#if you’ve never heard the ad before it goes like this

[tautozhone]

cia documents just leaked with undeniable proof that they’ve been using the “at bk have it your way” ads as psychological torture for people who’ve ever heard music before and know how it’s supposed to sound

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

[luveline]

Jade omg i love coworker james so much!! I was hoping i could request them taking the elevator up to their office together and it breaking down and them being stuck together!! Super cliche but i think it could be really cute and fun and that you’d write it so well!

You decide today is the day you stop pretending to forget something in your car. James has been nice lately. He does still hide your mug everyday, and he acts like an idiot at your desks. Just yesterday he made a parachute for one of his little figurines and made it land in your lunch. But he keeps saving you when you’re in trouble, and he might think he has to do it but it’s not true. 

If something goes wrong, James is the one who helps you out. Maybe it’s proximity, but maybe he’s just not the jerk you pegged him to be. 

So you’re being brave. You get out of your car, to James’ surprise, and you give him a teeny tiny smile. “Morning,” you say, making your way to the office steps, and following closely behind him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking back. He holds open the door for you without further comment. 

You walk in through the building’s lobby and past the main receptionist to the twin elevators. There’s a downstairs to the building, the lab, where the company conducts their water safety testing, and an upstairs where you and James and your colleagues work. He hits the elevator button on the right, you both wait for it to come down. 

“Did you see about that movie?” you ask. 

“I did!” He laughs at himself generously. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

“Crazy, if you gave me like, two more seconds before you interrupted, I would’ve specified.” You catch yourself scowling and soften your expression. “You know, the movie you told me about with the aliens that can hear you from ten miles away.” 

“Oh. What was I supposed to see about it?” 

You should’ve waited in the car. The elevator descends and the doors open. James waits for you to go in first before he follows, and you let him click your floor number as you lean against the mirror. 

You elect to wait in silence as the elevator chugs up, and up, and.

It stops short with a horrible sharp sound you’ve never heard it make. 

James looks at you, then the control panel. The doors don’t open. “That’s fucked,” he says hotly. 

“We stopped too early, right?” 

“No, no way.” He clicks the open door button, waiting approximately half a second before he starts to spam it. 

“Wait, what if you mess it up?” 

“Mess it up? It’s stuck.” 

You glare at him. “It’s not stuck.” 

“It’s stuck.” James slams his hand into the emergency button and waits with a frown for it to ring. “Hello?” he asks. 

“James, it’s still ringing.” 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he says. 

You hide your smile. You’d been unnerved by the sound, sure, but the elevator isn’t creaking or whining, it’s just stopped. There’s an inkling of worry growing in your chest. You’re perhaps a smidge too tired to panic. It’s barely 8AM. 

And James’ reaction is wildly comical. He glares at the control panel and rings the emergency button again, and again. Nobody answers. After a few long seconds of this, the control panel goes dark, backlit numbers fading. 

The overhead light blinks out. 

It’s quite dark without it. 

“What the fuck?” James asks. Surprisingly, he sounds less panicked than before. “The electrics gone. A power cut?” 

“It’s really dark,” you say unhelpfully. 

“If only I had one of my darling Smiskis to light up the lift.” James takes his phone from his pocket and turns on the torch, your eyes aching but then thankful for the added illumination. You can see his face again, the tug of a brow too handsome to be meant for grumpiness, and the confused pout of his lips. He has a lovely face, with sweet eyes, dark brown hair framing it, and the aura around him when he’s smiling is lovely too.  He’s a little less lovely when he frowns, but not by much. “I’m gonna shout,” he warns you. 

You and James spend that first half an hour believing the lift to be a short problem. Then another half an hour on the phone to Remus and then your boss, who assures you both that the maintenance team will fix it within the hour. “Within the hour?” James says to you where you’ve sat cross-legged on the floor. “Within the hour? How long do they think we’ve been in here?” 

“Maybe we can call the fire brigade to come and save us?” you suggest quietly. You and James are in very close quarters. His shouting has hurt your head. 

“They might have to. Why does nobody know what’s wrong with the lift? Are they really that complicated?”

James sits down beside you dejectedly. The lift is snug, but there’s room for him to sit further away that he doesn’t use. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Fine.” 

You open your bag in your lap and unveil your thermos. It comes with a cup as the lip. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

James tips his head back against the wall. “Yes,” he says, “okay. You never finished telling me about the alien movie anyways. What’s the news?” 

You smother a smile. “I’m not telling you. You should’ve listened to me the first time.” 

For some reason, you don’t argue once in the two hours you spend stuck. Not after the initial bickering. You drink your hot chocolate and you end up sitting together watching the trailer for the movie on your phone, and neither of you move away after. That is, until the elevator flicks back on and the doors are being pried open —you spring apart, caught red handed enjoying each other's company. 

[blueberry-rose]

Overworked!Arlecchino x wife!reader

Warnings: fluff, nudity

Arlecchino’s been working so hard. Coming home late, she already wakes up before you and goes the bed after you, you get that her work is important but you miss being able to sit in her arms as just relax while the kids sleep. Plus you hate seeing those creases under her eyes because she not sleeping enough to the point where you will go up to her and pout until she finally goes to bed with you but that’s not helping considering you have caught her waking up at four in the morning and getting ready for work. You hate seeing her so overworked.

So you decided to do something that will make her relax at least a bit. You knew she was going to be mad at you but she’ll get over it. You turned her alarm off. Forcing her to sleep in a bit at least. You turned off your alarm too just so you had an excuse to lay in her arms longer. You felt her grip tighten stirring you from your sleep. “Mhm” you cuddled into her arms more.

“Dear, did you unplug my alarm clock?” You opened your eyes barely awake.

“What?” You questioned your eyes barely focusing on her face, her brows creasing, her face clean of makeup, her bags even more noticeable.

“Did you unplug my alarm, dear?” Her voice was more firm adding the dear to seem more gentle.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. I had to clean behind our bedside tables.” It was a lie and Arlecchino could tell.

“Did you just lie to me”

“I can’t get anything past you” you let a pout form on your face.

“Why?” oh she’s mad.

“Because you’ve been overworking yourself. And I’m your wife so I have every right to make you take care of yourself.”

“And how dear, are you going to do that? I still can go to work for another 10 minutes and still make in on time.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep you busy until you can’t go to work”

“Oh?” You climbed on her straddling her hips, “someone’s eager” you started to press kisses to her face.

“Eager for my husband to take a day off”

“Are you wanting me to yourself today.”

“Mhm” you pressed a kiss to her lips. She quickly deepened it, her hands rest on your hips holding you in place.

“Fuck, you look so cute like this.” Arlecchino’s thumbs rubbed circles on your hips. “So what does my little wife have planned that she had to keep me home”

“I’m going to pamper you.”

“What?” Her eyes widened slightly.

“You always pamper me when I get stressed out, or overwhelmed. So I’m going to return the favor”

“Dear, I pamper you because I like to.”

“So let me pamper you this time, please” archons arlecchino can’t say no to your pleading eyes. You know she can’t.

“Fine. Just this once.” You placed a gentle kiss to her nose, before she pulled you into a kiss, her lips were so soft against yours. Her tongue easily over powering yours. She loves seeing how quickly you submit to her tongue letting her lead, she loves seeing you lose your breath just because she’s kissing you. When she finally releases your lips you were out of breath, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to hers. “Go on why do you show me how you’re going to pamper me” you got off her lap much to her disappointment.

“I might have gone out yesterday and got something’s”

“Ahh spending my money to pamper me”

“Hey, you told me that I would never have to work again when we got married so our money”

“I’m the one that makes it.”

“You make to much money for one lifetime”

“Just means I get to spend more on you”

“Be quiet will you I want to do something you for once”

“Careful what you say, dear. I don’t like when my little brat tries to take control.” You just stuck your tongue out before retreating to the bathroom. You heard her let out a sigh as you shut the door.

That’s when you started your little plan to take care you her stress. You turned on the water to a nice warm temperature, Arlecchino always liked her showers hot because of the cursed fire in her veins though she’s not picky. Cold or hot doesn’t matter. It wasn’t long before the mirrors fogged up. That’s when you grabbed the bag of stuff you brought yesterday night and hid under the sink. It had Epson salt, roses, and candles, red and black of course. You carefully remove the pedals off the roses decorating the bathroom floor with them and adding them to the bathtub. Then you set up the candles, lighting them carefully arranging them on the countertops, you sprayed the water a bit with your perfume, than added the epson salt. You know your husband is always alert, her muscles tense so you are hoping that this will help her relax. You peek out that bathroom after turning off the light bathing the bathroom in warm candle light.

You walked up to arlecchino, she finally got out of bed even with her heels off she towers over you, you never complained though, and she definitely doesn’t not with how much she calls you adorable and tiny. As so as she was within reach your started to remove her clothes, surprising her.

“You’re bold today dear,”

“Just let me take care of you, you don’t need to tease”

“Oh but you are so cute when you blush” after successfully getting her clothes off you grabbed her darkened hand pulling her in the bathroom. She stood there surprised for a second. “Dear, you did this? I might have to overwork more often”

You playfully smacked her arm. “Don’t you dare.”

“So demanding.” She tilted your head up with her index finger and thumb and placed a gentle kiss to your lips, “why don’t you join me love, I would hate to be in such a romantic setting all alone.”

“It’s supposed to be a gift for you.”

“It would be even better if I had you in my arms.”

“Fine, just let me get something first.”

“I guess I’ll get comfortable while I wait.” You left the bathroom and went to get some wine, and two cups. Hoping to spend the whole day just in her arms. And when you got but you saw your husband in the tub, eyes closed head leaning against the wall, arms resting on the side of the tub. “Welcome back dear” she didn’t even open her eyes but you can swear you see a faint smile, she rarely even shows you her emotions.

“I brought something to help you relax even more”

“Oh?” she opened her eyes turning her head to face you. “I see, my little wife is trying to make it impossible for me to get anything done today”

“Yep” you open the bottle and poured you both a cup. Handing her hers before you started to slip out of your clothes. You could feel her eyes never leaving the sight of you, like a predator to a pry. You then grabbed your wine before stepping into the tub, your wife’s legs opened so you could sit between them, you sat down in the tub the water was perfect, you let out a little sigh leaning back into your husband, her arms wrapping around you immediately.

“Looks like you needed this as much as I did”

“I am the mother of the house, I’m the one that has to deal with the children all day.”

“Yes but we have caretakers dear. You can take a day off to the little ones have older siblings that can take care of them too”

“I know. But I’m their mother I want to take care of them”

“I know dear,” she placed a gentle kiss to your head. “And you do an amazing job the kids are even more happy then I’ve ever seen them”

“Really?”

“Yes, you do amazing every day my dear. I couldn’t be prouder of you. My love.”

[georgie-weasley]

Spontaneous G.W. x Reader

Warnings: one swear word

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: You were rich, pretty, smart, and everything George wasn't. According to George, you were untouchable. He admires you from afar until he learns that you are human, just like him

Masterlist

“I think you’ve got enough strawberries George.” Fred laughed, waving his hand in front of George’s face. George blinked, coming out of a trance to finally tear his eyes away from the girl that had him captivated and look at his plate. He had about 15 strawberries dangerously stacked next to his toast and waffles. Ten minutes ago he had been starving, ready to eat Fred if he had to until you walked in, laughing with your friends. He didn’t even see you at first since he was so preoccupied picking out his breakfast but he heard you. Someone must have said something hilarious because your laugh seemed to echo around the Great Hall, bombarding George from all angles. He loved it. Your laugh sounded like the crescendo in a song, taking his breath away. He had been red in the face and sweaty before he even saw you. When he finally did look at you, it was all over. You moved so gracefully, you could have been floating. George watched you talk with your friends and when he saw your smile, he forgot all about his grumbling stomach.

Fred turned to look over his shoulder and when he caught sight of you, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. “Here’s an idea Georgie,” Fred grumbled, “stop staring at her and go talk to her.”

“Yeah mate, it’s weird. I’m uncomfortable for her.” Lee Jordan chimed in, reaching across the table to grab some toast.

“I will have you know I have talked to her.” George huffed, carefully dismantling Strawberry Tower, moving the discarded ones onto Lee’s plate.

“Talking about the weather doesn’t count.” Lee snorted, happily eating the food now added to his plate. George opened his mouth to retort but Lee continued. “Neither does telling her good morning or asking her about the homework.”

“Or apologizing when you ‘accidentally’ bump into her in the halls.”

George glared and threw a strawberry, aiming for Fred’s nose. Much to his disappointment, Fred ducked and the strawberry rolled away. “I have talked to her. Small talk counts as talking if you didn’t know.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Sure but you’ve been in love with her since third year. Small talk isn’t going to make her fall for you. Just go up to her and tell her you’re in love with her and hope she feels the same. If she doesn’t,” Lee shrugged, “at least you know.”

“That is the stupidest thing you have ever said Lee. And you once asked McGonagall if she licks herself clean when she’s a cat.” The three boys shuddered at the memory. “I’ll talk to her about something normal. Something that will make her want to keep talking to me.”

---

“Do you ever wonder if McGonagall licks herself clean when she’s a cat?” George stood in front of you, hands sweating and his eyes going wide as he realized what just came out of his mouth. Something normal indeed.

“Pardon?” You cocked your head to the side, watching George with those beautiful eyes he could spend forever staring into.

“I just mean that maybe she acts like a cat does and that’s how they bathe. So maybe she…” He trailed off, hearing the giggles coming from your friends behind you. “Sorry, that was… weird.”

You smiled and George could feel his heart stop. He was going into cardiac arrest, he just knew it. “A little but a very good question all the same.”

He died. There was no way he was alive. The real you would have never even entertained his question, let alone call it a good one. He stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He should say something, something smooth. If he could just lay on the charm like Fred does so well, you’d be putty in his hands. “Do you think that means she goes to the bathroom in a box?” Oh. My. God.

George spun on his heel and took off sprinting down the hall. He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

George lay in his bed, hands covering his face as Fred and Lee practically rolled on the floor with laughter. “So you– I mean you really asked her if McGonagall uses… a box?” Lee burst into another fit of giggles as Fred gasped for air. “George, I think you did it mate. I think she’s in love with you now.”

A scarf came flying from the bed, landing harmlessly on Lee. “I hate both of you!” George grabbed his pillow, burying his face in it. The laughter died down and once the other two felt they could talk without falling into another laughing fit, they climbed onto his bed.

“George, you’ve never had this much trouble talking to a girl before. You’ve always been pretty smooth. Not like me but you have never struggled to talk to anyone. Why is she so different?” Fred grabbed the pillow, making sure his twin was still breathing.

“Why is she different? Have you not seen her, Fred?” George sat up, looking at his hands. “First of all she’s gorgeous. Ethereal. Stunning. All that and more. She’s funny. I’ve heard her make a few jokes and they’re great; some of them are almost as good as ours. She’s smart and talented and nice and just perfect. That’s the problem.” He sighed and glanced at his brother and friend, glad to see they were now taking him seriously. “She’s from this really well off family. Her parents are both ministry workers but not like dad, they have important jobs. Her family has been full of powerful witches and wizards for centuries but they have never acted like others are less than. I heard she’s been ballroom dancing since she was seven. Her family is rich. She's a lady and I’m just…George Weasley. She would never want to talk to me. Or date me for that matter.”

This had not been the first time George or any of the other Weasley boys had felt less than because of what they didn’t have. George had never seen your house but he assumed it was big enough to fit the Burrow inside it at least three times. He knew your family had money. Meanwhile the Weasleys were just scraping by. You were the kind of girl that should have been a princess while George was nothing more than a stable boy. Not even the court jester because a jester would have to be able to speak to you.

“George, you aren’t giving her a chance to give you a chance. You’re making her seem untouchable. She’s human too.” Fred patted him on the back and smiled. “I say, tomorrow you talk to her, like a person. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

“So I should call her a stupid git?” George smirked before getting a pillow to the face.

---

Today was Saturday and just as he had promised, George was going to talk to Y/N. He just had to find her. He checked out the Great Hall and there was no sign of you. Then he checked out any open classrooms he could find and you weren’t there either. He went to the library and had no luck. In fact, he was kicked out for yelling your name while looking for you. By this time, George was exhausted and sure his legs would fall off any minute if he didn’t sit down soon. The lake was close enough that he could kill two birds with one stone; he could look for you and take a break before his lack of legs would make it very easy to tell the difference between him and Fred. As luck would have it, he spotted you sitting under a tree not too far from the edge of the lake. His heart willed him to move toward you but his brain kept his feet firmly planted. This was stupid. He should leave you alone and move on to find some girl that would make more sense. Someone that was not out of his league. At some point, his heart convinced his brain to start walking toward you. The first thing he noticed was the letter in your hand and the next thing he saw were the tears on your cheeks. Yikes. Just back away slowly Georgie, he thought to himself. Take small, quiet steps and you can sneak away before—

“George?”

Shit. He plastered on his best smile and tried to pretend like you weren’t crying right in front of him. “Hey there Y/N. How are you? Probably not great considering the… crying.” George closed his eyes, mentally slamming his head on the nearest tree. It was honestly amazing how great he was at screwing up. He should be given some kind of award. “I’m so sorry. I just walked over and saw you crying and I don’t know what to do with crying people and I’m really nervous to screw up here.” Neither spoke for a minute as you looked up at him. Seeing your usually sparking eyes filled with tears broke his heart, shattered it actually. All he wanted to do was take you in his arms and make it all better. Just talk to her like a person.

Slowly, George approached you, afraid you would take off running or yell at him. When you made no move to sprint away, he sat next to you. “I’m sorry. You make me really nervous but I’m a good listener. Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

You were silent for a long time but he didn’t dare move or talk. Honestly, he didn’t think you would tell him what was wrong because why would you? Fred and Lee were right. He had only ever had small talk with you.

“It’s my parents.” Your voice was so soft George almost didn’t hear you. Oh. George nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “You know they’re in the ministry right?” Boy did he know. George had heard from his father about your parents. Your father was part of the Wizengamot, the part of the ministry that makes laws and holds trials. He was a big name in the ministry. Your mother was part of the Department of International Magic Co-Operation. Her whole job involved getting wizards and witches in other countries to work together. She played a big part in getting Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to come to Hogwarts this year for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. George’s father was also in the ministry but his job was practically the least important position there was. He spent his days finding Muggle items that had been tampered with and reporting them, even if he committed the same crime in his free time. He didn’t make much money at all and it left the family of nine struggling.

“Yeah, my dad has mentioned them a few times.” He tried not to sound bitter as he answered you but it was hard not to.

“They want me to join the ministry when I graduate. They made sure my grades were perfect and after taking my O.W.L.s, they hand picked my classes and set me on the path to join the ministry. My mother even signed me up for a summer program at the ministry just so I have a better chance at joining.” You took a deep breath and looked over at George. You had fresh tears in your eyes as you continued. “I don’t want to join the ministry. They have such high expectations of me and I don’t want to let them down but I don’t want to be in the ministry.”

“What do you want to do?” George understood where you were coming from. Him and Fred had plans and dreams to open a joke shop, something their mother did not support. She wanted them to finish school and get some boring job like the rest of the wizarding world. They didn’t want to disappoint her either but their happiness had to come first at least sometimes. George and Fred would never be happy sitting behind a desk all day or chasing down bewitched muggle items. They wanted to bring joy and raise up a new generation of delinquents. That was the dream.

“Well,” you started as you turned to look at the lake, “I think I want to be a healer. I’ve always been good at potions and herbology and basic spells used for healing.”

“And your parents don’t want you to do that?” As you shook your head, George scoffed. “Why? I think being a healer is a perfectly respectable job. You aren’t trying to run off and live in a cave for the rest of your life.”

You let out a small laugh and George felt like he was floating. He made you laugh after you had been crying. He could die happy. “I agree with you but they think that working for the ministry is the only job worth having. They just want me to be successful. They’ve spent my whole life preparing me for the future they want me to have. Dance lessons and internships and anything else that makes me into whatever it is they want me to be.”

“Happiness is more important than success. Who says that being happy doesn’t mean you’re successful?” George ran his fingers through the grass. “My mother sounds a lot like your parents. Fred and I want to open up a joke shop. She thinks that we’ll be throwing away our potential if we go ahead with it.”

You looked back at George and watched him closely as he kept his eyes on the ground. He was pretty. He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “I think a joke shop sounds like a wonderful idea. Personally I can’t imagine you or Fred working at the ministry or any normal job for that matter.” George laughed and nodded. “What will you do?”

He thought for a moment, continuing to look at the ground because he knew as soon as he looked at you, he would forget everything. “Fred and I are opening the joke shop when we have the money. I think our mother will be disappointed for a while but we aren’t made to work in an office. Besides, she’s our mother so our happiness should take priority over anything else.”

“I wish I could be like you George. You sound like you have everything.”

He turned his head to look at you so quickly he thought he snapped his neck at first. You thought he had everything? You were jealous of him? “I thought you had everything. A big house, rich parents, grades, popularity. You have everything.”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “Really? I always wanted a big family that would spend time together. You have always seemed so sure of yourself and confident. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do or who to be. George, you’re spontaneous and perfectly you. I wish I could be like that.”

George smiled as your eyes found his and then time stopped. He was distantly aware of the wind rustling the trees and the sounds of other students talking but all he could see was you. Your eyes, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. “Then let’s do something spontaneous.” With great effort, George tore his gaze away from you and looked around. The lake caught his eye. “Come swimming with me.”

He grabbed your hand and stood, pulling you to the lake until you stood at the edge. Without waiting for you, George ran into the water, dressed in jeans and his t-shirt. Behind him, you stood at the bank. Should you be doing this? Probably not but it would make you happy. George made you happy. It was time to put your happiness first. You took off after him, squealing at the cold water. “You didn’t say it was this cold!”

“I didn’t want it to scare you away.” George laughed, cupping his hand to launch water at you. The water slammed into you and with a harmless glare, you retaliated, sending your own wave of water at him. The two of you continued to splash each other until George held up his hands in defeat.

