#ignore the ink peaking from the bottom

[thaltro]

We never post rants really but like

We are working on human designs versions of utmv characters and we always hit a roadblock when it comes to dream. Not because he’s hard to design but finding any pre existing references for designs is frustrating. The design itself is bland, he just looks like a generic anime boy - but our main issue is how people pose him as some weak frail smol bean. Grrrr I know it’s canon but goddamit it gets on our nerves. We don’t like how people characterize dream and how dream was written and how he’s drawn aandd asggrgrgffg- he has potential as a character but the infantilization is crazy.

But yeah- wip in designing him

[venomwrites]

Warnings: Spoilers

Her mail is full of threats. 

It’s sorted for safety, but then it winds up on her table. Pain filled accusation. She should have died instead, how the blade should have gone to her neck not her eye. Jinx should have killed her. How could she do what she did. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. She reads about people’s loved ones who sacrificed themselves. Sometimes people give their names. Most of the time they don’t. 

Caitlyn reads them all. 

She learns about people’s families. Friends. Their darkest desires. How they would kill her. She drinks the poison with her remaining eye. When it starts to throb she uses the drops the doctor gave her and keeps reading. She got these people killed. She can at least know them. When they name themselves she adds them to the list. She makes sure they get their dispensations from the funds and repairs are seen to. Piltover will take care of all its citizens. She will make sure of that. 

After an hour the threats start to bled together but she pushes past it as best she can. She cannot let these people’s pain blend together like that. They deserve so much more, but she can give them that at least. She is about to take a break when the violent blue ink peaks out at her. 

Everything goes still as she extracts the card. 

She doesn’t recognize the place on the front. Somewhere with mountains capped in snow. The card is bordered in yellow. On the front someone has harshly crossed out bright letters. They peak through the ink. WISH YOU WERE HERE. Caitlyn turns the card back to the side with the blue lettering. 

SHE BETTER BE EATING. 

Caitlyn nearly drops the card. There’s no return address. Hers is ‘the big kiramman house’ with nothing underneath it. There isn’t even a stamp. The handwriting is more precise than anything she’s seen from the bloody nailed girl. It’s like a child practicing their letters. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. 

Caitlyn lets out a breath. It’s plausible, they never found a body. Something occurs to Caitlyn and she begins to sort through the letters. Silently she apologizes to every one she pushes aside. She will come back to them. But her mail is delayed. There’s too much of it to sort through daily. So maybe—

Another flash of blue. 

A cityscape this time with strange, alien buildings. 

Wish you were (NOT) here.

TRY HUMMING TO HER IF SHE CAN’T SLEEP

Pink, this time pink. A river with grey animals hopping merrily by. The sun is setting. No wishes decorate the front. 

SHE HATES THE DARK

Blue ink with a blue card. An endless sky dotted with airships. Two figures have been drawn on the front, holding hands in one. 

SWEETS ARE HER FAVORITE

The last is a pink one to go with a wide red desert. Puffy blue clouds dot the sky. Instead of a message there’s a chart. A family tree. Vi’s name is connected to hers with a long line. 

She traces the line with her finger and feels the indent carved into the bottom. The others all have it too. Each card has a secret. She grabs a pencil and drags it lightly along the bottom, adding graphite to the ridges and revealing the words. 

REMIND 

HER

I’M 

ALWAYS 

THERE

Caitlyn’s throat tightens. Jinx doesn’t ask her not to tell. Caitlyn is eternally grateful. They both know she can’t do that but it would feel wrong somehow to go against a request like that. Jinx has sent her the cards. Caitlyn can imagine her thinking this was the right decision. A clean break. She thought she was doing the right thing. 

Vi is curled up in her bed. Caitlyn wishes she could have made it her bed under any other circumstances. She’s seen Vi sleep for weeks, bleed out, cry until she vomits—all in this bed. Every time Caitlyn sees her in it she wants to scream. Wants to drag her out of this room and to her bed. Where things were better, where things made sense. But Vi just curls tighter and ignores her when she tries to speak. 

It’s anything but a clean break. 

“Vi,” she says, announcing herself to the lump in the bed. Vi’s shoulders stiffen which is as much of a reaction as Caitlyn gets from her these days, “these came for me,” she continues, “I think you should read them.”

Vi turns away in refusal towards the darkness of the room. She’s got the curtains on one side of the bed closed. It lets in light and gives people access, but it also sends the clear message she doesn’t want to be bothered. All one would have to do is open the curtains on the other side. No-one dares. Caitlyn perches on the side of the bed. 

Caitlyn is not a music person. 

She has no idea what to hum. 

But she does. 

Grey eyes miserably turn towards her as Caitlyn tries to remember anything resembling a tune. Her parents tried to make her take music lessons but she was never good at them. Still she forces herself to keep going as skepticism seems to cut through even Vi’s stupor. Vi’s lips are pulled into a frown as she stares at her, slowly easing from her side to her back. The most life Caitlyn has seen in her. 

“That was awful, Cupcake,” Vi mumbles, “if I read those will you never do that again?”

Caitlyn could care less as she nods and hands the cards to Vi. She pulls the first one from her bad hand, turns it over and bolts upright so fast it’s a miracle their heads don’t smack together. Vi shoves herself fully into the light. 

“Where—“

“They arrived in the past week,” Caitlyn says, “I brought them as soon as I saw.” 

Vi shuffles through them five times, turning each card over like she is missing something. Caitlyn is not expecting it when she throws off the sheet and gets to her feet. She kneels down and spreads the cards out, looking at them again like she must be missing something. Caitlyn eases herself down next to her. 

“She’s alive,” Vi says numbly, “she’s alive and she’s—“ she shakes her head, “she said she was breaking the cycle. Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Can you find out?!” Vi demands. After having her be so still and quiet, the angry shout catches Caitlyn off guards, “this could be a copycat.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says slowly, “but I don’t think it is,” she motions to the hidden message, “she knew I would find that.” 

Vi shudders as she stares at the cards. Caitlyn has never felt this useless in her entire life. She’s used to making things happen. But here she’s failing on all accounts. Only Jinx has been able to pull Vi out of her stupor. Caitlyn has tried and failed so many times. She looks at the graphite boxes. Her fingers pick up the one with the airship and her features twist. 

“She said she was going to break the cycle,” Vi says, “how is this breaking the cycle?!” She smacks her good hand on the floor, “Cait where is she?!” 

Her voice breaks desperately around the last word. Great, heaving sobs wrack her frame. Caitlyn just manages to get her so she doesn’t land on her shoulder when she crumples forward. She takes the post card out of her grip and laces their fingers together as Vi wails at the loss. It’s a cruel thing that Vi’s ghosts never stay dead. She never looses someone once. Caitlyn thought she knew grief when she buried her mother. But the wound has started to heal. Every time Vi gets a bit of healing, the wound is wrenched back open. 

Caitlyn wants to promise they will find her, but she doesn’t know if that’s possible. They could date the cards, find the locations, but she knows Jinx will not be there. She will slip away again and the wound in Vi’s chest will rip open all over again. Vi is strong, so strong. But Caitlyn doesn’t know how many times she can bear this loss. Vi’s existed for weeks on nothing more than broth and nutrients. Her muscles are weak. She should not have this kind of strength. But she keeps sobbing. She sounds more like an animal than a person as she wails into Caitlyn’s embrace. 

Caitlyn just folds herself around her, pushing the cards to the side so they won’t get damaged. 

She expects Vi to go listless again. She knows she must be exhausted. But Vi pulls herself up painfully and wipes uselessly at her face. Most of her weight leans on Caitlyn. Caitlyn doesn’t care, she would bear all of Vi’s weight if she let her. She reaches out and touches the underside of Vi’s eye. The tears she wipes are immediately replaced but for a moment Vi leans into her palm. 

“She loves you,” Caitlyn says, “this is her wanting you to make a life of your own.”

“I can’t do that without her,” Vi says, her voice wretched, “Cait she’s my sister.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “I know this isn’t fair to you,” the words are messy and she cannot find the right ones, “maybe one day she’ll see that,” she tries, “but she wants you to let her go.”

Vi looks like she is going to sob again, but there are no more tears left. Caitlyn sees the white knuckled fist she’s making in her lap. A stubborn refusal to follow Jinx’s request. Caitlyn goes on instinct and covers Vi’s hand. Vi makes a noise but doesn’t try to stop her as she pulls her fingers open and slots their hands together. 

“Hold onto me,” she says. 

Vi gives her the same gutted look. Caitlyn knows this isn’t fair. She’s put them in this position how many times. Me or Jinx. Choose. Despite her words in the cell she knows Jinx is woven into Vi’s heart. Maybe in some world there is no choice forced upon Vi. Maybe in some world this all works out differently. But here and now Jinx has taken the choice. She’s made it for them. 

Vi lets out a harsh sound between a sob and a moan. But her fingers tighten on Caitlyn’s hand. 

Caitlyn kisses the back of her knuckles and guides Vi’s arm over her shoulder. It’s a familiar position. No matter the wounds. Something goes automatic in Vi and she gets her feet under her as Caitlyn stands up. Vi looks down at the cards. It hasn’t been that long, the cards all arrived differently. If they are to be believed, Jinx has seen so many places already. Places she doubts anyone in the Undercity has gone. 

“She wanted to see the world,” Vi says. 

“She is,” Caitlyn assures her. 

“I—“ Vi tightens her grip, “maybe you should just get the postcards for now,” Caitlyn looks at her, “will you tell me when you do?” 

“Of course,” Caitlyn says, “the moment they arrive.”

Vi looks at her silently and then gives a jerky nod. 

“Could you help me to the shower?” She asks finally. 

Caitlyn smiles and nods. 

The cards continue sporadically. Sometimes months will go by without them. Sometimes several arrive in a week. Caitlyn tells the Enforcers sorting her mail they are not a threat and should be given to her immediately. It’s difficult because sometimes copycats send blue letters, but Caitlyn learns the difference fairly quickly. Vi puts each one into a box before she cries over them. She treasures them, the only proof her sister is alive somewhere. 

Until the box arrives.

For the first time it’s not addressed to Caitlyn. 

“This is a bad idea,” the Enforcer says, “there’s gears in there—“

“Thank you,” Caitlyn tells him, “it’s alright.”

Vi goes stiff when she sees the unopened box. Her eyes widen when she realizes its addressed to her. She rips out a knife and cuts through the packaging before Caitlyn can mention what the scans have shown. There’s a dull click and fine glitter explodes from the box. Caitlyn is very glad she’s wearing her eyepatch as it coats everything in pink and blue. Vi looks back into the box, reaches in and pulls out an envelope. Inside there’s a blue gem and a card. Vi fingers the gem and offers Caitlyn the card. A smile is already pulling at her lips. 

She turns the card over to see familiar mountains. This time the sentiment on front hasn’t been crossed out. It’s been underlined several times. Caitlyn looks at the back. On it is a bunch of numbers. After a moment she realizes its coordinates and a date range.  

It’s an invitation. 

[ebonystarfall]

A Cursed Taunt (pt. 2)

Ink!Peng x Ex-Brotherhood!Reader

Created by: Starlight (Owner 2)

Type of content: Oneshot

Pov: Second

Word count: 1553 (approximately)

TW: Theres gaslighting???? (Maybe??) Ink Peng is a bitch, not beta read, I feel absolutely tired but I want to do this because I feel guilty for not finishing this earlier...btw you almost DIE haha (you gotta be lucky Tang was there)

A/N: Guys I am SO sorry that it's been so long, I swear...I plan to write more when I get the chance, but school seems to have a tendency to place a hit on my creative mind and strike it down from its position at the top of my head and at the bottom of my heart. Btw this also takes part BEFORE Peng and Yellowtusk get out of the scroll. Before Tang finds out that Azure is bad and whatnot, y'know?

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

Even though you and the rest of the gang had managed to escape the ink demons before, you were separated once again, each of you thrown into different moments in these cursed scrolls of memory. You found yourself on Flower Fruit Mountain, a place that felt too familiar. This was the day you and the Brotherhood had gathered to discuss overthrowing the Jade Emperor, a day that had been etched into your mind forever. You had your doubts back then, but you kept them buried, fearing the judgment of those around you.

Peng, your closest friend, had been especially eager that day, their voice loud with conviction. "Azure Lion would be perfect on the throne," they had said, without a hint of hesitation. Their fervor had inspired the others, making the plan feel inevitable, but deep down, you had questioned if this was the right path. Still, you stayed silent, watching as the momentum built around their idea.

You didn’t like this memory much. It felt disorienting to be back in a place you knew wasn’t real. The fruit on the table was an illusion, the laughter and arguments of your former Brothers were mere phantoms, and Peng’s mischievous glances—those glances you’d yearned for throughout centuries of separation—were nothing more than a trick of the scroll.

...it simply was not real. This was just the scroll's doing. It was just something the scroll as doing. The protective curse would be there eventually. the protective curs-

"Y/N!! You're stuck in your thoughts again, wake up!" the familiar voice of Peng was heard, exasperatedly shaking your thoughts back down to the world.

You turned to face them, and you huffed. "Can't I just think for a second?"

Peng, ever the mischief-maker, simply giggled at your exasperation. They nudged you playfully with a grin, their eyes sparkling with amusement as they took another sip from their goblet of wine. "But where's the fun in that?" they teased, leaning closer. "Lighten up, will you? Don’t be such a sorry little rodent like Macaque over here!" They gestured toward Macaque with a mock-serious expression, clearly enjoying their own joke.

You took a second to glance at Macaque, who was shyly sitting next to the past version of Wukong. A scoff escaped your lips. "Don't make fun of him, you feathered oaf."

"Ah, very well then," Peng said with a mischievous glint in their eye. "I have an idea, little bug! How about we take a little time off from this gathering and head up to the mountain peaks? It'll certainly get rowdy soon, and I'd much rather keep my feathers intact." They snickered, glancing back at the chaotic scene unfolding at the table.

The scene was a perfect storm of pettiness and disorder. Wukong was in a heated argument with the Demon Bull King over the potency of their alcohol, while Macaque, though visibly irritated, remained in his seat, trying to ignore the ruckus. Azure Lion was literally dragging Wukong away from the Bull King, as if dealing with a feral cat. As for Yellowtusk, he was nowhere to be seen, and given the state of things, you couldn’t help but think he had made the right choice to leave.

"...fine," you muttered, your voice tinged with resignation. You were still grappling with whether this was a memory or an illusion—this Peng wasn’t real, but their presence felt undeniably genuine. Before you could dwell on it further, Peng took your hand with a playful grin and led you up the mountain peak, their fuchsia eyes shimmering with excitement as they glanced back at you.

"Isn't the view wonderful? Soon enough, we'll have the whole Celestial Realm to look down on! Isn't that...fun?"

You nodded silently, your thoughts heavy. After a moment, you mumbled, "Hey, Peng?"

"Yes, dear?" Peng responded, their voice warm and attentive.

"Is it wrong to feel attached to people who probably hate me now? Why do you think I feel that way?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Peng paused, as if considering your question carefully. Then, a mischievous smile spread across their face. "Because you're an idiot," they said simply.

You froze in surprise as Peng’s image began to dissolve, shifting into dark, feathery pieces of ink and energy. The curse of the scroll was catching up to you sooner than expected.

"A foolish, stupid little idiot," a new voice echoed with a sinister tone. "Hello there, little bug. It seems I’ve finally caught you once more."

—

You stared at the ink version of your former friend, then took a second to glance at the scenery. The warm lantern hanging on the nearby tree disappeared, leaving only a teal blue and inky black background. The bird demon scoffed, pointing their Ji at you, manifesting it from some ink splatters on the ground.

"It was such a bore trying to locate you, then that scholar, those demons, and that horse dragon girl...irritating, all of it. Luckily for them, I'm going to take my time on you first."

"Stop confusing me! You're not the real Peng, you're just a curse pretending to be them for some pity! Stop it, damn it!" You had yelled, taking a step back.

The inky bird demon clearly didn’t take kindly to your outburst. They surged toward you with alarming speed, their talons swiping dangerously close to your sides. A sinister cackle escaped them, and their teal-glowing eyes rolled with a mockingly feigned innocence.

"I have no idea what you mean by that," the demon crooned, their voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why would you say something like that? Do you not trust me, Y/N? All we've done together, all that we’ve…" They leaned in closer, their warm breath brushing against your neck—a stark contrast to the chill of their appearance. Peng had never been this warm, and a shiver raced down your spine as they continued, "…experienced together…"

You could feel strange droplets falling onto your shoulders, and despite yourself, you remained frozen in place. Tiny, warm ink droplets trickled from the demon's body, a bizarre reminder of their unsettling proximity. Ink Peng's form leaned even closer, their voice a whisper in your ear.

"Doesn't this feel real to you, little bug?" they taunted, their tone laced with a twisted satisfaction.

You remained silent, the sensation of warm ink enveloping you in its twisted embrace making you shudder. The texture was unsettling, reminiscent of lukewarm oil—slick and unnervingly smooth.

"My, my, so quiet now. How sad," the ink demon tutted, their voice laced with mock sympathy. They nuzzled you with their strange, inky feathers, the touch both alien and intimate, as if trying to draw out a reaction from you.

"Don't… don't pretend to be them," you said, your voice trembling. "You will never be half of my old friend, ever. No matter how many times you look through these memories, you will never compare to—"

You tried to continue, but your breath caught as you felt the blade of the Ji pressing against your throat. The inky metal was almost imperceptibly sharp, just barely piercing your skin. The sting was sharp and immediate, and a tiny droplet of blood began to trickle down from your neck.

"What was that?" the ink demon's voice was tauntingly smooth. "Seems like you're a bit preoccupied with something." Their tone was a cruel mix of amusement and menace, making the situation all the more terrifying.

You gasped as the ink demon applied a bit more pressure to the blade, the sting intensifying as it sliced through your skin. The warmth of your own blood mingled with the cold, inky metal, and for a moment, it seemed as if the end might be near. Your heart raced, and a sharp pain shot through your neck, threatening to suffocate you.

Just as the pain became unbearable, a flash of golden light erupted in the chaos. Tang, the scholar who simply LOVED learning about the legends, appeared out of nowhere with his golden magic staff. His face was pale with fear, but his eyes were locked on you with intense relief. “ACK- hold on, Y/N, I don't know how to work this thing!” he cried out, his voice trembling. The staff emitted a blinding glow as he desperately swung it, catching Ink Peng off guard. In the split second of distraction, Tang’s magic teleported you away from the blade’s edge.

The protective curse around the scroll flared up, irate at the sudden disruption. Ink Peng’s form wavered with irritation as they glared at the spot where you had vanished. Their frustration was palpable, their dark ink swirling with heightened agitation.

—

In the new location within the scroll, Tang's panicked voice broke through the haze. “Y/N, are you okay?! You look hurt, I can find something to help...”

He reached out, his hands trembling as he tried to assess your condition. But you remained unresponsive, your mind still spinning from the encounter. Thoughts of Peng and the near-death experience clouded your thoughts, making it difficult to focus on Tang’s concerned face or his desperate attempts to ensure you were alright.

You just felt...numb, to be honest.

