glove compartment. Placing a fresh bill in your hand, Nico sighed.

“Really shoulda learned after I kept losin’ to D-Dante in cards.”

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Imperio

This a fic to celebrate 100 followers! Thank you so much for supporting my work!

Almost everything in italics is a flashback! The only exception to this would be the single lines that are italicized. (example: I love Charlie Weasley)

I know this might not be how the Imperius Curse works, but y’know! This just a story I had in mind! Also, it’s kinda long, like really long LOL

Word Count: 5,487

It’s not really connected to this one, but there are some scenes I took from this fic so read over it before this one:

Charlie introducing (Y/N) to the rest of his family

Summary: This takes place during The Deathly Hallows. Charlie Weasley is desperately trying to find someone and will do everything it takes to get them back from the clutches of the Dark Lord.

The Imperius Curse is one of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. It is a well-known tool of the Dark Arts and frequently utilized by Lord Voldemort and his followers. It is one of the three Unforgivable Curses and its use will obtain its caster a lengthy sentence in Azkaban. When cast successfully, the curse places the victim completely under the caster’s control, though a person with exceptional strength of will is capable of resisting it.

The Malfoy Apothecary was a frequent place of meeting for Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Unaware clients were met by the sweet, cherry smell of their Superior Red upon entering. The intoxicating smell of the wine and the perfect manners of the staff distracted them from the horrors that took place behind the back-room doors. 

The backroom contained, not only, the necessary supplies to keep their establishment running, but a set of mossy, stone steps that led down to the dark cellar. It was cold and damp, and the only light that shown came from a sliver underneath the door

.Footsteps echoed through the chamber, wooden casks of wine lining the walls of the large room. Two figures stood in a dimly lit section of the chamber. One of the figures stalked towards a large chair placed in front of a long, oak table which was usually utilized for meetings. The black-cloaked figure rounded the velvet chair, his white, arachnidian fingers clutching the arm of it, and finally sitting down. 

“Bring out the prisoner,” A coarse, yet stern, voice commanded. The second figure, who remained standing, scurried towards the metal cage at the back of the room, his long, blond hair trailing behind him. 

Lucius Malfoy determinedly walked down the line of casks, an obvious expression of agitation decorating his features. As a prisoner to The Dark Lord, one isn't expected to be shown mercy. Usually, a captured wizard would not last more than a day due to Voldemort's sustained talent to rid those he deemed unnecessary.

Knowing this information, (Y/N) (L/N) couldn't help growing uneasy as the days blurred together in her dungeon prison. As a dependable employee for the Ministry of Magic, (Y/N) held onto the hope that her friends and colleagues would come to her rescue. Shivering against the cold stone surface, she cursed at herself in anger. The Death Eaters had stripped her of her robes and left her locked in the freezing dungeon, presumably on Voldemort's orders to utilize the temperature to wear her down. Her past few days in captivity were filled with hunger, frustration, and silence.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not remember how she had been captured or how long had passed since she had vanished. Her inability to recall the day's events frustrated her, she had no way of knowing if her friends were safe and the fear that something might've happened to Charlie began to settle over her like a dark cloud. 

Moving her tied hands in a defined triangular motion, she uttered the words, "Incendio" casting a small, undisrupted flame in the center of her cell. Inching towards it, she was suddenly enveloped by the warmth radiating from it, her shivering seizing as the light crackled in front of her. 

The rusty, loud noise of scraping metal pierced her ears, inciting pain as Lucius Malfoy slowly slid open the lock. The cage door opened with a great "CRASH!", the rest of the metal vibrating from the forceful impact. Smirking at her flinch, Lucius stepped forwards, speaking in a cool tone, “The Dark Lord summoned you,” He stated plainly, his hands latching tightly around her biceps as he man-handled her out of the cage.

“Let me go!” (Y/N) yelled, thrashing around to free herself from his forceful grip. Gritting his teeth, Lucius strengthened his grip on (Y/N), dragging her down the line casks with difficulty. Frantically twisting and kicking, she attempted to knock her assailant down but her efforts proved to be futile. With one last powerful jerk, Lucius launched (Y/N) against the stone, her head slamming painfully against the rigid ground. 

Her vision suddenly became blindingly white and a painful throbbing sensation emerged in her head. After a few seconds, (Y/N) found herself regaining her eyesight, blinking as the darkroom materialized again. She yelped when a large hand gripped her hair, cruelly yanking her head and torso off the ground. (Y/N) couldn't help her eyes widened when they connected with the red, malevolent slits staring down from the chair. She jerked her head towards the side, breaking their eye contact as Lucius' balled his fingers tighter into her hair. (Y/N)'s lips tightened into a line, only gritting her teeth when her head was forced forwards once again. 

“Miss (L/N)” Voldemort hissed, hands placed delicately on the velvety armrests, "How lucky you are to be in my presence" He stated, the amusement in his voice clearly audible as they yanked her around. (Y/N), however, refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him as he addressed her. She kept her eyes focused on the wall to his left, jaw clenched as silence fell before her. 

There was an imperceptible movement in Voldemort's hand, his fingers were squeezing the fabric underneath him in rising anger. He had the assumption that (Y/N), after days in chilling captivity, would beg for her life at his feet. 

But she didn't.

Instead, she kept her gaze fixed away from his slitted eyes and remained silent. 

The weight on the chair suddenly lifted and the unmistakable sound of footsteps crept towards her, the blurred figure developing in her vision. Though her actions were brave, The Dark Lord really wasn’t known for his patience. 

Gritting his teeth, Voldemort gripped her chin aggressively and forced her focus on to him, "You will look at me when I address you," He spat, harshly squeezing the bones of her jaw with the faintest desire to crush them underneath his fingers. 

(Y/N) attempted to free herself from his grip, but the hand in her hair held her steady, "Don't touch me," She retaliated with a resentful glare, but Voldemort only smiled in return. 

“I can see why the Weasley boy took a liking to you,” Voldemort spoke coldly, circling through the cellar as if he were disinterested, “Put on quite a show when we took you,” He added, his hand delving into his cloak to retrieve his bony, yew wand. 

“Let me go, William!” Charlie shouted, thrashing in his older brother's grip. Bill, however, didn't budge, he tightened his arms around Charlie's chest, remorsefully watching the scene unfold ahead of him. 

"Charlie, stop!" Bill yelled, "There's nothing we can do for her right now!"

(Y/N)'s stunned body hung limply over the back of werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. The two were closely followed by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was yelling cheerfully as they made their escape. Bill knew how dangerous the pair of them were and did not want to risk Charlie's death at the hands of either of them. 

Charlie desperately called out her name, he wanted nothing more than for her to wake up and fight, but his cries fell on deaf ears. Hot tears streamed down his face, his thrashing against Bill's grip increasing as he helplessly watched the two Death Eaters carry her away. 

With her wand aimed towards Charlie, Bellatrix shot him a short wave along with a malicious smile as he screamed. But, once he finally managed to break free from Bill's grip, it was too late. A cloud of thick, dark smoke suddenly enveloped the three of them, shooting upwards into the night sky becoming untraceable in the darkness.

 Charlie sprinted forwards, filled with adrenaline as he attempted to catch up to them, but it was useless. With a cry of anguish, Charlie's knees buckled and he sank onto the grass field of his home, slamming his fists against the ground. 

“Go to hell,” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, earning another laugh from Lord Voldemort. 

While carefully examining his wand, Voldemort made his way in front of her, “Normally, you’d be dead,” He stated plainly, "But I believe you will be of great use to me," Voldemort said, his fingers trailing over his wand once again before motioning to Lucius Malfoy. 

Without hesitation, Malfoy forced out (Y/N)'s left arm while holding the rest of her body steady. Her eyes flickered from the wand, now aimed at her forearm, to the person holding it, "No!" She screeched, struggling against Lucius's grip only to be harshly pinned down against the group, her left arm outstretched painfully. 

Uttering an indistinguishable spell, Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to her forearm, a sharp burning sensation rapidly shooting through it. (Y/N) screamed as the mark was painfully added into her skin, tears forming in her eyes as Voldemort’s laugh filled her ears, “Stop!” She screamed, attempting to pull her arm away, but there was nothing she could do.

Tears streamed down (Y/N)'s face and onto the mark, the clear droplets sliding down the inky skull and snake permanently attached to her body. There it was, the horrific brand of Lord Voldemort's devoted followers seared on her arm.

A thud came from the top of the steps, the door to the wine cellar slamming open loudly. "Starting without me?" A woman asked as she descended the stairs, her curls bouncing with each step. Then, the woman grinning from ear to ear stepped into the dimly lit room. Bellatrix Lestrange halted beside Lord Voldemort, her eyes landing on the fresh mark with admiration, "You should be grateful!" She bellowed maniacally, her fingers closing around (Y/N)'s sore arm, her winces of pain drowned out by Bellatrix's thunderous cackle. 