As you both caught your breath, George moved to sit on the bank, the water lapping at his feet. You took a seat next to him and bumped your shoulder against his. “What do you plan to do now?” He asked, bumping you back.

“I’m going to tell my parents I don’t want to be in the ministry. I’ll talk to my head of house about switching some courses around to get on the right path to becoming a healer.”

George smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

He looked at you and you looked at him. George saw you like no one else. He heard you complain about your parents and instead of siding with them, as most people did, he agreed with you. He thought your happiness mattered more than what your parents wanted. “Thank you George.”

“For what?”

“For listening, making me laugh, making me feel… human.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing. “I should go write that letter to my parents. I wouldn’t want to lose all the nerve you gave me.”

George watched you go, his hand coming up to the spot where your lips had touched his cheek. His face turned red as he replayed the kiss over and over again. Fred and Lee were not going to believe this. They were going to kill him if he just let you walk away after that. He clambered to his feet and sprinted after him. “Y/N! Wait!” He waved his arms, trying to get your attention. You stopped in your tracks and looked back at him, watching him chase after you.

“Yes George?”

“I was… Well I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for the rejection to come.

“I would love to. I’ll see you later Georgie.” With another kiss to his cheek, you walked off. Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

[f0point5]

I had the time of my life, with you

Companion piece to the Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader social media au

✨Set in Abu Dhabi 2021, right before the race✨

A/N: So it turns out setting myself deadlines actually works lol. I still have a love/hate relationship with these pieces. But, I have a special place in my heart for this one because I had the title in my head since like the second week of the smau and I didn’t use it for any other chapter because of that. And also it’s an Easter egg because in the AD bonus part Y/N uses it as a caption for her Instagram post as an Easter egg for Max ;) we love a mastermind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little ramble.

You thought you knew tension. You thought, growing up like you did, you were more than familiar. The eerie silence, the glazed expressions as your mind tries to protect you from close the chaos is, the pit in your stomach, that heaviness of breath, that feeling of cold that goes down to your bones no matter the weather.

Fucking hell, were you wrong.

You’ve never known tension like this.

The garage is thrumming with energy. Everyone is going about their business quicker, deeper, quieter, than it seems like they ever have. The grandstands are filling up, music blasting over the speakers. There’s a palpable electricity in the air. You’ve been shivering all day, unable to get warm enough even in a jacket in the desert heat.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you wind through along the narrow corridors behind the garage to the small room that Max has been hiding in. For the first time in a while, you knock instead of going straight it.

You’ve barely seen him all day, he’s been pulled this way and that for a hundred interviews and briefings, ducking the Netflix crews who’ve never been so sycophantic. They made him a villain, and now they lurk like there’s blood in the water in case he becomes the hero. Selfishly, you’ve missed him, and when you’d said as much to Christian, he’d just nodded to the back of the garage.

“He’s taking a couple of minutes to himself,” Christian had said, fixing his gaze on you. “But you should go and see him,”

So you had. And as you heard a gentle “Come in,” over the noise of drills and loud dance music and stepped inside, you realised why.

This was tension, you thought as your eyes fell on Max. He was on the small couch, hunched over, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together almost as if he were praying. It’s like you can see every muscle in his body pulled taut under his fireproofs. He doesn’t even raise his head when you come in, but you suppose he glances at your shoes to know it’s you.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it. You’re not sure why, but it feels like you’ll bother him less from over here.

“Hey, champ,” you say, mustering a smile in case he looks at you. He doesn’t, at first. His eyes stay on the ground, and then, painfully slowly, his head lifts.

His eyes are still your favourite colour, his hair is still a bit too long, he’s still unshaven because he couldn’t be bothered even though he might be looking at pictures of this night for the rest of his life. He’s still Max.

“It’s a bit early for that,” he says, his half smile as delicate as yours. Yeah, still Max.

“Respectfully, I disagree,” you tell him crossing your arms over your chest as he looks up at you. “Since I can remember you’ve wanted to be a champion, and since I can remember, I knew you would be. That nickname is twenty years in the making,”

His eyes drop to his hands again and your heart drops with them. You’re trying so hard to say the right thing, but it was arrogant to think you ever had a chance. What experience in your frivolous existence would help you know what to say at a time like this. You wonder if you should just leave him to it as you fold your bottom lip between your teeth to chew at it as another shiver wracks your body.

“Twenty years,” Max says quietly, making you look over at him again. “It’s a long time,”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, nodding even though he’s not looking at you. You edge closer to him, and when he doesn’t react, you take a seat beside him. Not as close as every cell in your body tells you you need to be, but as close as you feel like he’d want right now.

“You don’t understand,” he says with a sigh.

You don’t respond, because you know you don’t. You’ve never committed to anything, loved anything, lived for anything, like this. This dream of his has outlived marriages, outlasted memories, predated a friendship that feels like it has been going on forever. It’s the only thing Max has ever wanted. You’ll never be able to understand, because no matter how much you love him, he loved racing first.

“Tell me what to say, Max,” you almost beg as you reach towards him. You can’t even hold his hand, so you just place yours on his wrist, fingertips resting against his skin at the edge of his sleeve.

You glance over at him, naively hoping he will look over at you and tell you what he needs from you. Because you’d do anything.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he just says, “I’m sorry,” in a small voice the brings a lump to your throat.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. I know I don’t understand. No one can. Not me, not Christian, not Stan, not even your dad. You’ve outclassed your whole support system here,” you say this last part with a laugh, but it’s true. He’s alone now more than ever, he’ll stand on that top step alone, too. “We’re all so proud of you, you know,”

“I know,” he mutters, and it kind of breaks you how dismissive he is, even if you know why.

“Do you?” You ask him, leaning a little closer to him, but he doesn’t react.

He just continues staring at his hands as he untangles them, his left fingers curling backwards until they brush over your hand on his wrist, and you hastily slot your fingers into his as he lets out a heavy breath.

“Yeah.” He says, sounding more resolute this time.

“And you know that we’ll be proud of you, even if-“ you can’t even bring yourself to say it. “We’ll be proud of you regardless.”

“I know,” he says, “but it’s not enough,”

Despite yourself, you let out a frustrated sigh. “Max, I know that it’s not a trophy, but-“

“No,” he says, squeezing your hand to silence you. “It’s not that. I mean that it’s not enough, to come second.”

You grip his hand tighter as he lets out a laboured breath, his head lifting so he can stare straight ahead where the Dutch flag is pinned to the wall.

“We didn’t do all this to come second.” His voice is low and reverent. “My mum, Vic, I took so much from them. My dad gave up his whole life for this. You put your life on hold for this. It can’t all be for nothing,”

He’s never really said it, but you know what he means - this win is owed. He owes his mother a marriage, his sister a father, and his father a career. And none of that is in his gift, but if he can weigh a championship against all that sacrifice, then maybe he will be forgiven. Maybe for the first time in a long time, he’ll race with a clean slate. Without wondering whether he was worth the life he cost those around him, and the life he cost himself. And you want that for him. God, you want that more than anything.

You reach for him before you can stop yourself. Space be damned. You cup his cheek in your free hand and force him to look at you.

“Max, It won’t be for nothing.” You promise him, your nails pressing gently into his skin as if you’re trying to hold onto him. Like he might float away. “Not to me. Not to anyone who loves you. Even if you don’t win today, even if you never do, even if you shunt on the first lap. I had the time of my life with you this year. Being there for you will never have been for nothing,”

He wants to believe you, you can see it. But even if he believes that you all think that, he doesn’t think that. How do you tell him it’s worth it, when you both know there’s only one way for him to prove it?

“Do you want me to drive?”

Your question catches him off guard so much as that he snorts his laughter. You feel the air against your face as he falls back against the couch.

“I’m serious,” you say, grinning as you watch him. “I’ll put on the suit and the helmet and do the race for you, like Mulan. I did the track walk, I know where I’m going. Vaguely, anyway ,”

You’re making a meal of this mediocre joke, but you’ll do anything you can to keep him as carefree as he looks right now. With his head thrown back and the colour returning to his cheeks as his shoulders shake.

“Engel,” he says, his head lolling in your direction, “You really think you have a better chance of winning than me?”

You reach over to move a stray strand of hair away from his forehead, and his eyes follow your fingers.

“No, I don’t,” you say, letting your hand slide through his hair to rest on his jaw. “Because you, Max Emilian Verstappen, know how to win races better than anyone.”

Your thumb brushed across his stubbled cheek and he leans into it instinctively, just like the cats. The smile you give him feels more like one you remember, and the ones he returns reaches his bright eyes.

“Alright,” he says with a shrug.

He gets to his feet in one smooth movement, pulling you with him towards the door by your entwined hands that you’d quite forgotten about. He must have, too, because when he notices he squeezes your hand to get you to look up at him. When you do, your breath catches in your throat, and for the first time all day, you feel warm.

“I better go and win, then,” he says lightly, pulling the door open.

No one will you believe you, but you know then that you’ll be looking up at him on that podium tonight, when he’ll be a world champion.

“You will.”

Tag list

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[thewulf]

Am I Wrong? || Aragorn

Summary: Request: Could you write something about (fem)reader who's part of the fellowship and really close to Strider? When they split up to find Frodo after Boromir blows the horn, reader goes with Merry and Pippin and gets separated from Strider.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Picking up when the group reunites in Isengard after Treebeard/Hobbits/Reader sack the place :) This is really sweet and fluffy, thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !!

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.7k +

TW: General LOTR triggers, anxiety, fear, kidnapping, orcs,

Aragorn followed behind Gandalf as he led the small group to Isengard to deal with the dark Wizard himself. What he wasn’t expecting was to run into another part of the Fellowship after so being separated for so long.

He heard the Hobbits before he saw you standing there, radiant as ever, “I feel like I’m back at the Green Dragon after a hard day’s work.” Pippen spoke with his pipe happily placed in his mouth relieved the events of Isengard were over more than anything.

Merry spoke next, “Only, you’ve never done a hard day’s work.” That’s when he heard your bubbly laughter in response to the usual joking hobbits who were clearly very inebriated. You on the other hand seemed totally in control of the situation.

Aragorn’s heart pounded in his chest as he spotted you standing with your side facing him chatting happily with the two Hobbits that stole you away from him. You were alive. Somehow more beautiful than he ever remembered you being. His eyes scanned up and down your figure making sure they truly weren’t deceiving him. You were here in Isengard. Merry and Pippen too.

Merry stood, almost falling over, shouting at them with rosy, red cheeks, “Welcome my Lords, to Isengard!” You turned with the biggest smile on your face. Once your eyes landed on Aragorn’s you couldn’t take them away. Your smile grew as his mouth dropped in shock seeing you standing there alive and well. He couldn’t track you. He thought the worst of it. He knew right then that he had to tell you. He loved you. So deeply. He never knew if he was going to see you again, he thought the worst of the Orcs after not being able to find your tracks with the Hobbits.

“Y/N.” He spoke before nearly shoving the Hobbits away from where you were standing. He needed to be right next to you. Your smile turned to one of focus as you took him in after too long apart. Truly, you knew you loved him too. You wished to never spend another night away from your Strider. He was your home and comfort. He became your person without you even knowing it.

Without another word you through your arms around him tightly, bringing him in for an unexpected embrace. Unafraid of all the glances and knowing smiles from the fellowship and other men around you. You couldn’t seem to care about that right now, you’d deal with the embarrassment later, “Strider. What are you doing here?”

Before he could answer you Gimli shouted from behind the reunion, “You young rascals! A merry hunt you’ve led us on… and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!”

After dropping your arms from around his neck, you stepped around your missed companion taking offense to his words, “They’ve earned it Gimli!” You only smiled bigger once you felt Striders hand resting on the small of your back. He had always been protective of you but never so forward with it. The two of you had pined from afar but never acted on it as that would be seen as improper. But that was then. That was before he had feared the worst. You were alive. Breathing right in front of him with the most precious blush sitting on your cheeks. Yeah, he knew it was over for him. He needed you and was tired of trying to hide it.

Merry cheered with his pipe after you spoke and before Pippen tuned in, “We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts.” He giggled in his non-sober state, “The salted pork is particularly good.” Pippen added for good measure knowing it would get under his dwarf friend’s skin.

You nodded along with them giggling yourself, “It is indeed.” You saw the gleam in Striders eye like he was trying not to laugh at the situation they had found themselves in. The plan certainly wasn’t running into the three of you while in an inebriated state. Aragorn knew you well and currently you were particularly giggly, a sign you’d partaken in some of their endeavors even if you tried to deny it.

The Hobbits waved their friends into Isengard, “We’re under orders from Treebeard who’s taken over management of Isengard.” Merry led the group in leaving Strider standing next to you holding onto the reigns of his horse. After the two of you shared a few moments just staring at the other he finally decided to speak to you. Neither of you were willing to follow the group at that moment. The two of you had a reunion to attend to before dealing with Saruman.

“I thought you were dead.” He admitted to you. Aragorn couldn’t meet your eyes as you just looked at him with a bit of bemusement forming along your tapered smile.

You tisked at him shaking your head, “You think so little of me Strider, no?” A growing smirk was playing at your lips as you studied his downtrodden expression.

His eyes finally looked into yours again, “Never, you know this. But I… I could not find your tracks along the Hobbits…”

“You did not think I would cover my tracks?” You eyebrows rose, challenging him now, “I thought you have always said I learned from the best?” Referring to him, naturally.

He let out a lengthy laugh. The tension in his shoulders released seeing you as the same person he thought he lost only a few weeks prior. Even though it had only been a few weeks he knew he could never part from you for that long again. He was a fool and only he came to realize that once you had slipped through his fingertips after getting taken by the Orcs. You didn’t hear his yell for you as he watched you fight. But even you, one of the best Rangers he knew, couldn’t overcome so many of them all at once. And just as he saw you, you had vanished in front of him along with the Hobbits. He had never felt such a failure before seeing you disappear with the creatures you had detested for as long as you’ve been alive.

“I should have never doubted you.” He spoke with that twinkle in his eye. He adored you, through and through. A slow gulp overtook him as he studied you. He always knew you were beautiful, ever since you met him all those years ago. But now, after it took him losing you to realize that he was in love with you, he understood just how stunning you truly were.

You nodded with that confidence he had adored in you, “Aye. Thought you would have learned by now Master Strider.” Tossing him a wink even you did not know where this overly friendly attitude towards your partner was coming from. That’s all he was and could ever be, just a partner in work.

He bowed his head with a similar smirk gracing his face, “Indeed. Forgive me, Y/N. But I was terrified. I thought I had lost you. My thought process was… less than rational.” When his eyes met yours once more a sad smile parted his lips. It hit you that he truly thought he might have actually lost you. Thinking of what you would do had you thought you lost him had you in an instant fit of tears. There would be no rationality in your actions had you thought of Strider dying.

His striking blue eyes sent a familiar shiver down your spine. You gave him a quick nod, “I will always forgive you, my king.”

Strider let out that familiar laugh that you had adored so much. The one that sent a shiver though your body, “It wounds me that you mock me so easily, my Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop your fluttering heart at his words, my Y/N, “I would never do such thing, you are my king, no?” You rose your eyebrows in curiosity. Sure, the news that he was the heir of Isildur took you by surprise. It didn’t shock you completely though. There was always something about him that felt so other worldly. When Legolas let true of his identify at the Council of Elrond it all sort of made sense. You’d been Rangers together for nearly thirty years, both of you being Dunedin it made sense to pair the two of you together early on in your ventures. He had never told you of his true heritage throughout all that time together. While it stung when you learned you understood why he had done so.

“I see you have not lost your tongue.” He avoided your question.

You smiled knowing his usually ways of dodging, “Would you rather they take it?”

But a quick shake of the head let you know he was simply playing, “Never. Your wit is but my favorite thing about you.”

Letting out a feigned gasp you shook your head, “I should be so offended Aragorn.”

“What do you mean?” He looked surprised by your reaction unsure if you were simply messing with him or being completely serious.

“Do you find me that unattractive?” You asked a little too bluntly knowing that you were surly crossing that invisible line the two of you had danced around for far too long.

A fiery blush rose to his cheeks letting you know you had finally gotten the better of him, “Oh no. Never. No. I did not mean it like that. Please…”

You stopped his incoherent rambling with a stifled giggle, “I tease.”

Shaking his head slowly he knew he likely looked a fool standing in front of you. He couldn’t hide it though as all of his emotions came forward seeing you there alive and well. He had begun the process of mourning your death, thinking he’d never see you again. He knew he wanted to tell you exactly how he felt, right here. He wanted to waste no more time. He came to the striking realization that even no matter skilled you or he was life in middle earth was very hostile and unforgiving. The chance of death was high and even higher now that the two of you had joined the Fellowship.

“You are fortunate I care for you very deeply.” He chose his words carefully, hopeful you would pick up on his true meaning.

“Oh?” You heard his words a little surprised. There was not much he could say that took you by surprise but this was one of them that did. He had never so much admitted he cared for you at all let alone deeply in your time together. Strider was very kind to you but the two of you shared a working relationship at most. You weren’t out here letting your tightly bound feelings out and he certainly wasn’t either.

His confidence grew seeing the color rise to your cheeks at his words. You were thinking and hard at it apparently, “That cannot be all you have to say.” He stepped forward knowing that he had the upper hand on you for once. He could never seem to catch you off guard until this very moment.

You sucked in a breath not having a clue where this seemingly innocent interaction was heading. Turning around you spotted the rest of The Fellowship talking to Treebeard far off in the distance. You spun back finding him standing much, much closer than he was before. Eyes widening your head was not making sense of what was actually happening, “I was not expecting you to say that.” It was you deflecting this time which drew an arrogant smirk on the man standing far closer than you were used to. How did he smell so good? Surely he hadn’t bathed in a while. How did Strider do it? Make your mind fuzzier than ever.

He had to look down to meet his eyes with yours, “I never want to spend a day away from you again.”

If your cheeks were not already aflame with realization they were flooding with color now, “You do not?”

It was he who had the courage to make the first move on you after seeing how easily you reacted under his words. He took his hands and brushed away a streak of dirt across your cheek slowly sending your already racing heart into another frenzy, “No, never. These last few weeks have been the worst in my life. Never do I wish to part from you again. If that is what you wish for too.” Ever the man you fell in love with, he left the decision up to you.

It was your turn to be courageous now, “I wish the same.”

His devilish smirk turned into a smile of utmost joy. A smile you so rarely saw on the man. For you knew you didn’t wish to separate from him ever again either. Nearly every moment you were away you thought of him. You thought what he would do in your situation and tried your hardest to stay positive. If it were not for the Hobbits you may have stayed to fight with the Rohirrim when they had saved you from the clutches of the orcs who had you running for days on end. But you knew Strider would save them before fighting on his own, the Hobbits would never survive Gondor on their own. In a way he had saved your life countless times even when he was not there. Strider stayed with you always. You loved him always.

It was then that he realized he had nothing to lose. The way you had looked at him told him exactly what he wanted to know. You had loved him just as dearly as he loved you, “Can I tell you something?”

A nod came from you, “Anything.”

It was now or never and he wasn’t planning on missing his chance, “I love you.”

You could not help the way your mouth dropped at that, “You what?”

“I love you.” He said again with more confidence. He loved you and he couldn’t keep it from you anymore. Strider also knew that things would never go back to normal after this quest. His true identity was revealed. Things would change. As much as he longed to go back to the simple life of patrolling the woods with you he knew that’d never be in his cards any longer. And if his life was going to change he wanted to bring the one thing that brought him comfort along for the journey as well. If he were to be king he wanted you to be his queen. No, needed you to be his queen. For a majority of his success came from you being there with him helping and guiding him.

“You love me?” You asked more to yourself than to him. When he placed his hands on your shoulders with a gentle touch you knew you were a goner. The look in his eyes was like nothing like you had seen from him, “Why me? We’ve been partners for over thirty years and… where is this coming from?”

He stopped your racing mind by running his thumb along your lower lip, ever the intimate action sending your speeding heard into overdrive, “I’ve always known. But losing you… thinking you died. It all but made me realize how daft it is to hide it away when I can tell you outright when clearly you feel the same. Am I wrong?” He smiled as he held the back of your head in his hand so gently.

“No. Certainly not wrong.” You spoke in a soft whisper. When he smiled even brighter than you had truly ever seen you had to tell him too. You’d all but implied the same feelings but you needed to let it out too, “I love you too.”

The next moments felt like a blur. He pulled you close before whispering in your ear, “The next time the nosy prince of Mirkwood is not watching I will give you a proper kiss, my lady.” It was the first time he’d called you that in all your time knowing him. A rush of warmth was felt throughout your body. It felt… right. Like you were meant to be at his side.

Once he released you from the hold he had you in you turned your head over your shoulder spotting the blonde-haired elf sitting on his horse paying much more attention to the two of you rather than whatever tale Treebeard was telling the new group.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you over the absurdity of the situation. Of all the things you thought could happen today confessing your love to the man who had you enraptured ever since you met him was the last thing you thought possible. Yet here you were. Avoiding the ever-clear eyes of your elven friend, “Damn elves.”

He nodded in agreement, “Come on, hop on.” He led you to his horse where he got you situated before he got on behind you. Slowly, he led you back to the group. You caught Legolas’ side eye knowing the he had to have heard a majority of the conversation if he wanted too. And knowing him, he wanted too.

When Strider’s horse stopped he made sure to keep his hand on you, uncaring of the curious stares from the rest of the group. He loved you. They knew it. Why should he have to hide it any further? Finally, it felt like something in this journey made sense. All he had to do now was keep you safe and destroy the ring. Simple, right?

Lord Of The Rings Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @shiftingtomydrs

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.  