[dirthavarens]

I'm never going to finish this draft, so please enjoy something I wrote nearly four years ago! No title, no ao3 posting, just here for your viewing pleasure.

the midmorning sun pours into the window and at last stirs one of the bodies that lurks within. his dark skin is littered with freckles that are contrasted in the light by the pale colored sheets that tent in a peak but otherwise cover the lower half of his body. there’s a mess of platinum hair splayed along a pillow and covering pale olive skin beside him. his brow lifts curiously, ignoring the twitches of his morning erection. 

he examines the body closer and has a vague sense of recognition.

her hair falling over his face in a current of white as his fingers tease her pliant body. she would feel like silk under his touch if her skin did not prickle in excitement with gooseflesh. rosewood lips gape open in a lost cry against his mouth as he sheaths himself completely in her. the smell of expensive wine is on their breath. he’s intoxicated, surely, but she’s prepossessing, a beauty those they serve could never have.

there are eyes the color of the sea, sparkling with brilliant hues of emerald and sapphire, playing in his mind. they’re lidded with ecstasy, glazed with inebriation, closed with desperation. plump lips taking him to the hilt, a smooth tongue running over his, curling and coaxing, nipples brushing along his torso, the taste of her on his tongue. 

heat spreads along his chest and laps at his throat as he flushes. memories continue to spill in. her laugh chimes in his ear, singsong but unabashed. she looks up at him, doe eyes under long lashes. then he feels her thighs and supple bottom swaying in his hands like liquid as they dance through the halls of his home. 

his cock reminds him of its presence when it twitches. 

then, a question. 

her name. 

what is her name? 

they spent the night together and it is unlike him to bed anyone at random, let alone not get their name.

solas takes a breath and leans closer to her. she hums in her sleep, a soft sound that he doesn’t expect, and secretly delights in. he plays voyeur to a stranger in moments so intimate they are unbeknownst even to her. she smells of amber and the remnants of sex and it draws him closer until his lips are at the blade of her ear. 

he’s careful to not let heavy dreads brush her as he places a kiss to the velvety skin; they fall against her scalp regardless and she shuffles. 

“mm?” she coos as the tip of her nose scrunches. he knows not who this woman is but even her smallest actions catch his interest. curious violet eyes watch as she blinks slowly, rousing herself and chasing away the lazy dreams that must have played in her mind. she lulls her head in his direction and at last he fills in the gaps of his memory. 

the tavern is familiar, the company is and is not. strangers are a comfort to him and within this tavern there are only strangers. the barmaids are the same and ask the same questions. he always gives the same answers and offers them little of his tasks. his identity is best kept to himself, a sacred secret he could never betray. his face is never different but he never looks up from his glass, never meets eyes, never makes connections. 

she takes a seat beside him; he does not look up. she orders her drink; he does not hear the type. she offers him a quiet greeting; he returns it with no interest. she rifles through her bag noisily and offers apologies as she pulls out blank rolls of vellum and ink wells. 

the bartender returns with her drink. he’s large for an elf with dark eyes and shaggy dark hair that he’s pulled back. they share a brief exchange

solas takes a sip of his drink and slips his gaze to his side as she begins to write. the symbols take a moment to register in his mind after seeing nothing but elvish in the capitol for the last fifty years. admittedly, it looks close to the common script the humans use, though he hasn’t seen it in some time as the humans were of little concern to him at present. 

she pauses and turns to him when she feels his eyes on her. for the first time, solas looks up.

she bears the vallaslin of june, but her face is soft, untouched by the flames of a forge. her hands are hard in the wrong places for crafting. there’s still life in her eyes for her vallaslin to be so set in her face. he can see the magic she holds within and feels a familiarity in it; like a discordant note in a tune he composed. it belongs but it doesn’t. she burns brilliantly and smells of spirits and potential and he knows he must reach out.  

“i apologize for intruding, lethallan,” he says earnestly, “but i have never seen elvhenan write with the human hand.”

the woman seems caught off guard by his confession, as though it baffled her. she returns the pen to its holder and regards him. his hood is up, but it doesn’t distract from his solid features. the sharp line of his jaw matches that of his cheeks and eyebrows. the incline of his nose contrasts greatly but serves as a complement to his supple lips. the cupid’s bow of his chin serves only to drive his pride a step further. beneath his hood are bladed ears adorned with hoops and studs and between them sits organized rows of thick dreads tied together at the top of his head while the sides remain shaved. 

he is not yet aware his looks will help lure her to his bed.

“i wasn’t aware that it was so uncommon. i’m afraid i lived among humans for so long that i adopted too many of their habits.” he wants to believe her, but he can see that there is a lie deep behind those ocean eyes. “i know little written elvish.” a truth. 

solas allows the lie to slip, though it remains in the back of his mind. 

the two fall into easy conversation and drinks begin to flow. her work is forgotten until she nearly knocks over her travel inkwell; then it’s neatly packed away and entirely forgotten. they speak of spirits and of dreams and of the past. he learns she knows little for a self proclaimed historian, but the rapture in her eyes as he speaks is worth her naivety.

he starts to notice the way her platinum sweeps along her shoulder when she turns her head. he delights in the unrestrained way she laughs and how the blush of alcohol and attraction accentuates her freckled cheeks.

there’s a pull to her he’s only vaguely familiar with but he’s helpless to fight against it after the bartender gives last call. they share one more round and she kisses him, unashamed and open. the other patrons pay no mind as her lips smack against his, there are no names and no faces here. only strangers. 

there are moments that blur between the tavern and his bed, but he remembers undressing her. he remembers his mouth at her the crook of her neck.

“my n-name,” she sighs as his fingers slips between her legs. his erection is pressed firmly into the small of her back. “...is mirani.” 

he removes his fingers from her center and pushes her torso on the bed. “mirani,” he breathes as he lowers to his knees before her heat. 

solas is pulled from memory when she stretches and blinks up at him. muted embarrassment creeps to her the tips of her ears as she blushes. 

“i--” she starts, clearly without direction. mirani searches for something more to say; perhaps an apology or admission of guilt? with a breath, she resigns. “good morning, solas.”

his name sounds like honey on her lips and he gives a smile that flashes perfectly white teeth, a small gap between the front two. 

“and to you, mirani. i must confess that last night was a rare occurrence for me and i am unfamiliar with the etiquette of the morning after,” he admits and moves back in the bed. his fingers lace together behind his head as he leans against the headboard. it’s looser than he remembers it being the morning before.

“well...” she begins with a coy grin. the woman shifts in his bed, lying on her side and looking at him. her finger stretches out and traces simple patterns on his chest. mirani steals a quick glance at the very obvious erection he hasn’t bothered to hide. “i suppose that depends on what you’d like to happen.”

“it would seem that way. as you are the guest in my home, what would you wish?” 

solas sighs in approval when she shifts and presses her lips to his collarbone. the hand she had on his chest trails lower and lower until her fingers can wrap around his cock.

 “i was thinking we could pick up where we left off, harallen.”

[marshymeds]

Intentionally Pathetic?

Description: Shang Qinghua falls asleep at his desk and Mobei Jun carries him to his room. Eepy fluff; (also posted on ao3 @marshymeds)

Nothing could have prepared Shang Qinghua for the workload that awaited him after being reinstated as An Ding Peak Lord. He had never considered himself particularly gifted in logistics or civil affairs, but he could write well enough and he had played the role to the satisfaction of the System. How could he have guessed that everyone else that would fill his place during his tenure as a fugitive was worse at finances and organization than a three year old child?

And what was worse; Mobei Jun had been particularly rude to him after the whole ‘saving him from falling to his death’ thing. Each day had borne an entirely new cadre of tortures. Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure he could take much more. He certainly wouldn’t be saving anyone out of the goodness of his own heart again anytime soon—was this the thanks he got? Complete disrespect even from his favorite OCs.

He sighed deeply and thumped his forehead down onto his arm, exasperated. Nomatter how long he wrote, the stacks of paperwork on the desk never seemed to get shorter. He envied whatever Cucumber-bro was doing at the moment. Probably off fishing with Bing-ge, living the highlife in a quaint lakeside cottage, eating a nice meal with no worries in sight…

Shang Qinghua’s eyes felt heavy as he pulled his head up once more, staring down at the blurry calligraphy on the page before him. He could really go for a warm bowl of ramen about now.

Mobei Jun used no courtesies when entering the room. He simply opened the door abruptly, stepping inside without regard for the inhabitant as he had always done. “I require your assistance.”

Silence.

When the usual startled exclamation didn’t come, Mobei Jun cocked an eyebrow at the figure hunched over the desk on the opposite end of the room. Maybe he’d been too quiet.

“I require your assistance,” he repeated. “Come.”

Still more silence.

He stepped over, annoyance flickering across his face. Was he ignoring him? The man had been incensed that morning, going on about how “no one respects their elders anymore” and “is there no one on An Ding Peak that knows how to properly file taxes??”, only bolstered by the usual round of beatings throughout their daily interactions, but Mobei Jun hadn’t expected the mood to carry over. It never had. He had certainly never willfully ignored him before.

“Qinghua,” he said flatly as he stood next to him now, his tone betraying a cold indifference as well as annoyance. It was entirely intentional.

But he paused as he stared down at him.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes were tightly closed, his cheek pressed firmly against the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. His hand still loosely gripped a brush. The writing was sloppy and trailed off towards the end, resulting in several blotchy stains of ink across the bottom half of the page.

Over the past several years, Mobei Jun had long since learned that Shang Qinghua slept like the dead. There was no use in shaking his shoulder—nothing short of whacking him upside the head would rouse him if he were truly asleep. Thus, there was no harm in leaning closer to look at him.

The peak lord’s mouth was parted slightly, a smudge of ink on his cheek from where he had apparently rested his face down onto fresh calligraphy. His breaths were slow and quiet. Peaceful. Definitely asleep.

Mobei Jun had to wonder if this was intentional. He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation several years ago, as he often did, and consider that Shang Qinghua was putting himself in a position on purpose. To appear vulnerable and weak. To be pathetic.

As Mobei Jun stared down at Shang Qinghua his fingers curled and his chest felt tight. He had to admit it worked.

He pulled his eyes away and stood up again, glancing back at the door. The matter wasn’t important enough to wake him. He would just come back in the morning.

He began to step away and quickly wavered. When had he ever cared whether something was important enough to warrant dragging Qinghua from his sleep?

With that startling thought in mind, Mobei Jun could no longer step out of the room. He quickly turned back to the man at the desk, chest still tight, and weighed the frustration over in his mind. This wasn’t worth it.

Mobei Jun reached down to him, but instead of smacking him, shouting or otherwise violently rousing him from his sleep, he found himself carefully lifting Shang Qinghua from his seat at the desk and into his arms. As he lifted his face a much larger smear of ink was revealed across his left cheek.

The tightness spread from Mobei Jun’s chest and up into his throat. He didn’t understand what sort of illness had managed to overtake him, but it was uncomfortable and he didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t understand how Luo Binghe dealt with this. His half-mortal side must have given him some sort of immunity. In any case, asking him about this was a nonstarter.

Mobei Jun still found himself reaching a hand down to brush at the ink with his thumb. Shang Qinghua’s skin was warm, and under the young demon lord’s icy fingers he flinched away, his face scrunching up slightly in his sleep. The warmth from his face made his fingers tingle and burn slightly, urging his chest to tighten further.

For a brief moment Mobei Jun considered dropping Shang Qinghua to the floor, but he gritted his teeth and shook his dark sleeve over his hand, using the cuff of his robe to gently rub at the mark on his cheek. The ink smudged around but ultimately didn’t budge.

Shang Qinghua really was warm. Mobei Jun could feel the heat through his sleeves as he stood next to the desk, still holding him in his arms. His heart beat faster.

Bed. Right, a bed. Forget the ink. What was he, a maid? He was the heir to the Mobei clan, not Shang Qinghua’s mother. He could bring him to bed, but he needn’t wash his face for him.

The halls were empty even at this time of night. Disciples had no reason to venture into their peak lord’s quarters even if they stayed up late into the night doing paperwork. It occurred to Mobei Jun that he rarely saw anyone visit the An Ding Peak Lord on anything but official business.

He glanced at the man in his arms, but Shang Qinghua had nestled himself comfortably into the demon’s arms, his face pressed into his robes, still entirely unconscious. Pathetic.

Mobei kicked the bedroom door open unceremoniously.

It was here that Mobei Jun ran into a problem. He often took the peak lord’s bed, but he had just brought Shang Qinghua from his study to bring him to bed. Where was he going to put him if he himself would take the bed?

The birds outside were the first indications that morning had come. Shang Qinghua kept his eyes closed, indulging in the quiet birdsong as long as he could before he would inevitably have to rise and begin the day. Although he felt a bit chilly, he could feel a warm ray of sun on his cheek peeking in from the window. When he finally opened his eyes he blinked lightly, momentarily blinded by that thin ray.

He froze.

The face not two inches from his own was sharp and defined, and dreadfully familiar.

Shang Qinghua nearly fell backwards off the bed in an attempt to get away. Had he crawled into bed with Mobei Jun in his sleep? He hadn’t done that in several years now.

Just as his feet touched the floor the demon stirred, eyes cracking open to stare at him blearily in the dim morning light. If he only raised his hand to lightly rub his eye he might look like a child.

Already so early and Shang Qinghua had done something wrong. Mobei Jun had never reacted well to having his sleep space invaded. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

“M-my king, I ah…uh…H-how did you sleep?”

“Mn.” he grunted, brushing dark strands of raven black hair from his forehead.

Shang Qinghua stood there in tense silence as Mobei Jun sat up slowly, looking somewhat the image of a cat rising from a long nap, stretching and pulling the blankets away from his legs.

“You fell asleep working.”

Shang Qinghua loosened, glad to know that he hadn’t suddenly developed a gap in his memory. But the implications quickly made him tense again, sneaking an awkward glance back at his companion.

Mobei Jun’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Did…you bring me to bed…?”

The look emanating from the demon heir’s was enough to freeze any man’s heart.

“O-of course not,” Shang Qinghua said quickly, answering his own question. “I’m sorry my king, I wasn’t thinking,”

Mobei Jun’s expression softened at that, then hardened, then softened again. The array of colors glinting in his eyes made Shang Qinghua wary.

“Is…there something wrong?”

There was silence for a moment.

Mobei Jun turned away. “You…kick in your sleep.”

________

[buwheal]

(ignore this if the other anon sends their story I suppose)  I am new, not the same storyteller, but I can still give you the end you look for.

CONT.

And the stars said to the boy as his body in the dream became charred under their gaze yet, "We see all things the world upturns, and know how nothing ever returns. Your grief and despair have swayed us. We have seen you turn your head towards our domain since before you even knew what we were. We have watched you grieve and watched you yearn, for things that never were, and thus can never return. And so, we will offer you one boon, little one who mourns."

And to the stars the boy said, "I cannot bear being trapped on the ground. Please, can't you make me like you? I wish to be untethered from the cold mud and colder oceans in which I feel drowned. Let me shine and sing, hung up in the heavens with the stars and moons that dance like angels. That will be my wish, to be freed from this indifferent and sodden mound that pulls me down. If you could make me bright and gleaming like you, I could find what I grieve and what I mourn."

The sky accepted his wish to be cut away from his home and strung up, woven into the sky, but not without a warning.

"You should know: that to be a star is to be a fire that eternally burns. There are so many things that a star can never be, places that can never be visited and thus never returned to. Nor are the void of our skies Heaven, nor are they Hell. Such places exist, but both are empty. Our home however is so, so full and so, so loud. What you grieve and what you yearn are not things that your wish will earn. Though determined as you are, we will help you search and help you learn how to find a way to return to a home never built. And when you burn, we will be there, beside you in the sky."

The boy heard the stars, but did not listen to their words because the sight of his dreams blinded him. Blithely he pleaded to the heavens for instruction on becoming divine.

The stars answered in turn, "Travel to the tallest mountains where the air is thin and the rocky peaks are so sharp they could pierce the hearts of giants. Then, look for the darkest cave upon the mountain and crawl into its narrowest passage. Once you are there, gouge a small groove into the wall until from the stone gushes sticky ink that shines so brightly it hurts to look. For one year you must drink nothing but the sanguine ichor that bleeds from the carving. Through this you will be transformed, and become like us."

The boy asked the stars why the mountains bleed light.

"Long ago, a god abandoned its body and hurled the hollow vessel upon the mountains so that it may become mortal. The gilt and rotting tallow that melted from the carcass made the mountains last eternal, and now within the stone burns the same molten power that we in the sky radiate," the stars sung to him.

When he awoke, the boy obeyed the stars' orders and it twisted him, but not into a star, nor into a moon. His parents grieved his absence, and yearned for his return which would never come. The mountain blood scalded his tongue and throat and sat cold and heavy in his stomach. If from the pain he allowed rivulets to spill down his face, it melted and burnt his skin, searing lines down from the corners of his mouth to the bottom of his jaw. Still he persisted, unable to put to rest that which never was, and will never return. By year's end he felt heavy and strange, the ichor in his system like leaden weights upon his limbs and his voice, stretching and breaking his body into bizarre proportions. He did not care. He believed it would earn him everything that he grieved and everything he mourned. 

Waxen wings made of the soft and pure gold of the abandoned god's rendered tallow sit upon his back.

The stars gladly welcomed him into the sky, but upon finally meeting his heaven face to face, their light and their heat set his golden tallow wings ablaze like candles.

As his wings melted, the stars were saddened, but offered him another boon, in hopes he could be saved from such a nasty fall. The boy wished for another chance to sit in their sky. The stars thought quick, and wove ropes and cables from the tails of green comets. The boy was gifted the cables, and he gladly tied them into harnesses on his own body. The stars hung his cables from his world's moon as a pale reflection of their own light and every day they sung their songs to him as he swayed in step with the tides of the oceans he tried so hard to escape. He saw his parents, who grieved upon the muddy ground he ran from, but had no body of their child to bury. He saw all the presents and treats they left to rot at the headstone of an empty grave. He watched his parents tell the people who asked: We grieve. We yearn. For our child who could only bear to be turned towards the sky and now will never return.

- 🥩🕊

answered

[whitemancumslut]

PREVIEW

best friends brother x fem!reader

Tell Me What You Fantasize About (Pt. 1)

"Always knew you were such a slut."

Warning for when posted: 18+, BestFriendsBrother!Harry, Male and Fem Received; Oral, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Year Age Gap

"They're just boobs, Harry. Wanna touch 'em?"

The words roll of her tongue like it was nothing.

Harry's words got stuck in his throat. He swallowed down hard looking back up at the girl before him. With black and red plaid pajamas from her old Christmas set, her crop-thin strapped tank stopped just at the curve in her sides.

His cock twitched in his pants when his nasty thoughts about his sister's best friend kicked in. He swallowed his groan not sure if he heard the words correctly.

Yes, he grew up with Y/n but she hadn't always made him like this. Ever since she's hit the ripe age of 15/16 Harry's saw her more than just her sisters best friend. When she began to grow up, crop tops, short shorts, thin bikinis came. Her body also changed, which he’d hate to admit he loved. He found the way she grown so confident of her body over the years was very sexy. Every time he saw her it was very appealing clothing that he had dreamt of tearing off.

Whatever it was, something definitely changed. He changed too. Along the year, tattoo after tattoo, Y/n was more and more attracted. The biceps grew, his abs began to peak and actually harden. Y/n always had a thing for his best friends brother and she could tell the way Harry stared at her like he wanted to literally devour her, he felt the tension.

It was hard to ignore the burning desire to have him just one moment but she couldn’t help it. In this moment, with it just being them she definitely took advantage of the moment.

He hadn't notice he had been staring at her body since she walked in on him getting a glass of water. Harry stood there shirtless, his shorts just below his tatted waist line, his chest raising quicker than it was 10 minutes ago.

"I- uh-"

"What?" He finally spit out a word making the girl before him smile.

"Oh come on, Harry. Stop acting like you haven't been staring at me and my body since I've been here." Y/n stood in front of him trying her hardest not to be intimidated by his large figure. Trying to keep this new found confidence.

Harry was soon to realize this moment was reality and this was actually happening. "I'm not gon' stand here and lie and say I haven't been fantasizing about it either," He mumbled quietly as if he was shy.

A smirk formed on her face, "Fantasizing huh?"

"About me? Oh please, continue," She smirked pressing her palms to his bare chest. Pressing lightly to feel his hard pecs, letting her hand travel down and over his permanent butterfly inked skin. Placing her bottom between her teeth she giggled lightly when Harrys breath hitched.