(Y/N) felt another hand grip her face, but this time her (e/c) eyes met with Bellatrix's brown ones, "You're going to be very useful," She spat with a smile of someone truly insane. 

Knelt in front of three merciless wizards, (Y/N), for the first time in her life, felt truly terrified.

The Burrow Charlie Weasley paced back and forth in his living room, attempting to decipher where Bellatrix Lestrange had taken his fianceé. He refused to sit around, he refused to wait for The Order to give him the okay, he wanted to find her before anyone could hurt her. “I’m going out to look again” Charlie announced, grabbing his satchel and headed towards the door. “Charlie!” Molly Weasley called, attempting to bring her son back into their home, but before she could get to him, he had already disapparated. Charlie routinely checked The Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeade, their shared home, Jacob’s home, anywhere he thought she would be. The Ministry was always his first stop, (Y/N) was a formidable Auror and it wasn’t unusual to find her in her office or around the Ministry. Charlie walked around, asking the staff if they had seen her or heard of her, but the answer was always “No, sorry” Charlie grew frustrated every day, he needed to find her and make sure she was okay, but his search always led to a dead end. Turning to face the fireplaces, he scanned the people entering and exiting, trying to see if he could catch someone who would know anything. Suddenly, one of the middle fireplaces started up and he caught a flash of her (H/C) hair. His eye’s widened, hoping they hadn’t deceived him. Charlie sprinted towards her, attempting to catch her, but she kept walking, “(Y/N)” He yelled, but she didn’t turn. (Y/N) headed to her office, ignoring her fiancee’s class, as instructed. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she continued on her way. Charlie gritted his teeth and continued to run until he finally grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Charlie grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “Are you okay?!” He asked, but he noticed something different about her. (Y/N)’s usually bright (E/C) eyes were clouded and her expression was blank. Once her foggy eyes landed on Charlie, her eyebrows furrowed and she pushed him off, knocking him to the ground, “Bombarda!” She screamed, aiming her wand at the Ministry ceiling until it began to crumble. Charlie rolled to the side, “Protego Maxima!” He shouted creating a barrier between himself and the falling debris. As (Y/N) aimed her wand at the ceiling, he caught sight of her left arm and the terrible mark seared into her skin, “Dear, Merlin! NO!” He screamed, scrambling to his feet, “Immobulus!” He yelled, but she had already disapparated, leaving a cloud of black smoke behind. “She’s a death eater” A ministry worker yelled, obviously upset about the damage, “(Y/N) (L/N) is a death eater!” “You will ruin your reputation in the Ministry” Bellatrix began, walking around (Y/N) in a circle. The Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy had left and the curse-breaker was left in the hands of one of the cruelest witches ever known. (Y/N) laughed, "My reputation will be ruined enough once people laid eyes on the disgusting mark you've branded me with!" She exclaimed in anger, but Bellatrix could only smile, "But this mark could never ruin me" (Y/N) grinned, she was a powerful witch herself, but not powerful enough "After this, everything you've ever worked for will come crumbling down," Bellatrix laughed, pulling out her curved wand. Shoving it close to (Y/N)'s temple, she grinned as the once-defiant Auror squeezed her eyes shut, "Imperio" She whispered, and even though she tried to fight it, she simply couldn't. "You will orchestrate an attack on the ministry on your own," Bellatrix began, releasing her handcuffs, "Destroy it, keep returning, destroy your reputation, make sure your mark is visible" (Y/N)'s foggy eyes landed on Bellatrix and she gave a nod, "Obey the Dark Lord," Bellatrix added on, "Oh," She grinned, "And if you see a Weasley," She said, heading up the stairs, "Don't hesitate to attack, kill if necessary" Bellatrix went up the stairs of the Apothecary, her laughter filling the empty store. (Y/N) walked upstairs and disapparated, ready to fulfill her tasks. The Ministry was crumbling, Death Eaters had invaded their ranks, and numerous more appeared, destroying any negative article towards Lord Voldemort and killing those who dared to speak again him. By that time, Charlie was long gone and back at The Burrow, his face buried in his hands. His mind kept flashing back to (Y/N) and her robotic expression, "The Imperius Curse," Charlie muttered, clenching his fists. Bill, Tonks, Penny, and Rowan sat in front of him, all shocked to hear the news, "She's working for Voldemort!" Charlie yelled, slamming his fists down on the couch, "They've brainwashed her!" Charlie was furious, they knew how much she meant to him, how powerful she was and they managed to get her into their ranks against her will. "The curse can't be broken unless the caster ceases to use it or they perish" Rowan recited, remembering the lesson on the Unforgivable Curses they received at Hogwarts "Then we'll have to find who cast it," Bill announced, patting his brother on the back, "We'll get her back, Charlie" He smiled softly and Charlie furrowed his eyebrows "We have to" Charlie muttered, getting up from his seat, "I think it was Bellatrix Lestrange, she kidnapped her" Charlie stated, gathering his supplies. "Then let's get her" Penny grinned, standing up and heading towards the door, "I assume you want the old team back?" She asked playfully and Charlie gave a nod, "Give me a couple hours" She said and disapparated to gather her former classmates. Tonks crossed her arms and huffed, "If it's my aunt, let me handle her" She grinned, "I've had some unfinished business since Harry's transfer from Little Whinging" Charlie looked at Tonks and raised an eyebrow, "If you think I'm not attacking her with you, you've got another thing coming" "I won't kill her, just let me disarm her," Tonks stated, twirling her wand, "We're a team, remember?" 

“Charlie!” Tonks yelled, catching him and (Y/N) before they disapparated from Grimmauld Place, “Remember at Hogwarts when we graduated, that’d we’d always be a team?”

Charlie nodded with a smile, his arm wrapped around (Y/N), “Of course I do, that was after we found Jacob”

(Y/N) grinned, remembering how much trouble they got into during their years at school, but it was all for the better. 

“We’ve always been a team, Tonks” (Y/N) smiled, “And we always will be”

“I just wanted to remind you two” Tonks grinned, “Get home safely” She waved as she watched the couple disapparate before returning into Grimmauld Place.