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way.  She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

[circle-with-me]

Beg For It

pairing: will ramos x female reader

content warning: 18+MDNI!! fingering/masturbation (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), kind of dom!reader, subby!will, pussy drunk will, pussy worship, i probably missed something (i’m sorry)

word count: 834

tag list: @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @cookiesupplier @lacktoesandtoddlerants @witchyweeb34 @sammyjoeee @collective-heartbreak

if you would like to be added to my tag list for will or anyone else that i write for, please let me know ❤️

author’s note: @malice-ov-mercy requested prompt 123. “You’ll have to beg for that.” and my mind went a little wild. that’s it. that’s the note. not beta’d and barely proofread. enjoy :)

Will sits opposite you wide eyed, his eyes fixed on you. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, palming the erection in his jeans that was now bordering on painful. He had hoped it would help but it did nothing. There was only one thing that would help and you had made it clear that wasn’t going to happen until you got yours.

Will had lost count of how many you had given yourself, and you hadn’t let him touch you at all—it was fucking torture. He was forced to sit there and watch as your fingers passed through your soaked folds, massaging your clit, and sinking so so deep into your cunt.

“Not as deep as I could get,” He thinks to himself. By now he was frustrated and had half a mind to say fuck it. He’d remove himself from his spot, shove his cock inside you, and fuck you into oblivion. He won’t though. He’ll be a good boy for you. Sit in his spot until you give him the command like the obedient puppy that he is.

It isn’t going to stop him from trying to speed things up a bit though.

“Baby,” Will starts, his hand gravitating towards the tent in his jeans again. “I’m so hard.”

“I see that,” You smirk, pulling your fingers from your hole and dragging lazy circles around your clit. You had been waiting to see how long he’d last before he would start to whine. He had lasted longer than you expected this time.

“Eyes on me, Will.”

Will has to force his gaze from your pussy, but you don’t have his entire attention. His eyes flit back and forth every few seconds. You decide to forego the eye contact—a better, more sinister plan popping up in your head.

You sink two fingers back in your cunt getting them nice and wet. As you bring your hand up to your face, you admire them, showing off the slick that covered them. It isn’t long before Will is whining your name and begging for attention.

“You want this, baby?”

Will practically jumps up, moving towards you before he’s given permission. You stop him with your foot on his shoulder, pushing him back to his spot.

“Uh, uh…” You tut, pushing your fingers in your mouth. Will’s jaw goes slack as he watches you taste what should have been his. “You’ll have to beg for that.”

You don’t even have to ask him to get on his knees. In one swift motion he’s on the ground. His hands wrap around your ankles, and he kisses up your legs, pleading his case.

“Please, baby.”

“I need your pussy.”

“I’ll die if I don’t get a taste.”

“I want to drown in it.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise!”

Normally, he’d be in big trouble for touching you without permission. He’s begging so prettily, and you’re never one to deny a gorgeous boy the opportunity to beg. You let him continue on for a while until he’s nearly in tears, placing open mouthed kisses to your hip bones.

When you give him permission, he’s ravenous—forcing your legs open as wide as they will go and burying his face deep into your cunt. The sounds he makes as he devours you are filthy—sounds you’ve only ever heard him make in bed and on stage. Your orgasm hits you so quickly you weren’t expecting it. Your legs involuntarily wrap around his head, tugging at fistfuls of his hair as you use his face to ride out your climax.

The realization that you’re probably choking him hits you and you begin to unwrap your legs but his hands clamp down on either side of your thighs to keep them in place. The two of you lock eyes and his face is beet red. He’s pouring sweat and possibly nearing unconsciousness but he’s never looked more in love in his life.

Will shows no signs of stopping as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. Through your own cries of pleasure, you hear him moaning between your legs. You watch as he ruts into the bed, eyes rolling back into his head. As you cum again, he grunts into you, his movements slowing down.

Will pulls away from you, trailing kisses and soft bites up your inner thighs. He leans his head against you, looking up at you with tired, but sated eyes. His face, chin, neck and the bed below you is completely soaked. You watch him in awe.

“Did I just watch you cum from eating my pussy?”

Will’s cheeks flush a bright pink and he smiles before sitting up, revealing the growing wet spot on his pants.

“I lasted as long as I could,” He pouts. “I couldn’t wait anymore though. You just taste so good.”

You grab his belt and pull him towards you. Licking your lips you begin unfastening the buckle.

“Why don’t I get you cleaned up, then?”

[justbelievinginmagic]

˗ˏˋ do you even lift, bro??ˎˊ˗ : CHANGBIN X READER

pairing: changbin x plus-size fem!reader

summary: changbin loves showing off for you.

warnings/tags: pg-13, insecurities surrounding weight, exercising, so many pet names, fluff fluff fluff! this is so self-indulgent. the fact changbin can lift 280 lbs haunts me in the best way.

wordcount: 1.5k words

You always liked to watch your boyfriend work out in his personal home gym. Sometimes you’d join him in exercising (he loves the idea of being a gym couple despite your gentle disagreement) but most times you’d lounge across the couch (that he had put into the space just for you, of course) and work on something on your laptop. Time with Changbin was always limited – between tours, practices, recording sessions, producing sessions, and, of course, company work – any free time shared was bonding time. And Changbin loved spending time with you no matter the activity.

Working out wasn’t your favorite activity – at least not how Changbin approached it. As an idol, he was quite regimented when it came to… anything. He saw it as an accomplishment. Why just make the usual count of reps when its Better if he did more? He went harder and harder each session. His workout routine was intense and not something you couldn’t just hop into without huffing and puffing. Working out wasn’t your favorite activity but watching Changbin work out was.

The sounds: Soft huffs, gentle grunts, and low whines. The whispers of his reps under his breath. The clink-clank of the machines’ parts. The clunk of the weights hitting the ground heavily. His workout playlist going between loud rap to uppity girly pop to even slow R&B (sometimes songs you swear you heard in tender moments between you two.)

The sights: His face screwed up into a grimace shouldn’t look so handsome – bared teeth with his eyes shut. His nose scrunched as he lifts weights high above him. The gleam of sweat making his skin look golden and glowy. His hair damp across his forehead. His white compression shirt getting more and more see-through as he continues his workout (and the inevitable shiver that goes through you when he sheds the shirt with a groan.)

It never gets old.

This was another such day. You had tried a simple work-out. Some cardio and some light weight training (at the insistence of Changbin.) You’ve had many conversations about exercising (it’s his favorite hobby and its your hardest frenemy as a plus size woman after all, and there were multiple conversations about the importance of strength training with weights – “you won’t bulk, baby! I promise. No, you won’t—who told you you would get a footballer’s shoulders? No, no, baby! Here--” and then he taught you workouts that would be good for you courtesy of his trainer). And while you were done in 30 minutes, you knew Changbin had at least another 30 minutes on his calendar set aside for ‘working out with yeobo’ as it was marked in his schedule.

So here you sat on the couch, gazing over at Changbin only to avert your gaze when his dark eyes eventually flickered over to you. It was a fun game. Looking over again when you feel his gentle gaze leave you, your eyes lick over his form. He was weight-training. A completely different routine to your light weight lifting to tone your arms and back. He was lifting heavy weights. Some were being swung up to his head before he squatted and lowered the weight in between his legs. Another was a normal curling of weights to show off his biceps and triceps. And now… oh it was your favorite – the dead lift.

The idea that your boyfriend could hold such a high amount of weight was attractive. And you’ve told him many times. Still, almost like a child on Christmas seeing the gifts around the tree in the morning, you perch up on the leathered couch to gaze over at your Changbin. When he glanced your way as he added another round heavy-looking weight, he laughed as he caught your gaze finally.

“Caught ya, yeobo,” he teased smiling that grin that made your heart tremble with a flurry of butterflies. “I win our game today.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t trying to win – I just want to look at my handsome man.”

He pursed his lips into an air-kiss (that you dramatically grab the air for) as he moved to place another weight on the bar.

“How much is that?” you queried.

Looking over the weights, he replied, “Around 180 pounds.”

Almost as if to tease you, his arms raised high above his head as he peeled the skin-tight shirt from his form. His muscles bounced as they settled into place after tossing the shirt aside. Changbin glanced over at you with bashful eyes. Your reaction made him laugh, overly dramatically flinging yourself back on the couch in a overwhelmed mess. "Stop," you whined, peering at him from your spot. He moved to lift the weight he prepared, arms flexing deliciously.

You looked him up and down before catcalling proudly. “You’re so hot.”

He smirked as he continued to lift the weights.

You couldn’t help but let the number he told you echo in your mind. You were heavier than that. You watched him as he lifted the weights again and again. Was it hard for him? You watched his breath – his chest rising and falling as he pursed his lips as he took in a big thing of air.

“I’m surprised you can hold me up,” you commented offhandedly-more absentmindedly as you continued to ogle your boyfriend. Of course, he has – your moments in bed don’t always stay limited to the bed – but now you were thinking… has he ever lifted you up fully? Sure, he’s lifted your leg up or held your legs or held you against the wall. You couldn’t remember if he’s ever held you like a bride or even slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

His breath that he was holding as he lifted was audible as he dropped the weights unceremoniously.

“What?” he spluttered – as if you had insulted him personally.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Eyes widening as you laugh a bit, if not a bit self-deprecatingly.

“Baby, I’m not tiny. I know I’m big and I’m—you know I don’t expect you to lift me or hold my weight. I’m too heavy for everyone.” You snorted a bit. “The times you have is enough.”

“C’mon over here, jagiya,” he called, hands reaching out to you.

“Binnie,” you tried as you looked at him. “Don’t do this.”

The worst feeling in the world is when someone says no, they can handle you – only to can’t. Throughout your life, you’ve experienced this – moments where you’ve sat on the laps of others only to hear an ‘oof’ while smaller friends never experienced such a reaction. You can see it now – your sweet boyfriend trying to lift you up for longer than a moment only to huff and lower you to your feet.

“Bunny,” he hummed as he came over to the couch. “Do you think my muscles are for show?” he tilted his head a bit as if challenging you.

You gave him a bit of a dead-eyed look. “Binnie- really I’ve go –“ You didn’t get to finish your words as he bent down to scoop an arm under your legs, letting his other arm support your back. A soft gasp left you as he stood back up, your arms scrambling to wrap around his neck. Trying to hoist your weight up, but he refused, pulling you closer to his chest in rebellion.

“Shh,” he hushed as he walked over to the large mirrors beside his weights.

“Never say I can’t hold you,” he murmured softly as he held you close to his chest. There wasn’t an inkling of struggle or huff in his voice. He was just holding you. Something you imagined before countlessly but with burning heart of self-consciousness never thought could happen. Yet here he was.

“In fact,” he hummed as he walked over to the nearby weight rack, with you in his arms still. “You are as light as a feather.” He squatted once, twice. His arms didn’t tremble. His breath didn’t hitch. If you were attracted when watching him work out, in this instance, you could faint with how much adoration radiated from your heart. Adoration and anticipation.

He glanced down at you, lips curling into a soft grin at the look in your eyes. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, pursing his lips over and over with a smooching sound. As much as he’d love to swing you around to hold you by your bum (with your legs wrapping around his lean waist), he wasn’t done proving a point.

The nearby weight rack was lower than his waist and, so carefully, he squatted down.

“Can you hold one of those weights, yeobo?” he pointed with his chin to the sets of weights resting on the rack. 20lb, 40 lb, 50lb, more. “Whichever you can hold, darling.”

You reach over to grab the one of your choice before resting it on the curve of your hips. As he stood again, he swung you about, doing curls with your form.

“Yeah, still light as a feather,” he hummed. Changbin’s ears burned with pride as he heard your soft girlish giggle. He let out his own giggle which only made you blush, arms going to pull you towards his neck. He leaned his head forward, following your blushing bashful hiding towards his neck. “You hear me? I’m not even breaking a sweat, yeobo.” He pressed another kiss to the curve of your cheek.

Your eyes flicker to meet his tender ones.

“Never ever say I can’t lift you or that you are too big for me,” he murmured gently. “You are perfect. My angel.” He swayed you a bit like a baby. “Light as a feather, angel.”

[rosewine-5]

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (2)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastor’s daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

A.N: reader’s last name is Bennett.

A.N2: Thank you all for the likes & feedback from part one, here’s part 2!

UPDATE: Part 3 is here!

Word count: 1.1k

divider by saradika

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore Billy like the plague. He had a different idea, he would follow you like a lost puppy, never close enough for you to see, but you knew his eyes were on you. Going into town: you knew he was there. Working at the bar: you knew he was there. Even in church: you knew he was there and it drove you crazy. You all were taught to not look behind you during service, eyes forward and towards the pulpit at all times.

You were yearning to catch a glimpse of him, just to know you weren't crazy. However, you couldn't risk getting scolded by your mother for improper behavior. So you sat still, the burning of his eyes on you nagging you the entire time. As you waited for your father to finish saying goodbyes, you heard a voice behind you. “I should’ve known the pastor's daughter could clean up so well,” Billy said, looking you up and down.

“I didn't know the cowboy knew the Lord’s word either.” you responded, looking at him. “We all have our secrets, darling.” He said, a smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. “So what are yours, Billy?” you asked, leaning on the wall and looking up at him. ��I'm not telling mine if you're not telling yours, Ms. Bennet.” He grinned. You peeped inside the door and saw your father still in the middle of a conversation, so you had time. “Alright, I'll let you ask 3 questions about me, and I'll do the same with you, deal?”

“Deal. First question: Have you ever had a drink, and I ain't talking about wine?" Billy asked, to which you nodded in response. "Never. Have you ever taken someone's life?" you asked, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes. "Yes, I killed men before.” he replied, making your blood freeze. You felt your eyes go wide. “Let me guess, it goes against one of the Lord’s rules?” Billy asked, a tone of sarcasm laced in his voice. “Yes, a pretty big one!” You shouted, making him chuckle.

“Don't worry sweet thing, I'd never kill something so pure and innocent as you.” He smirked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I'm not so innocent, murderer.” You snapped, the grin never leaving his face. “Oh really? So you’ve held a gun before?“ Billy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Of course I have!” you answered, making him gasp loudly and putting his hand over his heart in a mocking manner. “I thought you were a proper lady Ms. Bennett! How dare you touch a gun!” he said, adding an exasperated gasp to his sentence, making you laugh.

“Shut your mouth! I know how to use one, I've just never shot one.” You said, seeing him side-eye you. “You poor soul.” you heard him whisper to himself. “So, why do you bother me so much?” you asked, giving him a sharp and challenging look. “You intrigue me, little Bennett. I don't get how you've had such a protected lifestyle.” be answered. “Having a stable life isn't protected.” You said, shrugging. “Yeah? Because I've seen those brothers of yours in the bar, and they have the same rules you do I assume.” said, making you nod.

“Bull. Shit.” he said, chuckling. “You don't even see how deprived you've been of fun because you’ve had your eyes set on heaven the whole time.” Billy said, and then you saw his smile change, his eyes darkening. “Oh. You poor little thing. You don't know what you're missing out on.” He said, making you look at the ground in embarrassment. “Eyes are up here, little girl.” he said, tilting your head up. “So then answer my last question. What do you want from me?” you asked, annoyance laced through your words.

He smirked and then grasped your necklace and tugged it slightly so you were almost nose to nose. “I thought I made my thoughts clear from the start, honey. I want you.” He said, hearing the desire in his tone.

You stepped away from him like he was a raging fire, and yet you stayed close enough to still be within arms reach. You both didn't say a word, you didn't need to. His word rang in your ears. This man was a walking sin, the devil in the form of a man: a very handsome man. His eyes glued to your face, waiting for your next move.

Just like that the word faded away. You were no longer outside the church, you were in your own little paradise. The one that surrounded you when you got lost in his eyes. Your dress softly flows in the wind, yet you don't feel the chill of the breeze. You didn't feel anything actually.

“I want you”

He didn't know how those 3 words and 8 letters affected you, but then again, maybe he did. Did he want to make you get flustered like this? Possibly. Would you slap him if no one else was around? Probably.

At the same time did you think about what he was saying? Definitely!

Before you could give him an answer, he spoke up first. “Don't you wanna live, honey?” Billy asked, giving you that same signature smile. Fuck him and his cowboy casanova ways, God excuse my French. As a matter of fact, fuck his pretty smile. Fuck his beautiful eyes. Fuck his large strong hands and make you lose your words with a simple touch. And fuck yourself for crushing on him.

Before you could answer him, you were happy to see your father walk out with your mother and father in tow. “Thank you Jesus!” you thought. “Ah! Billy. I see you've met my daughter.” He said, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Lovely daughter you've raised, sir. She was just helping me understand the message today, wise girl you have right there.” he said, giving you a kinder smile, but the true intentions remained a secret, one only you two knew.

“Well if you ever want to study the word more, she’ll talk to you about it. Won't you, dove?” he asked, the stern look in his eyes daring you to say “no” along with his palm on your shoulder. “Bringing a man closer to God and Jesus gets you to heaven as you always say.” You said with a nervous smile. Billy, who was now leaning on the wall, gave a knowing look in his eyes. “Closer to heaven” you say, Ms. Bennett?” He asked, a playful edge showing through his words. “Amen to that.” he said, taking your hand and kissing it softly. Before you walked away with your family, he whispered to you one last time. “Now I have a veiled excuse to have you to myself.” And with one last smirk, he walked away from you, leaving you shaken.

Your dad had no idea what he had just done. For a man of God, he seemed to be blind to the works of the blue-eyed devil in front of him.

The man who preached on saving souls from temptation just presented the blue eyed silver tongued serpent with his new Eve.

And the apples were looking riper by the minute.

[newluvrs]

Sohee ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: ゆめうつつ - LAMP word count: 4.9k bb note: tried something a little different with this one

The first time Sohee sees you he doesn’t actually see you.  It’s the first day of his Drawing Foundations class and truly he would rather be anywhere else.  He’s so shit at drawing and art, but he needed it to fill a gen ed requirement and he’s heard that the class is an easy A.  The professor is reviewing the syllabus and everything inside him wants to drop the class.  It’s a studio art class meaning it’s 3 hours long, the class is smack in the middle of his day on a Monday of all days, and every assignment the professor reads off sounds terrifying.  What the fuck is conte anyways? Sohee’s never heard of it and he’s not sure he gives a shit about it.  Sohee wants to roll his eyes when the professor is expecting an assignment completed by the end of class because of course he would ask something like that on the first day.  He’s assigned an easel where he props up a rather large drawing pad.  Sohee dreads the thought of having to fill such a large space with artwork when he can barely draw a straight line.  Sure the class is for beginners, but Sohee feels like he is embarrassingly bad.  

He’s attempting a very poor rendition of still life comprised of his bag’s contents when he’s positive he’s made up his mind.  He needs to drop this class before he has to face this for an entire semester.  But when he contemplates ducking out of the class early so he can spend the rest of the day browsing for a different one, something in the room shifts.  It’s like something within him is screaming at him to turn around.  When he does he sees you, well he doesn’t actually see you because your hidden behind your designated easel, but it’s like he feels you.  It makes him so badly want to see who it is that is sitting behind the imposing object.  It irks him for the rest of class until the professor announces that the time is up and it’s time for everyone to show what it is that they’ve done.  Sohee lays his eyes on you when you make your way to the front of the room to display your drawing pad.  It’s like all the breath in his lungs gets knocked out of him when he sees you.  His mouth goes dry and he starts fidgeting with his hands, nerves overtaking him.  And what you’ve drawn is far too good for a class that is intended for beginners, lines clean and neat, shading added, a singular light source indicated in your piece.  If it were anyone else Sohee would scoff and call it pretentious, but you are far cry from what he would designate pretentious.  Any and all praise that gets awarded to you (and the professor is sure to give you plenty) is well deserved, and if anything Sohee thinks you deserve more.  Needless to say he changes the mind about leaving, even after presenting his poor attempt at a still life and proceeding to get picked apart.  Is he a little insane for choosing to stay in a 3-hour class for a girl who he saw for the first time that day? Maybe, but nobody could ever convince him of that.  

The second time Sohee sees you, he realizes that there’s something… off about you.  But for the life of him he cannot pinpoint what exactly it is.  As the class proceeds, he thinks he’s glanced at you about 100 times in an hour alone.  You’re frighteningly beautiful, but in a way that should never be looked at, like if you stare too long it’ll hurt you.  The longer he watches you, the harder it is for him to figure you out.  Maybe it’s your mannerisms.. the way you hold eye contact a little too long or the way you never speak.  Or maybe it’s the way you look, your lips a little too pink, eyes a little too doe eyed. He can’t pinpoint what is about you that made him so nervous.  It’s not that you looked mean, you just looked.. blank; unreadable.  Aura overpowering everyone elses, making it hard for him to just breathe next to you.  Sohee’s convinced your like an actual angel who fell to earth and doesn’t know how to act.  He finds himself wanting to do things he’s never done before.  He wants so badly to make you laugh, to change your blank expression for once into something he actually recognizes.  Something within him makes him feel like he would do anything to entertain you, and it’s a dangerous feeling.  

The first time he actually hears you speak without first being spoken to, it’s a critique day.  Your first official project is being presented for all of class to see, and Sohee is truthfully dreading it.  He feels like he has improved in his art skills absolutely none at all and he does not want to hear it from the professor.  It does not help that the professor has tasked you all with drawing the exact same thing, meaning his art skills will be put up against everyone else’s.  He tries to comfort himself by saying that at least he gets to see what you’ve done, to him it feels like a small peek into your brain.  And of course you’re critique is perfect, the professor not criticizing you in the slightest even though it’s quite literally in the name that you have to.  Sohee looks at your lines, and he can see where you intentionally smudged the graphite of the pencil to make a blurred effect.  For a moment he thinks about copying some of the techniques you use, maybe he’d actually learn a thing or two. 