"Tell me what you fantasize about?"

[girl8890]

Jin | Unwanted Reunion (I)

Summary: Once pining lovers from the past, unmated but soulmates nonetheless. Fate brings you two together after all this time, and catching up on all that you’ve missed stirs feelings you want to shove away from your being. For Seokjin, on the other hand, those feelings have never been able to leave.

Pairing: Demon King!Seokjin x Human!Reader

Genre: demon!au, soulmates!au, royalty!au, exs-to-lovers, smut, fluff, angst

Rating: 18+

Warnings: unwanted kiss, reunion of past lovers & friends, pining, groveling, past sexual encounters, soul binding, near death experience, attempt & success at murder, blood, death of a minor character, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual dreams, implied masturbation (m & f), heavy petting, nipple play, body worship, vaginal fingering, dry humping, hand job through clothes

Teaser

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

When Jimin first told you he got a new tattoo, you thought nothing of it. Not even when he fidgeted like a nervous kitten about it. It wasn’t until you saw said tattoo, that you knew it wasn’t put there by ink and needle. You’ve seen enough mate bonds when you were with your ex… boyfriend? Friend? Whatever… to know that this specific marking was not made by a tattooist. You knew, because you also once thought you would have the same mark with a different letter inside eventually.

No… this marking was put there by a demon.

Not just any demon, to Jimin at least, but one he mated with. Had sex with. And apparently had mutual love with.

That was the only way to gain the marking. By having sex with a demon that loved you and you loved them. With all of this knowledge of yours swirling in your brain, you still can’t get over the fact that Jimin—your best friend of over ten years—fell in love with a demon right under your nose. You were doing so good at not getting involved with any demon business since you and… him… split up. Even while you were directly involved with said business you were able to keep your family and friends unaware of the fact that demons existed.

“How?” Is all you ask Jimin once your shock of seeing the mark has wore off. But even as you state your single worded question, your eyes can’t remove themselves from the almost skin colored blossom filled circle with the letter T inside.

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip. Trying and failing to keep the secret you once also had to keep. “I don’t know what you mean. How I got it done? I just walked into-“

“No, Jimin. I mean how did you fall in love with a demon!”

Jimin is shell shocked when you reveal your knowledge of the deathless beings. Him clearly not knowing that you knew. “Y-you—you know!”

You roll your eyes. Hating that he ignored your question, but answering his anyway. “Yes, Jimin, I know. Almost had one of those marking myself once upon a time.”

You gesture to the marking on Jimin’s neck, and he subconsciously touches itwhile looking at your neck. Like a marking similar to his would suddenly appear on it.

“But who would— Seokjin.”

You shut your eyes at the sound of his name. The person that once filled your heart with so much joy, now just a name that fills you with nothing but agony. Jimin knows about your past… lover? He was the one you went to crying about him all those years ago, and he was also the one to help you put all the broken pieces of your heart back together. He never met him, though. You wanting to keep the few people you cared about in this lifetime out of the dangerous world of demons.

Looking back, you don’t think it was fair of you to just skip out on the person that claimed an undying love for you, but it has also been almost two years since you saw him. Leaving his kingdom with blood all over you, and nothing but nightmares in your wake. You loved him at the time, sure, but once you finally got a good peak at what it would be like to be together with a demon you were ready to leave. Leaving behind a shattered heart, as well, when you told Seokjin you were leaving.

It was good that you left. You needed to leave. The others would never accept their demon king to be mated with a lowly human, like yourself, anyway. To the point blood was spilled for you, and that was something you never wanted to be your life. You didn’t want the responsibility of someone’s death, even a demons, to be your life. Packing your bags, and thanking the heavens that you didn’t sleep with Seokjin when temptation rose so many times.

“Yes…” You say after a moment to answer Jimin’s question. “He was a demon, and that’s in the past now. More importantly, who did you mate with? Is he your soulmate?”

Jimin raises a pointed eyebrow at you, confused by a part of your words. “Soulmate?”

You shut your eyes and sigh in annoyance. Of course whoever this demon was didn’t explain to him the entirety of Jimin’s new-lifelong-situation. Forget the mysterious and secret type. You being the one that was always being kept secrets from even if you were promised a part of their lives.

You explain to Jimin everything this demon undoubtedly didn’t tell him. That demons had soulmates, and it was very rare for humans to be their soulmates. Even more rare that they can successfully mate with them, since the premise of eating their soul was always on the table. But here Jimin is, alive and still has a soul. You knew that meant something, at least.

But the explanation doesn’t stop there. When a demon has a soulmate, they get possessive over them. What yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine type of thing. It’s even worse if the soulmate pair become mates, because then the pair is forever trapped with each other. It won’t affect Jimin, since he’s a human, but you bet your bottom dollar that the demon he mated with is somewhere hiding in the shadows inside your apartment right now. Watching Jimin with two black eyes.

You scoot closer to Jimin on your couch, when you start to explain the feeling they get from being away from their mated pair. Something you barely understand yourself, but try your best to explain “Basically, if a mated pair is away from each other for to long, it hurts them. Like, in the heart or some shit. That’s why mated pairs usually stay together always, but since you’re human you don’t have that problem.”

Jimin subconsciously looks around your apartment, expecting whoever his demon mate was to suddenly appear, but the coward stays hidden in the shadows—for now.

“B-but Taehyung didn’t tell me any of this! I don’t want him to be hurt, but I also don’t want to stay in that kingdom forever, either! I have school t-to finish and work to start a-and-… shit.”

Jimin sighs, and drags his body against the couch in defeat. This is what demons do. They trap lowly humans like Jimin and you, promising an amazing life, but once the entirety of that life is explained to you, you understand why most humans die in the hands of a demon instead of fall in love with them. For not being willing to give up their soul, or for this situation, their love.

You put your hand on Jimin’s knee, trying to sooth him. “It’s alright, hun. Maybe he’s different. Maybe this Taehyung won’t-… wait a minute. Did you say kingdom?”

Jimin said a lot before, but you didn’t realize until now that he said he would have to go back to the kingdom. There’s only one kingdom that you know of when involving demons, and it doesn’t just house the demon king, but also his close lackeys.

Jimin looks at you confused, not really in the mood anymore to talk about such trivial things like kingdoms when you basically told him his life maybe over. “Yeah… Taehyung lives there. Brought me there, and introduced me to the king. Why?”

You feel anger bloom within you first. Squeezing your eyes shut, and balling your fists when realization dawns on you. If Seokjin is involved with this, there’s no way this demon simply mated with Jimin without telling him everything first for no reason. You stand up, making Jimin jump by your sudden action, and you look around your apartment living room like you’ll suddenly be able to see the demon you’re looking for.

“Come out here!” You demand. “I know your there, so stop hiding like a little bitch!”

No one appears, making your blood boil even hotter as your furry flows through you. Jimin, on the other hand, is cowering in his spot on the couch. He’s never liked confrontation. You on the other hand would welcome it if necessary. 

You decide your going all out to get the demon that screwed your friend over, and you grab onto Jimin’s hand and hoist him out of his seat. Surprised the demon doesn’t come out by just that action, but your not stopping there to get its attention, anyway. Jimin is staring at you wide eyed, and you know he’s about to be very confused after you do what you plan to do.

With the grab of his face, you pull him in to place a fat kiss right on his lips. Jimin squealing under your hold and wiggling around in your arms.

You know Jimin’s gay, and you don’t have a single attraction tendency for him, anyway. Sure, he’s attractive, but right now it feels like your kissing a sibling instead of a loved. You aren’t kissing him for long, though, because within seconds of your lips touching your lips are forcefully getting torn apart by something with nonhuman strength.

You get pushed against the couch, harshly. And after the whiplash wears off you look up to see a demon with black eyes, currently gray skin, and brown close to shoulder length hair keeping Jimin behind him and far away from you. You know he only looks like this because he’s angry, but out of all knowledge about demons one things always for sure.

Their possessive of what they think is theirs. And with that mate mark on Jimin’s neck, this demon, Taehyung, doesn’t like you touching his “property.”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Taehyung growls at you.

You smirk up at the demon, feeling victorious even though he’s starting at you like he wants to tear your heart off. You put your hands up, faking surrender. “Surly. I’ll never touch him again once you explain why the fuck you’ve involved yourself with him.”

Taehyung squints your way, the color in his eyes and skin melting away as what he normally looks like comes back. What was once full of only black reveals brown human-like eyes. And what was once gray on his skin is now a sun kissed tan.

“Huh?” The demon has the audacity to look confused.

It’s Jimin’s turn to take his anger out on the demon. He jumps out of Taehyung’s tight hold, and puts himself in between me and him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about soulmates? Are we even soulmates?”

Taehyung’s once mutually angry demeanor diminishes once he sees Jimin’s close to tears expression. He reaches out to touch him, but Jimin swipes his hand away. Making the demon frown at his actions.

“Yes, Jimin, we are. I was going to tell you…” Taehyung makes work of looking at you accusingly. “But the king said to wait.”

Jimin squints, confused at Taehyung while I stare at him wide eyed. The demon looking over at me and telling me silently that he knows. Of course he knows, though! If he lives with Seokjin, then of course he knows about the human women that was once being prepared to be queen over them all. A life you left two years ago, and still today plan on staying away from.

But then there’s Jimin’s life…

“What does the king have to do with this?! Why does he care at all about me and you?”

Taehyung just keeps staring my way, and I know the answer to Jimin’s question because of it. That conniving bastard. How dare he involve my friend in all this! To, what? Get me back? As if!

I look away from Taehyung at the same time Jimin follows his line of sight to me. Jimin slowly putting the pieces together of why his life has suddenly been flipped upside down.

“Y/n… is King Jin, Seokjin?”

Your hands squeeze into white fists when you hear the nickname you gave him spoken out loud. Seokjin coining it as his new titled name when you were living with him, and keeping it that way after you left. You sigh, trying to breathe through your frustration and headache this all just put on you.

“Yes, he-… the king is Seokjin.”

Jimin’s jaw drops when you confess the connection between you and the most powerful being in the demon kingdom. Not liking how he’s suddenly fidgeting because he thinks he needs to bow or some shit like Seokjin used to make everyone do when they greeted you back when you lived with him.

“I-I-… I’m shocked!”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

It’s Taehyung’s turn to interrupt. Him being most likely put in the dog house after all of this has been revealed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Chim.“ What the fuck is that nickname? “But what the king says is law. I told you what Jin is capable of, and he used it against me and you to get to her. I-… I’m sorry you were involved in all of this.”

Jimin’s once vexed expression overturns when he faces Taehyung. The demon looking defeated about what he could not help, and you honestly believe it. The second he said he had no choice against Seokjin, you believed every word. He would always try to keep you out the heat of his fury by keeping you out of the “business meetings” altogether. But one day your curiosity got the better of you and you saw how far the kings abilities stretched.

Him being able to cause pain or kill others with just a look, and the threats of doing that being just as affective. Demons had many unique abilities, one being the ability to pop in and out of places whenever they pleased. Another being they can stay invisible to humans, and even rip their souls out of their chests when given permission—unless they kill them first, then they don’t need permission.

But Seokjin, he was the king. He’s lived as the king for a long time, and was handed down the powers of his father when he died all those centuries ago. One being the simple wish of someone’s death can happen within a blink of an eye.

You shiver when the nightmare of seeing that in person opened up in your mind. The sad part being the first time you saw it didn’t elevate you to leave. It wasn’t until that death was because of you that you left altogether. 

After going through all these thoughts on your own, you look back at Jimin and Taehyung and grimace when you see the two making out. Whatever they said to each other while you were daydreaming about the past obviously being enough for Jimin to forgive him.

“Not that I discriminate, but-“ Jimin pulls himself off Taehyung when he hears you talk, and looks at you with a reddened face. The two of them forgetting you were even there while their tongues were tangled. “I prefer not to see my best friend get a hard on in my living room, thank you.”

Jimin looks at you with a glare full of death, and Taehyung smirks behind him. Grabbing onto his hand, and looking at Jimin like he holds the world in his hands.

Your heart aches when you see that look. You once had that look pointed at you from a demon and you remember like it was yesterday learning the extension of the love that look possessed. How endless a demons love could be, and how even after death they would stay loyally in love with you. So many mantra and quotes like that swirling in your head suddenly, and you shake your head when the person that told them to you appears in your mind.

Not wanting his angelic, handsome face to fill your mind anymore then it has today already. Not how beautiful his eyes were that when he looked at you it always made you swoon. Or how pillowy soft his full lips were when you two…

Ugh! Get it together!

“Alright!” You say, jumping out of your seat. Jimin and Taehyung look to you at your outburst. Jimin looking concerned, while Taehyung looks like he gives two shits less. “He wants to meet. Then will meet.”

Taehyung smiles triumphantly, while Jimin now looks more perturbed. “What! Y/n, no. You can’t do that. You haven’t seen the guy in years. What if this is all a trap to get you back?”

“Oh, it definitely is. It’s clear as fucking day that it is, but I’m not just going to let him mess with my friends lives either. He wants to meet. Then will meet… I just won’t be so full of sunshine like I was last time he saw me.”

Your gears are turning, thinking up all the ways you’re going to curse him out and Jimin is watching it all happen in front of him mortified.

“What! No, you can’t-“

“Chim, the king wants her. He didn’t give much specifics, just that he wants her back in the kingdom. And that he would…” Taehyung cuts himself short there. Like even uttering the threats or what Seokjin said would happen was too hard to say.

Jimin looks between the two of you conflicted about weather to console his lover or convince you not to go. In the end, he sighs in defeat. Whispering a “fuck,” under his breathe because he doesn’t know what else to say.

You slap your hands together, getting both of their attentions again. “Let’s get a move on, then. The sooner I can get this unwanted reunion over with the better. What’s the worst he can do, anyway?”

Kill you. Force you to stay with him. Threaten Jimin’s life if you don’t do what he wants.

And the lists goes on, and on, and on, but no one says anything as you all get ready to make the jump to Seokjin’s kingdom. You grab onto Jimin’s hand, not taking the offered one from Taehyung because even thinking about touching a demon makes your skin crawl, and you feel the dark energy consume your being when Taehyung starts the jump to another dimension.

Within a blink, all three of you leave your apartment like you weren’t even there to begin with.

———

When the black fog drifts away, you find yourself in the entrance hall of Seokjin’s castle, and your stomach drops to your fucking ass.

You forgot all the emotions being in this place used to stir in you. How you would get so excited about learning about all the artwork that was carved into every wall and ceiling. How you used to find it so fun to glide across the smooth granite flooring like you for ten, and the person you did this all with making your stomach do flips instead of sink.

You don’t know why you thought you would be so confident being here because now that you’re actually here your feeling dizzy. Letting go of Jimin’s hand to hold your forehead and wanting to pass out from all the nerves that shot through you.

Jimin turns to you instantly, his eyes widen when he sees you’ve become pale. “Y/n, are you okay? I know traveling that way can make some feel-“

“It’s not that,” You say with the wave of your hand. “I-it’s this place… a lot of emotions building from being here.”

Jimin looks guilty now, him being the only reason you’re here in the first place and if you weren’t so anti-violence you would smack it right off his face. You try to force a smile, but it turns into a frown when a sudden wave of nausea hits you after a hearing a friend of yours from so long ago speak.

“Welcome home, Y/n.”

You turn around to see a currently bowing Yoongi, one of Seokjin demon warriors. He’s been close friends with Seokjin for longer then either of them cared to comprehend, and he just so happens to be the loyalist of them all. One of the few who gave you any respect, and didn’t secretly threaten your life when the king was nor around.

He stand up from his bow, eyes shifting into black for a moment. You swallow even through your throat is dry, and wave awkwardly at Yoongi. “Hi, Yoon.”

The demon grins when he hears the nickname you coined him when you two first met all those years ago.

“It’s been far to long, my… it’s just been far to long.” You heard what Yoongi decided not to say. My Queen. A title that would have been your right to have if you and the demon king mated, and you hate how your body stiffens when you realize this. Thinking about the what ifs and being in the place you once called your home is not helping your resolve at all. Before you could go through another dizzy spell for all this swirling in your head, Yoongi speaks again. “The king has been expecting you. Taehyung, Jimin, you two can stay here. I’ll escort-“

“No.” Resolve is back. And your not playing by Seokjin’s games. “I’m not staying in a room alone with him.” You grab onto Jimin’s shaking hand to clarify that, and Taehyung’s eyes widen when you defy the elder demon in front of you. But Yoongi just smiles, not taking offense to your interruption or lack of understanding. You being one of very few he would allow this of. 

“Ever the difficult one. Aren’t you, Y/n?”

You hold your ground, not paying attention to the wide eyed and scared Jimin next to you.

“Ever the vague one. Aren’t you, Yoons?”

You both crack a smile at this. You can’t help yourself. It’s like not a day has gone by since you saw your friend. The game of trying to up the other with words playing out just like it used to all those years ago.

But then your smile falls, realizing what Yoongi is doing. He’s reminding you of everything you left behind. Wanting you to enjoy your time here, and maybe even stay for the familiarness over everything else. You weren’t. You won’t.

“I stand at what I say. I’m not seeing him, or even being near him, alone. Jimin comes with me or will both leave together.”

Taehyung quiet gasp is heard behind you. His reaction this time being about the fear of losing his lover, and said lover stiffens beside you, but you pay them both no mind. Standing your ground as you look to the demon you once called your friend.

“I’m not sure if-“ Yoongi cuts himself short, and you see his eyes move back and forth as they swirl with darkness. Having a silent conversation with most likely the man of the hour himself.

Another ability some demons have is the ability to read minds. If two demons can read minds, then having silent conversations like this is possible. You would have be very old to obtain a power like that, though. Something you used to make fun of Seokjin adequately about. 

After a moment, Yoongi sighs. “Alright. You can bring the other human. Taehyung stays here.” He sends a pointed glare Taehyung’s way, and you don’t understand what the hatred is for hidden behind those eyes. “Come with me.”

Jimin’s hand squeezes your own, and then you both follow silently behind Yoongi. You try to ignore Taehyung’s sudden and loud gritting of teeth as Jimin gets taken away from. Each step closer to Seokjin’s office had you begin to sweat and your heart beat in your ears, anyway. The memories of how happy you used to skip this way to him flooding your mind, and further making you sweat for different reasons.

The things that went on between you and Seokjin in all parts of the castle were rather… lewd. But you never went all the way. At the time you always got frustrated when Seokjin didn’t let you you two go all the way. To complete the mating ritual that was so tempting, but now your grateful you two didn’t.

You suddenly feel weird about that fact. Seokjin could have trapped you with him for life if you both just did what was so alluring to you both instead of hovering around it. But he didn’t. It definitely wasn’t for the lack of want, you’ve been proven by him enough times with his tongue and fingers to know he wanted you, especially when what was hidden underneath his pants rutted against you in the process. But still, he never pushed it further. Not even when you begged like a whore for him, or let him push his head inside you just to tempt him yourself.

You shiver at the remembrance of that day. When you both were sweaty, in his bed, and naked. He pushed you to two orgasms already, and he was so close to striking his own resolve away to just fucking you already. Pushing the head of his cock in between your widely spread legs, and the little stimulation blew your mind.

You can’t be doing this. You can’t be remembering these types of things, or any good times you spent with him. This is how he traps you. This is why he chorused you into coming. It’s just extremely hard not think of the past when every place you step is a reminder of the past.

When the three of you make it too the office door, you push all the positive memories aside. As a last resort, even though you haven’t imagined this day so clearly in quite sometime, you think about the day it all went to shit as Yoongi knocks on the door.

Seokjin doesn’t need to ask who it is because he already knows. You hear his smooth voice carry through the door, “Come in.”