“Of course I do” Charlie replied with a smile. May 2nd, 1998. Hogwarts was under attack, Lord Voldemort had sent his forces to the shielded castle and everyone who was able to fight was defending the school until the early hours of the morning. Charlie Weasley was battling alongside his older brother, Bill. Andre Egwu and Barnaby Lee protected the Astronomy Tower by broomstick while Tulip Karasu and Merula Snyde manded the floors. Ben Copper and Penny Haywood were helping out in the Great Hall, helping the wounded and defending any areas they could. Rowan Khanna kept the barriers up alongside Horace Slughorn and Filius Flitwick. (Y/N) (L/N) was still under Bellatrix's spell. The Dark Lord kept her away from the fight, holding her inside the Forbidden Forest along with the other Death Eaters. "Let me find them" (Y/N) said, her (E/C) still clouded and her allegiance clearly with Voldemort, "I know how to get to them" Voldemort raised an arm to silence her and she quickly did. The Dark Lord had taught her to never speak out of turn and those who did were gravely punished. He grew tired of the fighting and decided to call off the invasion, ushering Harry Potter to come to find him before it was too late. "She's in Malfoy Manor?!" Charlie yelled at Bill for not telling him sooner, "We could've gotten her out, Bill!" "No!" Bill snapped, "You couldn't have, Charlie!" Bill wanted her back as much as his younger brother did, but it was too risky, "Harry told me she killed six snatchers with the wave of her hand! Dobby's dead because of her and you think they would give her up so easily!?" Charlie Weasley stayed quiet, finally realizing that this war didn't just only affect his wellbeing. Bill, a usually laid back man, had yelled at him. Charlie walked up to his brother and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, Bill" Charlie uttered, "I've been selfish, I never took into account how you must feel, how everyone must feel" Bill sighed and returned his brother's hug, "It's alright, Charlie." Bill replied, "Thank you" Bill and Charlie pushed through the Great Hall doors, exhausted from the long hours of battle. They hoped to find time to rest, but the screams and tears that filled the hall haunted all who stayed there. Bill's eyes widened when he saw his mother collapse with the rest of the family near her. Bill ran over with Charlie following after him, attempting to keep the worst out of their minds. Fred Weasley, one of the boys, had been killed during the battle. Percy laid over him, shaking him, attempting to wake him up. "It's my fault!" He yelled as Arthur Weasley attempted to pull him off their deceased family member, "I should've protected him! It should've been me!" Bill held back tears and he ripped Percy off his younger brother, "Don't say that!" He yelled as Percy cried, "Don't" He choked up, "ever say that" Bill broke, he began to cry as he pulled his brother in for a hug, not being able to look down at Fred. Charlie stared at his deceased brother as Ron cried over him and his Father attempted to console his mother. Ginny had been consoling George the entire time, he wasn't making jokes, he wasn't speaking, he was just crying. "Look, Georgie! Charlie's got himself a girlfriend" Fred exclaimed, pointing up at (Y/N) and Charlie after they shared their first kiss. He had brought her home for Christmas since her parents weren't home. Charlie recalled how he used to take care of the twins with Bill and Percy. "Everyone jump on Charlie!" Fred yelled, bouncing off the bed onto his brother's back. George followed suit, jumping into Charlie's arms as they both laughed. "Hey! Get off!" Charlie yelled as he tried to swing Fred off but he only held on tighter. Bill caught Ron as he attempted to jump on Charlie like his older brother had instructed. Percy rolled his eyes but smiled as Ginny attempted to pull Fred off Charlie. (Y/N) stood by the doorway, muffling her laughter as she watched Charlie and his siblings interact with each other. Sometimes he hated how troublesome they were, but he always enjoyed helping them, talking to them, and spending time with them. "Look what we made," Fred grinned, holding out a toy which resembled a Hungarian Horntail, "Dedicated to you" The twins wore colored suits as they brought the family around their new joke shop before the grand opening. "Spits fire and everything!" George chimed in, "Don't worry though, it's safe!" Charlie couldn't help but smile, his brothers were doing something wonderful and to think of the family as they designed their items was absolutely incredible. "I love it, you two are incredible" Charlie replied, admiring the toy in his hands. Charlie clenched his fists and began to cry, he couldn't believe this had happened after the twins always reminding them they'd be fine. They were supposed to be fine. Penny Haywood returned to the Great Hall with cauldrons of water for the injured, most of them enchanted to float behind her as she rushed through the crowds. Charlie was startled when he heard a scream and the clang of the cauldrons crashing. Turning to the sound, he noticed the spilled water and Penny Haywood crying on the ground. "Tonks!" She screamed, kneeling in front of her childhood friend, "Nymphadora Tonks! You wake up right now!" She yelled, shaking her as if she would wake up, "You promised me you'd be fine!" "We're gonna be fine" Tonks stated once again as she stretched her arms over her head, "We'll return to Teddy after the battle" Penny crossed her arms as she attempted to keep her friend from going, "There are enough able-bodied people fighting already!" Penny yelled, grabbing Tonks by the arm, "You and Remus should return home, Tonks" Penny pleaded. Tonks shook her head and pulled her dear friend in for a hug, "Penny, I love you to death," She began, "But Remus isn't staying home and neither am I, everyone is laying down their lives and so will we" She smiled, "You're fighting too even though I wish you would stay clear of danger" Penny gave a sigh and returned Tonks's hug, "You've got a point" She muttered. "We're gonna be fine, we're all going to be fine" Tonks grinned, "Now let's go find (Y/N)." Ben and Tulip ran up to Penny, attempting to pull her away, but Penny wouldn't budge. Ben was already crying as Tulip attempted to console the shrieking Penny. Charlie felt as if he was going to pass out, the screams, the death, it all shook him to his core. He gritted his teeth and ran out of the Great Hall, leaning up against the wall as he cried. "Charlie?" Harry called softly, "I'm sorry about Fred and Tonks" he muttered, "and about (Y/N), I know it must be hard" Charlie nodded with his head against the wall, "Thanks" he uttered and Harry gave a sigh "I'm going to end this" Harry stated, "Everything will be over soon" Charlie turned to Harry in surprise, "What do you suppose to do?!" Charlie yelled, "You can't waltz into the forbidden forest, Harry! You'll be killed" Harry placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, "I know what I have to do" He said, placing something on Charlie's shoulder, "But so do you" He added on and walked away. "Isn't that?" Harry muttered to Ron, staring at the blank-faced Curse-Breaker standing behind Bellatrix Lestrange. Malfoy Manor was dark and full of Death Eaters and even though (Y/N) was supposedly one of them, she still managed to stick out, she didn't belong there. "She's under the imperious curse," Ron muttered, "Charlie's gone mad looking for her" Harry glared at Bellatrix Lestrange, attempting to come up with a plan to rescue her, but the powerful people guarding her would make it extremely difficult. "We have to get her out," Ron whispered, "But how?" He asked, but Harry didn't know what to do. He knew Dobby would come to save them, but that was before he knew (Y/N) (L/N) was here, they could've saved her as well. The squeaking of the chandelier above distracted Bellatrix's interrogation as the Golden Trio and some of their allies. escaped to Shell Cottage. Charlie pulled the blanket off his shoulder and examined it, "The invisibility cloak" Charlie whispered in surprise. With a newfound sense of determination, Charlie slipped on the cloak and headed towards The Forbidden Forest. Harry Potter was alone like he had to be, but Charlie entered the forest separately, hoping to find (Y/N) Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and (Y/N) (L/N) stood around Voldemort, waiting for the chosen one's arrival. Narcissa had not kept her eyes of Hogwarts, worriedly wondering if her son was still alive. Lucius didn't speak and Bellatrix was growing annoyed just waiting around, "Let's just go in a get him!" Bellatrix exclaimed angrily. Lucius looked up at the castle, "It's still heavily fortified, Bellatrix" he uttered out and Voldemort turned to Bellatrix. "Harry Potter will be here soon" Voldemort stated, glancing over at (Y/N), "While we wait, send her in" Voldemort whispered to Bellatrix who still had (Y/N) under her spell. Bellatrix stalked over to (Y/N) and whispered something in her ear. Without hesitation, the foggy eyed woman and two death eaters walked into the darkness, heading towards the castle. Charlie Weasley maneuvered through the forest, attempting to find his fianceé who was taken from him long ago. He froze when he heard the crunching of branches, he moved to the side and watched as the love of his life and two death eaters headed towards Hogwarts. Following her, he wasn't sure whether to confront her or let her walk. Under Voldemort's power, he wasn't sure what she was capable of and he would do anything to keep her from harm. "Good Morning," (Y/N) muttered as she opened her eyes. Charlie had been playing with her hair, patiently waiting for her to wake up. "Morning," He replied, pressing a kiss against her forehead, "You always look so beautiful" (Y/N) laughed softly as she stretched, "How long have you been up?" She asked, reaching up to brush a strand of red hair away from his eyes. "Five minutes" He replied, propping his head upon his elbow, "I'll make you breakfast" He smiled Charlie still believed she looked beautiful, even with the scars and bruises, he was still his (Y/N). "Look at this!" Charlie exclaimed, throwing The Daily Prophet against the table, "(Y/N) (L/N) throws away all love for Charles Weasley, and joins The Dark Lord's Army by Rita Skeeter!" Charlie furrowed his eyebrows and began to read the