The professor approaches his piece and Sohee shuts his eyes like it’ll help him get through the critique any faster.  Spoiler alert it does not and the professor hates this one just as much as he has hated every other thing Sohee has done.  If you weren’t so pretty Sohee thinks he might hate you for every glowing review you receive alone.  He nods his head to every comment the professor makes, pretending to make mental notes about what the professor is saying.  He lets out a breath he didn’t recognize he was holding when the professor finally moves past his.  He tries his best to act like he doesn’t care about whether or not his art is good, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed.  Sohee had actually put in a lot of work into this piece, making trips to the studio when it was open on the weekend.  He had even tried using charcoal in an attempt to cover up his scratchy lines, hoping that maybe that way they would at least look intentional.  When he resigns himself to the idea that he’s just not gonna be good at art, he feels that you’re standing near him.  

“it’s very tender.”

The way your voice cuts through the air is melodic, like a song made just for him, and if he wasn’t already watching you when you said it, he would think he imagined it.  He looks at your profile, and you’re not speaking to him, but speaking to yourself.  He wonders if you’re aware that he’s even there because you’re so immersed in looking at what he’s done.  The thought occurs to him again that you’re weirdly off putting.  But in a way that makes him want to be around you more.  Like he doesn’t ever want to leave your side so he can watch you a little longer.  He’s never felt such an intense urge to crawl inside someone’s mind

As the weeks pass, he starts to recognize that he’s not the only one who can tell that you’re different.  He watches how people interact with you in class, how they can’t hold eye contact with you, or how they stumble over their words when they speak to you.  He feels a little bit better to realize it’s a universal feeling and that he’s not completely insane.  Unfortunately this also means that he’s not the only one who can see that you’re beautiful.  At this point he’s seen you outside of class multiple times, always unable to take his eyes off you no matter where he is or what he’s doing.  He’s come across you in the dining hall, seen you with your friends in the student union, he’s even starting to realize that you frequent the same parties he does.  This means he’s subjected to the sight of men approaching you.  Time and time again he watches a boy approach you with the intention of making you laugh and getting your number, maybe even getting into your pants.  

The first time he sees it a fear envelops him, like he was too late to make a move and now here comes some random guy to sweep you off your feet.  Jealousy sweeping over him when he watches a boy approach you with ease at a party in a way he never could bring himself to do.  He recognizes that it’s a friend of a friend and it just makes him more annoyed. But as he continues to watch on, he feels satisfaction settling in his chest.  He sees the boy’s futile attempts to make you laugh as you just watch him with your standard expression, drink in your hand.  It’s obvious when the boy is starting to catch on that he’s not charming you like he thought.  Sohee breaks into a smile when the boy starts fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot nervously before finally retreating in defeat.  This will not be the first time Sohee watches someone approach you and honestly, he’s starting to develop a sick fascination with watching the interaction.  He likes to see the moment they realize they aren’t gonna get with you, it makes him feel better for already knowing that it’s not going to work on you.  Like he’s better for recognizing that you aren’t easy to impress.  

Sohee tries to scheme up ways to speak to you, but every time he sees you he draws a blank.  Sure he’s relatively introverted, but he knows he can at least talk to pretty girls.  He’s done it plenty times before, if anything he’s good at it; but something about you just makes him completely change.  He knows he’s obnoxious when he’s with his friends, cracking jokes and loud mouthed when with familiar company.  But if he sees you coming near or even remotely in the same space, his personality is doing a complete 180.  His friends make fun of him each time he does it, laughing at how he goes from being rambunctious to immediately on his best behavior.  And Sohee will take the jabs any day as long as it means that you don’t see him like one of the stupid boys who choose to approach you.  He just wishes one day you’ll let him close enough to even scratch the surface of your true personality.  To give him something to indicate what it is that you’re into.  

His opportunity comes extremely unexpectedly and completely on accident.  He’s late leaving class one day, too caught up in trying to perfect his midterm project to notice that it’s 15 minutes past class time being up.  He doesn’t realize it until the next professor is entering the room to set up the studio space.  He apologizes as he throws his supplies in his bag, leaving the room as quickly as he can.  He doesn’t even realize that you were late leaving too, not until he enters the elevator and you immediately follow behind him.  Sohee feels like he’s going to burn up in the small space, so he tucks himself in the back of the elevator and tries to be as still as he can, like maybe if he doesn’t move you won’t see him.  That’s when he sees it, the tiniest indication of your interests.  As the elevator starts its trek to the first floor he’s staring at your bag which for the most part is unassuming.  But the glint of a korok charm hanging from your zipper catches his eye.  Before he can stop himself he’s speaking, breaking the silence of the elevator ride.

“You like Zelda?”

As soon as he speaks he wants to slap a hand over his mouth, like he can’t believe he just spoke to you for one, and for two he can’t believe he asked it in such a bewildered tone.  He half considers getting off on the next stop and just taking the stairs the rest of the way down.  But then you do the unexpected; you turn to him.  

“I love Zelda.”

A smile graces your features, and Sohee can physically feel the way his heart cracks in two.  He realizes right then and there that he would do anything to get you to smile at him again. 

“I’m Sohee.”  

“I know.”  

You’re terrifying and Sohee can feel the way his palms are starting to sweat.  

“I’m y/n.”

“I know.” 

You smile at him wider when he says it, and he hears the way you exhale a breath through your nose.  It’s the closest thing to a laugh he’s heard from you and Sohee tries not to let it immediately go to his head.  He glances behind you and he can see the way the numbers are getting closer and closer to the bottom floor.  

“My favorite is Twilight Princess.”  

He’s shocked when you speak again and he thinks about how he wants to stand in your light for as long as you’ll let him.  

“I have an affinity for Majora’s Mask.”  

You hum to yourself in acknowledgement when he says this, and when you open your mouth to speak again the elevator doors open with a ding.  Sohee curses to himself in his head, he’s never wished for an elevator to malfunction more than now.  You smile at him one more time before you turn to leave and Sohee has to look away at how overwhelming it is.  

“See you next time Sohee.” 

And then you’re gone.  Sohee stands there so long that the elevator doors try to close on him.  He can’t believe that that just happened, and instead of scratching the itch he had to talk to you, all it does is feed into it further.  He thinks about how he needs to hear you speak to him again, how he needs to hear you say his name again.  He smiles like an idiot for the rest of the day as he schemes of something else to say to you the next time he sees you.  

In a suprising turn of events, he does not have to try hard at all.  Matter of fact he doesn’t even have to try because the next time you have class together, you choose the easel next to his.  At first Sohee thinks maybe it’s a fluke, like the universe has decided to smile kindly on him this one time.  It only dawns on him that this was intentional when you speak up next to him, clearing your throat as the both of you work on drawing the fruits displayed on the table in front of you.  

“So do you play any other Nintendo?” 

Sohee prays that you don’t see the way he nearly jumped out of his skin when you spoke.  For the rest of class that’s what the two of you talk about.  Every now and then in between you lean over to look at what it is he’s drawing and you give him a few tips.  Sohee revels in the smile you give him when you catch him utilizing your advice.  Much to Sohee’s dismay, apparently 3 hours passes by extremely quickly when you’re actually enjoying yourself.  When the time is called and everyone starts packing their belongings Sohee does his best not to be disappointed.  He’s failing terribly at it but then he notices how you linger after you’ve packed your things.  There’s no way you’re actually waiting on him.  When you follow Sohee out of the studio he still thinks it’s a coincidence.  The elevator ride this time around is silent, and when it’s almost at the bottom you speak up.

“We should play together sometime.”  

Sohee’s head snaps up at this and when he looks at you you’re already staring at him, making his heart feel like it’s in his stomach.  Sohee may be a little dense sometimes but he can at least recognize that this is a clear invitation from you, so he leaps at the chance.  

“Do you want to come over Saturday night for Mario Kart?”

The way it takes you less than a second to agree makes Sohee feel a little too cocky for someone who can’t hold eye contact with you for longer than 5 seconds.  He feels like he’s in a daze when you hand him your phone to put in his number.  He only comes to after you say goodbye and there’s a message on his phone.  It’s simple enough, all it reads is ‘y/n’, but he feels like he’s on cloud 9.  

Sohee’s excitement quickly shifts to dread when he realizes that despite the interactions he’s had with you, he still cannot read you at all.  It drives him crazy, the way that you’ve showed him nothing about you.  It’s a stark contrast to how he feels so exposed every time he speaks to you.  It’s like you can see all of him and it plagues his thoughts for the rest of the week.  In the days leading up to Saturday you don’t message him, so he doesn’t message you.  He’s not even sure what he would say, and he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself.  He spends all of Friday cleaning his apartment, making sure everything is spick and span.  He bans his roommate from spending anytime in the common living area until after Saturday.  He even goes out and buys candles for each room, just so it’ll be a little more appealing.  When Saturday comes, he finds himself paying his roommate 40 bucks to fuck off for the evening.  He thinks it’s worth it if it means he’ll have your undivided attention. 

When you’re knocking on his door, he’s a mess of excitement and nerves.  You greet him with a smile and your wide-eyed stare.  Immediately he’s stepping aside to let you in, telling you to make yourself more comfortable.  You toe off your shoes at his front door, making your way further into his living room to see his switch already set up, Mario Kart ready to go.  Sohee thought about having it in his room, but he felt like maybe it would seem a little presumptuous of him.  When you take a seat on his couch, he thinks the sight of you in his living room is something he wants to see forever.  You curl into the blankets left for you, covering your exposed legs, and to Sohee you just look like you belong.  When you catch him staring he rips his eyes away from you and all you can do is smirk to yourself.  He makes sure to leave room between you and him on the couch when he goes to sit and you make a mental note of the distance between you.  

Sohee quickly learns that you’re extremely competitive and way better at mario kart than you let on, and he makes sure you know that.  He almost feels embarrassed about how he boasted that he beats every one of his friends every time, because right now you have won every single round.  You didn’t even fall off the track a single time on rainbow road, making sure to use the drift controls to pad your turns.  When you turn to look at him mid round, you can see how he pouts his lips in concentration and it makes you want to lean over and crowd his space.  As the game proceeds, the volume and familiarity in which the two of you speaks only gets more extreme.  The two of you went from only saying a few words to each other and speaking only when needed to calling the other names and claiming the unfair use of an item.  Sohee even rolled his eyes at you after you called him a loser.  

After winning your 5th cup in a row, Sohee decides it’s time to for a break.  He throws his head back on the couch in frustration as your victory screen plays for the millionth time it feels like.  When you reach out a hand to push on his shoulder at his dramaticism, only then does he notice how close the two of you managed to get throughout the games played.  When he looks between the two of you your legs are nearly touching, with only a few inches of space between the two of you.  He does his best not to seem nervous when he subtly tries to slide away from you, but when you close the space between the two of you he feels like his heart is gonna leap from his chest.  Instead of looking at you, he turns away, avoiding your gaze and playing dumb.  When you place a hand on his knee he feels heat make its way up his spine.  Your delicate fingers glide to the inside of his knee as you open your mouth to speak.  

“You’re really cute Sohee.”  

Finally he’s turning to look at you, and the heaviness in your gaze is enough to floor him.  For once, you are easy to read, the lust obvious in your eyes and in the way your fingers are inching closer to his thigh.  He leans in before you have time to react and kisses you.  It’s brief, just a quick peck and he mostly did it on instinct.  When he sees that he caught you off guard, he feels cockiness starting to set in.  He knows that you’re having fun toying with him at this point, so to be able to catch you off guard even for a moment makes him satisfied.  Your eyes flicker down to his lips and he’s leaning in again, with conviction this time, plush lips slotting against yours.  It takes you no time before your kissing him back, moving your mouth in tandem with his.  He brings a hand to cup your jaw as the kiss intensifies, both of you breathing heavily through your nose.  The way your lips feel against his is so soft, and he can taste the sweetness of your lip balm.  

Your hand creeps up to rest on his inner thigh and Sohee feels his cock jump in his shorts.  He presses his hips forward to indicate that its okay, not wanting to break the kiss he so badly longed for.  When he feels your hand finally touch where he needs you most he moans against your lips and the sound makes you want to devour him whole.  You press your palm against him as you break away from the kiss, trying to catch your breath while simultaneously trying to get a look at his pretty face.  He looks so dazed, his lips are swollen from your kisses with his chest heaving with each breath he takes.  He grinds against your palm and the action makes you rub your thighs together, he’s just so cute.  He can tell the effect he’s having on you and all it does is stroke his ego.  

“Is this turning you on?”  

His voice is a wreck and borders on whiny, but he doesn’t care, not when your pupils look so blown.  You nod your head as you bite your lip, starting to feel restless now, the achiness beginning to be a little too much.  Sohee spreads his legs to give you more room, shamelessly pushing into your hand each time you press down.  He looks at you and he can see you’re practically panting as you watch him.  You pull your hand away, ceasing your movements, obsessed with the way you can see him twitch in his pants.  Sohee realizes then that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you.  He guides your hand back down to grip him, but this time he holds it against him.  He looks you in the eyes as he grinds his hips up into your combined hands, moaning into the air as he does so.  He watches the way you cross your legs a little tighter, trying to give yourself something.

He pulls you in for another kiss with his unoccupied hand on the back of your neck.  It’s sloppy and uncoordinated but Sohee doesn’t care, he just needs to be pressed against you.  When you start to whine into his mouth he breaks away to see the reason you sound that way, coming face to face with the sight of you sticking your own hand in your shorts.  He swears he could cum right then and there.  His view is obstructed, and he hates it, he wants to see the exact way you like your clit played with.  The angle is the awkward with how your kneeled next to him on the couch and Sohee gets an idea.  When he pulls your hand away from him, the distressed look on your face makes him want to let you keep going.  Wordlessly, he moves to one end of the couch, sitting so his back is against the arm rest, legs resting on the cushions.  

“Come sit on my lap.”

You think that you would do anything he asked when he sounds that pretty saying it.  Reluctantly, you pull your fingers off your clit and crawl towards him on the couch until your resting against his thighs.  Sohee sees the wet patch against your shorts and lets out a groan, reaching a hand into his own.  He pulls his waistband down just enough to be able to wrap his hand fully around his cock.  You follow his lead, reaching your hand back into your pants to resume your earlier movement, but now you can see all of him.  The room is so hot Sohee thinks he may burn alive, but it would be a good way to go.  Especially when you’re moaning so prettily for him on his lap, touching yourself to him.  

“You’re so pretty y/n”

He means it.  Everything about you draws him in, consuming him with the need to be around you and hear your every thought.  His hand not being used to touch himself rests on your inner thigh, stroking up and down, resisting the urge to touch you exactly where he wants to.  When you start to hump your own hand, Sohee begins to stroke himself faster, matching your movements.  He sees the wet patch on your shorts getting darker and he thinks about how bad he wants to taste you.  When he realizes he can hear how wet you sound even with your shorts still covering you, Sohee thinks he might combust.  Your movements are starting to get jerky, hips kicking involuntarily as you rub yourself faster.

“Sohee ’m gonna cum.”

Your voice is still as sweet and melodic as ever, whines making it sound severely more erotic.  He hears the way you moan his name and thinks that’s the only sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life.  He watches on with boyish fascination as you grind against your hand a few more times, body shaking as you cum.  He takes in how your thighs try and close, your fingers working you through your orgasm, body letting out twitches from above him as you gasp.   You have to put a hand on Sohee’s shoulder to stop yourself from collapsing completely against him.  Hand still once you’re too sensitive.  

Sohee is almost there, he can feel it, his lower stomach tensing as his movements grow faster.  You pull the hand that’s from your pants and swat his hand away, replacing it with your own.  Sohee groans at how warm and wet your hand is, thinking about how you were just using that same hand to play with your pussy.  You flick your wrist quickly, trying to get him there as he whines, squirming from the friction of your hand.  When he finally comes it’s intense and overwhelming, your thumb brushing over the head as he spills all over your hand, his body shuddering as he cries out your name.  You watch on as his whole body shakes and twitches until he's finally had enough, pushing at your hand to stop.  

You both can’t stop staring at each other as you sit there and catch your breath.  Absentmindedly he reaches his clean hand out to trace the features of your face.  You mirror him, starting at his eyebrows and ending at his lips.  You start to giggle and Sohee thinks about how terribly he wanted to hear that sound a few weeks ago and how gratifying it is to hear it now.  He wishes you would let him record it so he could hear it whenever he wanted to.  He looks at you with a smile of his own, letting out a ‘hm?’ Your answer being something he never expected to hear.  

“I think I’m a little obsessed with you.”

The irony is not lost on him.  

[fyodoro]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢

-> It's no secret Rin is horrible with words, let alone feelings. So he may need a little bit of help capturing the heart of the girl of his dreams... (1.2k words)

fem!reader (one time only thing) implied high school au, rin is bad at feelings but he manages, he also does not listen to anyone ! but he tried, kinda.

“It’s been six months, and you’re still afraid to tell her what you want?” Isagi said, astonished at the taller male’s way of going about this. 

“I’m not afraid of anything, dumbass.”

“Then why don’t you tell her already?”

For the past six months, Rin had been pursuing his feelings for you. But has he gotten anywhere yet? Nope. And was it his fault? Absolutely. 

Itoshi Rin was helpless, there was no doubt about it.

Anyone could see you felt the same way about him- hell, everyone has seen it. The way you swooned whenever he brushed his hand against yours, complimented you, or just looked at you. It was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt you shared romantic feelings for the younger Itoshi. 

Rin knew it too, deep down at least. So why has he been taking his sweet time confessing? Avoiding it at all costs? It was simple really, Rin was scared.

“What if she thinks I’m insane?” He said flatly, putting his cleats back in his bag before exiting the locker room. 

“Dude, if she thinks you’re insane for waiting so long, then that just makes her a hypocrite.” Isagi’s words were harsh yet true. You’ve both been going in circles for one another, waiting for the other to open an opportunity to declare their feelings.

Nonetheless, neither you nor Rin took the opportunities when they were presented. Leading to his current position, annoyed and confused with himself. Why was this so hard for him?

With a deep breath, Rin asked for a favor he never thought he’d ask any of his teammates. “I need advice.”

Isagi was stunned, not even he could see that one coming. He was more curious about why Rin thought he had that much experience with women, but that's besides the point. 

“I got it!” A louder, higher pitched voice came from around the corner. “Bachira?”

“Just tell her! Say you waited so long because you were testing her loyalty!” For once the boy was dressed in the locker room, but it didn’t change the fact he was giving horrible advice. “Rin, never say that. Use the word ‘test’ and she’ll shut you out.” Isagi clarified. 

“I don’t need your advice, bobcut.” 

“What about mine? I have an older sister, so I’ve heard a thing or two.” Another voice added himself to the conversation, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. 

“Because a princess knows what other princesses like…” Isagi mumbled to himself, a little confused on where Chigiri came from. Before Bachira popped in, he was sure he and Rin were the only ones in the locker room. 

“I’d take yours over bobcut’s anyday… what do you have to say.” Rin looked in Chigiri’s direction, awaiting his response.

“Just tell her you like her. I mean, it’s clear she likes you back. But if she needed time or anything like that, say you would wait as long as you had to.” Chigiri’s advice was simple and straight to the point, something Rin should have been thinking from the beginning.

“And tell her if you ever did something wrong, you’d fix it right away. Girls like that sort of reassurance… I think.” An orange haired muscle man appeared from behind Chigiri. Apparently, that was Isagi’s last straw. “Where are you all coming from?!” 

“This is the Blue Lock team’s locker room… and we just finished practice? This isn’t your personal hang out spot y’know.” Chigiri cut in, deadpanning at their prized striker. “Anyways, Kunigami also has a good point. Let her know she’ll be okay with you, even if something goes wrong.”

Rin piled all the advice up in his head, organizing it into a sentence he knew he could say. “Right…”

“So, are you gonna do it? Like right now? Today?” Bachira questioned excitedly, face brightening more than it was before.

“It’s none of your guy’s business.” Quite sick of being surrounded by what Rin could only consider ‘lukewarm idiots’, he rose from the bench he was seated on. “I’m leaving.”

“Not even a thank you, seriously?” Chigiri exclaimed as he watched the monotonous boy exit the locker room. Unbeknownst to him, Rin was actually considering thanking him. That is, if everything went smoothly. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact he was actually doing this, afterall.

Outside of soccer, Rin isn’t exactly the smartest. Sure, he’s good at english. But you might as well factor English in with soccer since that was his only motivation behind understanding it. Though he’s not an idiot. He wasn’t blind to your feelings, the same way you weren’t blind to his.

In short, Rin knew there was no way you’d turn him down. 

The walk felt longer than any other. He had been sure to give you a heads up that he’d be over, so at least he wouldn’t have to wait any longer once he showed up at your door. Then again, that didn’t change the fact he was getting more and more nerve-wracked with each step he took. 

Too lost in his thoughts, RIn didn’t even realize it had started raining by the time he was at your door. And even when he had noticed, he forgot almost immediately once you opened the door. 

“Walking in the rain, seriously?” You deadpanned at the male, who looked unphased by his dripping hair. 

“I didn’t realize.” ‘Shut it’ is what he’d add to that statement if it was anyone else. 

“You didn’t realize it started pouring on your way here?” 

“Just let me in already…” He groaned.

You stepped aside, allowing him to get through the door. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’d been in your home, but somehow it felt different this time. Perhaps it was the rain, making the lights look warmer than before. Or maybe it was because he knew things would be different once he left this time.

“How was practice?” You asked while grabbing a towel for him to dry off with, throwing it in his direction.

He caught it effortlessly, using it to squeeze the water out of his dark strands. “Lukewarm. No one learned anything outside of scoring their own goals.” 

“Same old, I guess…” You mumbled.

It was quiet for a moment, finding peace in each other’s company. The peace alone said a million words, but neither of you said a single one. Until Rin finally spoke up.

“Listen…” He paused briefly, trying to align his words in order to not make a fool of himself. “I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” You both said in unison.

“I’m sorry! You go first, Rin.” Somehow, you already had a feeling you were going to say the same thing.

With a deep breath, Rin stopped cowering. “I know you know I like you… and you know I know you like me. So…”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend? Officially?” You finished his sentence for him, tired of the agonizing wait.