The door is opened by Yoongi, and instead of looking anywhere in the room you stare right at the floor in front of you. Remembering the tragic day that had you running out of these doors four years ago…

———

You don’t remember why you decided that day to come to Seokjin’s office unannounced. In fact, you felt you should have never been there in the office even while you push open the door. Last time you were in here was when you accidentally saw him kill a demon with a snap of his fingers.

It’s okay, though. He explained to you why the demon needed to “go,” but it still haunted you to see the blood poor out of the unnamed demons eyes and nose. The second your eyes locked in on the scene in front of you that day, Seokjin had you both swirling in smoke and transporting you both into a different room.

He was shaking with worry, and Seokjin doesn’t worry. He doesn’t contemplate things that have not happened yet, but in that moment he thought you would want to leave him forever. Even if the demon he killed was a a bad guy. One that thought killing a whole school of children was a good way to gain power. That’s how demons gained their power, after all. If not from being handed down power from their parents, then from consuming souls of mortals.

You forgave him for that. You held him in your arms and consoled him of his worries. But right now, standing outside the office you once did on that day, you feel that familiar sting of fear in the back of your head. Like you shouldn’t be entering this office right now.

You shake your head front the thought, remembering that no one but Seokjin and his youngest lackey are probably in this office at the moment, and then you push open the door without announcing yourself. You never needed to. Seokjin just always knew it was you.

Your smell, he said one day, was the reason he always knew. It always had a rose undertone to it, and one that he’s never smelt before. He would say it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever smelt, and then he would ask you to never change. Never wear perfume or change what you do because you as your natural self was gorgeous as is. 

So you push open the door with a small smile on your face for the joy of thinking you’re about to see your lover, but are disappointed when you don’t see him and instead see his youngest warrior.

Jungkook, the youngest demon in Seokjin’s kingdom, and the one who hates you the most. As your time here has lengthened, less and less people have decided to hate you. But Jungkook was not one of those few. Being young, and easily manipulated, he followed suit of his own father to think humans are nothing but batteries for demons to use to charge. And the fact that his king, the one he looks up to and wants to learn from, is soulmates with a human boils his blood.

The young demon scowls at you, and you try not to ignore the weight of knowing it’s only you and him in this room right now as you ask, “W-where’s Seokjin?”

He hisses at you, and it has you stumbling back a step. “What the fuck do you care? He’s not here and neither should you be.”

You straighten your posture, not letting this demon make you feel inferior just because Seokjin is not around to make everyone that defies you or him feel smaller. You never felt smaller around Seokjin, so you shouldn’t around this demon either.

“No. He asked me to meet him-“

“Ha!” You balk at Jungkook’s loud laugh, interrupting your words.

“What’s so funny?”

Jungkook’s smirk stretches to an irregular shape, and your two seconds away from running out the door because of it. “Your funny, little girl. To think Seokjin would ask you of anything but to spread your whore legs for him, makes me believe your lying.”

You raise a pointed eyebrow at him. Shocked and appalled by what’s he’s saying. “Well, your an asshole.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to looked shocked. “And yes he did. The maid came to me and-“

This time, you cut yourself short. Thinking back about the maid that summoned you here she looked… off. Almost possessed even. At the time you just played it off as her having an off day, but now that you see Jungkook’s gruesome smile you’re suddenly realizing your situation.

Jungkook was one of few demons, Seokjin included, that can manipulate other demons mind’s. Jungkook was second in line for Seokjin’s throne if he didn’t create an heir, so he had this ability as a high ranking demon.

“Looks like the sheep has finally realized her predicament.”

You don’t waste any time. Spinning on your heels you run towards the door, hearing Jungkook’s cackle of laughter behind you. Just when your hand clamps around the handle of the door, everything starts to turn black around you. The black fog of Jungkook’s mana surrounding you.

You scream bloody murder when you feel your skin start to heat up. A heat that is suffocating you, and making your screams turn into choked sobs. Falling to your knees and you try to look through the fog to find some light, but all you see is darkness. Each lung full of air you take feels like it’s laced with poison, and you start to spit out blood.

Unlike Seokjin, Jungkook’s abilities are much more slow. He can kill you, but it would take time. Something you find way scarier then just the blink of the eye killing, and for the first time you feel what it’s like. To slowly feel yourself die, and hearing a cackling laughter as you do.

You start to cry as you fall completely to the ground. Cradling your legs to your chest like it would somehow protect you. Each intake of air isn’t helping you stay alive like it should, but you push to keep your eyes open.

With one last resort, you yell for Seokjin. It comes out grumbled and a balk of blood comes out of your mouth as you do so, but you say his name nonetheless. You cry out his name because it’s the only person you can think of to save you, and he’s the love of your life. The person you want to be with for the rest of your life.

You want him to take care of you, and sleep next to you. You want to always be by his side, and have him tell you the stories about the carvings in the walls. You want to hear him tell you he loves you one last time, and have him smell your hair when just the whiffing of air around you isn’t enough. To feel his lips against yours just… one… last… time…

And that’s what you think about as everything turns black. Seokjin holding you close to him, your lips joined together and you whimpering when his tongue touches yours. Him chuckling against your lips from the knowledge of how easily your affected by his kisses. Then he would detach his lips from yours and tell you,

“I love you always.”

~

That near death experience should have been the worst of your day. It should have been the worst thing you ever witnessed or experienced, but it wasn’t. No. The worst thing you ever witnessed or experienced happened when you opened your eyes.

First, you’re surprised your not dead. You seriously thought you were a goner after Jungkook grabbed a hold of you. But your not. Your alive and your vision his slowly becoming clear as you smell the scent of blood in the air.

You think, at first, it’s your own blood. That the blood you spit out earlier was the culprit, but as soon as your eyes clear you see in front of what’s actually creating that metal taste in your mouth and nose.

Blood everywhere.

Blood on the walls, ceilings, and every piece of furniture in the room. It’s like someone painted the whole room with blood, and thought it looked nice enough to stay like that. It’s seeping out of every crevice of the room, and you gag at the overwhelming amount of it that you see and smell.

Your naïve enough to start patting your own chest, thinking it’s yours at first until you hear the person’s voice you thought about before blacking out behind you.

“Y/n,” Seokjin says in crying moan.

You turn around, thinking your lover will be able to explain what has happened here, but once you see him your at a loss. At a loss because you didn’t need to ask.

Seokjin has blood all over him. In his hair that you love to run your hands through, on his lips that you love to kiss, and on his clothes that you find yourself always nervously taking off. It’s all over him… but it’s not his blood.

You raise to your feet, staring at him wide eyed and jaw dropped. He takes a step forward, and your heart stings when you take a step backwards out of fear. Seokjin’s own eyes widen for a second, and you see his throat bob as he swallows.

“Y/n… this isn’t… he was going to hurt you.”

You didn’t need him to explain it. You didn’t need to explain that you were the cause of the young demons gruesome death because it was now painted everywhere. You don’t know why you didn’t expect any different. You don’t know why you didn’t expect any different from the king.

Maybe it was because you trusted him. You trusted him not to hurt other’s on your behalf, and that his possessiveness was only because he loved you. But right now, as your look at his bloody hands, you feel sick to your stomach.

Your the reason Jungkook is dead, and you love the murder to death.

———

You blink away the horror of a memory, and try your best not to choke on a sob. Smelling the air now is like you can still smell the metallic liquid everywhere. After that day, when Seokjin apologized to you over and over again for having to witness such a thing, you made a decision that would change the way you saw your future forever.

You left. You left because you didn’t want blood on your hands ever again even if it wasn’t you committing the murder. Even if the man went to attack you, kill you even, the knowledge of knowing he died so young and so gruesomely haunts you. You haven’t allowed yourself to think about that day for a long time, but you grab onto it as you and Jimin walk into the room, and you turn to see the person that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat every time you lock eyes.

“Hi Jin.”

Seokjin’s eyes lock with yours the second you allow them too. He stands from his chair as you walk into the room, and you hate the shiver that’s wanting to course through you when you see his face again.

The way he takes in your form, starting at your feet and ending at your eyes when they met for the first time. His ears twitching when he hears you say his nickname out loud for the first time in two years, and being so close to begging you to say it again, or worse... say his real name instead. 

His heart sores at having you so close to him again, and you miss the way he quickly takes in a sniff of the air. Your rose aroma lighting up his senses and making him want to pull you into an embrace so he can sniff up your smell even more. How he’s longed to have you in his arms again, and right now you're no more than a few steps away. He can easily take a few steps forward and entrap you in his arms, but as much as it pains his heart to not do so he stays standing where he is. 

You don’t know any of this. You don’t know any of what Seokjin is feeling because for one you can’t read his mind, and for two you're to distracted from seeing the person that once owned your whole heart in front of you. 

He’s still as handsome as ever. Still beautiful in every way, and it doesn’t feel like a day has gone by since you saw him last. You remember being so starstruck when you first met him over four years ago, and you wondered how it was possible for a person to look so angelic.

You fingered out how two years later, when the angelic face you’re currently looking at revealed himself as anything but an angel. You want to smack yourself for staying with him after you were given that knowledge instead of running for the hills and seeing the red flag for what it was. The red flag that demons were anything but sexy. But you still see the man in front of you as what he is. As beautiful.

And you hate yourself and him for it. For him being born with looks that would make any girl gladly drop their panties for. You swallow down the increasing amount of saliva in your mouth that forms when he smiles at you. Wanting to run up and punch him in that pretty face of his for still being able to affect you like this.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You sharply take in air when he says your name. Suddenly all the ways he used to moan your name in your ears awakening in your mind, and you clench your jaw because of it. Scowling at the demon king.

A silence stretches, and you and Seokjin don’t take your eyes off each other for a single moment. You wonder if he’s read your mind just now, something he promised so long ago not to do but you’ve come to realize he’s bad at keeping promises, and you hope he has this time. Your hateful thoughts for him filling up your mind, and you hate him even more that when he frowns at your scowl you somehow still want to sooth him.

Jimin squeezes your hand, taking you out of your staring contest with Seokjin to look at your fearful friend. You sigh, bringing yourself back to reality but still holding onto the hatred you’ve convinced yourself you have for the demon in front of you.

“You wanted me here, now what?”

Seokjin chuckles at your straightforwardness. Loving and missing how you never feared to tell him how you truly felt. Soulmate bond aside, he thinks he would have fell for you even if it wasn’t there to begin with. Everyone was always afraid to tell him the truth about how they felt. Fear out of him killing them for speaking their minds, or for being tortured until they changed their minds. 

This was a fear brought down on him from his father. To unpopular belief, and your past encounters with Seokjin making you think otherwise, Seokjin only kills others that rightful deserve it. He doesn’t kill others for having opposite opinions or even standing up for themselves. Justice in the demon world is very straight forward. You do something wrong, slap on the wrist. You break a law to the point it almost destroys everything the demons have created, then you die. There's no second chances for those who disturb the universal peace. 

There’s only been one time that Seokjin ever killed for sport, and it was to protect you, but he knew it would come at a cost. Even before he ripped the young demon prince to shreds, he knew it would cost him his relationship with you. He wanted to be the man that you deserved and didn’t let his born with trait of being possessive and protective over you get in his way, but he couldn’t stop himself once he saw you the way you were. Dying and crying out for his help. So, he did what he promised you and himself he would never do. Killed someone—demon—for touching you like the possessive bastard he is.

And he doesn’t regret it. Losing you, yes, but never saving you. You're still alive today because of him, and he hopes having you back here will help you remember that fact about Seokjin. That he would always save you no matter what the cost was. Even if the cost was your love for him.

Seokjin steps forwards, closing the big gap between the three of you by five feet and you stiffen in your spot by the increasing proximity of the two of you. “Yes, you're here. Did you miss it?”

You raise a curious eyebrow at his dumb and sudden question. Of course you missed this place! But you’re not going to be telling him that. “No. I didn’t miss it no more than I missed you.”

Seokjin winces at your words, feeling them cut into his heart but he tries to remind himself you’re just angry and don’t mean it. You can’t mean it because your his soulmate and that type of love is never changing. 

You feel a little guilty for your harsh words, but you stand your ground on the matter without blinking. There’s was no way you were going to be nice to this guy, even if you still find yourself desperately wanting him to smile again. 

“Why did you want me here, Jin? Why did you want me here so badly that you even affected my friend?!” You punch out your words one by one, and you hope it hits him right in the stomach like you know his answer will do to you.

Seokjin smiles... and it kills you. 

“You know why, y/n. It’s been two years, but I know you haven’t forgotten who we are to each other...” You squeeze Jimin's hand to the point he winces, and Seokjin glances down at your conjoined hands. He feels the slightest bit of jealous for the boy next to you being able to touch you like that, but he puts it to the side when he remembers who he is to Taehyung. 

Looking back at you, he softens his voice when he confesses, “I still love you, y/n.” You shut your eyes, thinking that would somehow make his words disappear with your sight. “And I know you still love me.”

Eyes open again and full of accusation. “What happened to never reading my mind?”

“So you admit that you still love me?”

“Absolutely not!”

Seokjin chuckles, thanking all of his years of knowledge about you for what he’s about to say next. “Then why are your ears red?’

You subconsciously touch your ears with the hand not still in Jimin's, and curse at yourself. One thing you and Seokjin have in common is that your ears will turn red if you’re lying, even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet that you’re, in fact, lying. 

“It’s hot in here,” You explain, trying to breathe through the lie this time and not make your face red as well. 

Seokjin glides his bottom lip through his teeth before he smirks at you. He steps forward, and your back straightens. He steps forward until he's only a foot away from you, and you clench your teeth when the proximity has your knees almost buckling underneath you. 

He knows what he doing. He’s thinking he can flirt or bat his eyelashes into making you fall in desperate love for him again, but no way were you falling for it. You won’t allow him to get to you.

“Well, we are in hell, darling. And you're standing in front of the king of it.”

You scoff. “Is that your new way of flirting? Throwing around your title like it will some how get me back.”

“Who says I'm flirting?” That smirk on his face does, and you realize now he’s wanting this banter. He’s wanting you to talk to him, and react how you used to anytime these types of play fights went on with the two of you.

So, you ignore his question and ask him another. “What if I don’t want to live here again?” His smirk falls. “I left for a reason. A reason that very much involves you, so why, in all ways, did you think bringing me here would suddenly change that? You do know it’s been two years. I know you do. But in two fricken years you thought the best way to win me back was to trap my friend in a relationship, and then bring me here to... what? Win me back with your flirtatious tongue and pretty face?”

You feel your face heat up from your last few words, Seokjin’s smile kicking back up at knowing you still find him attractive. Also, this wasn’t Seokjin’s first idea. It feels like his hundredth, but in reality he’s only had three real rational ideas.

One idea was to just... take you. That was the worst idea, and one that still pains him to think about, but it was an idea nonetheless. To claim you as his while you still loved him, and keep you with him forever. Once that toxic idea simmered down, his next idea of talking to you in person was brought up.

Seokjin has secretly looked over you for the past two years a lot, and some of those times he wished he didn’t. The day he decided to reveal himself to you, to talk to you and convince you he’s not a bad guy and still loves you... you were on a date. Seokjin knows if he were to even say the guys name you wouldn’t remember, since that date was the first and the last time you ever saw him, but it was still a date. A way for you to get over Seokjin, and in return break his heart further. 

Seokjin isn’t a very jealous person, but he finds himself always jealous of the people you allow close to you besides him. It never got to the point where he wanted to control you, that’s not who he is. But when he saw you on the date with that guy, he wanted to rip him to shreds. He wanted to kill him for gaining the attraction of you like he once did, and then devour his soul so there was no chance of another one of him in the future. 

Seokjin got very depressed after that. He didn’t leave his room because if he did he was afraid he would go and kill the guy, and then prove you right that he was exactly like his father and all the other blood thirsty demons he’s executed in the past. It wasn’t until a whole month had passed that he finally left his room, finally calm and able to breathe, so he decided he had to be creative with his next plan.

It just so happens that on that exact day, Taehyung, his newest demon recruit to his castle and the youngest, admitted he found his soulmate. He said a lot of regretful things to the young demon that day. A lot of regrettable threats that he knows he will have to apologize to him one day for, but it’s all worth it if he gets to say to you the words that make you react the way you do. 

“No. That’s not how I'll be winning you back because I know you. You're not someone who can be toyed with, or deserves to be either... It’s just-... I’m desperate, y/n. I’m desperate for you because I fucking love you, and it pains me to the fucking core that I made you so scared of me that day that you left me. I just—If you could just-…Please just give me one more chance. A year tops, please.”

You don’t even realize you’ve let go of Jimin’s hand until Seokjin is finished speaking. Your heart, stomach, fucking brain cells feel like they all are about to explode! You’re surprised even when a tear leaks down your face, and you allow Seokjin to place his hand on your cheek and wipe it away with his thumb. He takes his hand away right after, but you don’t miss the way you both shivered at the small contact. 

You swallow over the lump in your throat, trying and failing to keep up the tough girl act as Seokjin’s sweet words till echo in your head. Seokjin has always been so good with words, and you had a feeling that if anything were to destroy your resolve of never staying here again it would be Seokjin's incredibly beautiful words. 

Words he only always said to you. 

“One week,” You say in response, and Seokjin smiles with teeth and all.

“I’m charming, but I'm not that good... six months.”

“One month.”

“Forever.”

You roll your eyes, and find yourself cracking a smile when he chuckles at his own funny way of make this deal seem less like a business venture. But a deal with the devil it still is.

“One month... Seokjin.”

You’re a little devilish too because once his name on your lips registers to his ears, you could have said a day and he would have blindly said, “Deal.”

———

 A few things happened on that first day in the kingdom, one of them being that as soon as this deal was set, Jimin was “suddenly” needed to be somewhere with Taehyung. You called bullshit, but you let him go nonetheless because you know from experiences that the best place for Jimin to be is with his soulmate—who just so happens to be a demon too, and why you’re in this whole mess in the first place, but you’ll continue yelling at the pair about that fact later.

Seokjin luckily had a meeting to go to, and that just left you by yourself… mostly. You once lived in this castle, so you thought maybe Seokjin just trusted you to know your way around the place. 

WELL! No more than an hour later, you realize what “being left on your own” meant for you for now on. It meant a barely concealing himself Yoongi was around. As soon as you felt his presence, you were in one of the hallways that the bedrooms stretched through. You stopped in your tracks, rolled your eyes, then yelled out into the not so empty hallway, “You can come out at any time!”

Yoongi then popped his head out behind a sculpture, his invisible cloak of power falling off of him. You smile at the blonde headed demon, and wait in your spot until he stands next to you. The you both continue on your re-tour around the castle side by side.

“I maybe just assuming somethings, but it seems like you were following me,” You say with an accusing raised eyebrow, and thinned out lips.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said no, would you?”

“Nope.”

“Thought so.” You chuckle at Yoongi’s way of just easily getting around the subject. You secretly wanted to ask if Seokjin set him up to do this, but you didn’t want to seem like you-

“Yes, he very much did.”

You sputter at his invasion of your head. Smacking him in the shoulder for good measure. “Don’t do that!”

Yoongi just shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal, but then he lays on you an accusation thats very much a big deal. “Why do you care if Seokjin thinks you like him?”

“Because I don’t. You all know I don’t want to be here, so showing any bit liking his way would be futile for me.” 

You both hit a sharp turn in the hallway, and Yoongi looks at the back of your head like you’re crazy. Out of all demons, Yoongi doesn’t really care much about human. He doesn’t care if there around or not, just as long as they stay out of his and his kings way, and currently, you’re in his kings way. Making him freeze all important meeting for the next month as we speak. 

Seokjin didn’t tell you this, of course, but he doesn’t want a single distraction when it comes to winning you back. That includes meetings like which clan gets which part of earth to feed off of. Seokjin is the one to make those decisions, but since he’s going to be putting it on hold for you, Yoongi would rather push this little drama fest a long as much as possible. “But you do love him.”