article. "Charles Septimus Weasley and (Y/N) (L/N), lovers cruelly separated by a time of war. Charlie Weasley spends his days crying and mourning over the love he lost to the darkness, this is rubbish!" Charlie yelled making Merula and Andre chuckle. "It's kinda true, Weasley" Merula chimed in, crossing her arms behind her head, "You do other things, of course, but you do spend time crying" Charlie ripped the paper in half and threw it away, "We need another plan to get her back" Charlie followed after (Y/N) as the two death eaters separated from her as part of their plan. "Help!" She screamed, "Anyone please help me!" To the untrained eye, (Y/N) would just seem like a helpless woman calling out to someone, but her foggy eyes reflected the true nature of her actions. The doors opened and one of the Hogwarts professors rushed her inside as Charlie Weasley chased after her. The two death eaters attempted to infiltrate the castle, but the defenses the other professors had put up made it impossible. (Y/N) began to cry as they walked her down the corridor, but once the coast was clear, she pulled out her wand and stunned the woman helping her. "Bombarda Maxima!" She yelled and one of the walls came crumbling down. The explosion shook the ground as she began to attack the inside of the castle. Charlie ripped off the cloak and attempted to defend the castle without hurting (Y/N), "Protego Maxima!" He yelled, running after her. Bill Weasley was leaned up against the wall with his old friends as they attempted to grasp Tonks's death. They were all tired, sweaty, and bloody, they just wanted to win and finally finish off this war. "Where's Charlie?" Rowan asked as she rubbed Penny's back. Penny was distraught, she and Tonks had been friends since their first year, they shared a room together, Penny was at her wedding, she was there when Teddy was born and was named Godmother. Tonks's death affected her greatly. Barnaby gave a shrug, running his hand through his hair, "I haven't seen him" He replied, at that moment an explosion rang through the corridor and the group noticed Charlie fending off (Y/N). Tulip snatched some dungbombs and fireworks from her belt and set them ablaze, creating a barrier of smoke between Charlie and the hypnotized (Y/N). Penny scrambled to her feet, taking out potion vials to use as weapons. Merula glared at the cloud of smoke, attempting to see (Y/N) through all of it, but it was too difficult. Barnaby, Ben, Andre, and Rowan pulled out their wands as they walked over to defend Charlie. Bill forced himself off the wall and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Crucio!" Her voice rang through the smoke and a red light hit Charlie directly in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The Cruciatus Curse (also known as the Torture Curse) is a tool of the Dark Arts and one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It is one of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. When cast successfully the curse inflicts intense, excruciating pain on the victim. But Charlie didn't feel any pain. (Y/N) came out from the cloud of smoke, sending off aggressive spells as the group surrounded Charlie and blocked off her advances. Charlie pushed himself off the ground, realizing the spell hadn't affected him. She didn't mean it. Charlie pushed through his friends and aimed his wand at (Y/N) once again, "If you truly wish to hurt me!" He cried, "Do it again" (Y/N) stopped in her tracks and gave a smile, repeating the spell, "Crucio!" She yelled out, but again, it knocked him off his feet without pain. "Again!" He screamed and the spell knocked him over once more, "I know you're strong, (Y/N)! Please, come back to me!" Charlie pushed himself off the ground and stared at (Y/N) dead in the eyes. She could've attacked, she could've gone through with her plan, but she didn't. (Y/N) just stood there, facing Charlie Weasley, her fianceé. Internally, (Y/N) had been trying to fight off the curse, but forcing out the Imperius curse was more difficult than blocking it in the beginning. "Bombarda!" (Y/N) yelled and ran off in the other direction, avoiding her friends. "Dammit!" Charlie screamed, "She's in there, I know she is!" The sun was rising, the death eaters marched on Hogwarts. Everyone had gathered in the front, preparing for one last face off. Harry Potter was dead, but they still had to fight. Charlie scanned the crowd and noticed (Y/N) standing amongst the crowd of Death Eaters as Voldemort address the defenders of Hogwarts. Their celebration of victory, however, was short-lived. Harry Potter jumped up and began attacking, sparking yet another battle in front of the school. (Y/N) followed after Bellatrix, defending her from behind as the two women rushed into the school. Charlie Weasley was the one attacking Bellatrix from behind, attempting to free (Y/N) from her dark spell. "ENOUGH BELLATRIX!" Charlie yelled attempting to stun her, but (Y/N) quickly cast Protego, "Let her go!" Bellatrix only laughed as they entered The Great Hall, knocking down anyone that stood in her way, "You've lost your precious girlfriend! Your sweet Freddie!" She yelled, "Now get ready to lose the rest of your family!" Bellatrix shot a spell at Ginny who was standing in front of the rest of her family. "No!" Charlie yelled, but Ginny deflected the spell. Molly Weasley turned, sheer anger filled her expression as she aimed her wand at Bellatrix. (Y/N) quickly turned to protect her, but Charlie began shooting spells in order to distract her. "Not my daughter, you bitch!" Molly Weasley exclaimed as Bellatrix began fighting her off, but with a few protective spells and a mother's strong will, Molly Weasley flung spells at the wicked witch, finally finishing her off. (Y/N)'s longterm incantation work off, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she passed out in front of her fianceé. (Y/N) almost hit the ground, but Charlie caught her right on time. Bill ran over to Charlie's side as he attempted to wake (Y/N) up. With a gasp, she opened her eyes, and Charlie was quickly overcome with emotion. "You're okay!" He exclaimed, pulling her up for a long-overdue kiss, "You're okay" He cried as he wrapped his arms around her. "Charlie.." (Y/N) whispered hoarsely, wrapping her arms around him in relief, "Please tell me I didn't cause too much trouble" Charlie looked at Bill and they both laughed, hugging (Y/N) at the same time. "I wish I could say that was true," Bill replied with a smile, "But it's not over yet" Bill stated, getting up to attack another Death Eater that approached. "Reducto!" He yelled, defending his brother and his fianceé, "Go, I've got him" Bill grinned as George ran in to fight with his brother. Percy Weasley and Ginny Weasley were up on the tables, casting defensive spells to protect Charlie and (Y/N) until she regained her strength. "Charlie," (Y/N) called as he attempted to move her out of The Great Hall, "I want to fight" She stated. "That's what I like to hear" Merula Snyde spoke up, "Good to have you back, (L/N)" Merula smiled, joined by Andre, Barnaby, Penny, Rowan, Ben, and Tulip. "We've missed you!" Ben chimed in, "But we can catch up later" He smiled. Ben seemed different, he wasn't nervous anymore. Being together again made him feel stronger and he knew his friends would have his back. More Death Eaters swarmed Hogwarts, but they were no match for the elusive Curse-Vaults group of Hogwarts. With a yell, Tulip set more bombs ablaze, throwing them into the crowd as Ben lined them up, sparking them with his wand. Merula, Andre, and Barnaby mounted their brooms and began attacking from the top, avoiding any quick spells shot at them. Penny drank a potion and spit fire at the hoards while still sending off explosion spells. Rowan began casting incarcerous, rendering the Death Eaters useless to any of their attacks. At the corner of her eye (Y/N) noticed the Malfoy Family huddling away from the Death Eaters. The three of them were wandless and defenseless. "Tulip!" (Y/N) yelled, pointing at the defenseless Malfoys. With a grin, Tulip appeared in front of the family giving them a bright "hey there!" as she set the Death Eaters ablaze, "Come with me" She grinned, walking to lead the family into a safe place. The Malfoys reluctantly followed her, but happy to finally be safe. Soon enough, the fighting ceased. The Dark Lord had perished thanks to Harry Potter and the remaining Death Eaters were chained up. Professor McGonagall walked up to (Y/N) with a reassuring smile as she nervously stared at the mark on her arm. "You were under a curse, everything you did under the incantation is pardoned," McGonagall said, placing a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) gripped her arm as she attempted to cover the mark, but she gave her former teacher a nod, "Thank you, Headmistress" She replied as McGonagall walked away. Charlie approached his fianceé, happily wrapping his arms around her, "I'm glad your safe" He muttered, pressing a kiss against his forehead, "There are some things I have to explain and they're hard to talk about," Charlie muttered, recalling his dead brother and former classmate. "I know what happened, Charlie" (Y/N) replied with a sigh, "I assumed what happened after I saw Penny and when she began crying again, she told me about Tonks" (Y/N) felt like crying herself, but thought it'd be best not to, "And Freddie, Bill told me" Charlie swallowed the knot in his throat as he hugged her once more, "I'm so glad you're safe" He cried, "I was so worried" (Y/N)'s heart hurt as she heard him cry, she nuzzled her face against his neck and sobbed as well, "Everything is going to be okay, Charlie" She whispered, happy to be herself again, but the pain experienced number of casualties was excruciating. As the years passed, (Y/N) and Charlie Weasley remained together as they began a family of their own. The mark of her left arm had faded since Voldemort's death, but the small outline still remained, a reminder of all that had happened. After all the tears, loss, and casualties they had finally found peace and happiness in their little home, watching their children grow up. Charlie was overjoyed when their firstborn had their first accidental magic experience, ecstatic to find out the young child had a chance to attend Hogwarts. (Y/N) couldn't wait to teach her children what she had learned alongside her husband. All was well.