Rin showed a rare smile, a real smile. It wasn’t a grin, but it showed the male’s genuine deep rooted feelings. For once, all his anger and resentment disappeared. 

“I wouldn’t mind that. As long as you wanna be my girlfriend, officially.” He mimicked your words from before, earning a giggle out of you.

“So, do you think anyone will notice a difference?” 

“Difference as in…?”

“Like how we act. Do you think anyone will notice we’re a couple now?” You elaborated.

Ah. Rin had almost forgotten half his team knew what he was doing, and probably the entire team by now. He grimaced at the teasing that was to come tomorrow, annoyed in advance. His expression didn’t go unnoticed by you, however.

“Who knows already…”

“The whole soccer team… probably.”

You both were in for quite a treat tomorrow…

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

prologue (masterlist for other parts) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 1.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: set in tlou universe. reader is 16 in the prologue but is 19+ for the rest of the story, weapons, gunshots, death, violence, no mention of ellie yet but all in due course cuties, is this going to be a slow burn? maybe… 18+ mdni

author’s note: this fic was originally inspired by the song everything by muna. i’m so excited for this, if you want to be added to the tag list lmk! i have no idea how many parts this will be but i expect it’ll be quite long. thanks for reading loves <3

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

˚ · • . ° .

You didn’t know it yet, but your time in the Pittsburgh QZ was wearing thin. You had lived there your entire life, sixteen years to be exact. For people who lived pre-outbreak, a military-controlled quarantine zone probably didn’t seem like much of a home, but it was all you knew. Your dad was a smuggler and whilst for the past few years had managed to keep you and your mom out of it, his current job was proving to be riskier than originally anticipated.

“You said it would be quick,” you heard his seething whisper whilst you backed yourself against the other side of the wall, listening in.

“It was supposed to be! look, man, I’m sorry,” another man’s voice said.

“Just–fuck, just make sure we get the stuff we need before we hand anything over, alright?”

“We’ll try.”

“No,” you could hear shoving, “you will, understand?”

“Yes,” you could tell the man was nervous despite trying to hide it.

“If this goes wrong, they’ll come after us, and my family. I know this is a fucked up situation and I should never have got involved with that fucking Aaron guy in the first place but here we are and I am not letting my wife and daughter die because of me, got it?”

Die? Your blood ran cold wondering what on earth your dad had gotten involved with this time. You heard the man mumble out a “yes” before the door shut and your dad sighed and banged his fist against the table. Not wanting to get caught, you creeped back to your room.

Once inside, you settled into the beat-up armchair that you had pushed against the window and stared out at the night sky. Stars twinkled and the moon shone a bright white. For a moment, you could pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere where everything looked this beautiful. It was a stark contrast to the withered frame of dust and peeling paint.

You could hear muffled voices coming from your parent’s room. They sounded like they were arguing and said something about talking to this Aaron guy on the radio. They did that a lot these days. argue. You knew they still loved each other but after silently analysing their relationship over the years, you could see that something of a ‘spark’ had gone. Then again, what did you know, it’s not like you had ever been in love. The closest you had ever gotten to a connection with anyone had been with Amy. When her hair would get caught in her mouth as you both stood on a roof laughing at how the wind parachuted your coats, you wanted to reach out and untangle it for her. Sometimes she would give you this look where her eyes would soften and her dimples would make themselves known as she smiled. It would make your heart skip a beat and you would forget what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that’s just how best friend’s felt about each other. Completely lost in a trance, you didn’t notice the sound of thundering footsteps down the hall until a rough hand grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“We’re leaving,” your dad’s voice was indignant and stern.

“Leaving? where?”

Your mom burst through the door, her face soaked in fear.

“Charlie, please,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry but we have to go.”

“Go where?” you demanded. You could feel the goosebumps raise on your arms. He couldn’t be talking about escaping, could he?

“We’re leaving the QZ. Come on, grab your stuff.” You just froze.

“Come on!” he yelled before running a hand over his face. He collected his anger just enough to look you in the eye and speak clearly.

“I don’t have time to explain, but some guys have fucked me over and it is safer for us to escape and leave.”

“But we’ll be killed!”

“We will be if we stay here. Now please, grab your stuff.”

His last three words came out with a bite and you thought better of arguing further. You looked across the room to your mum and she made a poor attempt at giving you a comforting look. Tears stung against your waterline and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve before grabbing your things together. Not everything of course. Not the Thelma and Louise poster you found once or the sketch Amy had drawn of the two of you before she died. But the essentials. Torches, jackets, guns, knives.

Your dad looked out the window, making a mental note of military whereabouts, before encouraging you and your mum out the door. You didn’t want to leave. You had never been outside the QZ and had only heard horror stories. Thoughts of where you would go once you got out, if you got out, clouded your mind. It scared you to think of what kind of trouble your dad had gotten himself into that needed such drastic action. You knew he did bad things but you knew he wasn’t the only one and there wasn’t much you could do about it. When he first started smuggling you had been afraid all the time, but over the years you became numb to it. That’s just what he did. But now all of those fears were resurfacing and you weren’t ready to face the high chance that you could die tonight.

The three of you were pressed against the outside wall, your dad in front holding his finger to his lips indicating you needed to be quiet. Your parent’s both held guns whilst you clutched your switchblade. It was dark but blinding lights from patrolling tanks occasionally illuminated the dank alleyways.

“We need to get over there, we move on my signal,” you could barely hear your dad’s whisper as he pointed at a metal fence on the other side of the road. You tried your best to be silent but couldn’t help the way your breath shook as you nodded.

After peering around the corner once more, he lifted his hand up, signalling for you to follow him. You had to be agile in order to make it across safely, which luckily was a strength of yours. You may not have ever been outside of the QZ but you had snuck around with Amy enough times to know how to go unnoticed. This was nothing like that though. Sneaking around and being teenagers didn’t feel like a death sentence.

You bumped into your mom’s back as you all suddenly stopped behind a parked truck. It started to rain and you were thankful that the splatters of water might cover up any sounds of laboured breaths and footsteps from you. A bright light casted over the truck as you strained to keep your head below the window. You were moving again and the fence was in sight. The closer you got the more you could make out a chained padlock on a gate. A menacing sign saying “UNAUTHORISED EXITS FROM A QUARANTINE ZONE ARE PUNISHABLE BY DEATH” was hung up next to your heads. Your palms began to sweat as your dad pulled a key from his pocket. You didn’t even want to know what he must have done to get that. He started to unlock and unwind the chains from the gate. You were so close. Maybe this insane plan would actually work.

“Drop your weapons.”

You all froze and slowly turned, initially to squint as a torch shone directly in your eyes. After a few blinks, your vision cleared to see a guard holding up a gun. You felt like you were choking and if anything the grip on your knife tightened instinctively.

“I said drop your weapons.”

You threw your switchblade to the ground. Your parent’s followed suit with their guns. The guard took a step closer.

“Let me exp–,” your dad attempted to reason but was cut off.

“On your knees and put your hands on your head.”

You glanced at your mom and she hesitantly nodded. You sunk to your knees, the cold, wet gravel soaking through your jeans to your skin. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your head. The guard, still aiming his gun at you, checked you all with the infection scanner before stepping back to his original spot.

“Sir, I’ve got three clean but armed people here by gate three. How would you like me to proceed?” he spoke into his handheld transceiver.

“Uh-huh… yes… yes sir.”

Before you could even think, two deafening gunshots went off in quick succession. Your head snapped round and you saw your dad pointing a gun at the guard, as well as a mass of blood soaking his shirt. You noticed the guard stumble and in a blind rush of adrenaline you snatched your switchblade from the floor. Your mom’s hand grabbed you, pulling you back from where the guard was aiming his gun again.

Another bullet fired. Your mom screamed. You grabbed her arm to support her and looked up at your dad for help.

“Go!” he yelled, firing again. You could hear more guards charging towards you.

“Dad,” your voice came out weak and strangled.

“I said go!” you had never heard his voice be this frightening. Fear carried your legs as you pushed your mom through the open gate. You shoved yourself through it as well, not knowing what lay ahead in the darkness before you. You could only focus on getting away from the constant gunshots. You didn’t stop moving but your movements had slowed as you looked back.

“Dad, please!” you yelled, tears making your cheeks hot.

He was being pushed against the fence by three, maybe four faceless guards. You could hear the struggle in his distant grunts as he fought against them. They were beating and shooting until his body went limp on the ground, next to the guard he shot.

“No,” your voice was a mere whisper to yourself. Shock and disbelief ringing in your ears.

“We have to go,” your mom pulled you away, she was crying too, “before they catch up to us.”

You both frantically ran whilst the adrenaline was still controlling you. Your mom groaned with each step. You didn’t even know where she had been hit but at least she was alive. You had got out and there didn’t seem to be anyone chasing you, but your dad was dead. Escaping seemed so futile now. It had been his idea. his plan. His doing that meant you needed to leave in the first place and yet it had ended like this. And now, to no avail, you had no protection. Nothing except what you carried on your back. You were out in the big wide world. A big, wide, terrifying world.

*✧･ﾟ: taglist: @bellasfavelesbo @ximtiredx @abbyily @heartzjules @gold-dustwomxn @sawaagyapong @aouiaa @pinkigirl @nil-eena @ucannotcompare @cherriesxinthespring @blvebanisters

[thelonelyfairy]

Fractured Bonds

Chapter 2

(Toshinori x Reader x Aizawa)

Note: this chapter has about 7k words so buckle up! Also there won’t be any scenes between Toshinori and reader on this one so gather up Aizawa girlies 🫶 lastly, this chapter will contain spoilers from either season 4 or 5, you can stop reading after “the work-study program has always been…”

Update: Added a fanart of Aizawa/Reader (Yan) at the end made by the lovely @mananeez!

Masterlist Chapter 1 ch3

You finally caved in to Recovery Girl’s persistent requests to accompany Class 1-A on their USJ visit, given their frequent trips to the infirmary and avoiding more headaches on her end. Funny how fate plays out sometimes.

She had reassured you that Toshinori would be present, easing your worries about any direct interaction with your ex.

But as roll call begins and the students boarding the bus, All Might was nowhere to be found.

Sitting across from Aizawa, your nerves begin to stir in your chest. Your Kitsune picks up on it, curling in your lap and radiating warmth, calming the tension in your body.

In the back, the students laugh and bicker, showing how well they’d bonded despite Bakugo’s frequent outbursts. You tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t hold it back.

It had been a long time since Aizawa had heard your laughter, or seen a genuine smile on your face. Far too long.

When the bus arrives at the arena, the scale of the place leaves you just as awestruck as the students. You’d never seen such a massive training center. As you all enter, Aizawa informs you that they’d be working with Thirteen, who soon briefs the students on the Unforeseen Simulation Joint and today’s focus on rescue abilities. She explains her Quirk, Black Hole. Dangerous, but capable of saving lives if handled correctly.

Once that’s all finished, Aizawa approaches Thirteen, “Let me guess, All Might booked an interview instead.”

A soft scoff leaves you before Thirteen announces the inconvenience, “Apparently he did too much hero work on the way to school this morning and used up all his power, he’s resting in the teacher’s lounge.”

Of course, you know that man well enough that he goes out of his way to care for his people, not for fame nor for money. You can already imagine him feeling guilty and helpless while Principal Nezu rambling his ass off about his philosophies.

“That man is the height of irresponsibility.” Aizawa sighs.

“Irresponsible or not, he’s still the Symbol of Peace. He’ll be back soon enough.” You counter, ex lover or not, you’ll go to the moon and back to defend Toshinori just like he did for you.

“Clock’s ticking,” Aizawa announces, disregarding your comment, “we should get started.”

Before you can dwell on it further, the air shifts, a subtle disturbance you can’t quite place. Your Kitsune leaves your body, ears twitching, sensing it as well as it growls. You glance toward Aizawa, who’s already on alert, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter with Thirteen immediately on guard.

A dark, swirling portal materializes in the center of the USJ, figures begin to emerge—villains. Dozens of them. More than you’ve ever seen gathered in one place. The students freeze, their confusion quickly turning into fear.

“Aizawa!” you call, your voice tight with urgency.

“I see it,” he mutters, stepping forward, his scarf already unraveling as he places on his goggles.

“Stay back with the students. This is no place for you right now.” Without hesitation, he leaps forward, his capture scarf trailing behind him like a shadow.

You grit your teeth, instinctively wanting to rush forward, but you know he’s right. Your job is to protect the students first. You’re a nurse, after all. Your Kitsune begins to swirl around the students protectively as you turn toward the group of wide-eyed students.

“Let’s get to safety,” you command, ushering them toward the back exit, your voice calm despite the chaos around you.

The portal continues to spew out villains, and you can see Aizawa already in motion, darting into the fray. He’s a blur of calculated strikes, his scarf snapping out like a whip, disabling the quirks of those who dare get too close. But the numbers are overwhelming, and even Aizawa, as skilled as he is, can only handle so much at once.

“It’s locked!” Thirteen calls out, as you try to budge with your Kitsune’s strength, all but no hope.

A sickening sound cuts through the air. You whip around, your blood turning cold. Aizawa, mid-battle, is slammed to the ground by multiple villains. He struggles to get up, his scarf moving about to throw them unconscious as blood drips from his forehead, staining the ground beneath him.

Your heart stops. He’s injured. Badly.

You freeze, torn between staying with the students and rushing to Aizawa’s side. The instinct to protect him overwhelms you, but you can’t just leave these kids defenseless.

Panic claws at you from all sides, what are you supposed to do? Save Aizawa, or stay here and protect the students like you promised?

"Fox Face!" Thirteen's voice slices through your spiraling thoughts, her hand firm on your shoulder, her tone calm yet urgent. "Go. I’ve got things here. The students are safe with me, and we trust you—you were All Might’s sidekick after all." Her words hang in the air as the students nod in agreement, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and trust.

You hesitate for just a second, but Thirteen’s steady gaze holds yours. "He needs you."

That’s all it takes.

Without a second thought, your Kitsune retreats back to your body, its strength surges through you, its aura radiating from your body, your eyes glowing as your iris turns into slits. As you teleport straight to Aizawa’s side. The world blurs, and you appear in a swirl of glowing sakura blossoms, kunai ready.

Aizawa flinches as the pain in his body suddenly begins to ease. Bruises and cuts start to repair, your healing ofudas floating toward him, their energy absorbed into his skin. The warmth floods through his muscles, easing his exhaustion like a switch had been flipped—but that relief is quickly replaced by something sharper, anger.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snaps, his voice harsh as he pushes himself up, locking eyes with you from behind his goggles. "I told you to stay back with the students!"

"How are you supposed to fight if you’re injured?" you counter, approaching as you’re unfazed by his outburst, raising your hand to heal a cut on his brow.

"I’m fine," he growls, swatting away your hand. "You should’ve stayed with the kids. This isn’t—"

Before he can finish, a villain charges at you both. Reacting on instinct, you wrap your arms around Aizawa—feeling unexpected muscle beneath his dark uniform—before teleporting the two of you a few meters away in a flash of light. The villain stumbles in confusion, giving Aizawa the perfect opening. He regains his footing, whipping his scarf out to disarm the enemy and bring them down with brutal efficiency.

But his scowl remains.

"You’re reckless," he mutters as the fight continues, frustration lacing his words.

"And you’re stubborn," you shoot back, pulling a kunai strapped from your thigh and throwing it with precision, hitting another villain dead-on. "We’re a team. I’m not letting you face this alone."

Aizawa’s eyes narrow beneath his goggles, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, your movements perfectly in sync. You teleport into the fray, kunai slicing through the air with lethal accuracy, powered by your Kitsune’s spirit. Aizawa stays close, his scarf whipping through the chaos, disabling any villains who try to flank you.

It’s almost like old times—each of your moves complementing the other, his reflexes sharpening your attacks while you provide support and healing when needed.

But beneath the surface, Aizawa’s frustration simmers, it’s practically in the air, you know the conversation isn’t far from over.

As you glance toward the edge of the arena, your eyes lock onto a strange trio standing near the center of the USJ. One man appears to have no physical form, swirling with the same dark color as the portal that brought the villains into the facility. Beside him stands a beast, assuming to wield a mutation quirk, and the third—a white-haired man—observing the battle with a chilling detachment.

Whoever they are, they’re not just bystanders.

“Nomu…”

The voice catches you off guard—unexpectedly high-pitched, especially coming from the white-haired man whose intimidating physique suggests something much deeper. His red-rimmed eyes lock onto yours, and for a brief moment, everything else fades into the background. The battle, the noise, the chaos—it all blurs, and you’re left staring into the void that seems to echo within him.

Your breath catches as something deep inside you stirs, a pressure inside your chest that twists uncomfortably, almost suffocating, as if an invisible chain is tightening around you. Your Kitsune spirit trembles, and for the first time, you feel its power falter. Panic flickers in your veins, but you force it down, refusing to let him see your fear.

Your fingers twitch at your kunai, instinct urging you to move, to do something, but you’re frozen—eyes locked with his. He takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

The man tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as a twisted smile hinted beneath the decaying hand covering the lower half of his face.

"Her."

The Nomu lunges, unleashing its power against you.

Aizawa panicked, quickly throwing off the villains that were pinning him down and sprinting to your side. You'd only ever stopped Toshinori's full strength once, and even then, you weren't sure if he was using everything he had. But one thing was clear is this beast, this Nomu, is at least as strong as Toshinori, if not more so.

Your feet barely touches the ground as Nomu's iron grip closes around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs.

Your feet barely touched the ground as Nomu's iron grip closed around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. The Kitsune inside you fought to keep you conscious, but the lack of oxygen was making your vision blur.

The Nomu hurls you into the corner, near the water of the shipwreck, its gaze locking onto yours as you struggle to catch your breath. Before you can react, it wraps your wrists in one of its massive hands and starts dragging you toward the white haired man. You curse under your breath, teleporting was impossible with its grip on you.

"Aren't you going to save your little friend, EraserHead?" The man's voice remains disturbingly calm.

Without hesitation, Aizawa charges forward, the man doing the same.

Aizawa lands a sharp elbow to the man's stomach, but the villain swiftly grabs his arm in a tight grip.

You can't hear their exchange, only the sickening sound of skin decaying and Aizawa's pained gasp.

“Fox Face!” Aizawa shouts, shoving the villain aside with force as he sees your eyes close, your head slumping forward as the Nomu releases its hold on you. Your body collapses to the ground, unconscious.

“By the way…” the Nomu moves to stand beside its master. For the first time since his school days, Aizawa’s body freezes, paralyzed, unable to tell if you’re still breathing.

“I am not the final boss.”

The Nomu lands a brutal hit, leaving Aizawa’s goggles in the air, his blood pooling around, painting the ground crimson as the Nomu begins to grab a fistful of his hair, smashing his face to the ground over and over.

"Oh, before we go, let’s make sure the Symbol of Peace is shattered," the man’s red eyes lock onto your still body.

His hand moves toward you, deliberately slow, each finger stretching out as it inches closer to the top of your head, ready to make contact with all five fingers. He could already see it, the decay of All Might’s previous sidekick, presumed lover, all in ashes. Nothing.

But none came.

The man chuckles, “You really are so cool.”

With all of his might, Aizawa lifts his head, his blood spilling on his face as the cluster of veins and redness of his eyes holds you in place. Breathing or not, he can’t fathom the idea of you out of his existence.

Many years ago

The first day at U.A. High School was a whirlwind, with you still adjusting to your new classmates. You stood beside your brother, Oboro Shirakumo, who was already chatting with two students. As always, Shirakumo’s bright personality drew people in, while you kept more to yourself, quietly observing.

"Hey! This is my sister, Yan!" Shirakumo suddenly announced, pulling you into the conversation as he introduced you to the two classmates, Hizashi and Nemuri. The unexpected attention made you flinch slightly. "She’s gonna wipe the floor with all of you, just watch!" His grin earned a chuckle from Hizashi, while Nemuri raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Nice to meet you!" Nemuri said playfully. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

You laughed lightly, still unaccustomed to the spotlight. Before you could respond, your gaze was drawn to a student standing off to the side. He was tall, quiet, with shaggy black hair partially covering his face. His arms were crossed, and he seemed disinterested in the lively conversation unfolding nearby.

"That’s Aizawa," Shirakumo leaned over, noticing your wandering eyes. "He’s a bit quiet, but he’s sharp. Really smart."

As if sensing the conversation, Aizawa glanced in your direction. You quickly looked away, but not before noticing the intrigue in his eyes.

A few months into the school year, you headed towards training grounds on your own, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. Most students had gone home, but you remained, practicing your kunai throws. Each one hit the bullseye, but something felt off. No matter how perfect the throws were, they didn’t feel right.

"You're overthinking it."

Startled, you turned sharply, cursing yourself for not noticing Aizawa standing by the fence. He leaned against it, arms crossed, as silent and unreadable as ever.

"What do you mean?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He hops over with no trouble as he approaches slowly, his footsteps deliberate. "Your movements are stiff. You’re second-guessing every throw." His voice was calm and matter-of-fact, though not harsh.

You huffed, glancing back at the target. “Alright then, what do I need to work on?”

Aizawa stepped closer, his presence oddly calming despite his usual stoic demeanor. “Don’t think. Just throw.”

You hesitated, feeling an unexpected flutter in your chest. His gaze was sincere, and there was a softness in his expression you hadn’t noticed before. With a deep breath, you pushed away your nerves, refocused on the target, and let the kunai fly.

The blade sailed through the air and struck dead center.

Aizawa gave a small nod. “See? You’re better when you trust yourself.”

"Guess I owe you one," you said, half-joking but grateful.

Aizawa shrugged, his usual stoic air returning, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t overdo it. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard about that hero work study.”

As the sunlight bathed the training field, you noticed how it caught Aizawa’s features—the sharp angles of his face, his dark hair falling messily over his eyes. In that moment, he was no longer just your classmate or your brother’s best friend. There was something more, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you thought you saw a flicker of warmth in his usual cool gaze.