You stop in your tracks again, breathe through your nose, then turn to face your demon friend. “No. I. Do. Not! ... Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Huh, I don’t know. Maybe because A, I remember what you two were like when you lived here—disgusting to watch, by the way—and unlike Seokjin I don’t give a shit about what you think about reading your thoughts.” You’re about to tell him that you don’t think anything of the sort. That he’s clearly reading someone else’s mind, but then he leans in closely to you and says, “So an seven inch dildo was the closet in size, huh?”

Your jaw drops and your face becomes as red as a tomato. 

Yoongi looks at you with a neutral face, not even giving you time to explain or hit him as he continues to walk forward and yells back at you, “Yup. So not in love.”

Okay, so, he was clearly talking about the toy you bought and what you... bought it for. It was weak moment for you. A couple of months ago you started to feel very low, and your dreams of Seokjin suddenly become a regular basis thing. You were lucky that after you left and got settled, that your mind was only consumed with thoughts of Seokjin at night maybe once a month, but out of nowhere it became an every night thing. 

You hated your head, and you hated your body for reacting in such a way when the dreams became sexual. It got to the point that you manned up and bought a fricken sex toy to satisfy yourself. Thinking it would help with the dreams at least a little bit. Seven inches being the best you can find and best to compensate with your dreams. But those dreams don’t mean you love him still. There's a difference between sexual attraction and love. One of which you think you’ll sadly always have for the demon king while the other one you kicked out of your headspace a long time ago. 

Just when Yoongi turns a corner to leave you there alone in the hallway, you shout at him, finally getting over the shock of what he said, “That doesn’t mean I love him!”

“What doesn’t mean you love who?” 

You jump, crying out, “Jeaus!,” and spinning around to see an already smirking Seokjin. He has his arms behind his back, and you have a feeling by the way he’s looking at you right now that he heard your entire conversation. 

You wipe at your face like that will some how remove the very prominent blush on your face, then stutter out a unconvincing, “N-nothing.”

“Mhmm,” Seokjin says as he leans in closer to you. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, and cross your arms in a pout. Not missing the way Soekjin’s eyes flick downwards toward your breasts popping out of your shirt now when the action pushed your breasts upwards. You also don’t miss the way you feel the smile grow on your face because of it. Stupid ass emotions. Always making hating other people more difficult!

“Have you found your way around, okay?” 

You roll your eyes again, and turn to continue on your track of wondering around the castle. Seeing in the corner of your eye a still grinning Seokjin walking next to you. 

“Yup. I did live here for two years, in case you forgot.”

Seokjin chuckles at your attitude filled answer, “Trust me, la mia rosa. I have not forgotten.”

You turn you head to the other side, shut your eyes and trying your best not to stutter when you demand, “Please don’t call me that.”

Seokjin bites his bottom lip, trying to stop his smile from growing. “Why would I do that? I also haven’t forgotten how it used to affect you.”

La mia rosa. Translating from Italian to English it means my rose. A name that used to turn you into a puddle of goo when he called you that, and he nor you have forgotten said feelings it brought up in you.

You turn back to face him, ready to lie through your teeth and say it’s not like that anymore, but once you turn Seokjin has put himself mer inches away from you. Clearing any words that were going to come out of your mouth. You back up, and he follows with each step. It’s not until you hit a wall that he stops in his tracks, but you have to look upwards more to talk to him directly. His already tall frame making your neck also have to stretch and reveal your neck to him.

Seokjin’s eyes are drawn to the smooth surface of you neck. A place he remembers drawing out the symbol of his mate mark on, but never pushing himself to do so. He watches a single drop of sweat drip down your neck, and he’s so tempted to wipe it clean for you. To touch your skin again and feel one of many favorite parts he enjoyed kisses and nipping to the point you would wither underneath him. 

It isn’t until you whisper his name, suddenly sounding like your mouth has gone dry, that Seokjin’s eyes flick back towards you. He moves forward, and you’re helpless to let his nose trace your own. Breathing in sharply when you feel a part of his you used to love admiring so close to you. Unable to control yourself, your eyes flick down to his lips. His plush lips so close to touching your own, and you have to hold yourself back from falling into them. His lips are just so-

“Say it again,” Seokjin begs of you. 

You blink up at him, staring up at him through your eyelashes and suddenly feeling ten times hotter then you were a few moments ago. “W-what?”

Seokjin smirks, and for the first time since seeing him again you’re not mad at him for it. His close proximity is dizzying, and making you forget everything you promised yourself. “I said, say my name again... please.”

You swallow, glancing around the hallway. But each time your eyes move they are trained back to his own. It’s like a vortex. You unable to look away, but feeling like you shouldn’t be around the destructive pools. The please is what gets to you, though. It’s asked so gentle, and almost like he’s dying to hear you say that singular word as much as he needs air to breathe. You lick your lips, whimpering when his nose slides across your forehead next. 

“Please, la mia rosa.”

And now you’re helpless not too.

“Seokjin.”

The demon sucks in air through his teeth. Such a small gift from you has made his once dying heart shutter at the sound. Seokjin has dreamt about you so many times since your departure from his life, but never, not once, did you call him by his real name in his dreams. It became a torturing affair. Just a few months ago the dreams would repeat themselves and then slowly started making him restless. 

You would be in his bed, and the dream would always start and end the same from there. He would think it feels so real. That you've come back to him and want to complete the ritual of making you his mate. Seokjin wouldn’t hold back because he was desperate for you. Waiting two whole years—no, six years to finally make you his in every way has made him this desperate. But then, when you would speak, it wouldn't be of his name. 

Always Jin. It's a nickname you gave him, and he adored it, but it wasn’t his name. Even if he asked you to say it, you wouldn't. No matter what the scenario, you would never say his name.

So right now, Seokjin is a mess. He falls to his knees in front of you, not caring if anyone were to pass and see their king in such a lowly state. He’s embracing your middle, and you freeze when you feel his two strong arms wrap around you. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” He stays silent. “Seokjin?”

And then you hear weeping. Crying against your stomach is the mighty demon king himself because you said his name. Not that you forgave him, or even want to be with him again, but you simply being here—being real—and saying his name has broken the demon king right down the middle.

“I've waited for you for so long,” Soekjin says through a sob. “Fuck, I've missed you so much... You have no idea how much it hurt to be away from you.”

Your eyes widen, replaying his last words. He said something earlier about being in pain for not being by you, but you just thought it was him being dramatic with his sweet words. Now, as he withers on his knees in front of you, you know what he says is completely real.

Most of your relationship with Seokjin revolved around you finding out information about the demons soulmates and mating rituals through small hints. But one thing that has you holding back a sob is what he just said to you. Something you know will happen for sure if the two of you were to ever....mate.

“H-hurt you?”

Soekjin nods against your stomach, inhaling your sweet smell like it’s his lifeline and squeezing his arms tighter around you. “Yes, la mia rosa. Hurt so fucking much.”

“B-but I thought... but we never...”

Seokjin understands what you’re implying, and he sighs against your stomach. He was a terrible person when you two were together. He kept so many secrets from you, and with that mixing up your knowledge of his world with it. It's true, if you two were to mate and complete the bond between the two of then it would pain Soekin to the very core of him to be away from you. It’s one of the reason why he never pushed completing the ritual because he knew you would hate to have someone so obsessed with you. It was even one of the first things you told him after he portrayed his possessive tendencies the first time.

One man walking down the street whistling at you, and Seokjin was ready to rip his throat out. It wasn't until you slapped him in the face, and told him to calm the fuck down that he was fine again. Black eyes turning brown, and gray skin turning white again.

But the thing is, you don’t need a complete the mate bond for a person to feel pain from being away from the other person they love. No, this has to do with Seokjin’s love for you. His undying devotion towards you. He doesn’t need a soul or mate bond to tell him he never wants to be away from you because he has enough pure love for you to know he would never want to be without you again. 

“This isn’t the mate bond, y/n.” Soekjin whispers against your stomach. He looks up at you at the same time you look straight down at him. Your eyes meeting and never straying from each other. “This isn’t the soul bond either.”

He takes you hand at your side, and places it on his heart. The rapid beating of it under your palm making your breathing stop altogether. 

“This is because I love you always.”

———

A few things happened on that first day in the kingdom. Yes, a few strange but heartwarming things. You ended up sitting there with Seokjin, feeling lighter than air, for what felt like hours. Some moments were filled with silence, while other’s were formed with chatter of all the things you've missed from each others lives.

It was hard not to let go of the past when Seokjin was literally on his knees and confessing his feelings to you all over again. You even made it a point to tease him about it eventually, and comparing it to the first time he told you he loved you. 

It was the same day you found out he was a demon, but before that whirlwind of knowledge he decided to lay on you a whirlwind of emotions. You never saw Seokjin shed a tear before, but he cried many happy tears that day when you told him you loved him back and that you have for awhile. Seokjin is a very emotional being, but sadly he only ever feels safe enough to express those feelings when with you even to this day. 

It’s crazy to think of everything that’s transpired since then. How many heart aches and heart throbs you and Seokjin have went through, and put on each other. One gut wrenching thing being having to ask where your room was, since you never really had your own room in the kingdom. 

You know Seokjin was thinking the same thing as you. That you never had your own room because once you moved into the castle your spot was always next to him even while sleeping. But even after everything he’s literarily laid at your feet of emotions, you still can’t forgive him. Not yet, anyways. 

It’s only been one day since you've reunited, and you're not letting go of what you promised yourself. And you continued to keep that promise for the days that followed. You stayed at a safe distance since the moment you two shared in the hallway, and kept yourself busy with walking around the castle with Jimin. 

It wasn’t until one night, a week after you've arrived, that you find yourself breaking your promise to yourself once again...

It was a restless night for you. The plaguing dreams of Seokjin and you walking around the castle once when you first entered the kingdom all those year ago resurfacing out of nowhere. You luckily woke up before the dream of a memory got to the part where he kissed and pinned you against a tree that day, and you suddenly felt very thirsty.

You looked around the mauve room, feeling a chill run down your spine as the darkness makes the already dark interior more horror movie-ish. You shake your head, remembering the fact that you’re in a castle full of demons, and that the boogie man or whoever it is that comes out from under kids beds has nothing on your castle companions. 

You get up from the bed, hearing the not very used mattress creak underneath you as you stand. You wonder why that room was even there in the first place, but when you brought it up in front of Jimin, Taehyung felt welcomed to tell you it was made for the kids future wife. If the king never found his soulmate, then most likely he would have to be a part of a loveless marriage and that would be the queens room. Knowing what that room was supposed to be used for, and that it’s you out of all people that get to sleep in it made you feel... honestly, you weren’t sure at this point. 

You do know, however, that you're very thirsty. You walk to your bedroom door, about to roam down to the kitchens only used for human guests since demons didn’t need to eat real food, to get a glass of water. But your thirst disappears once you open the door. 

With the pull of the wooden doors handle, a once sleeping Soekjin falls down with it. Him waking up instantly when his head hits the floor. You stare down at him, wide eyed and baffled that he was sleeping on the floor and against your bedroom door. 

“Seokjin! What are you doing here?” You whisper yell at him even though no one else but you sleeps in this hallway that your room is located at. 

Seokjin blinks up at you, suddenly realizing he’s been caught sleeping outside your room, and then stands up to his full length in the blink of an eye. He smooths out his black leather jacket that he’s still wearing since daytime, and tries to play off what he's been doing everyday since you arrived here as something new. 

“I couldn't sleep.”

You glance around the room like it will have a better answer than the one he just gave you. “So you'd decided the best way for you to sleep was outside my room?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip nervously, and realizes there’s no real better way to explain this situation with anything but the truth. “I sleep better when I'm near you, and-... and I just wanted to be near you.”

His last few words are said in a a whisper, but everything is so quiet right now that you heard everything. Your hand goes slack on the door, and you feel your whole body deflate when looking at a desperate looking Seokjin. A look you’ve been seeing on him a lot lately when he’s trying to get your attention. Attention you've been trying to point at anyone and anywhere but him. 

You sigh, and give into your resolve when the guilt of what you have been doing suddenly hits you. The man told you it hurts him to be away from you, and you’ve been trying to do exactly that. Now, that’s just cruel. So, with another breathe of a sigh and seeing Seokjin’s pouty look, you gesture your arm into the room.

“Just get in here.”

Seokjin smiles brightly when you offer him to come in, but he tries to cover it up right after by coughing into his fist. You try to hold back a smile as you watch him walk into your room, him acting like a smiling doofus about it and failing at covering up his happiness.

Before you could second guess yourself, or even think about how this is going to be incredibly awkward, you get back into bed and under the covers. Not facing Seokjin who’s currently standing on the other side of the bed. You quickly tuck yourself in, pressing the blanket high up to your neck even though your white oversized t-shirt, and blue Mickey Mouse shorts are not even close to anything sexy. You face the opposite wall and hold your breathe to hear what Seokjin is doing next to you.

It takes him a whole minute to move, but when he does you hear what sounds like a movement of clothing—him probably taking off his leather jacket from earlier— and then you feel the bed dip as he gets into bed. It’s complete silence between the two of you now. You could hear a pin drop in this room, but that’s expected when you both are supposed to be going to bed. But after what just transpired, not to mention you have your ex laying were inches away from you, there’s no way you’re going to sleep anytime soon.

Seokjin shifts in his spot in the bed, and you suddenly feel heat radiate against your back. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll think you’re asleep, but he already knows your not.

“Y/n,” He whispers close to your ear, and you have to hold back a shiver when you fell his breathe fan your hair. “I know your not sleeping.”

You sigh, opening your eyes, but not turning to face him. “What do you want, Jin?”

He smiles when he hears you hiss out his nickname. Still as feisty as ever. “Can-… can I hold you?”

Can he hold you? Can he hold you. You should scream the answer no. Kick him out for even suggesting such a thing, but instead you say nothing. The silence stretches between you two, and you guess Seokjin took that nonanswer as a yes because then your feeling an arm wrap around your middle.

You stiffen when you feel his strong arm hold you, him resting his chin against your shoulder.

“W-what are you doing?” You know what he’s doing. He’s cuddling you, but what you don’t understand is why?!

Seokjin suddenly sniffs in your hair, and it takes everything in your power not to whimper when he does that. He used to love sniffing up your scent especially in your hair. Although to some that seems so weird, but to you it was always so adorable. Like he loved every part of you so much that he even loved the shampoo you choose to use.

“Nothing,” Seokjin says. But it’s not just a whisper like before. It sounds deeper, alluring even. You try to close your eyes again, but you can’t help yourself and peak downward when his hand starts to rub at your stomach through the shirt.

“Is this, by any chance, my shirt?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes you want to kiss it off. I MEAN SMACK IT OFF! Fuck he’s making this hating him thing so hard right now.

It is his shirt. A shirt you stole from him before you left the castle the first time, but your not going to admit that to him.

“No, it is not your shirt.”

“Oh, really? Then who’s shirt is it?”

You try to think of a good enough answer. You could have just said it was yours and you have a liking of oversized shirts, but because your feeling like being a total bitch tonight for some reason you say something that you know will really get him heated, but at the same time isn’t a total lie.

“An exs.” Seokjin stops rubbing your stomach, and you smirk when you hear him growl close to your ear. “Should probably return it to him, actually. Been awhile since I’ve seen him.”

You feel Seokjin stiffen behind you, and you think he’s totally bought your somewhat-lie. But then he’s breathing out a sigh of relief, and your raising an eyebrow at the wall in confusion.

“It is your exs.”

“Huh?”

“Because it’s mine… trust me, I know my shirts when I see them. Especially since this is the only shirt that went missing after you… left.”

You shut your eyes when you feel yourself getting emotional from how he said the word left. Like it was painful for him to say it in the same sentence, so he had to space it out. Making it seem like you leaving wasn’t real.

“Maybe it is,” You mumble to yourself without even thinking, and even though he says nothing in return you can imagine him smiling behind you right now. It’s a smile you used to cherish so much that you can imagine each one of his straight white teeth in a row.

The silence stretches between the two of you again, and he’s resumed rubbing your stomach. All you can hear now is his breathing close to your ear, and it’s relaxing you to the point you feel your eyes actually slowly shutting to fall asleep. Just when you’re about to close your eyes again, readying the whole sequence of going into dream land, you feel a singular kiss against the back of your neck that has your whole body wide awake again.

You stiffen, and that singular kiss vibrates throughout your whole body. When you don’t say anything or even protest against it, Seokjin kisses the same spot again. Drawing out the press of his lips against you this time. You don’t move, and you don’t say anything. Instead, you shut your eyes and just allow it to happen. It’s been far to long since anyone has kissed you that way, and right now you’re too relaxed to care who it is.

Seokjin continues to press slow kisses against the back of your neck, and when he rounds your neck to kiss the side of it you stretch your neck to give him more access. He smiles during the kiss to the side of your neck when you do this. That you’ve finally just sercombe to letting him love you the way he used to. 

Although, if your memory is correct, when he would kiss you like this it would lead to much more dirty and sensual things. You can’t let him do that. You shouldn’t let him push any further. This is enough freedom for him for tonight so you should really tell him to-

Seokjin slips his hand underneath your shirt at the same time he kisses behind your ear. Him kissing your sweet spot he knows so well at the same time his fingers dance across your stomach has you gasping. He continues to smile as he touches and kisses you, and now you’re practically shaking in his grasp. Your not sure if this is because you’re basically touch starved or if you actually like it, but you even let out a soft moan against closed lips when he nibbles at your ear.

He groans against you ear when he hears the first moan he’s coaxed out of you in two years. Dragging his hand up higher, so it’s right below your breasts on your sternum.

Without removing his face from near your ear, he whispers to you invitingly, “Do you want me to keep going?”

God, fuck, say no! Just do it! Rip off the brand aid and have him get off of you. Be the tough, strong girl you’ve been acting like this past week and get him away from you!

You may have thought all these things more then once, but instead you say in a small voice, “please.”

Seokjin bites his bottom lip, staring down at your restless expression from the side, and then he resumes kissing down your neck. With the slowest of movements you feel his hand that was once resting at your sternum traveling into the valley of your breasts. His wrist making contact with your already hard nipple, and you don’t hold back the breathy moan that comes out of you this time.

After a few more kisses at your neck, and a few other ghostly touches around your breasts, Seokjin removes himself from you entirely. You blink open your eyes and stare at the wall. You’re actually about to protest against him leaving you, but once you look to the side to look at him directly he’s going down your body and straddling your ankles. Yes, ankles. 

His face is right at your now exposed stomach, and he places a soft kiss against the exposed skin. You bite your lips as you watch him cascade both his hands up your stomach and under your shirt again. When his hands finally cups your breasts, you arch your back up into them. Moaning as he pinch’s and press against your nipples with both hands all the while he continues to assault your stomach with kisses.

In between moans and explosions of pleasure, you look down at Seokjin and see his eyes already directed at you. It makes everything you’re already feeling right now ten times worse.

“Fuck, Seokjin!” You cry out when he twists your nipples with his pointer and thumbs. He groans into a kiss against your stomach, moving his face kiss yo your stomach faster then he did before. When his center reaches your leg, you feel his hard cock against your cafe. Now you know the magic word to get him going.

You say his name over and over, each one louder then the last. Just like you’re touched starved for love he’s starved for your whimpers. He ruts against your thigh, and you have to grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself—tilting your head back as you moan out his name again.

“Shit, baby, you sound so pretty. I missed your voice so much. I missed you so much,” You feel tears float down your face, and it’s because you’ve missed him too. You missed being this close to him, and talking to him, and just holding him. You missed all the things only your dreams allowed you to have for two years.

“mmm… I missed you too.”