[babyboyoonie]

Hi ! I don't know if you're still taking request like this but,,, yoongi with long hair,, that make him look even more princey than he already does uwu. I really like your writing btw, i find it super refreshing to read and its just lovely ! I hope you have a good day, don't forget to drink

Hello ♥ I’m sorry for taking so long, here it is!! thanks for your request and also, your kind words, it motivated me to write,,, i was in a bit of a drought so thank you ;w; really ♥ you don’t forget to drink n eat AND sleep either. (;

I imagine long-haired!Yoongi just like @inbloomyg  ‘s ((hey there!! told you i’d link you the fic if i wrote it hehe)) art which is right down there and gorgeous, just like everything they do ♥ here we go, hope you’ll like it~

Something strikes Seokjin late in the afternoon. In the form of Yoongi waking up from a nap, and looking dangerously close to falling into another one. Seokjin’s stricken by a realization one late afternoon. April, hot but not really, a humid something that tugs Yoongi away from his studio and straight in Seokjin’s arms. No hesitation, no bribing on Seokjin’s part or the inevitable fall following days in the studio. It’s a whim, a whim of lightly flushed cheeks and clothes in disarray. A whim of lean limbs wrapping around Seokjin’s in the bed, cat-like eyes heavy-lidded and lashes fluttering lazily.It’s hair falling from a pretilly messy bun on Seokjin’s chest too. Long, blond hair. Oh. Oh.“Yah,” he says, sudden and low and lacking that mild cheer he paints his intonation with so often. Yoongi startles, the black diamonds Seokjin likes to call eyes popping open and eyeing Jin curiously. He kind of wants to spend, ah, something like hours, thinking about this gaze and only kissing Yoongi’s eyelids, Yoongi’s cheeks, his lips, to convey the adoration he feels. Perhaps he will, later, but right now—“hyung,” the little man now wide awake says, or whispers, or perhaps just something in the middle. Darling drawl, quiet interrogation. “what.”So darling.But Jin—Jin only lets his fingers brush the locks of black and blonde with a blossoming something in his chest. Petals opening, warming him up, because Yoongi’s hair is soft; because Yoongi’s hair is long and frames his angelic face in the prettiest way and Jin feels stupid for not seeing this sooner. No—for not having taken the time to. For not stopping and observing the way strands of blonde fall delicately in Yoongi’s eyes, part sometimes in the middle of his forehead and gives him a whole new aspect—he can’t, he can’t put a name on it but God. Yoongi looks so fucking good, what the hell. Seokjin’s nearly offended. Would be, if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly smitten. Takes in eyes slowly blinking at him and perfected each second by the gentle movements of his wild locks. They’re not totally blonde, his natural hair is growing under but? It only makes him even more gorgeous? Seokjin blows out a long breath and cards his fingers into those soft strands. He may or may not be enchanted. “Yoongi-yah, your hair,” he says, wheezes out, gestures frantically with his free hand to the hair he’s caressing way too eagerly for him to not look like a maniac. A handsome maniac, but still. Yoongi eyes him, blinking some more. He’s cute but he just doesn’t get it. “It’s long!”Yoongi rolls his eyes. Raises himself a little bit more on Jin’s chest to give him a somewhat amused, somewhat dry look. All heavy-lidded and cheeks slightly puffed out. And with the way his hair cascaded around his features so darling—God, Jin was one blind man. “I’m hurt, hyung,” the little one drawls lazily, eyes piercing Jin’s before falling somewhere else on the man’s shirt. “aren’t you—aren’t you the one shouting left and right totally unnecessary daily details about me? And you can’t even see that my hair grew?”

“Yah! They’re not unnecessary—”

A snort’s his only answer, alongside Yoongi’s pointed gaze and huffed “As if.” Probably implying all the times his hyung exposed his embarrassing sides—which, Jin would like to protest, were actually the cutest moments ever—and beamed in positive mirth to anyone around.

But. Indeed, Jin had been quite blind to this little wonder.

He cuddles Yoongi closer to him, ignores his lazy protests and the weak fists punching his shoulders. Arms firm around a narrow waist, hands digging in the supple flesh of his darling until he exploded in sweet rivulets of laughter. Jin watches happiness brighten Yoongi’s tired feature, his hair form a halo around his face and wonders if Yoongi can hear the wild beats of his heart. Eventually, softly, he pushes his fingers into Yoongi’s soft strands of hair and moves them behind his ear. Delicate. “You’re always pretty, that’s why. Long hair, short hair, the only thing I notice always is that—is that you’re gorgeous.”

Lovely eyes fix on his, wide-eyed, before they close at the same time as colors bloom on his little one’s satin skin. And Jin, Jin’s too hot already, cuddled as they are; but he brings Yoongi closer and breathes a smile on his lips. Smiles and kisses Yoongi’s lips as softly as he caresses his hair, until his baby’s putty in his hands, pressed on his body in the sweetest way.

From then—Jin can’t not notice Yoongi’s long, prince-like hair. Soft and cascading and—and golden.

When he, later, says they’re all eight and he’s a ten, it’s an innocent lie, because Yoongi with long hair is one hell of a solid twenty.

Hoseok knows he’s staring.

Yoongi knows it too. Ignores it, and repeats the routine he was supposed to practice with Hoseok. Not that he’s any bad—Hoseok would be the first in line, chest bursting with pride to inform excitingly anyone willing to listen, that Min Yoongi was a freaking good dancer. No buts, no ifs, no nothing. His Yoongi was—his Yoongi was good.

His Yoongi was also giving him the cold shoulder.

Sulky silences, never outright ignoring him; just fewer words and even less physical contact. Hoseok was dying. Told Yoongi so, and was only met with dull eyes and a terribly sweet—“Then…perish.” He has been too stunned to pursue Yoongi with tears then. It worked, usually. Just like Yoongi was terribly weak to their youngest members, his resolve always wavered when it came to a teary Hoseok or, or a simple puppy-eyes from Namjoon. Their eldest hyung didn’t count, pigs would fly until Yoongi refused him anything.

And so, and so. Here Hoseok was, desperate and deprived for any kind of contact with the one he swore was his soulmate, soul partner, soul everything and beyond.

Yoongi wasn’t having any of it though, pretty gaze skittering away from Hoseok and letting his lean limbs flow in the familiar pattern they had learned some days ago. Clearly, he didn’t need any help, but Hoseok had to find something, okay?

Well, that was the plan, at the beginning.

But Yoongi—

Yoongi had his pretty, silky and long locks of hair in a pretty bun at the top of his head and Hoseok wanted to cry at the gorgeousness of it all. Of every damn blonde lock, styled perfectly with just this tad bit of natural messiness that drew the gaze—again and again. Hoseok wanted to touch. Yoongi? That was a given, he even freaking dreamed of touching him every second. But this hair…it was, it was a rare sight. Too pretty for words. Hoseok really, really wanted to touch.

So, Hoseok touches.

Tries to, at least, but Yoongi seems to have been keeping a careful eye on him—Hoseok doesn’t go further than an arm outstretched before Yoongi dances away from his reach, arms crossing on his chest. He’s cute, Hoseok despairs in the secret of his mind and his much too expressive face. He’s cute, terribly cute, in the slight frown of his eyebrows and the heavy pout on his pinkish lips. Cute in body leaning away from Hoseok and a defensive position not threatening in the least. Cute, mini-sized Min Yoongi glowering at Hoseok. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get close to you,” Hoseok laments, arms falling by his side in what looks like defeat before—before he shifts forward and brings Yoongi down toward him in a searing embrace. Ignores the man’s muffled protests as he breathes in deeply strawberries and ice cream not unlike a winter spent cuddled inside, with hot chocolate and pleasant company. It’s Yoongi, Yoongi and simply Yoongi and, and okay, the man had only started distancing himself from Hoseok two days ago but—Hoseok needed him, okay? Didn’t know how much until Yoongi slowly put distance between them. “I missed you.”

“Liar,” Yoongi immediately rebukes, pushes at Hoseok’s chest with absolutely no result except, probably, exhausting himself. He’s little, after all. Not that much in height, only centimeters smaller than Hoseok. But he’s little in…in size. Takes less space, easy to hug, to carry and manhandle around. He’s really, really little and fits perfectly in Hoseok’s arms. Better than anyone else, why wouldn’t his little one see it? “You can’t miss me after killing sope. Forsaking what we had together is forsaking me. Leave me alone—stop touching my hair!”

Hoseok shakes his head furiously. Mouth useless with jumbled words as he takes in Yoongi’s scent again, the soft-as-hell hair flowing in between his fingers in glittering petals of gold. Letting them grow had done them justice, and Hoseok lost himself in the art on top of Yoongi’s head before his words reached him. Oh.

“Baby—”

“Don’t baby me, asshole! Go back to being all mushy with Jimin or something and, and leave me alone—what the fuck Hoseok are you smelling my hair? Stop it!”

“It’s pretty! And it smells good! Just like you!” He receives a palm splattered on his face for his efforts. But whatever, Yoongi’s fingers are art, too. And it won’t stop him, anyway. “Sope May be on a break but we, sweetheart, we’re eternal.” He whispers softly. Captures the delicate wrist and brings Yoongi’s hand down, just as soft. Sincerity shining in his eyes, his words, every part of him touching Yoongi and all those that aren’t. He’s true. Hears his heart breaks in his chest at Yoongi’s words, at the—the things he’s implying.

Hoseok would never, ever give up on him—on them. Just thinking about it kind of made him want to cry.

The smaller man doesn’t look at him. Keeps his gaze on the side, eyes brimming with something and shadowed by rebellious strands of gold. “…hurry up and hold me tighter, meanie.”

Hoseok does. Holds him, tight, so tight. Kisses him, until he’s breathless and letting out those little noises cute enough to die for. Kisses him until he’s a puddle of lovely goo entangled with Hoseok’s limbs on the wooden floor, cheeks pinks, eyes satisfied.

“Seok-Seok…is that a boner I can feel on my thigh?”

“Listen…your hair; it’s—”

“Oh my God.”