"Good luck with that," he added, his tone softer than usual, almost teasing.

Aizawa turned to leave, a small, rare smile crossed Aizawa’s face as he disappeared from view, leaving you standing there with a sense that something between you had shifted.

In the second year, the U.A. training grounds buzzed with activity as students prepared for their now-mandatory hero work studies. Amid the hustle, Aizawa stood apart, a frown creasing his brow as doubt clouded his thoughts. Watching his classmates give their all, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of not measuring up. The weight of expectations sat heavily on him, and the thought of failure gnawed at his confidence.

“Hey,” you called, approaching more quicker as you note the tension in his posture. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Aizawa glanced at you, frustration and embarrassment flickering across his face as he gently pushed away your healing ofudas. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this mandatory work study. Everyone else seems to have it figured out.”

“You’re an amazing hero, Aizawa. Don’t let self-doubt trip you up. You just need to train harder and trust yourself.”

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not that simple, and your overly cheery advice isn’t exactly helping.”

“Well, let’s train together, then,” you offered, brushing off his cold response with determination shining in your eyes. “I owed you one from last time anyways.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You really think I need help?”

“Everyone needs help sometimes,” you shrug.

After a moment of hesitation, Aizawa nodded, and the two of you moved to a quieter section of the training grounds that already had a series of obstacles placed around, demonstrating your agility with the Kitsune energy swirling around you, leaping, dodging, and striking with precision. Aizawa watched closely, studying every movement as you flawlessly navigated the course.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping aside to give him space. “Focus on agility and timing. Don’t let your quirk limit you.”

With a deep sigh, Aizawa stepped forward, determined to overcome his doubts. He began working through the obstacles, his performance mixed with moments of success and frustration. Each misstep weighed on him, feeding the sense of pressure.

“Don’t let your mind get in the way. Trust your instincts.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried again, concentrating harder. Slowly, with each attempt, he began to improve, but the doubts still lingered. He glanced your way, seeing nothing but encouragement in your eyes.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, your enthusiasm lifting his spirits.

Fueled by your support, Aizawa pushed himself harder. The obstacles seemed less intimidating, and with every completed run, he felt his confidence build.

“Now try using your quirk!” you encouraged.

He nodded, activating his quirk, his hair lifting as his eyes glowed red with his scarf extended, helping him move through the course more fluidly. The challenge increased, but so did his sense of accomplishment.

“See? You’ve got this!” you called, clapping your hands in excitement. “All you needed was to believe in yourself!”

Breathing heavily, Aizawa finally stopped, a rare smile breaking through his stoic exterior as blinks, his hair fell forward to mask it. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it,” he said, a quiet pride settling in.

You approached him, beaming. “I knew you could do it! Just remember, you don’t have to shoulder everything on your own.”

The moon hung low in the sky, bathing the quiet streets of Musutafu in a soft, silvery glow. As you walked toward your family’s apartment, your mind wandered after a long day at U.A. Absentmindedly, you kicked a pebble down the dimly lit alleyways, your Kitsune spirit lazily trailing behind.

Passing a narrow alley, your Kitsune suddenly turned, drawn by something. You followed its gaze and froze. There, slumped against a wall wrapped in his familiar capture weapon, was Aizawa. His dark hair obscured his face, and his sharp eyes were closed in exhausted sleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the scene was far from peaceful.

You stood still, staring in disbelief as your Kitsune spirit retreated back into your body. “Aizawa?” you whispered, the sight of him sleeping in an alley catching you off guard.

The realization hit hard. You knew Aizawa well enough to understand his desire to keep things private, but this? You had no idea it had gotten this bad. He always seemed so self-reliant, never asking for help, yet here he was, sleeping in an alleyway, leaving your heart dropping to your stomach.

You crouched beside him, hesitant, your hand hovering before pulling it back. "Aizawa," you whispered again, this time softer.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Groggily, he squinted up at you. "Yan?" His voice was barely audible.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though the answer was painfully clear. “You’re… sleeping here?”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “Just… had nowhere to go tonight.”

Your chest tightened at his admission. “How long has this been going on?” you asked gently, trying not to push too hard.

Aizawa shrugged, his usual stoic demeanor cracking. “A while,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.”

“Manage?” you echoed in disbelief. “Aizawa, you’re sleeping in an alley. This is not okay.”

He fell silent, staring at the ground. You could tell he hated this—hated the vulnerability, the pity. No wonder he’d been dozing off in class so much recently.

Without hesitation, you stood and offered him a hand. “Come on,” you said firmly.

“What?” Aizawa frowned, confused.

“You’re not staying here. You’re coming with me. You can sleep at my place.”

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “Yan, I can’t—”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” you interrupted, leaving no room for debate. “You can sneak into my room through the window. No one will know, not even Oboro—he’s always glued to his computer all night. You can stay as long as you need.”

Aizawa stared at you, torn. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you reassured him, your voice softening. “We’re friends, right? What did I say last time? You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

He sighed, exhaustion winning out over his pride. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” you smiled. “And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

After a moment, he reluctantly took your hand. You bit back a cringe as you helped him to his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered, his gratitude quiet but genuine.

“Anytime,” you reassured, already planning out how to sneak him in unnoticed.

As the two of you made your way back to your apartment, you kept glancing at him, your heart heavy for the boy who carried more than anyone realized.

When you reached the fire escape, your Kitsune lowered the ladder with ease, and soon, you were both standing outside your window.

“Take off your clothes,”

Aizawa blinked, stunned. “Wh—?”

“Not like that!” you spoke in a low enough for him to hear, “You were sleeping in an alley. I don’t want all that in my room!” You kicked off your shoes, placing it at the fire escape balcony you’re both on and slid open the window, relieved that your mother did not lock it this time.

He chuckled, remembering your slight germaphobia from class. He quickly shed his outer clothes, folding them at the other end of the balcony along with his capture weapon, leaving only his undergarments as you instructed.

“I’ll get the shower ready,” you inform as you head toward the bathroom, your bathroom.

Aizawa couldn’t help but notice how different your lifestyle was—quietly wealthy but never flaunted. The Shirakumo family definitely raised both you and Oboro well, something he wished his own family would’ve done.

You motioned for him to follow, “There’s a fresh towel and some unused toiletries over there…” He glanced around, noticing the pink, white, and floral décor—completely opposite of his usual style.

“The soap and shampoo are floral-scented too,” you added with a slight apology. “So, you might end up smelling kind of...girly. Hope that’s okay.”

He chuckled softly. “I don’t mind. Thanks for everything.”

You left him to his privacy and went to grab some blankets and pillows, hoping he wouldn’t mind what you had. Mentally, you made a note to pick up something more suited to his taste tomorrow after school.

After his quick shower, wrapped in floral-scented towels, he settled near your bed, sinking into the plush pillows and blankets you’d laid out for him.

As you handed him a blanket to pull himself over, your hands brushed for a brief second. You face reddens while Aizawa allowed himself a small, grateful smile in return, hopefully he’ll like this one more than the others.

“Hello Kitty?”

You sigh, before you can apologize, he asks, “Wait, who's this one?”

“Ah that’s Chococat!” Your voice still hushed, “he’s a quiet cat, of course you’d like him,”

Aizawa released a soft chuckle, “Thanks, Yan,”

“Of course, Aizawa,” you replied, settling into bed yourself.

“Shouta,” he corrected, his voice gentle. “Call me Shouta from now on.”

Your eyes widened at the request, but before you could respond, he had already pulled the blanket over himself, the exhaustion finally winning over. For the first time in a long while, he looked at ease. As you settled into bed, you made a quiet promise to always be there for him, no matter what.

The night was quiet, the faint rustling of leaves outside barely breaking the stillness as Shouta lay in the dark, wrapped in the Chococat blanket you’d given him with a matching pajama that you bought, he offered a quiet thanks, when deep down he grew fond of the black cartoon cat. Months had passed since the incident, and he stared at the ceiling of your small room, exhaustion sinking deep into his bones. It had been a long day—made longer by the clear realization that you had sneaked him into your home, offering a kindness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He absentmindedly flipped through his English book, one with a romance theme, occasionally thinking about words to describe you. Yet, ‘beautiful’ just didn’t seem to cut it.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the right words. What you meant to him, how he felt for you—there were no terms that fit. Maybe it was a failure of the English language, or maybe it was just him struggling to understand his own feelings.

No one had ever taught Shouta how to love. He’d never planned to, not until he met you.

What he did know was that you were captivating in every way, and it was becoming increasingly hard to focus on the pages in front of him.

Just as he was about to give up, a sound broke through the silence—soft, but unmistakable.

You stirred restlessly in your bed, your breaths uneven and ragged, and Shouta immediately sat up, his senses alert.

"Yan?" he whispered, concern laced in his voice.

You didn’t answer. Your face was twisted with distress as your body tense, trapped in a nightmare. Another whimper escaped your lips as you shifted under the covers, bracing yourself against some unseen terror.

Shouta hesitated. He wasn’t good at comforting people. But seeing you like this, his instincts took over. After all you’d done for him—giving him a place to stay, helping with his hero work studies—this was the least he could do.

He got up from his makeshift bed and quietly approached yours. “Yan,” he called softly, gently placing a hand on your arm, giving you a light shake. "It’s not real, wake up."

Your eyes shot open suddenly, your breath catching in your throat as you sat upright. For a moment, you seemed lost, your gaze unfocused, until you finally registered where you were—and who was beside you.

“Shouta?” you gaze up, your voice hoarse from the remnants of the nightmare.

"Yeah," he replied softly, his hand still on your arm. "You were having a nightmare."

You exhaled shakily, trying to compose yourself. "I’m sorry," you muttered, your voice trembling. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t," he assured you. "You’re alright?"

You nodded, though the trembling in your hands said otherwise. You were trying to hide it, but Shouta could see how much the nightmare had shaken you.

After a pause, he gently slid his hand away. “Do you… want to talk about it?"

You shook your head, your shoulders slumping. "No, it’s the same as always. They come and go."

Shouta remained silent, eyes downcast. He knew what it was like to not want to talk about things, so he didn’t push. But something inside him urged him to offer more.

“Move over,” he said quietly, before he could second-guess himself.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He glanced at the narrow space on your bed. “Just… move over.”

Though surprised, you shifted to make room. Shouta climbed in beside you, lying on his back and pulling the blanket over the both of you. He didn’t say anything more, but his presence spoke volume.

You looked over at him, still shaken but feeling comforted by the quiet gesture. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “But I’m here.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. Slowly, your breathing steadied, the nightmare’s grip loosening with Shouta’s presence beside you. You found yourself watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his calmness grounding you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Shouta didn’t reply, but you felt him shift a little closer, his arm brushing yours in a simple yet comforting touch. He wasn’t one for flowery words, but his actions were louder than anything he could say.

With him beside you, your eyes began to grow heavy again. For the first time in a while, you felt truly safe—as if your nightmares couldn’t reach you with Shouta there.

Just before you drifted off, you whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Shouta lowered his gaze, his expression softening as he watched the peacefulness return to your face. “Me too,”

The U.A. School Festival was in full swing, and Class 2-A had chosen to put on a theatrical performance as their contribution. They all agreed a play would be the perfect way to showcase their quirks while providing some lighthearted entertainment. The theme? A dramatic fantasy adventure—complete with a brave knight, a cunning sorceress, a wise king, and, Shouta, much to his reluctance, had been cast as the villain— a dragon disguised as a dark sorcerer.

The auditorium buzzed with excitement, the audience eagerly awaiting the show. The lights dimmed, and the curtains rose.

“Fear not, I will save the kingdom from the evil sorcerer’s clutches!” Shirakumo bellowed, swinging his sword with exaggerated flair. His armor gleamed under the stage lights as he charged forward.

Dressed in a flowing gown, you stood at the edge of the stage, your Kitsune spirit subtly swirling around you, adding an ethereal touch. “Be careful, noble knight,” you said with a serious tone, barely managing to keep a straight face, “The dark sorcerer’s power is too great!”

Behind the curtains, Shouta sighed, waiting for his cue.

Hizashi entered in bright royal robes and a ridiculous crown, brimming with energy as the king. “You must save my daughter and defeat the dragon! The kingdom’s fate is in your hands!” He waved his arms dramatically, earning laughter from the crowd.

Nemuri, in her sorceress costume, floated onto the stage in a puff of smoke, trying not to accidentally use her quirk and knock the audience out. She tossed an apple to Shirakumo with a smirk. “With this, you shall gain the strength to defeat the dragon. But beware—his magic is dangerous.”

Finally, Shouta stepped onto the stage, tall and brooding, his dark aura accentuated by his flowing hair and glowing red eyes. The crowd gasped. He stood in silence for a moment, letting the tension build before delivering his line in a low, gravelly voice. “Foolish mortals, you cannot hope to defeat me.”

Shirakumo, ever the energetic knight, took a bite of the apple before throwing it to the side, pointing his sword at Shouta as the final battle began. He eventually stood triumphantly over Shouta, the crowd holding its breath, anticipating the princess’s moment to thank the knight.

But then, Shirakumo collapsed flat on his face.

The audience murmured in confusion as Shirakumo lay motionless on the stage, clearly out of character. You blinked down at him, unsure of what to do—this wasn’t in the script.

Nemuri leaned over Shirakumo’s ‘unconscious’ body, a mischievous grin on her face as she added a dramatic pause. “It seems the knight has fallen,” she purred. “Perhaps the apple was too much for him,” drawing laughter from the crowd.

“And perhaps… there’s another way to save the kingdom.”

You glanced at her, eyebrows raised, lines completely forgotten. From backstage, Hizashi stifled a laugh, and the atmosphere shifted.

Shouta, still playing the dark sorcerer, looked down at Shirakumo before his glowing red eyes settled on you. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out what was happening. Nemuri threw a sly wink in your direction.

“Uh…” you stammered, scrambling to stay in character. “How else can the kingdom be saved?”

Nemuri, grinning fully now, stood up and dramatically pointed at Shouta. “The sorcerer has not been defeated, but perhaps… love can conquer even the darkest magic.”

The audience began to murmur, some whispering to each other, wondering if this was even part of the original script.

Before you could react, Hizashi’s voice boomed from offstage, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Yes! Love is the key!” Nemuri pushed on, “Princess, you must act quickly before the kingdom falls into eternal darkness!”

Shouta stood there, expression stoic but unwavering, his eyes locked on yours. It was too late to back down now.

Stepping forward, you felt the weight of the audience’s gaze. You met Shouta’s eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the entire stage had faded away, leaving just the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you whispered, “I suppose… this is how the kingdom is saved.” Your heart raced as you placed a hand on his chest, your gaze never leaving his.

Shouta, ever composed, raised an eyebrow in silent question, and you gave a subtle nod. He leans in, gently raising your chin before closing the gap between you. The soft touch of his lips against yours sent a spark through you, the kiss gentle but lingering.

The crowd gasped in unison, and whistles broke out from the back, undoubtedly from Hizashi. The kiss deepened for a brief moment before you pulled away, your face flushed, Shouta’s usually stoic expression softened with something unspoken as his hair settled and his eyes returned to normal.

Behind you, Nemuri let out a dramatic sigh. “Behold!” she declared, arms outstretched. “The princess has saved the kingdom with the power of love!”

The audience erupted into applause and cheers, some students laughing at the unexpected twist, while others swooned at the romantic turn.

You turned to face the crowd, your cheeks still burning, only to see Shirakumo peeking one eye open from the floor, barely suppressing his laughter.

“That… wasn’t part of the script,” you muttered, catching your breath.

Shouta, back to his usual calm demeanor, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

As the curtain fell, Nemuri and Hizashi bounded over, grinning from ear to ear.

“That was genius!” Hizashi cheered, clapping you both on the back and nearly knocking you into each other. “Way better than what we had planned!”

Nemuri winked at you. “I knew it would be perfect. Who doesn’t love a good plot twist?”

You glanced at Shouta, hesitating, silently wondering if he felt the same way. He sighed, a faint smile still on his face. “You’re overthinking,” he muttered before gently pulling you backstage.

“None of you better knock unless you’d want my scarf wrapped around your throats.”

The end of the school year was fast approaching, and with it, the looming reality of graduation. You sat on the edge of the fire escape balcony as the sun begins to set, your legs dangling over as the cool breeze plays with your hair. Beside you, Shouta leans back against the building, a shoulder wrapped around you with his usual calm demeanor slightly more relaxed than normal.

You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "Graduation feels… weird. Like we’ve been working toward it for so long, and now that it’s here, it doesn’t feel real."

Shouta nodded, "Yeah. Everything’s about to change." He paused, glancing at you. "What about you? Have you figured out where you’re going after this?"

You smiled, though her eyes were distant. "I’m not sure yet. Hopefully anything within the medical field, or maybe in a rescue agency.,” you shrugged. "It’s just an idea. What about you?”

Shouta shifted slightly, "There’s plenty of work to do here. A lot of people who need protection, me, Oboro and Yamada were actually thinking of opening our own agency."

You turned to face him fully, a slight smile on your lips. "You think we can make it work? We’re gonna be super busy, maybe even needing to relocate,"

He met your gaze, his dark eyes steady and serious. "We’ll make it work. I’m not worried about that, if this agency thing works out, it’ll be enough to have our own place.”

You reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I like that confidence."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his lips quirking up into a rare smile. "I have to be confident. You’re a handful."

You laughed, the sound light and melodic, a sound that Shouta would never get bored of.

"Just know that I’m not letting you go that easily, Yan."

The work-study program had always been a crucial part of training, but with graduation so close, it felt like this was everyone’s final real-world test before stepping into full-fledged hero careers. You, Shouta, and your classmates were deployed to different areas of the city. You were no longer simple students—You were all heroes in training, and the safety of civilians rested in your hands.

You were assigned at Tatami Ward, where a massive villain, Garvey, was causing havoc. Garvey was no ordinary villain; According to his rapport, he had a powerful stockpiling quirk, allowing him to absorb attacks and release them with devastating force. His rampage had left parts of the city in ruins, and backup was immediately called in.

After a quick briefing, saying your goodbyes to your friends and a kiss to your lover, to which he promised he’ll keep your brother safe before you all part ways.

You were stationed with Hizashi, responsible for ensuring civilians were evacuated safely and tending to the injured. As the EMTs worked tirelessly to treat those who were wounded, you used your Kitsune spirit to heal and protect those who were caught in the crossfire.

Everything seemed to be going well on your end—no civilian casualties, thanks to Kitsune's healing abilities. But there was still worry in your heart. You hadn’t heard much from Aizawa or Oboro since the battle began, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

You pressed the speaker in your ear, checking for updates. "Shouta? Oboro? Are you there?" You called out. Aizawa was mumbling, unable to catch his words , you tried again with Oboro, only to meet a sharp ringing on his end that you quickly shut off.

Your mind began to race. Shouta had a habit of focusing intensely during battle, so it wasn’t entirely unusual for him to ignore communications. But Oboro—he would never leave you hanging like this.

"Something’s wrong," you muttered to yourself. You spotted Hizashi’s ship, given from the Buster Union agency as he landed near you and immediately rushed over.

“Hizashi, please,” you begged, grabbing his arm. “I need to go where Shouta and Oboro are. Something’s wrong, they aren’t responding to me.”

Hizashi, always quick to react when it came to his friends, nodded without question. He brought you aboard, and the two of you soared towards the last known location of Shouta and Oboro. As you got closer, the smoke and debris became clearer, and your stomach twisted in knots.

When you two arrived, the battle was already over. Garvey lay unconscious, his colossal form defeated by Aizawa and Oboro’s teamwork. You sigh with relief at the sight of the downed villain, but something felt off.

"Shouta!" You called out, rushing toward him. But

your breath caught in your throat when you followed his gaze.

Oboro's lower body lay crumpled, toppled by multiple amounts of boulders as blood began to stain the concrete.

“No,” you whispered, stumbling toward, ignoring the blood splashing the soles of your shoes. “No, no, no!” Your Kitsune spirit frantically tries to sense any life left in him. There was nothing.

"He’s gone…" Shouta whispers,

Oboro had been there for your whole life, through everything, the one who always made you laugh when the world felt too heavy, the one that reassured you when your parents never understood you, the one that threw you boxes filled with donuts to treat your sweet tooth cravings.

And now… he was gone. Your vision blurred with tears, but those tears quickly snapped to anger.

Aizawa stood frozen, unable to move, unable to process what had happened. But your grief twisted into rage, and suddenly, your Kitsune took over, feeding on your pain and anger.

With a swift turn, kunai in hand, your eyes began to glow a harsh blue with sharp slits filled with fury.

"Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought he was still alive… I heard him talking to me—“

"I could’ve saved him!"

Aizawa stepped back, his own guilt reflected in his eyes, but before you could land a hit, Hizashi grabbed your arms and pulled you back with a strong grip, dropping your kunai.

"Yan! Stop!" Hizashi shouted, holding you tightly as you struggled against him.

"I could’ve saved him! You promised me! YOU’RE A LIAR—!" Your words broke into sobs, your body trembling with grief.

A soft voice cut through the chaos. Nemuri had arrived in perfect timing, and in a swift, gentle move, she used her quirk. "Sleep," she whispered.

Your eyes fluttered shut as her fog begins to cloud your vision, your body going limp in Hizashi’s arms. The tears still streamed down your face as you were placed gently on Nemuri’s lap, eyes closing shut as the world darkens.

—-

Hopefully this super adorable art of Reader and Aizawa during UA cheers you up from this angsty ending! The art is from the lovely mananeez go support her! ❤️🫶

[snoowpee]

falling from grace - j.sc

Pairing ⇾ angel!sungchan x devil!reader

Genre ⇾ smut, a little bit of fluff & fantasy, slight crack

Warnings ⇾ slight dubcon, cheating, religious themes, unprotected sex (children are expensive!), manipulation, corruption kink, making out, marking, finger sucking, fingering, cum eating, oral (both giving & receiving), overstimulation, jerking off, hair pulling, size kink, strength kink, exhibitionism. mentions of natty (kiss of life), seoyeon (fromis_9), ningning (aespa), intak (p1harmony). I might’ve missed something but that’s the gist of it, enjoy!