With one last pull on both your nipples, Seokjin pushes your shirt up until both your breasts are exposed to him. He attaches his mouth to your left nipple. Nibbling and sucking on the bud as his hand pinches and twist the other one. You grab onto his hair—not too hard to pull it, but enough to keep him there. Not like he was actually going to go anyway. His tongue swirls the bud and your arching up into his mouth so he can some how take more of you.

If Seokjin could, he would consume all of you. He’s practically trying to suck your nipples right off your body, and making them feel sensitive to the touch. You’ve always been so sensitive on this part of you, and it just so happens to be his second favorite part of you to touch. His first favorite part being what’s currently extremely damp in between your legs.

“More, Seokjin. Please give me more!”

Your pussy is throbbing by now, and you want more then anything to feel his fingers inside of you… well, there’s one other thing, but you know he would never do that to you. He’s lucky to have you the way he does right now. He can wait a little bit longer to ask you to be his mate, and finally complete what’s been teased over both your heads for far too long.

Seokjin detaches himself from your nipple, smirking up at your fucked out expression. You don’t think there’s been a single time you’ve closed your mouth since he started touching your nipples. Having to lick your lips since they’ve gone dry.

“More? What could I possible do, that’s more?” Seokjin closes in on your lips. Hovering above the one place he has yet to kiss at the same time one of his hands touches your thigh. It’s all a losing battle. Everything with Seokjin against you is making you crumble into the bed, and you honestly forgot what it was like for you to try and hate him.

You never hated him. That’s why. Not for a single second. You were angry, yes. Upset, most definitely. But you never once hated him. Now it’s just a call of if this relationship is right or now, but at the moment you don’t care if it is. You just want him to touch you and kiss you until you pass out from oversensitivity.

So you say, “Anything you want.” And you mean it. You would give him your heart if he asked you right now, and you know he would do the same if his groan from your words means anything.

Seokjin smashes his lips to yours, and what starts out as a small whimper turns into a loud moan against his lips. The hand once on your thigh digging right under your shorts and stroking your clit immediately. As much as you want to enjoy the first taste of his lips you’ve had in two years, the stimulation he’s giving your clit right now is making it hard to focus on anything else.

He eventually does detach himself from your lips, biting his lip right after with wide eyes so he can capture everyone of your faces that you’re making right now.

“So beautiful, y/n. Your so pretty and so fucking hot… I bet your still tight as you used to be.”

You grab onto the bed sheets when his finger starts to slide across your entrance. The tip of his finger almost going in because you’re so wet from all the stimulation he’s been giving you up until now.

“I-I-… I haven’t…” You can’t even say it. But you want too. You want to make sure he knows the truth about what exactly this part of you has been doing the past two years.

“Huh? Couldn’t quite catch that, baby. Looks like you’ll have to say it again.” He’s smiling, and you want to kiss the smile right off of him. That’s right kiss. Forget your incompetence earlier, you want to kiss those plush lips until you can’t breathe anymore.

You swallow, trying and failing not to moan as his thumb starts to rub at your clit now. He’s really not making it easy to talk right now… or breathe… or even think!

“I said… I could n-never—fuck!—I could never find the right size!” You literally screamed your words as his finger finally enters you. All so he can stop again and look at you with a question in his eyes.

“Right size?”

You swallow, face heating up because you know what you’re about to say is either going to embarrass you forever or make Seokjin so hard he’ll cum in his pants.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since you.” Seokjin slowly nods his head in understanding. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t use… other things to fuck myself with.”

Fuck. You said it. And Seokjin heard every word—understood every word. You were right. He’s hard as a fucking rock to the point he needed to bite his bottom lip so hard it almost bled to not cum. A bunch of images of when you would play with yourself surfaced in his brain. He would stop watching you in the shadows immediately when he realized he came to secretly see you at a time like that, leaving the area altogether, but that didn’t stop him from jerking off into his pillow when he teleported home.

“A-and…” Seokjin coughs into his hand that’s not currently inside you, slowly moving that hand again too. “What would you think about when you fucked yourself?”

You tilt your head back, enjoying the slow pleasure he’s pressing into your walls right now. “That’s just it. I-it was never big enough to be real.” You open your eyes to look at him. “But I always thought of you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the teasing from you any longer. Seokjin smashes his lips against yours again, and it’s like he’s trying to consume you as he does it. Attacking your tongue, biting your lips, not a single part of your lips or mouth was safe from him. And neither was your pussy.

Seokjin slips in a second finger at the same time he moves his legs in between yours. He’s now fully on top of you, and you feel his rock hard cock through his pants against your thigh.

Fuck you want him to fuck you. Fuck but you really shouldn’t. It’s an ongoing battle in your brain as his fingers fuck you so good, and you feel him hump his clothed cock against your leg.

You remember the first time you ever saw it. How you were scared shitless at thinking he would split you in two, but feeling lucky that he didn’t take you that night. It was just the night after that, and every night after that, that you were practically begging him to take you then.

Feeling him in your hands was a different experience. It was something you could never fit your mouth, but in your hands it felt like you controlled the demon on top of you by the literal balls.

So, while you two were still kissing, Seokjin had you clenching around two long curved fingers, and you snaked your hand in between your sandwiched bodies. You grab ahold of him instantly—since he’s not very hard to find—and swallow his gasp that soon turns into a rumbling moan.

Your only touching him through his lose fitted clothes, but Seokjin is so hard right now he thinks he’ll be cumming like a virgin soon enough. “Fuck, I missed your hand on me. Keep touching me, baby.”

You were going to say a sultry gladly, but then you feel his lips on your neck’s sweet spot again and moaned. You stroke his length with earnest. Wanting him to feel as good as he is making you right now. And your “feeling good” is about to hit its ultimate peak when Seokjin pushes another finger inside of you. Stretching you out and making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

You don’t even realize your hand has stopped stroking but still wrapped around him until you feel him start to fuck your hand. Fucking your juicy pussy at the same pace with his fingers.

“Fuck! Seokjin, I’m gonna cum!”

He continues to bite and kiss at your neck, fingering you relentlessly, and fucking himself into your hand as you ride out your earthquaking—no, shattering orgasm. You honestly have no idea how you’ve been able to satisfy yourself up until now because the orgasm that rips through you has you close to passing out.

Seokjin feels you almost collapse underneath him, and he pushes himself to completion. All he needed to do was feel you cum all over his hand, and grab ahold of your breast one last time to push himself there. Still grinding against your hand until his own orgasm ceases.

He slowly peels your hand off of him, and himself off of you. Gently rolling you both over so you’re right up against each other the whole time. You feel lighter then air. Someone could punch you right now and you wouldn’t be able to feel it. You do feel, however, Seokjin’s arms wrap around your middle again and him lay your head against his chest.

Just before you pass out from utter bliss, you feel him kiss your temple, and whisper against forehead,

“And now we have forever, la mia rosa.”

That’s not completely true, however. Because for Seokjin he always had forever for you. A forever love for you, and an endless loving soul to share with you. One that as soon as you give him the okay now, no matter how long it takes, he will tell you everyday what it truly means to be soulmates with a demon…

That he loves you always and forever.

-

-

-

Part two

[idabbleincrazy]

A Little Bit of Incentive Goes a Long Way

Day One - Fingers

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E

Pairing: Spangel (mentions of various Whirlwind pairings)

Word Count: 2957

Warnings: PWP, smut, finger kink, oral, cockslut!Angel - specifically for Spike's cock, subby Angel, biting, anal fingering, come swallowing, come eating, dirty talk, degradation kink, face fucking, deep throating, office sex, hand job, coming in pants, coming on command (it's dirty, yall!)

Summary: Spike has always had a thing for Angel's hands. Good thing Angel has always had a thing for Spike's cock, and knows how to give them both what they want.

A/N: this is so vastly opposite of what I originally thought I was gonna write for this prompt, and man did it end up raunchy! Written for @suck-tember

Squares Filled: Swallowing ( @kinky-things-happen ), Free Space ( @mfbingo )

Spike hated meetings. He hated being summoned to the conference room every afternoon. Hated having to listen as Percy droned on about status reports and headways made in the magicks department, Brain Girl spelled out the mind-numbing physics and logistics in excruciating detail, Big Green gossiped about one washed-out star or another, and Charlie interspersed random Latin phrases into his run down of the week's court cases.

Mostly, he hated having to sit so damn close to Angel. It was a large table, ten or so other places he could've sat. But, the one time he tried to, everyone kept looking back and forth at him and Angel, and Fred had pulled him aside afterwards and asked him if he and Angel had been fighting again. So, in order to keep the slight brunette and the rest of the lot of his back, he kept to his usual spot.

He had always had a thing for Angel's hands, since the day Dru had brought him home to show off to her Sire. As he'd stepped from the shadow of the doorway into the lamplight, William had caught sight of those fingers as Angelus reached up to wipe the small drop of blood from his cheek, had watched as he'd flicked the drop of headily aromatic liquid away and had felt a pang of sadness at its loss. The fledgeling had been mesmerized by those thick fingers as Angelus had held his hand out into the beams of sunlight that drifted into the room, had felt an inexplicable urge to capture that hand in his and lick away the heat that singed the skin of those mouthwatering digits. In the weeks, months, and years since that first meeting, he had learned just what pain and pleasure those fingers could play out on his body, and he'd never lost his fascination with them.

Oh, sure, he could try to keep his gaze off of Angel's hands. Might've worked, too, if Angel had remained entirely ignorant of his obsession with that particular part of his anatomy. Bloody bogtrotter knew perfectly well what he was doing. Tapping his fingers, ever so lightly upon the table, just loud enough for him to hear beneath the voice of whoever's turn it was to speak. Steepling his hands against his chin, forefingers pressing into his bottom lip, as he pretended to be absorbed in the conversation. Twiddling his pen between his fingers as he leaned back in his chair and commented on the other's reports. Sodding sadist, that's what he was.

How could he look away? He'd seen those fingers smudged with charcoal and ink stains as he posed for Angelus in front of the fireplace as he sketched his naked body. He'd seen them covered in blood, dripping, as the brunette lifted them to his mouth to be licked clean.

Christ, he was hard already, and the meeting had only started five minutes ago. He tried not to remember all the sinful and delightful things those fingers had done, tried to look away and pay attention to Fred as she spoke about the science department's latest experiment. He succeeded for about thirty seconds before his mind betrayed him, providing images of those fingers as they caressed his skin, tweaking his nipples into taut peaks, stroking down over his chest, his stomach, before curling into a fist around his aching cock. Spike bit back a moan and sank further into his seat, wrapping his duster tighter around him as he resigned himself to another hour of torture. He really hated meetings.

As the meeting concluded and the others milled out of the room, Spike diverted through the doors that connected to Angel's office. The larger vampire followed behind, and the second the doors closed, Spike whirled on him, pushing him against the wall and grabbing one of his hands.

"Bloody hell, you're evil, pet." Spike growled and lifted the hand to his mouth, biting at the thin webbing of flesh between the thumb and forefinger. "Evil, plain and simple, soul or no. You know what you bloody do to me, 'Gelus, every time? Sittin' there, pretendin' you don't smell just how hard I am, actin' like you don't know just how much I wanna drag you away from everyone, get you all to myself."

Angel smirked, sending a fresh jolt of arousal to Spike's already leaking cock, and pushed Spike backwards a step with his free hand. Leaving his captured hand in Spike's grasp, he dropped to his knees and pressed his face into the crotch of the blonde's jeans. His free hand gripped tight at the slim waist as he mouthed at the outline of Spike's erection, his tongue prodding against the black denim just where the tip of his cock lay to taste the drop of pre-cum that had seeped through the rough fabric.

Spike let out a low groan and vamped out. Sinking a fang briefly into the pad of Angel's thumb, he closed his lips over the digit and swirled his tongue over the wound. Angel growled and pushed his thumb deeper into Spike's mouth, thrusting the thick finger into it as the younger vampire suckled at the blood weeping from the puncture he'd made. As the wound closed, Spike let the saliva-slick digit slide from his mouth, his gaze dropping down to watch as Angel ran his tongue up his cloth-covered length; Angel's hand had dropped from his hip to palm at his own bulging crotch, and Spike could smell his arousal mingling with his own.

"Gets you hot, don't it, Peaches? Knowin' how much I crave these thick bloody fingers of yours? God, such huge fucking hands, and you know just how to bloody use them." Spike wrapped his lips around Angel's fore and middle fingers and sucked them into his mouth, laving his tongue over the cool flesh as he pulled back up. "Could suck on these fingers all soddin' day, an' it still wouldn't be enough. Fuck, pet, take me out."

Angel moaned and reluctantly lifted his hand away from his lap to work the skin-tight jeans open. Pulling Spike's cock out, he wrapped his hand around the jutting shaft, his eyes flicking up to Spike's face as he laved his tongue over the slit that was just beginning to peak out from the foreskin, licking up the thick drop of fluid that beaded the tip. As Spike sucked on his fingers, he pumped his cock slowly, pulling the foreskin back to lap at the plummy head as more pre-cum welled up.

"Yeah, tha's it, luv. I swear, you work me up like this every time on purpose, don't you? Want me mad for it," Spike bit into Angel's finger again, licking the ruby droplet away as he spoke around the digit, "just so you got a reason to drop to your knees for me. C'mon, Angel, suck me."

Angel tugged Spike's jeans down to his knees and leaned forward, slowly sliding his mouth down the length of the hard shaft. His hand slid up the smooth flesh of Spike's thigh and into the thatch of wiry curls, fingers scratching into the darker hairs as he hollowed his cheeks around his cock.

"Always were a great cocksucker, Liam. Made sure I learnt that straight off, didn't you?" Spike thrust forward, pushing his cock into the snug channel of Angel's throat, as he licked over the webbing between his fingers. Angel moaned around his cock as he wound his free hand into his hair, tugging the dark strands harshly to work his head along his aching shaft. "First time you took me, remember? Bent me over that big-arsed bed, fucked me hard, you did, your huge hand wrapped tight 'round the base of my cock, not lettin' me cum. Each thrust pushing me further into Dru as she squirmed beneath me. Christ, wanted to cum so bloody bad by the time I felt you fillin' me up. You'd barely pulled out 'fore you yanked me away from Dru, whirled me around, and sank to your knees, just like now, an' swallowed me to the root.

Drusilla hadn't gone down on me yet at that point, didn't know what to expect. But, bloody hell, luv, the feel of your cool tongue lappin' at my droolin' cock, hungry for it like it were blood, never came so hard before or since. No one was ever as good as you. Darla was alright at it, but she never let me finish off in her mouth, nor you, I 'spect; Dru tended to use too much fang, left the job tinged with the fear she'd tear my knob to shreds, took the joy out, y'know?

But, you, you were a right god at it. Could never thrust too hard into ya," Spike pumped his hips forward sharply in example, "never too far down your throat, and Christ, the sounds you'd make as you sucked out every drop of cum from me, like I'd just given ya a virgin to drain, so fuckin' hot, pet. An' the way your hands just wouldn't stop movin'..."

Angel growled around the girth thrusting into him, his hand reaching between Spike's legs to cup his balls.

"Yeah, fuck, loved how you just couldn't keep your hands in one place as you sucked me off. The way you'd thrust your fingers into my mouth, fucking into me as I fucked your throat, scratching over any flesh you could reach," Spike snarled and bit deep into a finger as Angel acted out his vivid description, "pinchin' at my nipples till I howled in ecstasy, slippin' those sopping wet sausages you call fingers between my legs."

Angel reached his roaming hand up and Spike eased off of the one he held captive to suck two dry fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva until Angel pulled them away. Spike slowed his thrusts into Angel's mouth as the spit-slick digits slid down his sac, along his perineum, and up between his cheeks,

"Then you'd work those fuckers into me, one at a time," Spike grunted and pushed back on Angel's forefinger as the tip sought entrance, "jus' like that, stretchin' me open, other hand still fuckin' my mouth…God, yeah…your throat clenching around my cock, fingers fillin' my holes right up."

Spike widened his stance as Angel worked a second finger into him, groaning and biting down hard on the two fingers that Angel had pushed back past his lips as he'd fingered the tight pucker. Looking down at him, he watched as those lust-darkened brown eyes meeting his turned yellow, Angel's face shifting into his demon visage. At the feeling of a fang grazing down the length of his throbbing cock, he howled in delight around the bloody digits in his mouth and let go of the tight hold he had on Angel's head, his hand slapping against the wall to brace him as he set a steady pace, thrusting forward into Angel's throat and pulling out to push back on the the thick fingers invading him.

Slowing his thrusts after a minute, feeling himself on the brink of climax but not wanting to fall over the edge just yet, he slid a foot between Angel's legs and nudged the damp bulge of his crotch with the toe of his boot. Angel let out a keening whimper and reflexively thrust his hips forward at the touch to his confined erection, and Spike's eyelids fluttered closed for a second as the needy sound shot a fresh jolt of arousal down his spine. Forcing his eyes back open, he smirked down at the older vampire and prodded the trapped cock again and left his foot in place, watching as Angel thrust against the boot, gazes still locked on each other.

"Christ, you're hard as bloody marble, ain't you, pet?” Angel’s fingers pumped into him still, now crooking as they brushed over his prostate, pulling a strained groan from Spike’s lips. Spike lapped up the last few drops of blood oozing from Angel’s fingers as the wounds closed and pulled away from the thick digits, releasing his wrist and threading his now-free hand into Angel’s hair to push him back down on his cock. Angel’s jerky humping motions continued as Spike alternately fucked his throat and pushed back on his pumping fingers, his own aching cock leaking pre-cum profusely and soaking through his pants to leave a slick sheen on the leather. “God, Angel, one of these days I’ll take a picture of you, just like this. Show you just how glorious you look, humpin’ my shoe like a bitch in heat, mouth stretched full of my cock. Such a perfect li’l cockslut, ain’t ya, Liam? Fuck, so hot, luv, when you're so damn hungry for it…oh, shite, gonna cum, Angel, fuck, c’mon, make me cum.”

Angel whined and redoubled his efforts, hips still thrusting as he engulfed Spike’s cock again, swallowing around the head and teasing the base with the tip of his fangs. Spike howled and held Angel’s head in place as his orgasm ripped through him, whiting out his vision with its intensity, his cool seed through his pulsing cock to slide down the tight throat encasing it. He vaguely perceived the feeling of Angel’s fingers pulling out of him to toy with his emptying sac as he rode out his climax, milking out every drop of cum as Angel drank him down.

As his orgasm petered out, he became aware of Angel's free hand grasping at his hip, fingers digging in bruisingly tight to hold him in place as the brunette pulled slowly off his spent cock, the rasp of his tongue making the length twitch weakly as he lapped up the traces of blood and cum from root to tip. When his vision cleared, he eased himself from Angel's mouth and hauled the larger vampire up by his shirt, shoving him back up against the wall. Forcing his demon face away as Angel immediately followed suit, Spike crushed his lips to Angel's, tongue pushing between the slightly swollen strips of friction-reddened flesh to lick inside, chasing the taste of himself lingering on the wet, pink muscle. Angel moaned into the brutal kiss and ground his cock against Spike's thigh desperately.

Spike growled and shoved a hand between them, cupping Angel's hard length through his trousers, fisting it with a fast, relentless pace. As he worked him towards completion, Angel's hands slid up his body, one hand gripping tight at his shoulder, nails digging into skin even through the layers of fabric, the other tangling into Spike's hair, pushing him further against his mouth as they devoured each other. Spike let out a muffled curse at the feel of those clinging fingers, his cock making a valiant attempt to harden again, the small amount of blood he'd taken from Angel and his vampiric stamina bolstering its efforts.

“Gonna make you blow just like this, 'Gelus," Spike snarled out against his lips between kisses, nipping harshly at his lip. Angel bucked into his hand, and he felt a fresh spurt of pre-cum wet his palm as he sped his strokes, tightening his grip on the hard, throbbing shaft to urge him to the edge. He knew his Grandsire was close and broke the kiss to watch Angel's face as he stripped his hand along the steely shaft. "Fuck, wanna see you cum in those fancy slacks of yours, pet, love it when you make a right mess o' yourself for me, like the needy, desperate slut you are. C'mon, Angel, let go. Cum for me, Da, now."