When they go stargazing, Yoongi loses himself in space. To space, heart and mind. There’s something to be said, Namjoon assures, about the lovely widening of his eyes that doesn’t quite disappear until he slowly starts to fall asleep. Excited, attention undiffused safe for those dreamy minutes he lets Namjoon kisses him silly. Frame cuddled under Namjoon’s bigger one, head delicately thrown backward as plush lips push upon his. Just as delicate, soft, loving.

He’s all Namjoon’s in those moments, and then, he goes back to space.

Peacefully, no worries troubling his soft gestures; because there’s no one else but Namjoon around. Nobody, no cameras, just Yoongi and Namjoon and the dust of social anxiety nothing but a bitter memory. The changes are subtle, but they’re here, and Namjoon’s fine with his little hyung losing himself to space if it means his inner distress would disappear.

And meanwhile, he can—

He can feel. Yoongi’s warmth, spreading all over his body, everywhere but to its owner—his lovely hyung with flushed cheeks puffed in protest of the cold, always always cold. He’s warm, still, a large blanket wrapped around him and shared with Namjoon. He’s warm, but still shivering, and Namjoon holds him tighter. Receives a soft hum for his efforts and lets his pleased great spread wide over his expression.

Yoongi’s over there in space, and Namjoon can feel, and Namjoon can observe. Can observe the little movements of Yoongi’s socked feet under the blanket, the quick flutter of his lashes and—and his hair. God, his hair. Brighter than the stars up there under their observation. Prettier too, a lovely piece artfully decorating Yoongi’s pretty little head. His long hair, Namjoon didn’t have any words.

He felt kind of stupid for being so dazed because of…because of some hair, of all things. It was silly but—he was talking about Yoongi, here. Everything about Yoongi was fascinating. His little hyung would be sleeping for ten hours straight and if Namjoon had the opportunity, he’d damn observe him during those ten hours. So—so, yeah, not just hair, Yoongi’s hair. Falling to his shoulders and still growing, full and soft and flying to the wind when Yoongi let it free. Hiding his gaze, sometimes, just barely, but enticing enough for Namjoon to feel all hot and bothered.

Yoongi’s long hair had a strange effect on Namjoon, all things considered.

“Joonie…” Namjoon snaps from his reverie with his hand down Yoongi’s shirt and the other caressing strands of gold. He reddens while the other shots him a confused look. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t seem to reject Namjoon’s touch, and so he keeps going, settles right on the warm satin of Yoongi’s hip and lets out a sharp breath. “I was—” he traces little shapes on Yoongi’s skin, grins as the man, ticklish as he is, giggles and squirms against him. “just thinking about you and then, well…”

“Aren’t you always?”

There’s humor, right there, in Yoongi’s low voice. Light, chirpy, joking. A refute quickly served with no meaning behind it. Yoongi doesn’t know he just spoke the truth, will never truly understand he occupies Namjoon’s mind in all times. In wonderings, in songs; in the images of his little man dressed in new clothes too big on him, and a peculiar look making its appearance with only longer bangs in town. There’s no need for more, this right there is enough to leave Namjoon dazed for days with dopey grins and wandering hands.

“I am,” Yoongi makes a disagreeing sound in the back of his throat, squeaks when Namjoon grips his waist tighter and turns him around to flush their body together. The blankets don’t fall, envelop them still, unbothered in the face of Namjoon’s gentle movement. He makes sure to be, always, because Yoongi doesn’t deserve anything less than soft and gentle. His little one melts against his chest, and Namjoon melts too, and they really must be the mushiest boyfriends out there. “but this time, it’s your hair.”

“You been thinking about this mess?”

“No,” Namjoon chuckles, takes in a breath and shudders in idle pleasure as the fruity waves of Yoongi’s shampoo hit him. Really, this long hair is the best. “I’ve been thinking about putting those stars you love so much in it.”

“Oh no shut up you nerd.” But he’s smiling. He’s smiling and he’s prettier than the stars up there, much more worthy of being admired always,

and Namjoon tells him so in multiple kisses painted everywhere on his skin. Yoongi’s long air glow around his shoulders like the purest halo in between angels.

Jimin pads into the patio and finds Yoongi already here. At something, precisely, around five am where the sun barely peaks from his slumber and birds just start their daily chants, Jimin wanders into the patio and Yoongi’s already here. Crouched in front of a large row of plants, watering them delicately, low voice speaking out words Jimin can’t hear—but that he can guess. Soft words, like those given to dear children. Soft words and milky voice, affectionate, clear in a candy grin and a marshmallow-like gaze. Five in the morning and dozens of minutes already gone, Jimin’s on the ball of his feet after wandering into the patio, admiring the one he shouts to whoever is close enough he’ll marry one day.

His darling hyung of delicate attention to every living being, attentive and sensitive behind a spaced-out look and sleepy countenance. Caring, so caring, be it with the plants he’s been tending to for God knows how long—and every other being blessed to have met him. Him and the absolutely endearing way he holds himself as he pays attention to his lovely plants—his own clothes discarded in favor of another man’s.

Jimin’s, to be exact.

A simple, large checkered dark blue, red and white shirt that goes past Jimin’s hands but swamps in the most lovely way Yoongi’s slight frame. It’s that. He’s only wearing that. It’s Yoongi on the ground with lovely plants, dainty strands of hair caressing the naked skin of his shoulders and—a shirt and a shirt only hanging on his frame, cascading high high to the alluring cleft of his ass. Heavens, Jimin wants to go down on his knees and worship this bewitching man right here and there. Revere his angel with heavy kisses pressed hot on his ass and hungry hands losing themselves in hair.

His goddamn hair.

Jimin thinks it’s his way too loud and way too aroused groan that startles his hyung into turning around. Wide-eyed, still a bit hazy with slushy feelings and clutching his watering can close to his heart—careful, even there, to not drop it and harm any of his plants. An angel, Jimin repeats in the secret of his mind at the same time as he offers to this same angel a wobbly grin. Perhaps because of the early hour. Most probably because of the bubbling arousal an almost-peeking pert ass and messily arranged hair provoked in him.

To Jimin’s defense, Yoongi’s ass was the best in the whole world and long hair suited him so well it was a sin.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” Yoongi’s voice, mumbling and so quiet usually is even quieter, at five in the morning. Still low, still soft, but less clear; slurred in the cutest way. Jimin basks in it for each second it takes for him to be by Yoongi’s side. For him to crouch down, too, and tug Yoongi flush to his chest.

Sees the plant from Yoongi’s point of view. But most importantly, the way he feels, barely clothed and a bit cold from the fluctuating temperature of the morning. Jimin squeezes him in a tight embrace, fingers clasping on a narrow waist and thumping chest running like a madman flush to Yoongi’s back. Goes boom boom and, and when he lets one hand wander to this one place where Yoongi’s heart’s beats…he hears it again, boom boom. “The bed was too cold without you. And your hair.”

Yoongi laughs. A breathy, sweet thing that never fails to make his shoulders quack darling and his face to lighten in a beat. His eyes are all sleepy and alight with diamonds when he turns slightly in Jimin’s right embrace. “Why’re you bringing my hair into this?”

He sounds way too good for someone up and mumbling to his plants at five in the morning. Jimin lets his heart sing wonders about him anyway while he guides Yoongi’s hand for them to tend to the plants, together. The older man lets out an approving sound, and Jimin doesn’t bother slamming down the happiness of having done something right that rises at the surface. It’s—Its okay to feel like that. Yoongi made sure for him to know, and he’s gonna honor that. Fake it until he makes it, because he knows Yoongi’s right on this. “That’s…that’s cuz it’s perfect. Just like you.”

Yoongi squirms, in what Jimin knows is bashfulness and terribly masked embarrassment. Ducks down under long, golden bangs colored up there with touches of dark. Jimin’s still confused about who he has to thank for the delight that is Min Yoongi with long hair. The noonas that took care of their hair? Time? Yoongi’s own desire to let them grow because he couldn’t care less?

He’s not sure. Pushes it in the back of his mind in favor of nuzzling the back of Yoongi’s neck and stays here, and basks here.

(Hand still subtly playing with Yoongi’s hair.)

(Yoongi tries not to judge him too hard. But he still does in the end.)

Yeontan is, Taehyung realizes, like their very own child. Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s. Oh, the little fluff ball does visit the others members sometimes, attached to them all as he is. Straying more on Taehyung’s side—it’s a given, but running just as often to Yoongi? It came out like a surprise, at the beginning. Then, in the few seconds it takes for a realization to sink in, the surprise was no more. Taehyung should have expected this.

His little hyung’s soft for a lot of things. Soft for people and plants and distressing situations few people dare to address. Soft in personality and doughy like cookie dough if someone asks him something, anything. But above all that—in that not-so-little crook nestled in his chest, he’s the biggest softie for animals of all kinds. Dogs to be more precise. Gets sparkles in his eyes and promptly melt on the spot—whole body brightening and a pure, unadulterated happiness taking him whole.