Summary ⇾ you’ve been eyeing jung sungchan for a while, wondering if he’s as innocent as he presents himself to be.

Word count ⇾ 9.3k words

Playlist ⇾ Zayn (feat. Kehlani) - wRoNg.

Fire and water do not mix. Love and hatred do not go well together. Angels and demons do not get along. And most certainly, You and Jung Sungchan are not meant to be together.

Though something about him fascinates you. How good, nice, pure, and innocent he presents himself to be. He was intoxicating. Addictive than most drugs or alcohol could be. It was alarming how much you desire to find out if that innocent facade he carries is the true him. You knew beforehand that he was someone you can’t have. He was different from your usual entertainment. So untainted, uncorrupted, undefiled. Someone who you can call yours. He was your forbidden fruit. So sweet and charming your heart aches.

Would he be still so kind if you took everything away from him? Would he still look at you with bright eyes after defiling him? Would his wings be still white as snow or would it disappear into ashes once you touch it?

There’s only one way to find out and you make it your mission to unravel the truth. One thing’s for sure it’s not what he calls his God he’ll be worshiping tonight.

“Any chance, one of you is willing to accompany me?” You stopped your train of thoughts to ask one of your dearest friends, Natty and Seoyeon.

“Accompany you where?” Seoyeon asked, twirling a strand of her hair between her middle and index fingers. Natty chuckled, you and Seoyeon both looking at her.

“Girl, don’t think I didn’t notice the way you’ve been looking at Jung Sungchan,” Natty smiled mischievously.

“No way,” Seoyeon smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re interested?”

“Come on. Don’t you two ever think about what lies beneath that pretty face?” You stare at the oblivious boy meters away from you. “He seems so… fun,” you finished lamely. When you turn to look at your friends, they bursted out laughing.

“You could find out if he’s sweet as he looks, if you could get past that,” Natty nods towards a girl, an angel, walking. You recognize the girl, Ningning, well-known for her beauty as well as personality. Her hair sways around, her wings flapping graciously as she navigates her way through the crowd, a smile never leaving her face. She was so prim and proper, just as an angel should.

Unlike you, thanks to your horns, fiery red eyes, fangs, and pointed tail.

“What’s her deal?” You asked, curiosity reigning your emotions.

“She’s to be Jung Sungchan’s partner,” Seoyeon explained. “They’re not marrying each other though, more of like their God blessing their relationship before taking things seriously, if you know what I mean,” Seoyeon added with a hint of uncertainty. “I don’t know what shit goes on in their realm, but that’s what I heard.”

Your mouth stretched into a smile. Perfect.

Sungchan exhaled once he finished the pile he was working on. He had been working since the morning and he badly needed a breather before working on the next stack of files.

“How’s my favorite angel doing?” His head snapped to the familiar voice.

“Well, your favorite angel is exhausted from working. But it’s nothing he had done before,” Sungchan answered with a sweet smile. “How about you, my love?” Ningning blushed at Sungchan’s words.

“I’m doing fine, myself, thank you for asking.” Ningning reached out to hold Sungchan’s hand, sighing at his touch. “I can’t wait to be yours.”

“I can’t wait to be yours, either,” Sungchan blushed.

It was unfair truly, how angels are supposed to wait for the blessing of their God before doing something deemed as sinful. It wasn’t a problem for Sungchan though, he followed the laws like how an angel should.

“I hate to tell you this, but my superior told me that I have to go on a retreat before the big day,” Ningning pouted. It was a required process before the blessing and Sungchan understood, of course he did.

“No worries,” Sungchan assured Ningning, “I understand. For what it’s worth, I heard that retreats are really fun. You get peace and all the good stuff that comes with it, I’m sure you’re gonna have a blast.”

“Well, what about you?” Ningning asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry about me. I have enough work to keep me busy.”

Pretending to be an angel is truly easy.

It wasn’t your idea, but your friend’s. Natty always brought up good ideas. An example would be your meeting with Sungchan’s dad. It was fun, really, having everybody wrapped around your fingers. All it took was disguise and your sickening smile and voilà, a meeting with Jung Sungchan.

Of course you had to bullshit your way through everything, you’re a demon for a reason.

Sungchan was running 10 minutes late for your meeting, you had insisted on meeting at your apartment, for privacy reasons.

After 30 minutes of waiting, you finally heard a knock on your door. You opened it with the same sickening smile.

“Apologies, I was caught up with work and I didn’t notice the time. That is no excuse of course, but I thought I should let you know.” Sungchan said out of breath. He sounded majestic, you wondered if that’s what he’ll sound like when you have him in your mou– of course that had to wait.

“No worries! I understand,” you said with a smile. “I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule. I know it’s way too sudden, I just really don’t know anyone around here, seeing that I’m from someplace else,” You explained while leading him into your apartment. It wasn’t totally a lie, you were in fact from someplace else, hell to be specific, but Sungchan didn’t need to know that.

“Ah, that’s alright. It’s my pleasure to help you. My dad said you needed someone to help you and I gladly volunteered, it was my choice so don’t worry about it.” Sungchan sat on your couch, his wings majestic and shiny. Your patience was wavering, you wanted to take him then and there. Sungchan cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” You politely asked, it was so out of character, you didn’t recognize your own voice.

“Well, I was just asking what you needed help with?” Fuck. What did you need help with? What do angels do?

“Uhm… Bible verses?” You answered, Sungchan blankly stared at you.

“That’s… What about it?” Sungchan asked, confusion plastered on his face. Angels don’t usually recite Bible verses, nor do anything involving it. It was peculiar that you needed help with it. That invoked something in Sungchan. Curiosity. He could deny all he wants but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re enticing.

Sungchan froze, lost in his thoughts to notice you moving closer to him, the distance too close to be friendly. Sungchan moved back a little, startled by the action. He cleared his throat once again, his breath heaving. You smirked.

“Are you always this good?”

“You’re too far away. Come closer, so we could talk properly,” you placed your hand on his thigh. Sungchan gulped. He has never been touched there.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be this close,” Sungchan tried moving away again, but he was stopped by the arm rest of your couch. When did he get so close to the end of the couch?

“It’s ok, you’re not making me uncomfortable. Plus it’s only the two of us. No one will know.” You moved your hand upwards, lightly gracing his abdomen before placing it on his chest, leaning in to whisper, “Imagine how much fun we’ll have, pretty boy.” Your gaze trailed to his lips, biting yours as you do so.

Sungchan places his hand on top of yours, “I can’t be this close to you. I can’t.”

You chuckled, shrugging off his protests, crawling into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, while his hands awkwardly stayed on his sides. Kissing along his jaw you spoke, “If you’re worried about Ningning finding out,” You stopped, lips near his ear, “Don’t be. This is our own little secret.”

You pulled away just in time to see a very beautiful Sungchan. Rosey cheeks, eyes twinkling, breath heaving. Fuck. He looked so pure.

You take his chin into your hand, touching his lips with yours, kissing him slowly. He tasted like what you had in mind, even better than what you’ve had in mind. He tasted sweet. As you explored his mouth, his hands finally moved to grip your sides. You had to stop a moan from leaving you as you felt how big his hands were. You can't wait to feel it all over you, but of course that could wait.

When you pulled away from the kiss, Sungchan chased your lips.

“Please…” He said breathlessly.

“You’re so pretty, my angel.” You cupped his face with your hands, and Sungchan’s stomach twisted in guilt as he remembered Ningning. It was so wrong, but it felt good.

“Listen here, pretty boy.” You cupped Sungchan’s jaw whilst he struggled to listen to you, a cloud of need engulfing his senses. “The thing that you will help me with is this,” you took his hand, leading it down in between your legs. Sungchan gasped when he felt the warmth of your wet throbbing core. You had to fight the urge of moaning out loud when you felt his hand against you. “Now, you might not know what to do but I’ll be willing to teach you.” Sungchan nodded at your words not fully comprehending anything. “But this has to be our own little secret, understood?”

“Yes..” you smiled at his breathless answer.

You stood up abruptly, leaving Sungchan confused. You saw the tent in his pants and smiled to yourself, almost feeling bad… until you didn’t. He looked so breathless and lost which didn’t help the ache between your legs.

“Don’t you think it’s getting late?”

Sungchan looked at the clock hanging on the wall, 9:00 pm. Shit. He forgot that he had to be home within 10 minutes if he wanted to talk to Ningning.

Your smile widened at his expression.

“Right…” Sungchan trailed off, standing up to leave.

“I’ll see you again, angel.”

It had been exactly 5 days since Sungchan came over to your place. 5 days where he had endured the endless amount of his torturing thoughts of your lips on his. He swore he could still taste you in his tongue.

“Sungchan?” Ningning’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Are you feeling alright?” Ningning’s voice was etched with concern.

“Yeah, just tired.” Sungchan coughed to mask the feeling of his guilt churning in his stomach.

“I told you to not overdo it,” Ningning sighed.

“I’m sorry. It’s hard being the son of a superior, there's too much to do in a day,” Sungchan hid his head behind his hands, rubbing his face harshly, doing anything to get you off his mind. He was talking to Ningning, his soon to be girlfriend, he should be only thinking about her. But he couldn’t help it. What were you up to? Why haven’t you called him back after 5 whole days? Did something happen? Should he check up on you? Should he go to– Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Sungchan cleared his throat, “When are you coming back? I miss you.”

“I miss you too, my love,” Ningning pouted. “I don’t know the answer to your question, apparently this whole retreat thing is long. Who would've thought that angels should undergo rituals to have a boyfriend?”

“Trust me, what angels undergo for marriage is harsher than this. I heard that you won't be able to see each other for months to build trust and commitment,” At the reminder of his own words Sungchan paled. He was not supposed to be close to other angels, especially when he already has Ningning. Maybe, her calling me back isn’t a bad thing. This is for the better.

“Well, maybe having a superior as a father isn’t so bad. Look at you, you’re already done the basic necessities for the blessing.”

“I should thank my dad, I guess,” Sungchan smiled when he saw Ningning yawn. She was always cute no matter what she did. “You should probably go to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you again later. Bye, my love.”

“Bye, my love.”

Sungchan ended the call, realizing how fucked he was.

“You haven’t called him since?” Natty turned to you as she held up a sparkly dress against her body.

“Yes. I like that one with the heels,” You hand her a silver necklace that matches the dress she was holding up.

“Why not? I was wondering what angel dick tasted like,” you snorted at her words.

“I don’t know, heaven?” you fixed your hair, showcasing your sultry horns. “Enough about him, I’ll fuck him when I want to, and yes, I promise to tell you and Seoyeon about it.” You sighed, already bored talking about Sungchan.

“I’m surprised you held out this long. You’re the most impatient bitch I’ve ever known. I thought you would’ve fucked him the moment he went inside your place.”

“I have enough boytoys to keep me company,” you shrugged. “Speaking of boytoys, would you hurry up and change? I wanna go to the party now.”

“Alright!” Natty rolled her eyes, disappearing behind the bathroom door to change.

Your phone chimed, stealing your attention away from admiring yourself.

Angel

Hey.

What have you been up to?

Is everything alright? I haven’t seen you since…

Angels are so easy to manipulate. You scoffed. Sungchan is making everything easy for you, you both like and hate the fact. You ignored the text and finished getting ready.

Not long after you and Natty were on your way to meet Seoyeon at some party.

When you arrived at the place, you were amazed by the crowd. You were expecting some trashy party, like the last, but surprisingly today’s crowd is more tamed and hot. Just what you needed, after a shitty week.

“I’m gonna go find my boytoy, I’ll leave you to it,” Natty made a kissy face before gesturing at the party. Both of you had no clue where Seoyeon went, but if you were to guess you’d probably find her under a man too. After all, that’s what you three had planned to do at today’s party. Usually, you were always at parties for drinks and gossip. But something about this week, spelt loosen up for all three of you.

Navigating your way to the kitchen wasn’t too hard, nor was getting yourself a drink.

“Hey,” you felt a pair of hands on your hips, followed by a familiar waft of perfume.

“Hey, baby,” you turn your head just a bit to greet the boy behind you with a smile.

“Isn’t it too early for you to drink that?” Seunghan made a face.

“Tough week, mind letting me have my fun?” You drank from your cup, waiting for Seunghan to take the hint. He does, as always.

“We can go back to my place? This place is packed.”

“Great. Well, I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one having a shitty week,” Seunghan chortled at your words. “Are you ok to drive though?” you placed the now empty cup on the counter top, fully turning to now face Seunghan. He kept his hand on your hips the whole time, never moving even after you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really up to drinking today. That’s why I’m Intak’s DD. He’ll be fine if I leave, though. He’s probably getting his dick wet as we speak.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Jeez, so impatient to have me?”

“You wish,” you rolled your eyes while Seunghan chuckled, intertwining your hands together to lead the way to his car.

Fortunately, Seunghan parked not too far from the house the party was hosted in. The warmth of his car felt nice against your chilled skin as you took a seat on the front seat of his car, waiting for him to get in. Seunghan stood in front of his car talking to someone. To keep you entertained, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your notifications.

Angel

My dad is making me run around town for errands, would you like to come?

I think it’s a good idea to… so that you get used to the place and all.

You don’t have to come of course, I understand if you’re busy.

You chuckled. He is so pathetic. You loved it. How Sungchan desperately tried to meet up with you after what happened in your apartment. Just a little bit more, then you can finally take him. This is one of your favorite games to play when messing with someone. You always loved it when they got so impatient, taking matters into their own hands to get you to look at them in any way.

When Seunghan finished talking to one of his friends, he finally got into the car. Before he could drive, you stopped him with a kiss on his lips. Seunghan masked his shock by kissing back.

“I didn’t know you were this impatient,” Seunghan breathlessly said, after pulling away to inhale air. “Get on the backseat.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

Seunghan climbed back after you, cupping your jaw to deepen the kiss while pushing you back to the seat. Seunghan groans when you buck your hips up against his.

A knock on the window startles the both of you.

Sungchan.

Fuck. How the hell did he find you?

You pull away from Seunghan, confusing him.

“Since when did you care if some other dude is watching you make out with me?” Seunghan runs his fingers through his hair, staring at Sungchan. It’s not like Sungchan is gonna see him, the back windows are tinted. Not the front, though. He should probably get that fix.

“Since the lab experiment is outside your car, waiting for me.” you push Seunghan off you as he laughs.

“Damn. Well, you should probably talk to him. It’s such a shame if you make him cry this early in the experiment.” You snorted, jokingly slapping Seunghan’s cheek. The both of you laughed.

Before getting out of the car, you fix your clothes to hide any indication of your make out with Seunghan. Being extra cautious as you hid your tail, horns, and fangs.

As you got out of the car, Sungchan watched your every move. You held his gaze, looking up as he towered over you.

“What are you doing here?” You were the first to break the silence.

“My dad made me run errands,” Sungchan doesn’t hide the way he glares behind you. You were guessing he saw Seunghan, the way his frown deepened. You heard the car door open and close. Seunghan, you little bitch. You had to hide your smile.

“You would know if you weren’t so busy with him. And if you even cared to look at my texts,” Sungchan brings his gaze back on you.

You chuckled as Sungchan’s brows furrowed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Are you jealous right now, angel?”

Sungchan froze.

“I’m not! Look, I’m just worried, we haven’t seen each other for days. And when I finally do see you, you’re at some devil’s backseat. I promised my dad that I will look after you. This is me looking after you. Let’s go home now.”

You let out a startled shriek when Sungchan lifted you with one of his arms.

“Put me down, Sungchan!” You grumbled.

Your protest was ignored as Sungchan places you inside of his car, buckling the seat belt for you before shutting the door closed. You ignored Sungchan as he started the car and drove. You pulled out your phone.

You

something came up.

Seunghan

ur blue balling me now? damn u’ve changed baby :(

You

i’ll make it up to you soon :p

Seunghan

u better

at least send me nudes i miss ur body

You

you wish. just jerk off to some porno. you’ll be fine.

Seunghan

meanie >:(

You chuckled at your phone, earning you a glare from Sungchan.

“What’s so funny?” Sungchan casted another side glance at you, eyes focused on the road as he drove.

“None of your business,” you were sort of pissed at him for acting like he did earlier. You just wanted dick after a long day, and here comes Mr. Perfect to ruin all your plans.

“Ok. I’m glad to see you, though. But I’m even more glad to see that your phone’s working.”

The car stopped at a stoplight. Sungchan turned his body a little to allow him to properly meet your gaze.

“What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong? One minute we’re really close to each other, and the second you act as if I don’t even exist.” Sungchan’s voice softened. You reach for his face to cup his cheek.

“I’m sorry, angel. I've just been really busy.”

“Why were you with that devil then?” Sungchan being sulky was supposed to annoy you. You always hated it when men act so stupid. Seunghan was an exception, though. You’ve known him for quite a while, and he did not give a fuck if you hated the way he was being sulky and playful. Sungchan, however, is different. You’ve known him in a short span of time and he’s already getting into you. That fucking kissable pout. You just wanted to kiss it off his face.

The sound of a car honking its horn interrupted the both of you.

“Like I said, angel. It’s none of your business. You’re better off not knowing things, trust me.” You pulled your hand away from his face, facing away from him.

The car started moving again.

Sungchan cleared his throat before speaking, “So…” you casted a side glance at him. “I actually don’t know where you live, so I’ve just been driving us to my place. Are you alright with staying the night with me?”

You were taken aback. Why does Sungchan always find a way to ruin all of your plans?

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

You were going to need all of the patience you can get.

Sungchan’s place was exactly how you expected it to be, except for the fact that he only had one room with one bed in it.

“Are you gonna make me sleep on the floor?” you laid down on his bed, Sungchan winced. He had a ‘no outside clothes’ rule, but you wouldn’t know as this is the first time you’ve been to his place. He’ll let you know next time? Next time.

“No. You’re sleeping on the bed, don’t worry,” Sungchan gave you a tight lipped smile as he rummaged through his drawer that contained all of his clothes. “Also, you don’t have to worry about sleeping next to me. I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” Sungchan had his back turned to you, oblivious to your disappointment.

You expected him to give in. Why is he playing your game?

Finally, Sungchan turned to face you, hands full of his clothes.

“You should change into this,” Sungchan placed the clothes beside you on the bed.

You smirked.

You stood up in front of Sungchan, grabbing the hem of your party dress, pulling it up to take it off. Sungchan’s gaze never left yours, even as you unhooked your bra. Sungchan gulped. You walked closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck when you got close enough. Sungchan’s hands stayed by his side, eyes never leaving yours, even when he felt your perked up nipples against his chest. You tiptoed on your toes to graze his lips with yours.

“What if I get too cold? Who will warm me up by then, angel?”

“Um…” Sungchan finally caved in, looking down at your body while exhaling. He cleared his throat before looking back at your smiling face.

“Hm?” You expectantly looked at him.

“Yeah…” Sungchan said distractedly.

“What do you mean, angel? I need you to use your words properly, I can’t quite understand you,” You traced his jaw with your index finger.

“I’ll sleep next to you.”

Your smile widened, pulling away from him, you grabbed his shirt, putting it on as you ignored the shorts beside it. Sungchan stood completely frozen, watching you as you lay down on the bed.

“Come here, angel.”

It was going to be a long night.

When Sungchan woke up, his heart dropped to his stomach when he didn’t find you beside him. He quickly got up, only to find you in the kitchen.

“I thought you left,” Sungchan rubbed his face with his hands.

You had to take a breath.

Right in front of you was a shirtless Sungchan. Prominent abs on display. You could see every ridges and lines. Biceps bulging out. Trails of veins along his arms.

You needed to fuck him.

At the lack of response, Sungchan noticed the way you were staring at him.

“Oh…” Sungchan immediately realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. I always sleep hot, so I…” Sungchan trailed off as you got closer to him again.

“It’s alright, angel,” You cupped his face with your hands. “Truth be told, I actually like it. I really do.” you dropped your hands, fingers trailing down his body, stopping at his abdomen. “But, I’m not gonna lie to you… I am kind of upset.” Sungchan’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s the matter?”

“I might need your help now, angel.”

You smashed your lips against Sungchan, kissing him fervently. Sungchan tried to keep up as your kisses were way too aggressive for him.

You pulled off of him, giving him time to breathe.

You took his hand and brought them closer to your mouth, you parted your lips to take his index, middle, and ring finger inside your mouth, sucking on them. Sungchan gasped at the unfamiliar feeling. Once his fingers were coated by your saliva, you brought them down to your core. You pushed your panties aside as you guided Sungchan’s fingers inside your wet hole. You both gasped.

“Curl your fingers for me, angel,” you let out breathlessly, the stretch of Sungchan’s fingers knocking the air out of your lungs. You didn’t expect them to feel this good. The thought of his dick made you moan, you wondered how well his dick will fit into you.

Sungchan did what he was told to do, making your legs shake as they close in on his hand in between your legs.

“Like that, angel!” you bit your lip to prevent a whimper from coming out. “Now, I want you to pull your fingers out quickly, put them back in quickly, and curl.”

You let out a moan as Sungchan followed your instructions. Sungchan felt a sense of pride as he watched you shake and moan.

“Fuck, angel. Doing so good for me,” you grabbed onto his biceps as you felt your high approaching. “A little bit more faster, angel.”

Boy, Sungchan is indeed a fast learner.

With a final thrust of his fingers into you, you cummed all over his fingers, wetting the floor in the process. Sungchan slowed the motions of his hand, watching in awe as you came.

“Wow…”

“Good job, angel.” You leaned against him as you catched your breath, holding his wrist to stop his hand from moving. His free hand held you against him.

“What just happened?” Sungchan looked at your exhausted face.

“You just made me cum.”

Sungchan stared at you blankly. You scoffed.

“Do they ever teach you, angels, sex?” 