Spike knew all the right buttons to push and he smirked as he watched Angel's head fall back against the wall, his eyes slipping closed, body going rigid with one last thrust up into Spike's fist. A loud, broken cry of pleasure fell from his lips as he came, the cool, dead seed of his release soaking the front of his pants and seeping through the fabric to coat Spike's hand in a tacky, slick sheen as he stroked him through his orgasm.

Panting out useless breaths of air from his heaving chest, Angel went lax as came down from his climax, supported only by Spike's body pinning him to the wall. Spike released his softening cock and raised his hand to Angel's lips, leaning in to join him as the brunette instinctively began to lick away the traces of his own spend from the slender fingers. As soon as Angel pulled away from the last clean digit with a wet pop, Spike gripped his chin and tugged him into a final bruising kiss, unwilling to let the disheveled vampire go just yet, Angel's fingers still grasping at him and sending frissions of renewed desire straight to his half-hard cock.

Tempted to take himself in hand and further debauch his already wanton looking Sire, Spike resisted the urge and stepped away, out of his clutching embrace, tucking his cock back in his jeans as Angel slumped where he stood. The look of repletion on Angel's face as he opened his eyes had Spike biting back a groan as he zipped himself up. Reaching out a hand, he pulled Angel to him, the other lifting to graze his thumb across his bottom lip.

Angel kissed the pad of the digit and smiled down at Spike, a spark of mischief in his eyes that, if Spike hadn't known him so completely, would have had the blonde running for the nearest stake.

"God, you are just too easy, Childe."

Spike let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head, returning Angel's smile with a wry one of his own.