Taehyung—Taehyung did get jealous in the beginning. It was silly and absolutely unnecessary to be jealous of dogs of all things, but, here, he was. Had been. Until a first kiss was pressed to his lips and Yoongi looked up at him with a whole new brand of adoration in his eyes. For Taehyung and Taehyung only.

Amidst sweating palms and frantically beating heart, Taehyung had realized this had been heaven right there knocking at his door. He never ever let go of Yoongi, then. Be it by simply being by his side, having his thoughts swarmed with Yoongi or spending holidays in his home back in Daegu, admiring the pretty sight of a cheery Yoongi playing with Yeontan. It was—it was a sight for sure, Taehyung thinks, chuckles quietly to himself. Because Yeontan’s a ball of energy and although a sleepy haze wraps itself all around his love, Yoongi makes sure to return this energy and eagerness to play twice as hard.

Taehyung wonders if it’s possible for his heart to grow fonder.

“Hot cakes,” Taehyung says, sing-songs, really, chirpy countenance rolling around his body that has Yoongi giving him a suspicious side-eye.

Even then, he’s so damn cute it hurts.

“What’re you smiling about?” Taehyung not so subtly basks in both the attention of Yoongi and Yeontan as he struts toward them; bubbling with his two most precious people’s eyes on him as he settles tight behind his little hyung. Brings him close by gripping his hips, until he’s sat between Taehyung’s legs and long blond curls spread a delectable smell for Taehyung to fill his chest with.

He spends more time than he’d like to admit smelling Yoongi’s hair. That earns him another long suspicious look from the aforementioned. Taehyung grins, sheepish, chuckles then when his little tan-ie yips at him. “The two of you are cute,”

“Tan-ie is. I’m not.” Yoongi swats at his chest with the hand that’s not holding, preciously, the little bundle of fluff to him. There’s a pout on his pinky-cotton-candy lips and waves in his hair as he tugs his head down slightly. This hair. Taehyung thinks he’s going to start his prayers for Yoongi to keep them this long for a while. Months if he’s lucky. It’s just so—elegant? Princely? So damn attractive, Taehyung’s not ashamed of having spent the precious nights falling asleep with his fingers carded in golden locks, admiring them fall between Yoongi’s shoulder blades and kissing the course they pursued.

Does it on this Sunday afternoon too. Light kisses on his cheeks, harder on his neck, delicate on his shoulders, between strands of hair, strands of delight and source of fascination. “Allow me to disagree on this with you…is that okay, hyung?” he says, whispers secret-soft in Yoongi’s ear, peering down at him as he searches for a running gaze; obscured so darling by flowing bangs.

Yoongi nods his approbation, soft as always, affection brewing in his eyes for him—and then for the puppy in his hands demanding their attention in quick succession of adorable yips. He’s Taehyung this way, never ashamed of asking for the things he wants—never ashamed altogether, at least that’s what Yoongi told him one dreamy night of just laying in bed and giving in secret confessions. There had been a terribly fond look in his eyes, a greatly loving smile on his lips. Wide and pink and gummy, Taehyung had kissed him until they were delirious, until the end of the night and beyond.

Taehyung demanded, all natural and polite for what he desired. And Yoongi gave freely, finding his own happiness in there, a cup or ten more shy into speaking out his needs. But, but that was fine. That’s what Taehyung was here for, that’s how eternal couples worked, didn’t they? Completing each other seamlessly. Partners in crime in traveling together and versed in affection for the other.

No secrets. So—

“Love?” Yoongi looks up at him, tilting his head in question. Taehyung swallows. Better just—“your new hair is a total turn on.”

“…seriously?”

“I can’t help it!”

His Yoongi-hyung likes watching him work out. Doesn’t say it outright—would he ever…?—but one would have to be utterly oblivious to not see it. And being oblivious is more of Yoongi’s forte, not Jungkook’s. It’s one time and then two and then a dozens and Jungkook stops counting the number of time he sees a waddling little man plops somewhere in the room every time he decides to put on some more muscles. It’s stolen glances toward said little person and eyes meeting, and Yoongi flushing because—because he’s been staring, staring with glittering eyes and mouth slightly open.

It’s at this point he runs away with a bullshit excuse, but he always, always come back the next time.

Jungkook awaits him eagerly.

Secret smiles, attention undivided, he awaits and welcomes, until they have this sort of silent routine that slowly fills up with soft words. Then teasing ones, flirting—which the other members never fails to roll their eyes at because Jungkook and Yoongi are already a couple. Jungkook knows it’s just jealousy speaking.

Jungkook also knows that today, Yoongi’s recording this simple business. He still asks, anyway. “Hyung, are you filming this?”

Here’s the distinct sound of Yoongi’s tongue clicking away. The fast, dismissive sound clear representation of something Yoongi’s not ready to admit. “I’m not, what are you talking about?” See? Yoongi acts the most disinterested when he actually is the most interested. All wide eyes and biting lips, hands steady on his phone or his camera. Jungkook knows him by heart like he was the one to make him.

Which. Would be quite creepy, all things considered.

He huffs out a chuckle, mind completely gone from the series of pushes up he hadn’t paused while talking to his lover. Because Yoongi, wordless Yoongi who barely lets out a noise save for the little facts and interesting stories he treats Jungkook with, takes all of his attention and stays ignorant to the matter.

It’s fine, more than fine—it’s Yoongi and being blissfully ignorant to the effect he has on men is…it’s absolutely endearing. Jungkook finds himself, sometimes, gently cupping his cheeks in between his hands and staring at him. Intensely, as other people mentioned, like concentrated rays of sunshine or an all-encompassing storm. Staring, fascinated, in adoration. He’d find back Yoongi’s considering gaze, touches of confusion, melting in a love going two ways and a wide gummy smile brimming with gentle happiness.

That’s just Yoongi. Yellow Yoongi like bottled happiness sprinkled here and there like the passage of a butterfly. Gentle. Gentle like the movement of his eyelashes when Jungkook plays with his hair—Lord, his long, enthralling hair he lets Jungkook styles however he wants and to his heart content. He’d grumble and roll his eyes but, in the end, as always, he’d trust himself completely in Jungkook’s arms.

A heady sensation, this one was. Trust. Makes Jungkook delirious with what could be done. Makes him bite his lips and his eyes snap open the moment one droplet of sweat finishes his course on his cheek and hit the ground. Here—“But, Rapunzel, can you even see under your curtain of gold?”

Predictably, Yoongi lets out an indignant noise and bats at his back with a weak fist. A pout probably forming on his lips. Jungkook, Jungkook’s addicted to Yoongi’s moodiness like bees are to honey. And so—one last barely felt effort to end this daily routine, he surges up on his back and catches bony hips between his fingers as Yoongi falls on his lap. Blinking in surprise, pout filtering away and leaving the place to a little mouth slightly open. Surprise too? Happiness? Surely the last one, Jungkook thinks, grinning as pecks of pink color Yoongi’s cheek. Happiness. Even as Yoongi’s words don’t let any of said happiness pass by. “Yah. Do you want to fight me or something?”

“I’d love to,” Jungkook snaps back, grin never leaving his lips and slight exertion contorting his tone with breathlessness.

There’s a certain light in Yoongi’s eyes as he surely takes note of it. A certain light, familiar to Jungkook like he has knows this man his whole life, when pale fingers grip toned arms in barely disguised interest. Yoongi’s never been ashamed to admit, even in front of a public, his love for—for this, for the results of years of working out and lifting weights. Present in Jungkook’s whole body that he never hesitates to flaunt. It’s not arrogance, it’s simple happiness, pride, and he knows Yoongi loves it. So, why hide anymore?

He carefully lets his fingers skim the supple skin under Yoongi’s shirt. Bucks his hips, once, and watches Yoongi bounce, watch his eyes widen prettily and waves of gold cascade around him. God, his hyung was gorgeous—“but, but you know what kind of fighting I wanna do? Less clothes and your hair tight in my grip while I fuck you, please hyung let me—”

Yoongi more than lets him. Keeps him on his toes with each of his searing kiss, the red traces left on his back as Jungkook manhandle him in bed. Spread pretty and perfect for him, golden halo around his head for Jungkook to worship.