At your words Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“W-What?” Sungchan sputtered. “I-I thought sex is when y-you penetrate the vagina w-with the penis?” Sungchan paled. You had to laugh.

“Yes, angel. Do you want me to get you crayons and draw how the flowers get watered by the canisters?”

“Stop joking around! I could get suspended if I partake in such obscene activities!” Sungchan panicked.

You laughed harder. After catching your breath you finally spoke, “Angel. I told you that this is gonna be our own little secret. Don’t worry about all of that. No one’s gonna know. You will not get suspended.” You cupped one of his cheeks with your hand while assuring him. “Besides, there are more ways to have sex than ‘penetrating the vagina with a penis’. You can learn a lot from me, angel.”

Sungchan gulped. This is our own little secret. No one will know. No one. Not even Ningning.

“Like what?” Your smile couldn’t get possibly wider as Sungchan caved in.

You took his fingers out of your hole. You brought his own fingers clad with your arousal near his mouth.

“How about I show you, angel?”

“Yes…” Sungchan lazily answered, distracted by your sticky arousal on his fingers. As you pushed his fingers inside his mouth, you instructed him to suck them clean. “You taste amazing.” your pussy throbbed.

“Why don’t you carry me to your bed, angel,” you wrapped your hands around his neck as Sungchan carried you with one arm to his room. Laying down on the bed with you on top of him.

You began kissing him again, this time more slow and sensual. You kissed down to his jaw then neck, noticing the cross necklace he had on. You bit his skin, leaving a love bite beside where the cross ends. You licked down his abdomen, leaving trails of your saliva on his skin. Once you’ve reached the waistband of his sweats you had to stop a gasp from coming out of your mouth. You looked at his crotch, his hardened cock struggling in the confines of his pajama pants.

Sungchan was big.

You rubbed your thighs together, feeling the way Sungchan struggled while you taught him how to fuck you with his fingers. You were so indulged in your own needs that you didn’t realize he had his needs too.

You pulled off his pajama pants, freeing his cock, this time you did let out a gasp. You started salivating at the sight in front of you, Sungchan’s cock was thick and long, the tip leaking precum with his angry veins prodding along the expanse of his length. 

He indeed looked like an angel, collarbones adorning the lovebites you gave him, cross necklace gleaming under the sunlight, pouty swollen lips and bed hair. He was perfect.

Sungchan’s cock was throbbing as he watched you, waiting as you stared at him in awe.

You took his hand in yours, leading his to hold his dick while yours rested on top of his. You slowly moved your hands up and down his length, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Sungchan let out little whimpers.

“Feels so good…”

“Yeah, angel?” You moved your hands faster, Sungchan moaned out.

“I want you to think of me every time you touch yourself like this, ok?”

Sungchan nodded in a daze, too fucked out to even comprehend what you were saying.

“O-Oh!” Sungchan whined when you sucked his tip, you felt him throbbing on your tongue, tasting his arousal as you sucked and licked his tip. You relaxed your jaw to take half of his size, licking the vein on the underside of his cock, using both of your hands to jerk off the remaining half you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck!” You looked up at Sungchan, surprised at the cuss that left his mouth. Angels never swore. “No, please don’t stop. Please keep going,” Sungchan mewled. If it weren’t for Sungchan begging you to keep going, you wouldn’t have realized that you stopped what you were doing.

Despite being shocked at what happened, you continued to suck on Sungchan’s cock, his moans sounding like your personal heaven. You felt Sungchan’s thigh shake and before you knew it he was cumming inside your mouth. You dropped your joined hands, spitting out his cum back onto his cock, using your hands to smear the mess on his dick.

You watched the tip of Sungchan’s cock spurt out more of his arousal, the tip reddening as you continued jerking him off. He groaned, in turn, sensitive to your touch. You lick up Sungchan’s abdomen, stopping at his chest to bite the skin, all while you move your hands on him. Once you were satisfied with the love bite, you pressed your lips on his, swallowing the whimpers he was letting out.

You two messily made out for a while, stopping when you felt Sungchan cum around your hand. In a daze, Sungchan looked up at you, too fucked out to function.

“You alright, angel?” you asked as you met his gaze, instead of replying Sungchan nodded, eyes droopy. “Here, how about we get you cleaned up. You can go to bed after,” you tried pulling him up by grabbing onto his biceps. Fortunately, Sungchan followed your lead, putting his arm around your shoulder and waist, clinging to you as you both walked to his bathroom.

He wrapped both of his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as you cleaned him and yourself up. Once you’ve successfully finished, you drag him back to his room where he passed out on his bed while clinging onto you. You lie beside Sungchan, your eyelids slowly falling shut. Before you knew it, you were falling asleep beside him.

“So, what have you been up to these days?” Ningning asked, pulling Sungchan out of his thoughts.

He had forgotten that he was on a call with Ningning, too occupied with the thoughts of you. To his surprise, you didn’t ignore him after what happened, instead you regularly came over to his place to keep him company, driving him insane by wearing his clothes, parading around his apartment with nothing but panties underneath.

It drove him nuts.

That didn’t stop him from shoving his fingers up inside you, of course. It surprised him how much he wanted to taste the slick pouring out of you every time he made you cum, tempted to lick his fingers to find out if it tasted as sweet as your mouth.

Sungchan coughed, his dick stirring with arousal under his pants.

He could always ask you if he could taste you… but how? Does he just lick you then? He had no idea what to do.

He might have to do research. Or he could ask Eunseok for those videos he once caught him watching.

He’s definitely asking you, instead.

“Earth to Sungchan?”

“Right, sorry. I’ve been really busy these past few days. You know how my dad is,” It was scary how easily Sungchan could lie now. Before, he couldn’t even tell a lie, caving in to tell the truth eventually, as his stomach churned in guilt.

That feeling of his stomach churning hadn’t gone away. As he looked at Ningning the guilt inside him bubbles up, again. Yet, when he’s with you, he couldn’t give a fuck about feeling guilty. When are you coming over, anyways?

Sungchan tunes out Ningning as she spoke to him about her day. His calls with Ningning are slowly becoming less frequent, his responses to conversations becoming shorter as he space out thinking about you.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about this… they’re asking me to stay a little bit longer, because apparently my services have been really helpful. I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you sooner, but I have decided to stay. I hope you’re ok with that?”

“Of course, I’m ok with that, it’s your choice. I won’t limit your happiness. If you’re happy to help, then I’m happy too.”

“You’re the best, my love.”

Sungchan’s stomach churned.

“Thank you, my love.”

You quizzically stared at Sungchan. It had been a while since he stared at his food, stabbing the food with his fork as he got lost in his thoughts.

You stood up, gaining his attention. You straddled his lap, his hands automatically finding their way to your sides.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, playing with his hair. Sungchan leaned into your touch, swallowing down his embarrassment before speaking.

“I saw…” Sungchan started, “Uhm, well… I don’t..”

You stared. Sungchan gulped.

“Can I… taste you?”

You stared.

“Like, you know. The thing that… when you..”

“Angel. You can have me for dessert.”

Sungchan audibly gulped. You pulled yourself off of him, pushing yourself up to sit on the dining table behind you. You lift Sungchan’s shirt, showing your cotton underwear by spreading your legs apart.

“Come close, angel. Take it off for me.”

Entranced by you, Sungchan does what he’s told, situating himself in between your legs, staring at your glistening core.

You take the time to tell him what you wanted him to do.

“See this, angel. I want you to lick from here to here ok?” You part your folds with your fingers, showing him your hole. Sungchan was in awe.

You sighed in delight when you guided his fingers to rub your clit, quivering when he pressed a little bit harsher than you told him to.

“When you get here, I want you to suck it hard. You can lick it too, angel. I like that too,” you played with Sungchan’s hair as you explained to him, finding it adorable how he listened intently to your instructions.

“Why don’t you give it a try?”

You gasped when you felt Sungchan’s tongue on you, your grip on his hair tightening as he poked his tongue inside your hole. He slurps up your arousal, sucking your clit harshly, making you close your thighs around his head. You mewled at the feeling of Sungchan’s mouth on you.

He gripped your thighs, tapping the sides to gain your attention. You look down to see his glossy eyes staring up at you.

“Fuck, angel. You look so adorable like this,” you moaned when you felt Sungchan nibble on your clit. One of his hands left your thigh, stroking his cock through his pants at your compliment. The sight turned you on; Sungchan’s chin coated with your arousal as he pleased you, jerking himself off to your moans.

It didn’t take you long to soak his face with your cum, harshly gripping his hair as you released all over him, wetting his shirt in the process.

You lie down on the table, feeling the cool surface as you catch your breath. Sungchan rested his forehead on top of your right thigh, caressing the other while he closed his eyes. In return, you played with Sungchan’s hair, the both of you staying still for a while.

“I should probably clean you up…” Sungchan spoke against the skin of your thigh, “Oh, and… uhm…” Sungchan trailed off.

Confused, you sat up to properly look at him, his pants with a wet patch of his arousal coming into view. You gasped.

Sungchan came in his pants while he ate you out.

“You never come to confession anymore,” Sungchan’s dad spoke over the line. He rubbed his face with his hand, figuring out a way to explain himself. No matter how hard he tried, it all came down to one reason. I’ve been partaking into obscene activities while lying to the person I love, and I’ve been guilty all this time. Sungchan exhaled.

“I’m sorry, dad. I’ve just been really busy.” It was a lame excuse, but Sungchan couldn’t tell him the real reason behind his absence with his faith.

“I understand. Come by when you’re free, your mom misses you.”

After an exchange of pleasantries, the phone call ended.

Sungchan laid on his bed pondering what he was doing with his life. He has an angel showering in his bathroom while another one is miles away doing everything she can so that their relationship can move on to the next big thing.

Sungchan sighed, aggressively rubbing his face again.

“What’s up with you,” he heard you say.

Sungchan removed his hands from his face, taking your figure in; wet hair and body wrapped in a towel, with droplets covering the expanse of your skin. He felt his dick twitch. You smelled so good.

He opened his arms and you immediately got the hint. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his abdomen, to play with his hair. You gasped in surprise when Sungchan pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“Hey, what’s that?” Sungchan asked. You followed his line of sight and saw your tail poking out. Shit.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, trying to think of a lie.

“You’ve got something poking out of your head too,” Sungchan looked at you, his expression pure of confusion. Come on, think. Spew out a lie, you got this. You looked away from him, hiding your eyes.

You felt Sungchan's hands cup your jaw, making you face him. He stared into your eyes.

“You’re a devil.”

Sungchan pressed his lips onto yours. You froze.

Once you recovered from your shock you kissed back. You had expected him to be mad at you, not this, whatever this is.

You pulled away from his lips, placing both of your hands on his shoulders.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” Sungchan placed his hands on your waist.

“Because… I lied to you..?” Sungchan chuckled at your words.

“Did you really think I believed you were an angel?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his question, “I knew at the very beginning. At our first meeting you asked about bible verses.. angels do not deal with that.” Sungchan mischievously grinned.

“You’re such an ass,” you huffed.

“How am I an ass? You’re the one who pretended to be an angel so that you could get with me,” Sungchan placed a kiss on your neck.

“And you let me..” you bite back. “Why?”

“Because you were fun to be with. I didn’t mind if you were pretending to be an angel in the first place, you had your reasons.”

“You figured out I was a devil, but you never figured out the reason why I was messing with you?” You scoffed.

“No..”

You took his hand into yours, guiding it down in between your bodies to your core. Sungchan took the hint and cupped your core.

“Oh.. well then. Should I prove to you that you picked the right angel?”

“You’re not as innocent as I thought.”

“Give me a break. I caught my best bud watching porn and got scarred for life.” Sungchan rubbed your clit. “Ended up searching up things, and finding out about the real world.” You stopped his hand to focus on your train of thoughts.

“Porn isn’t the real thing. Most of the time it’s staged,” you brought his hand back to your core, letting him continue his actions.

“Noted,” Sungchan said before kissing you. “How about we do the real thing then?” Sungchan pushed you down, pulling the towel off your body. “I always knew you were beautiful, but I didn’t know you were this beautiful.”

Sungchan kissed you again, pulling away only to kiss down your body, mimicking the way you would leave love bites on him.

He spread your legs apart, positioning himself in between them. Sungchan inserts two fingers in you to stretch you out, licking you up when a glob of your arousal seeps out of your dripping hole. You moaned, gripping his hair. 

“Faster, angel,” Sungchan moves his fingers faster, sucking your clit to please you. He moved his hips, humping his bed at the same pace as fingers moving in and out of you. All your remaining patience burst at the sight. “Take your clothes off, angel.”

You didn’t have to tell Sungchan twice. He was just as desperate as you.

He pulled off his clothes at lightning speed, positioning himself in between your legs. Sungchan took a hold of his dick, gliding it in between your folds to lubricate it. You both moaned at the feeling.

“You’re so wet…”

Carefully, Sungchan prod your hole with the head of his cock, you took a sharp intake of air at the stretch. Sungchan groaned on top of you, leaning forward to penetrate you deep. The glint of the cross around his neck catches your attention, the pendant hitting the bridge of your nose as Sungchan moves closer to you.

“Fuck, angel… feel so full,” you bit your lip to stop another moan from coming out of you, placing your hands on Sungchan’s broad shoulders.

“Uhm… I’m halfway in…”

Your eyes widened. No way. You knew Sungchan was big but you didn’t expect him to be this big.

You both look down at where you two were connected, moaning at the sight. He wasn’t lying. He was indeed halfway in.

You felt Sungchan’s dick twitch.

“Do you feel turned on watching me struggle to take in your dick?” You bring your gaze back to his eyes.

“Kind of…”

“You’re such a dick,” you gasped when you felt Sungchan force a few inches in.

“What was that?” He grinned, you glared at him. Sungchan bit his lips, carefully moving out of you. He held your thighs open to keep you in place when moving into you, slowly letting you adjust to his size. You were moaning while squirming around the bed, not expecting Sungchan to be in so deep. His dick was unlike others you’ve taken before; throbbing with need, veiny, thick, and long.

It was heaven.

“Need you to move, angel,” you were too far gone, drunk at the feeling of his cock filling and stretching you up, mind hazy with need.

Sungchan complied to your request, he wrapped your legs around him, positioning his hands beside your head so he could thrust harder into you.

He moved his hips forward thrusting into you harshly, whining at the feeling of you wrapping him tightly. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with the feeling of his big cock moving in and out of you. You opened your eyes, feeling something cold touch the tip of your nose, revealing Sungchan’s cross necklace dangling in front of you.

“How are you so good with this? Aren’t you a little virgin?”

“I practiced with my pillow, thinking it was you.”

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the thought of Sungchan desperately fucking a pillow. The image pushing you to the edge as you came, fluid gushing out of you as you mewled. Sungchan continued thrusting in and out of you, holding your waist and burying his head at the crook of your neck. His pace started slowing down after he came inside you, riding out the both of your highs.

Sungchan laid on top of you as you both catched your breaths. Once his breathing was even, he lay down beside you, pulling you on top of him. You cuddled into him, feeling his hand move around your body, tracing patterns on your skin.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?” Sungchan pecks your right eyelid, twirling the strands of your hair with his fingers.

I love your eyes. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. No one has ever told you they liked your fiery eyes. Moreover, no one has ever told you they loved your eyes. You were speechless.

You let Sungchan play with your hair, tracing the lines of his abdomen in turn.

“Did it hurt when you were turned into a devil?” At your questioning look he added, “I read somewhere that the process of becoming a devil brings unbearable pain to an angel’s body. You were once an angel too…” Sungchan strokes your cheeks, pushing your hair behind your ear.

For some reason, you felt something break in you. You were once an angel too. The warmth of Sungchan’s body engulfing you was enough to comfort you.

“I can’t really remember. Our memories were wiped clean the moment we turned to devils. Why do you ask?”

“I just… You don’t deserve it, that’s all.”

“I’m glad you think that way, angel.”

“Do I really have to go?” You groaned, kicking your feet in the air. You were laying down on the couch when you overheard Sungchan talking to his dad.

“Yes. My dad wants to know how you’re doing and I haven’t been to church lately,” Sungchan answered as he placed the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Huh, I wonder why…” you sat up to look at him teasingly. Sungchan grins, wiping his hands on the cloth hanging at the oven door handle, walking towards you.

“Because a certain devil has me wrapped around their fingers, now I’m following whatever they say,” Sungchan bops your nose with his index finger, making you smile. “Not right now, though, because I actually have to tend to my angel duties.”

“Boring,” you sighed.

“You need to come with me,” Sungchan whined.

“Fine. Stop your whining, it’s unbecoming,” you roll your eyes.

“Wait— you’re not gonna burst into flames when we enter the church right?” Sungchan said worriedly.

“No, dumbass. I used to be an angel, remember?”

“Oh…” Sungchan lifts you up from the couch. “Let’s go get ready then.”

The two of you didn’t take too long to get ready, rushing to Sungchan’s car, to be on time. Once you arrived at the church you felt shivers run along your spine, the chills in your body worsened when you came face to face with Sungchan’s dad.

You exchange pleasantries with him, staying silent and letting Sungchan do most of the talking, as you obviously didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. 

“Hey, dad. I think I should show her around, she hasn’t been here before,” Sungchan said after his father asked something church related. Nice save.

“Well I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Sungchan’s dad smiled, walking off to the other end of the church.

On the contrary to your beliefs, and who or what you were, the place was beautiful. High ceiling, lots of windows, oak wood adorning the pews; it should look like any other church but this one was breathtaking.

Sungchan started walking and you followed suit, he then started pointing out rooms and other uninteresting things while walking. You frowned. You didn’t think he would actually give you a tour of the church.

Once you went back to the main area of the church, he directed you at the back near the entrance, where a few other doors were lined near the candles section. You wondered what was behind all of the closed doors in front of you.

You took a peak of Sungchan who was busy lighting up the candles. Curiosity got the best of you as you slowly strolled to the direction of the closed doors, opening one and going in.

It wasn’t anything special, just a dark confined room that is connected to another with a divider.

“This is the confession room,” you looked behind you to see Sungchan standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the open door. He looked around before closing the door shut, joining you inside the confined space. He moved closer to your body, towering over you as he placed his hands on your waist. “This is where angels confess their sins.” Sungchan whispered, placing a kiss under your ears.

“Hm… well I have a confession to make.” You looked up at him, even in the dark Sungchan looked good; white buttoned up shirt hugging his broad shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his veiny arms you love so much. “You look absolutely hot right now, and I want you to fuck me now.”

Sungchan chuckled. “Well, it’s your lucky day.”

Sungchan pulls you close to him, kissing you deeply. You pulled on his pants, unzipping it and pulling his dick out, you moved your hand up and down while he moved your panties aside, inserting two fingers inside you.

“I love this dress,” Sungchan kissed your forehead, spinning you around so that you were facing the door. Through the door, you could see the altar through the dotted holes adorning the top of the door. You felt Sungchan wrap his left arm around your waist, his fingers still inside you slowly moving in and out. The warmth of his dick twitches behind you, touching your lower back as he holds you close. “Make sure you stay quiet, darling.”

Sungchan pulls his fingers out of you, replacing it with his angry dick. You squealed at the stretch, both of your hands moving to cover your mouth. You look straight ahead, getting a glimpse of the structures on the altar.

“I’m sorry…” you said, muffled. Sungchan lightly laughs as he wraps both of his arms around you, lifting you up. Sungchan leans his back at the wall behind him, experimentally moving you up and down his cock. At your muffled moan he moves you faster, the skin of your ass hitting the skin of his thighs.

“You’re so wet…” Sungchan groaned, biting his lips to keep himself quiet.

Your eyes roll at the back of your head when Sungchan hits a particular spot, letting out a louder moan that seeps past your hands. Sungchan panicky moves his right hand to cover your mouth, his hands big enough to cover both of your hands. He shushes you, rubbing your clit with his other hand. How the fuck is he holding you up with one hand? You clenched around him, making him groan.

“Almost close?” Sungchan whispered, you nodded as an answer, not trusting yourself of not making a noise when you removed your hands to speak. “Cum for me, darling.”

You came all over Sungchan, him following after. As you both catch your breaths, Sungchan holds you close to him, still inside you as he whispered again.

“I have another confession to make, I want to fuck you again.”

Life had never treated Sungchan better than the last few months he was with you.

The both of you had been seeing each other weekly, whether it be to fuck or just to hang out, Sungchan enjoyed your company.

You were surprised at how needy Sungchan was, always wanting to be close to you or touching you at any given moment.

Sungchan was calling Ningning less and less as your ‘relationship’ with him progressed, coming up with excuses like having to help out his father to avoid her calls.

Sungchan woke up from the brightness of the sunlight, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He read the clock on top of his bedside table, not surprised at the time.

Beside him, you were sprawled out in his bed, wearing nothing but his shirt, sleeping peacefully. The sunlight highlighted your body. Sungchan smiled, kissing your forehead before he got up. He grabbed a shirt to wear on his way out, messing up his already messy hair.

He went to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of his reflection through the window. You truly do enjoy leaving love bites. Why is it so cold today?

Sungchan shivered, returning to his bedroom to put on a hoodie, peeking at you as he put on the hoodie you love so much on him. As if you sensed his presence, you rolled to your side, to face him.

“Why are you up so early?” You mumbled, sleepily.

“It’s noon, darling,” Sungchan crawled to his bed, wrapping his arms around you. He inspected your face for any discomfort that you might have after last night’s escapades. “You alright?”

“Tired..” you yawned, wrapping your arms around Sungchan.

“Oh…”

You snuggled into Sungchan, enjoying his warmth. The two of you stayed like that for a while.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll go get it,” Sungchan kissed your forehead again before walking to the direction of his front door. He didn’t expect any visitors today so it might be someone delivering his package. As he swung the door open, shock infiltrated his senses after seeing who was behind the door.

Ningning.

“Surprise, Love!”

Oh, it was a surprise for Sungchan indeed.

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