Yoongi more than lets him. They worship together, each other, always

[hellagaymccree]

Movie Date

When this fan art came across my dash again I remembered how much I love it and suddenly wanted some fluff with pinning dorks. or I tried

[more fics by me] [consider supporting me through ko-fi]

McCree can’t seem to stop the rhythm his feet got tapping on the floor. It’s been twenty minutes like this. Twenty minutes waiting with sweaty palms and remote in hand since Rainer, the last agent in the rec room left with a knowing grin of what’s about to happen in here. If she came back—or Kimura, or Shannon, or Phelps, or any of the others that knew—they would probably laugh or feel sorry for him. But McCree wouldn’t blame them; he was a fool to think Gabriel could get away from his busy schedule to watch some old movies with him.

Gabriel knows how Jesse feels about him, it was thrown on the table in the ruins of Illios when the targets were closing in on both of them and Jesse thought there was no better moment than the present to spill his feelings for his commander. Just as he faces Gabriel, shoots an upcoming enemy and opens his mouth to say what his heart wants to confess, Reyes also makes a confession of his own. The feelings were mutual, and McCree never felt more alive than in that moment. After that, he was the devil with a revolver, taking souls and shooting for his life. He wasn’t gonna die knowing Gabe felt the same. He was gonna live and take it somewhere.

That was a week ago. They tiptoed around each other for seven days, not knowing how to address each other, and Jesse’s urge to kiss Gabriel grew too much to bare being near him without being able to. Finally, McCree blurted out the question when they bumped into a hallway: “would you like to see a movie with me?” Neither felt like actually going out, besides they wanted to be able to talk as much as they wanted and get to know the little details left unrevealed from one another—if there are any. Both have grown too close over the years and practically know each other’s life story.

Once Jesse told his group of closest friends in Blackwatch—most of them who like to stay until late in the rec room—they promised to be out of sight by nine. Jesse sprayed some cologne, washed his teeth, put on a nicer shirt than the standard Blackwatch black one and fixed his hair to look less of a mess. It was just both of them hanging out, like they’ve done before. He knew he would get the hang of it once they started talking, if Gabriel ever came.

The movie menu loops on the TV for the hundredth time as McCree sighs and decides to stand up and turns it off. Then he hears heavy, but quick footsteps and his heart skips a beat. He turns and sees Gabriel appearing and clearing his throat when he notices Jesse was already watching.

“I’m sorry,” Reyes says and slips his hands in the pocket of his pants, “Work swallowed me after the hostage situation went south in Tokyo.”

“Ah,” Jesse nods and understands. They had that mission yesterday where they had to rescue some hostages, but once they got them out, they discovered one had a bomb with him and time was almost up. Sadly the guy didn’t make it, he sacrificed himself when he realized they had to time to take it off him and get it far away from everyone as possible. He piloted one of the Blackwatch shuttles into the air and blew up with it. That’s something McCree knew Gabriel would have to deal with. “No problem, I was just thinkin’ about grabbing a snack. Want anythin’?”

Gabriel looks at Jesse like he’s thinking about something else. It’s a way that makes Jesse’s stomach feel the good kind of weird, cheeks flush and look away. “Popcorn?”

“Same idea,” McCree tips his hat as a ‘farewell’, “I’ll be right back, try not to miss me.”

Gabriel huffs and McCree bumps his arm with Gabriel. Jesse’s heart almost runs out of his chest when Gabriel’s pinky reaches out for his, as if he doesn’t want him to go. He thinks about asking Gabriel to join him, but he’s already sitting down on the couch.

McCree returns with two beers and a big bowl of popcorn. Gabriel is still there, laid back on the couch, legs spread and relaxed as an arm extends over the backrest even when McCree sits by his side. He places the bowl between his legs and hands Gabriel his beer before the movie starts.

----

McCree wakes up groggy; his tired eyelids and body beg him to drift back into unconsciousness. The movie has ended when he looks at the TV, the menu back on loop. And then his eyes widen when he feels a warm breath brushing his neck, and the heat of another body spreading from his left side. The weight of it trapping Jesse in place. He’s laid on the couch, and Gabriel’s on his side, tucked between Jesse’s body and the back of the sofa. His nose and mouth are pressed to the cowboy’s neck as he breathes softly. The commander’s soundly asleep, eyes actually fully closed instead of twitching and his body fidgeting like Jesse has seen him during missions. McCree moves his left arm lightly and realizes it fell asleep under Gabriel’s body as his hand lays on the commander’s hip. They must’ve been like this for a while. He pins his fingers to Reyes’ waist, his pinky finding soft, warm skin in the gap between the shirt and pants. McCree could melt easily in the moment. His heart flutters like a hummingbird’s wings and he’s sure Gabriel could feel Jesse’s pulse beating rapidly against his lips if he wakes up.

McCree doesn’t want him to though. He feels at peace even if a storm rattles his insides and his bones burn with a fever. He wants to sing out of joy even if he knows his voice will quiver. He wants so badly to look down and kiss those parted, plum lips that have haunted him for years, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

Gabriel nuzzles Jesse’s jaw with his nose as he hums and whispers, “Jesse.”

Shit, I’m fucked, Jesse thinks as his face darkens and he grabs on to his hat as if he’s about to drop from a rollercoaster. His stomach flips and butterflies tickle his lungs. He’s suffocating underwater and soaring through high skies at the same time.

He thinks of every unwanted touch that happened in Deadlock, that old skin is burning away with every breath Gabriel takes and Jesse’s being reborn. All those names he was called are nothing compared to Gabriel’s teasing answers (conejito, mi cielo, cariño, dulcito, angelito) when Jesse calls him pet names. He sees his past lovers now like bread crumbs of personalities and things he didn’t want in a partner until he ended up with the perfect match: Gabriel. He’s the only body he wants pressed against his own. The only lips to call his name and kiss away the tears that slip out once in a while. The only gaze he wants when Jesse is at his most vulnerable times.

His feelings for Gabriel are big; chaotic and beautiful at the same time. He’s a madman when he’s near Gabriel, but also the best agent he can be. Reyes taught him many things, and Jesse likes to think he also helped Gabriel discover aspects of life he didn’t know before.

Gabriel gets closer, as if his body wants to dissolve into Jesse. He can feel Reyes’ heart picking up a faster pace against his body. He can feel it alive under Gabriel’s thick, scarred skin and muscles. He wants to trace it over his chest, mark it forever with ink or love bites; make it his own.

“You smell good,” Gabriel mumbles as his nose rubs against Jesse’s neck.

Jesse chuckles nervously as he notices Gabriel’s eyelids fluttering open, “Wanted to look n’smell nice for ya.”

Gabriel hums in appreciation before he lifts his head and Jesse does the same. “I’m sorry I,” he pauses to bite his bottom lip, “ruined our date.”

“Oh,” Jesse can’t help saying. He hadn’t used this word for this knowing how busy Gabriel his lately and how that could’ve changed things between them. If he called it a date, he feared it would make talking to Gabriel hard, which it has never been the case. “If ya call this ruining it, I wanna see what you call a successful date.” If lying on the couch, snuggling close to each other with Gabriel’s breath down his neck is a bad date, then he wouldn’t mind having more of these again. “It’s ok, sugar.” Before he can stop himself, he moves his pinky over Gabriel’s skin and feels the commander’s body going lax beside him as he sighs and smiles.

Gabriel’s gaze lowers to Jesse’s lips and the cowboy does the same as he bites his own bottom lip, tempting the commander to follow on whatever he’s thinking of. Gabriel’s mouth parts to take a deep breath before he makes the leap and kisses Jesse, who’s ready for him and answers in a blink. It’s like a dream, maybe better. Jesse has dreamt a million ways he would kiss Gabriel. There’s the dramatic ways like in the battle field, with bullets flying around them, or both arguing and there’s fire in their eyes as Jesse pulls Gabriel for a searing kiss. The sad ways, one of them bleeding to death in the other’s arm or before parting for separate missions that will take them an ocean across for weeks. The casual ways of catching him off guard around base or before leaving Reyes’ office. He once thought of doing it under the pouring rain in London, with the cold water running down between their lips as their savor them of each other.

Yet, all those perfect and spontaneous moments feel weak to this one. It’s simple, not even planned, but it’s a dream come true. Now Jesse could kiss him when they say goodbye, or when he leaves Gabriel’s office. The next time they’re under the rain and thunder drums in the sky. When a battle is too intense to leave it for later or under a mistletoe over the holidays.

When they pull away, Gabriel’s eyes are still closed and Jesse takes his lips in to lock the taste with him. He wants to savor it along with the memory, hide it away where nothing can corrupt it. This is the kind of first date Jesse missed out on and didn’t know he wanted until now. He wants to go to a movie theater next, just to miss half of the movie as they make-out in the dark. He needs to take this man to a nice restaurant, and a walk on the park as they eat ice cream. He wants to give him flowers, chocolates and everything Gabriel desires. He wants to offer him the world and get nothing in return except Gabriel’s heart. By how close and fast he feels it beating against his, he believes he might already have it, as Gabriel has Jesse’s.