"Bloody hell, I fucking love meetings."

~~~~

All Things Spike: @leatafanfiction

Others: @captain-peroxid3 , @countblucas (cuz subby Angel 😉)

[thesunicarusfellfor]

WAIT WAIT— what if 👀 what if Yandere!Tubbo and Yandere!Tommy falling for the reader at the same time

BROO— THE ANGST POSSIBILITIES

ooooooOOOOO DAMN this one is gonna be good! I love the way you think! So I wrote this as headcanons, but I will write this as an actual story if requested. ^^

This is not exactly implied romantic??? I'm still scared about writing their characters as directly romantic????? I'll probably get braver about it but still lowkey worried.

Yandere!C!Tommy x GN!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Headcanon/Fic

Tommy, at first, completely denied even acknowledging your existence.

Until he saw someone interact with you.

Then he would start pulling out his sword or glaring at them from across the room.

He would definitely pin them in an alleyway and threaten every single one of their canon lives.

Tommy, please. Niki was just trying to give you cookies.

He's the kind of Yandere that would greatly keep his distance both physically, emotionally and mentally. Basically, he would be a Tsundere Yandere.

Tubbo, on the other hand, would be extremely sweet to you.

Need netherite? He had an extra few ingots ready in his pockets!

Interacting with someone who wasn't him? Was he not good enough for you??? Fine. You don't deserve him.

He would cry to you and make you feel guilty OR completely ignore you for a week straight until you come crawling back to him and apologizing.

Straight up can flip emotions like a switch.

The first time either of them realized the other liked you as well, was when they were listening to Mellohi on their bench, watching the sunset when they saw you having a conversation with Ranboo at the bottom of the cliff.

"What're they doing talking to him?" Tommy growled lowly and leaned forward to glared at the enderman who was talking to you. He reached for his bow n' arrow before Tubbo grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks, "What? I don't want them talking to anyone but me."

"What do you mean 'anyone but you'?! You avoid them like they're a virus!" Tubbo stared at him, digging his fingers into Tommy's bicep a small bit to show his anger a bit more, "They should only be talking to me."

The blond turned towards his brunet friend and yanked his arm out of his grasp, "Excuse me?" He glared into Tubbo's dull blue eyes, gritting his teeth, "You do nothing but give them stuff!"

"And you treat them like shit and avoid them!" The smaller of the two retorted angrily, trying to keep his tone level enough to where you didn't hear.

Mellohi, the music that had been playing mere moments ago, slowly came to a stop and left nothing but silence and tension in the air. You had noticed them arguing from below, but Ranboo (who had heard their entire argument) decided to pull you away from them and bring you to the Tundra.

"Are you trying to take everything from me?!" Tommy tightened his grip on his diamond sword, although part of him knew that if Tubbo equipped his netherite armour, there would be absolutely no competition whatsoever.

"Take things from you?! They're a human being and you choose to ignore that fact when you ignore them or call them terrible names!"

"I treat everyone like that! You already have Ranboo, I don't understand why you're chasing after them with hearts in your eyes when you're fuckin' married! Loyal much! Oh wait, you aren't loyal, you EXILED ME!"

"It's platonic! I told you that already! And you're starting this again now, Tommy?!"

Ranboo actually felt nervous leaving you alone around both Tommy AND/OR Tubbo after hearing their entire argument that day.

Tommy, although now a lot nicer, became extremely clingy towards you and constantly would walk over and drag you away mid-conversation with anyone that wasn't him. ESPECIALLY if you were talking to Tubbo.

Man would bring you everywhere with him if you would let him.

Netherite mining? Get your pick.

To get new discs? Pack your bags, we're going on an adventure.

Straight up does everything he can do to get you away from Tubbo because he's petty.

He tried giving you as many gifts as Tubbo, but mans is broke.

Tubbo would get extremely annoyed by Tommy even just walking through the area when he was with you.

Would start to hold your hand or link arms with you (if you're comfortable), just so Tommy couldn't pull you away as easily.

Started to try guilt-tripping you into living in Snowchester, and even tried to get you to live in the mansion.

Ranboo actually lied to Tubbo, saying he was scared of enderwalking and hurting you, to convince Tubbo not to guilt-trip you further into living in the mansion.

Tubbo's constant gift-giving got so much more extreme.

Want netherite ingots to make armour?

Nope. No lifting a finger.

He already made you fully enchanted netherite god armour anyway.

Has definitely tried to convince Ranboo to let him involve you in the platonic marriage.

"Ranboo! My beloved!" Tubbo called jokingly, walking into their home. He kicked the snow on his boots before pulling down his hood and taking off his hat, hanging it on the hook as he took off his footwear, "I have a proposition for you!"

The monochrome-coloured man lifted his head and set down the journal in his hand, the ink likely still wet judging by the quill in his hand, "Yeah? What's that?" He placed the feathered pen in the pot of ink and turned to face his platonic husband.

"What would you say to extending our marriage to three people? Like a polyamorous relationship. Like Sapnap, Karl and Big Q?" Tubbo sat down in the chair beside him, watching as Ranboo was left reeling for a few seconds.

"W-well, one, I think you mean expanding. Two, with who?!" The tall male sat up quickly, bumping his leg on the table from his minor flailing, "A-and, and, what about Michael? Are you sure they can be trusted with him?"

Tubbo held out his hand to calm his friend down, making his friend put his hands down so he didn't accidentally hit something, "You know what I meant, and (Y/n)! Y'know... Like, the one with (h/l) (h/c) hair, (tall/short)! (Y/n), them!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know who they are, it's just..." He paused to gather his words, glancing away from his friend. In all reality, he wouldn't mind inviting you into the platonic marriage, even if he knew Tubbo felt more romantic feelings towards you. He didn't shut up about it. It was the fact that he was worried about what kind of mental manipulation Tubbo would do to you if you did agree to be in the marriage. Or even what Tommy would do to you or Tubbo!

"...Just?"

'Your relationship with Tommy is beyond screwed already... Imagine what would happen if both of his friends left him to be in a platonic relationship with me. Tubbo, all of us would be in severe danger.' He thought silently before taking a breath. "I-I don't have my enderwalking state under control... I'm already scared for Michael enough, and I don't want to hurt her as well... Give it some time and we'll see. Please.." He whispered, lying through his teeth. Ranboo knew you were damn good at protecting yourself and could knock his long and lanky ass to the dirt within seconds.

Tubbo's bright shiny eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as his smile began to falter, "Ah... Yeah. I guess that makes sense. For their safety I suppose." His normal look returned and he gave him a smile, "Yeah, that does make a lot of sense. I'll ask again next month to see what happens."

"What... What about Tommy-"

"What about him?" He demanded sharply, his smile vanishing in mere seconds which caught Ranboo off guard yet again, "He doesn't need to be in their life. He would do more harm to them than good!"

Ranboo was left gaping, his mouth moving but not creating any sounds. He watched as Tubbo eyed him carefully before he got up, murmuring something about grabbing food then going to bed.

Once the goat hybrid was completely out of sight, Ranboo reached for his memory book and took the quill again.

'Protect (Y/n) from Tubbo and Tommy. Get them out of DreamSMP.'

Ranboo was scared for you.

He was stuck watching as these crazy two men fought over you, threatened you, manipulated you... It was worrying, to say the least.

Don't get him wrong. If he didn't have an adopted son, a platonic husband that he still cared about despite him being another Dream at this point, and a Syndicate to protect him from, he would've packed everything and ran, bringing you with him.

He was practically walking on eggshells around this man that he had once been extremely close to!

It practically sent shivers down his spine...

Eventually, it got to the point where Ranboo had gone to your house in the ungodly hours of the morning to talk to you.

This man LITERALLY crept into Tubbo's room AND Tommy's house to make sure they were both asleep before going to talk to you.

"Ran... Boo?" You asked, yawning softly as you leaned against the door, your hair all frizzy and messed up, "What's up? It'sssss... Like 5:30am. The sun is barely even up..."

"(Y/n)... Can we go inside? Please... There's something very wrong.." He murmured softly, his memory book tightly held in his grasp as he glanced around. Tommy could be waking up sometime soon, and he did not want to get caught talking to you. He would certainly be down a canon life before he could even say 'sorry'.

You watched the nervous man in front of you and nodded before stepping aside to let him in. Peaking outside, you looked around for what was causing him to panic but went back inside once you didn't see anything. "What's wrong?" Softening your tone, you gestured for him to sit at the table while you made coffee.

Once he had a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, Ranboo slowly began to gather his nerve and speak. He told you everything he could remember, and even opened his memory book to tell you about the things he didn't remember. Everything from the fight where Tommy and Tubbo's friendship completely went downhill a few months ago, to the threats Tubbo used against Tommy, the manipulation against you, the threats he had received by talking to you, and even Tubbo's violent mood switches when talking about you or Tommy.

The entire time, you just sat there wide-eyed as you listened to him ramble on about his fears and worries, and everything in between. He even mentioned wanting to actually divorce Tubbo because of how scared he was for you and his own life. "I don't... Not... Believe you... But this is- this is a little difficult to believe." You knew the enderman hybrid wouldn't lie about something so serious, and he definitely wouldn't be shaking like a leaf if it was a joke or a lie.

"Y-yeah, I expected that... But I really do care about your safety, honestly. You know I wouldn't joke about this kind of thing, especially about Tubbo." He murmured softly, looking at his crown laying on the table in front of him, "In all honesty, I came here this early because I was scared about Tommy trying to kill me if he saw me talking to you..."

"He wouldn't ki-"

The door slammed open dramatically and there was a cheerful shout of your name, "(Y/n)!!! Let's go mining for diamon-" Tommy walked into your kitchen, only to freeze mid-step and midfacial expression. His expression went from surprised to annoyance to a grim smile, "Hello Ranboo!" He gave him a smile that was more like baring his teeth as he twirled his axe nonchalantly.

He was going to hurt him...

[kenmab]

the truth is that shang qinghua didn’t understand why mobei-jun kept him around anymore. if shang qinghua thought abt the pros vs the cons, well there wasn’t any pros left.

“don’t...” mobei-jun said. his cold hand drowsily grabbed shang qinghua’s in the middle of the night. of course he was recovering from saving shang qinghua’s life again, that man had gone from double agent peak lord to human outcast back to esteemed peak lord only to be subjected to being kidnapped for a demon king’s ransom. the whole situation felt a little silly, airplane had written every single one of these characters into creation just to be abused by them in such a way! but all of this just confused shang qinghua even more. just what was shang qinghua’s purpose in this mobei-jun’s story at this point when all he had left to do is cause trouble?

“don’t....” mobei-jun repeated. his hands were always cold, shang qinghua didn’t notice how well he had adjusted to this.

“don’t what, my king? i was just going to go and get you a cup of tea to help you recover...” shang qinghua spoke quietly from mobei-jun’s bedside. mobei-jun continued to look at him.

“.....i have servants to do that sort of thing,” he responded in the low voice. shang qinghua blinked twice. aren’t i the servant who should be doing that sort of thing?

“are—are you sure, my king? i don’t mind it if you want something to drink. have you eaten anything today? i can—“

“no.” then mobei-jun waited a moment. “every time i let you out of my sight, you disappear...”

which....was not untrue. shang qinghua was cursed in this way, any day he begged mobei-jun for permission to travel away for a few days, he never came back. none of it was his fault—bandits, demons, humans with worse intentions and higher cultivations—it always made him feel suspect when he had to explain to his savior that he wasn’t running away from him!! it was just a poor situation!! the present shang qinghua was only but an easy target, but the present mobei-jun...

“my king...” shang qinghua couldn’t fathom his own character’s intentions anymore. if he didn’t exist in this world to be ordered around or to be slapped around by his sworn king, then what was the purpose of him staying around for so long? to write poetry or love stories under a surname for the public? if that was the case, did he have to do so under the roof of the northern demon kingdom? shang qinghua stayed at the manor, his food was specially delivered from huanhua place, his ink was always high end, his own worries or missions were low. he was almost always accompanied by such a powerful ascended demon king. after all the years shang qinghua had semi righteously stayed by mobei-jun’s side all the way up until saving him from death, saving him twice from death, he didn’t expect his life to turn out like this.

if shang qinghua indulged in any small hobbies of his, mobei-jun observed quietly from the sidelines with his eyebrows almost noticeably raised. if shang qinghua ever took a trip to an ding peak, upon his departure back to the demon realm mobei-jun would patiently wait at the bottom of the mountain to escort him back safely. if shang qinghua ever wanted or needed something mobei-jun would do his best to bring it life, going as far as cooking him dinner upon request. whether it was mealtime or bedtime, mobei-jun would listen to shang qinghua’s ramblings about storybooks or tales from home, florals he’d seen or recipes he’d learn, there would be calm idle chatter.

shang qinghua had pretended not to notice the way his sworn king had claimed him by switching his ribbon while tying his hair up one morning as per shang qinghua’s request. he pretended not to notice that mobei-jun had stopped hitting him and had actually resorted to patting his head every so often. but shang qinghua really hadn’t noticed at all the way mobei-jun let him touch his face and hair and arms in a way he wouldn’t have been allowed to in years before. nor did he notice the softness in mobei-jun’s face as they spent their time together. on cold days draped in his king’s heavy cloak, shang qinghua would forget to pay attention to how slow and easy their lifestyle was, only after dark would he start to wonder what he was doing, and why he was allowed to be doing it.

mobei-jun gazed at shang qinghua for a moment longer, then turned his head away looking towards the dark night sky.

“don’t.........go. don’t go anymore. just stay here. stay......by my side,” he said quietly. his voice hadn’t been cold towards shang qinghua in years, tonight was no different. “come here and lay down with me.”

shang qinghua stared at him before just doing what he was told—which is just what he does best. but he still didn’t understand. what about our situation keeps in such a great mood? especially if im no longer useful to him, why now does he want my company? why would someone want someone as un-useful as me...while looking at the back of his king’s head, and feeling the hand grabbing his quiver just slightly, shang qinghua ignored those kinds of thoughts again. a familiar wave a warmth passed over his heart while looking at this person lying next to him.

“goodnight my king,” shang qinghua whispered. “and hurry and get better, i don’t want to lie in bed all day! let’s go into to town and purchase a new book once you’ve recovered.”

“......en”

“and.....there’s a new pastry i’d really like to try in the city! some fried and covered in sugar.”

“.....en”

and there’s something i wanted to buy...

mobei-jun turned and looked at shang qinghua. only shang qiuhua could tell his expression was of curiosity and not indifference.

something to remind you that i won’t run away...

these are words that he wouldn’t say out loud, he wanted trinkets to remind them of each other. maybe he could waive some of his king’s uneasiness this way. a secret plan to nonchalantly give mobei-jun a piece of himself.

“my king, what are you smiling about?” if you could even call that a smile! shang qinghua still didn’t understand why mobei-jun continued to let him live in such a way, especially after all his initial duties were over. but in the end, he couldn’t ignore how much he enjoyed being in this kind of situation. it was an ending he definitely would’ve never written for himself.

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory Ch. 17

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: ......bruh. you guys are so patient :') thank you so much for sticking with me even though its taken me AGES to update. Thank you for sending me beautiful messages and commenting and pretty much helping me through my writers block :'( I don't deserve it tbh.

Summary: Harry has just admitted his feelings for you, Snape is teaching you Legilimency, Cedric invited you to spend Easter at his place w his parents!

***

The days that follow an argument are always painfully awkward, to say the least.

You feel like you’re dancing around the mouth of a gaping chasm, watching Harry from the other side. It’s like the summer holidays all over again; the furtive glances, the awkward, mumbled excuses, the sinking feeling that you were being talked about in secret. It’s worse now, though, because you can’t backtrack. You can’t ignore Harry’s feelings and you can’t forget about what he had confessed, what he had practically screamed from the top of the Owlery.

“IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

How would you recover from this?

The morning before you leave for the Easter Holidays, you get yourself ready for the day and trudge down to stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, Harry isn’t there, but Ron and Hermione are and they look up at you with sad smiles as you draw closer.

“Morning guys,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

Ron and Hermione echo you before Hermione asks how you’re feeling.

“Horrible,” you admit, dropping into the seat beside Ron, “I feel so guilty and really really stupid. It was obvious Harry liked me but I just ignored it...I ran away from it...and Harry had been through so much and I was such a horrible friend and a horrible person!“

“(Y/N)!” Ron cuts off your spiraling thoughts by patting the top of your head. You sigh, burying your face in your hands as Ron continues, “Look, you’re not a horrible person. Sure this whole thing could have been handled better but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Just conflict averse.”

“You’re not making it any better, Ron,” Hermione chides, waspishly.

“I’m not, am I?”

“Look, (Y/N)—“

But before Hermione can continue, Harry approaches and you jump up from your seat.

“Harry!” You Yelp and then swallow, calming your pacing heart, “How-um-how did you sleep?”

Harry shrugs, “Ok.”

“Good!”

Silence pulses between the four of you, no one daring to speak. The only noise comes from other Gryffindors standing in groups, scattered through the common room. You fingers dig nervously into the skin of your wrist.

“Hey guys,” Neville greets cheerily, waving happily, “Want to come down to breakfast with me?”

“Sure!” You spurt without thinking and rush to his side. Your enthusiasm makes Neville blush and stammer out a timid ‘cool’ before you lead him out toward of the common room.

You keep yourself preoccupied with Neville the whole time you and your friends make the short trip to the Great Hall. Though you don’t actually participate in the conversation, you fill it with enough ‘okay’ and ‘oh’s and ‘right’ to trick Neville into thinking you’re listening. It’s hard to keep track of the conversation when it’s entirely one sided, but you can’t help your drifting thoughts.

Was it always going to be like this between you and Harry? Had you just sacrificed your friendship with him because of your tendency to flee from your problems? Ron had called it ‘conflict aversion’ and he was right; by ignoring all the signs, you were avoiding Harry’s feelings and distancing yourself from your friends. This whole time, you thought they were the ones drifting away when really it was you.

And now, you were going to do it again.

Instead of sitting with your friends, you elected to sit with Fred, George and Lee Jordan, doing your best to distract yourself from your feelings. After breakfast, you walked to Potions with Dean and Seamus and didn’t stop when Ron tried to get your attention.

“Hey Pavarti,” you tack on a fake smile and she smiles back at you, “Can I sit with you and Lavender today?”

Pavarti pulls out the stool next to her and Lavender leans across Pavarti, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“Not sitting with Ron, Hermione or Harry?”

“The last time I sat with them I got put next to Malfoy.”

The girls cringe in unison. You hide your smirk as you take your seat, dropping your book bag beside you. Lavender has always been nosy but you’ve learned how to deal with her.

“Get your textbooks out,” Snape snaps as he storms into the dungeons, “You’ll be taking notes today.”

“Great, two hours of writing down words I don’t understand,” Pavarti grumbles. Snape narrows his eyes on her and Pavarti drops her gaze.

“Do you have a problem, Miss Patil?”

“No, Professor.”

Snape huffs and whirls around, taking his seat at his desk. His dark, beady eyes meet yours and you look away, unable to take the intensity of his steely gaze. The last time you had seen him, you had accidentally pried into a corner of his mind that he had wanted to keep hidden.

Sighing, you pull out your text book, parchment and quill and get to work. It’s not exactly riveting, but you welcome the distraction, taking detailed notes and forcing yourself to memorise the importance of different potions.

You don’t know how long you’ve been writing for before Pavarti suddenly nudges you, hissing your name.

“Here,” she says, handing you a folded piece of parchment, “From Hermione.”

Curious, you thank Pavarti and take the parchment, unfolding the small, torn piece. The scribble, however, is bigger than Hermione’s tiny writing and a little neater than Ron’s chicken scratch which means...

It’s from Harry.

We should talk.

You glance at Snape. He hasn’t noticed you yet. You glance at the note again.

We should talk.

You know he’s right...and you do want to talk. You want to apologise for the way you treated him, of course you do, but you’re not going to apologise for loving Cedric. Besides, you can’t write down everything you want say in a tiny note, especially when Snape is a few metres away.

Tearing off a tiny piece of your parchment, you hastily write your reply.

Not like this. Let’s talk at lunch.

Dragging your hand under the table, you nudge Pavarti and hand her the note. You feel her shift beside you as she dutifully delivers it to Hermione. Twisting around slightly in your seat, you watch Hermione stealthy hand the note to Harry who scrambles to unfold it. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and reads.

Not wanting to stare for too long, you turn around and face your book, pretending to read. Your peripherals pick up a familiar, blond-haired shape and you glance at Draco who is - much to your chagrin - staring at you. Again.

What is his problem?

Before you can mouth a curse word at him, Pavarti hands you Harry’s response. You tear your eyes away from Malfoy and read Harry’s note.

You’re right. Let’s talk tonight.

You bite your bottom lip. You’ve got a secret Legilimency lesson with Snape after dinner and then a Howler meeting after that. You scribble this onto the parchment, suggesting to talk at lunch instead, and send it through the human chain to Harry.

Harry’s response is quicker than you anticipated, and you find out why after you unfold his note.

Can’t. Got to meet with Bagman. What about tomorrow?

You swallow, tapping your quill against the note, sending tiny flecks of ink spraying across the parchment. Tomorrow, you leave for the Diggorys and you have a feeling that telling Harry that will make it worse. But you can’t lie to him either, what would be the point of that?

You tell him your plan for the Easter holidays, admitting to staying with the Diggorys, before handing the note to Pavarti.

“I should get paid for this,” Pavarti quips, her smile playful. You smile back apologetically.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fun. Funner than doing Potions work anyway.”

You wait anxiously for Harry’s reply. Was telling Harry about your trip to the Diggorys place a good idea? Would that make things more awkward? You glance over your shoulder, sneaking a peak at Harry. His face is inscrutable as he stares at your note. How did he get so good at hiding his feelings?

He was always good. You just knew him better back then.

Pavarti whispers your name and you blink, returning to yourself. She drops Harry’s response into your lap and you pick it up, carefully unfolding it. Before you can read it, though, thin fingers swoop in and collect it.

“Passing notes are we, Arden?”

Oh shit.

“Um...”

“It was me.”

Harry’s voice is loud and clear from over your shoulder and you hear the scrape of wooden legs against the concrete floor as he stands. Snape glares at him, upper lip curled into a horrible, twisted sneer.

“Of course it was you, Potter,” he spits, venomously, “It’s always you. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you’ll both get one weeks detention after the holidays.”

Detention?! For passing notes?

Malfoy and the Slytherins snicker gleefully

as Snape throws Harry’s note into the bin.

“What?!” Harry snaps, “That’s ridiculous!”

You whip around, shooting Harry a panicked look. Harry ignores you, glaring fiercely at Snape.

“Be grateful it’s not during the holidays,” Snape snarls, “And another five points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione grips Harry’s arm and ushers him back into his seat. You watch as Harry seethes, his eyes murderous, the energy surrounding him practically bursting with rage. Why is Harry so upset about getting detention? Really, it would be more of a surprise if Snape went an hour without dishing out detentions.

After class, you race to catch up to Harry, meeting him outside the dungeons.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” he mutters bitterly.

That’s why.

“No it’s fine Harry, seriously,” you smile, hoping that it makes Harry feel a little more better. It works. Harry’s shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth ticks a little.

“So...Um...” he scratches the back of his neck, “We do need to talk.”

“How about after my Howler meeting?” You ask hopefully.

Harry nods, “Okay. When do you finish?”

“Around ten.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the common room for you.”

You smile again, “Sounds like a plan.”

****

“You’ve been practicing.”

You’re not sure whether Snape is impressed or if he’s making a simple statement, but it’s the longest sentence he’s said since your lesson started almost an hour ago.

And he’s right. You have been practicing on random students, dipping into their mind briefly and making sure not to dive too deep. You’re so brief that their thoughts project back as just random jumbles, nothing you can string together, but it’s enough for you to gain an understanding of Legilimency and how powerful of a tool it can be.

“Um...yes.”

Snape steps toward you, “Practicing on fellow students without their consent is against the school policy.”

You nod, “I know but I’ve been careful. I try not to stay inside their minds enough to understand their thoughts or see their memories.”

Snape cocks an eyebrow as he stares at you for a moment. It’s as though he can’t decide whether to scold you or praise you.

“I won’t punish you this time,” he finally says in his low, menacing snarl, “But if you continue to practice on students there will be consequences.”

You frown, “So how am I supposed to practice?”

“With me,” he snips, “Or with your friends. Surely you would have told them by now.”

You haven’t told Ron or Harry...but Hermione knows. You nod and mumble an okay.

“You’re dismissed,” he says, flicking his wrist toward the door.

“Yes Professor.”

“And (Y/N)?” You stop and turn to Snape who stares at you with glinting dark eyes, “Don’t let me catch you passing notes in my class again.”

You nod again, wordlessly, before making your way out of Professor Snape’s office and toward the Howler newsroom.

It’s a short trek, and you don’t pass anyone aside from Peeves, who tries to startle you by bursting out of the wall and launching a ping-pong ball at your head. You manage to dodge just in time, rolling your eyes at his antics as his cackle rings through the hallway.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

Finally, you arrive at the Newsroom and Juniper Bishop greets you with a radiant smile.

“Hey (Y/N)!” She says, cheerily, “Long time no see, right?”

She squeezes you into a bone crushing hug and you nearly get a mouthful of her raspberry-scented hair.

“Yeah actually,” you smile politely at her when she finally releases you, “Have you been well?”

Juniper winces, “Sort of…I guess you heard about me and Rachel…”

“I did,” you say, injecting as much warmth and compassion into your voice as you can, “Are you okay?”

Juniper shrugs, “It was a mutual thing, though it’s kind of awkward now.”

You’re about to comment when Harper Shacklebolt strides to the front of the room, sticks her fingers in her mouth, and issues an ear-shattering, hair-raising, demon-summoning whistle.

Your hands fly to your ears as the high-pitched screech explodes across the room, forcing everyone else to scamper to their seats.

You find a spot beside Troy, who gives you a sunshine-warm smile and pats your back.

“Alright, shut up,” she shouts, and the last whispers of gossip stop abruptly, “We are now two months away from the third and final task. I want the Howler to reflect the anticipation that everyone will most likely be feeling as we draw closer and closer to June 24th. Which is why I want an exclusive interview with our four Triwizard champions! Start drafting and planning because our first issue will be released next Thursday.”

With a flick of her wand, a large curtain falls away from the chalkboard, revealing four photos of the champions.

Padma giggles and points at Cedric, “Did Harper find that photo in your diary, (Y/N)?”

Harper folds her arms across her chest and pierces Padma with a glare that could wither roses.

“Padma, If you spent half as much time actually working as you do gossiping about (Y/N), you might actually write something that isn’t utter garbage.”

Padmas face falls and she shrinks in her chair. You reach across and squeeze her hand under the table as Harper continues.

“This week, we’ll be focusing on Viktor Krum. Everyone needs to be on board with this - I need this to be the best series the Howler has published since its debut back in 74.”

With that, Harper turns her back and everyone gets to work.

Immediately, you lean across your desk and catch Padma’s gaze. Tears pool at the corner of her eyes and a pang of sympathy throbs in your chest.

“Don’t worry about what Harper says, Padma,” you coo, patting her hand gently, “At the end of the day, it’s just a school newsletter.”

Troy slides onto your desk and rests a hand on her shoulder, “Beaides, Harpers first article was about Filch! Not to mention she misspelled his name through the entire thing so everyone started calling him ‘Thilch’ for the rest of the school year.”

A smile slowly blooms on Padma’s lips, dimpling her rosy cheeks. She gazes at Troy with twinkling, obsidian eyes.

“Thanks guys,” Padma mumbles bashfully, “Though we should probably get started on this article before Harper snaps at me again.”

Padma reaches into her book bag to fish out her parchment and quills, glancing away from Troy shyly. Troy playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, shooting you a winning grin.

“Heard you were going to Diggory’s tomorrow...” he mutters with a wink, “Meeting the parents already?”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve already met his dad.”

“Yes but it’s the mum you want to impress,” Troy says, “You may not know this but Cedric is a huge mummy’s boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, Big time. And she goes full Mama bear mode, too. She’s scary as fuck. Used to be a psychiatrist at Azkaban if you can believe it.”

You shudder at the thought. It had been terrible enough when Demontors plagued the school last year, hovering over everyone’s shoulder like a curse. You couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to work with them for longer than a year.

“Yikes. That’s...wow.”

“Yeah,” Troy crosses his arms, “She’s pretty gutsy and she’s the type of person you don’t want to cross.”

“Well that’s not nerve wracking or anything. Thanks dickhead.”

Before Troy can respond, Harper spears you with her infamous death glare. You exchange a look with Troy, who laughs, unfazed, before you both decide to get on with your work.

Grabbing your quill and parchment, you head toward Harpers desk where she scribbles frantically against the chalkboard. She hardly spares you a glance and you have to clear your throat to lure her attention away from her work.

“I suppose you want me to interview Krum, then?” You ask. Harper simply nods, continuing to ignore you. You roll your eyes at her and plant your hands on your hips, “What you said to Padma was uncalled for.”

Finally, Harper gives some indication that she can hear you, grunting dismissively.

“It was true.”

“No it wasn’t,” you argue, “Padma is a really good writer.”

Harper sighs and picks up a finger of chalk, scrawling a note in barely-legible chicken scratch, “You should know by now that I don’t settle for ‘really good.’ I settle for excellent.”

“Congratulations, you sound exactly like my father.”

Harper pauses, finally turning to stare at you, “Your father is a literary genius. To be included in the same sentence as him is the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Oh boy, you must not get many compliments.”

Harper flashes a smirk, but her eyes betray her amusement.

“I don’t have time for people who are too sensitive to receive criticism,” Harper shrugs, turning back to the chalkboard, “Besides, I was right. If she didn’t gossip so much and focused on her articles, they wouldn’t be so shoddy.”

You frown at the back of her head. Just as you’re about to snap at her, Colin Creevey darts in front of you, beaming up at you with rosy cheeks and a shy smile. Daisy ambles behind him, a scowl souring her face.

“Hey (Y/N),” Colin says, cheerily, “Daisy and I were wondering if you’d seen Noah anywhere.”

“The little creep has missed two meetings already,” Daisy grumbles, rolling her eyes, “And there’s no way I’m doing this assignment alone with crack kid here.”

Your brows furrow in thought as you try to think back to when you last saw Noah, “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him for a while...”

Daisy sighs and drops her camera on Harper’s desk, “The Creevey kid’s on his own. Harper can yell at me all she wants; I’m not a babysitter.”

With that, she turns on the thick heel of her combat boots and storms off, completely ignoring Colin as he races after her.

The meeting drags on for another hour, in which you and Padma draft up some questions and submit them to Harper for her approval. She manages not to scrunch up the paper and hurl it at you - which is usually a good sign - but you can tell Padma is still on edge and Harper is still stubbornly unapologetic.

Eventually, you manage to peel yourself away from the newsroom and amble back toward the common room with Dean, laughing and joking on your way back.

“I swear one day Padma is going to punch Harper in the mouth,” Dean smirks, shaking his head, “And I don’t want to be there when it happens.”

“Knowing Harper, she’d probably punch Padma back,” you muse and Dean snorts in agreement.

“Who do you think would win?” He asks, “You know, if they got in a fight?”

“Definitely Harper.”

“I think Padma would get a few good throws in.”

“Maybe but have you seen the guns on Harpers arms? She would have Padma pinned in three seconds tops.”

Dean concedes with a shrug, “Okay you’re right. Harper wins. Now...Harper vs McGonagall. No wands. Just good old fashioned fight.”

“Oooh tough,” you think for a moment, “But I think McGonagall. Definitely McGonagall.”

“Agreed. McGonagall would murder Harper in two seconds flat. But how would she go against Dumbledore?”

You paused on a large stone step, thinking for a moment, “No wands?”

Dean shakes his head, “No wands.”

“Then McGonagall.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “You seem to have a lot of faith in McGongall.”

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, proceeding up the staircase, “She’s a total badass.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Dean says before he spins around to face you, walking backwards, “Okay real talk though. Who would win: me or Seamus?”

“Seamus, definitely. Is that even a question?”

Dean clutches his chest in mock hurt, “You’ve officially been disfriended.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now!” He claims, before turning to the Fat Lady, “Flabberghasted.”

You follow Dean through the portrait hole and find Harry sitting in an armchair by the fire. He hasn’t noticed your return, his eyes distracted by the flames as they dance and flicked in the fireplace.

“Night, Arden,” Dean says, peeling your attention away from Harry, “And don’t forget the new word of the day is disfriended.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you bid Dean a good night and you make your way over to Harry, clearing your throat to announce your arrival. Harry practically leaps from his seat when he sees you.

“Hi,” He murmurs

“Hey,” you smile softly, hoping it’ll hide your nerves, and nod at the fire, “You looked deep in thought.”

Harry shrugs, “I was just thinking about Sirius. I’m worried for him.”

“Me too. I wish he could live his life without having to hide. It’s the least he deserves.”

Harry nods wordlessly. Silence lapses between the two of you, spilling between the cracks dividing you.

You sigh, dropping into a couch and scrubbing your forehead in irritation, “I’m sorry about...everything. About leading you on.”

Harry chews his lip. It’s a little distracting.

“I know you are,” Harry says, as he takes the spot beside you, “And I know you didn’t do it deliberately. It just...hurts a little when the person you like doesn’t like you back. But I’ll get over it...it’s fine.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored your feelings, though. They’re valid. And, even though I’m not sorry for loving Cedric, I’m sorry for not being brave enough to talk to you properly.”

Harry tears his eyes away from the floor and for a moment your hit with a kaleidoscope of soft greens, a light show all for you. He reaches out, hesitating, hand hovering over your knee before he concedes. His hand is warm against your skin, a familiar, welcoming warmth.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he stares and his conviction makes your heart soar, “Apart from Dumbledore.”

“Of course.”

You both laugh, like sharing a secret among friends, and it almost feels normal again, like when you were first years joking around the fire, before boyfriends and feelings and hormones.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” Harry admits, his expression serious again, “You are one of the bestest friends I’ve ever had.”

“You too,” you rest your hand on his and squeeze, “So let’s move on. Let’s get past this.”

Harry nods in agreement. Maybe it won’t be exactly the same but at least it’ll be close.

It’s better than not having anything at all.

***

A/N prt 2

so i've been getting messages about whether I will write Reader losing her virginity to Cedric and, while I don't mind writing it, i know that there are some people who feel a bit eeky about reader being so young. (Honestly it is weird but you’d be surprised how many people want this)

So, I'm considering posting an extra chapter where Reader and Cedric do have sex on AO3 and everyone who is okay with reading it can head on over and read it. The chapter won't impact the story. However if the majority of people are okay with it then I'll post it on tumblr and AO3 and it will be mentioned in latr chapters. LMK what you think, please.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @seunlight@thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018@polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves@siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @smolldork @danidomm@xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood@tchalland @lucifersnipnips @notorious-fiction@peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness @reducto-bitch @who-said @mhftrs @whimsicalangels1234 @kneekoteen @steve-thotgers @qrangr @valiantlynervouschaos @bennie-badeend @gryffinclxw @fallern618 @alyenaaa @dammit-scamander @kararanae23@myhopeisinfinite @blaised-zabini @poppykoke@swansong321

@dammit-scamander @expellimarvelous @writing-for-a-chance @dynamicxdamsel @oliviaharddyy @padfootersblog @geeky-sydney3 @randomoutsiders @heqrics @marshmallowwisp @sugajam-z @lowkeyweasley

@seriouslynogood @fullmoonremus @blackisforpink @laazullii @itssosopia @random-things-thing @deeveenee @lahoete @urlindah @miraclesoflove @odinsvn @imaginexmeintheuniverse @pancakefancake @xinyourdreamsx @fiantomartell @221bee-slytherin @ranhanabi777 @tomshollandz @alohamadison @rogerscreaming @amarauder @unknowingfuck @21bruhs @brahmi99 @heirofnightandday @yourssuccubus @sarahjeanscott @sofdgray @harrypotterfan1239 @youreverydayzebra @hood-and-horan @xomkailaxo @mrsbluesmize226 @trishizzlmynizzl @thestorybook-adventure @faithsamantha @expectoevans @emilianamason

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[aiiwa]

hewwooooo i recently just found your blog and i had to gobble up every single content here bc u write so well 😭😭😭 congrats for 500!!! deserve!!! and deserve more!!! for fmk (if you're still doing them) um, what about kenma, kuroo, and akaashi? don't forget to stay safe! i hopr your days are always as lovely as you are mwa

ahhh you’re so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much baby 💖 thank you for being the first to give me kenma hsdkdkkd i love him sm

FUCK - kozume kenma. y’all have no idea how much i love him.

when kenma had suggested you join him once a week for one of his streams, it was a bit of a surprise. you were by no means a gamer, only knowing the mere basics, but kenma had told you it was his fans who asked him to have you join in. they would see you randomly pop up while he was playing; bringing him snacks, giving him a kiss goodnight, or even clowning kenma for having a mini rage at a rare loss.

you had agreed, there was nothing better than spending time with your boyfriend doing something he loves - yet you were ignorant to the glint in his golden eyes as you smiled sweetly at him, and left to get ready. if only you knew kenma’s true intentions, then you could’ve been prepared for your current situation.

sitting in his lap now, the camera was focused on your expression, while his thick cock was buried balls deep inside your drooling cunny. you were all breathy moans, with his chin resting on your shoulder and muttering the filthiest things in your ear as you tried to talk to his followers as normally as possible. and when he rutted into you, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“haaa~ k-kenma...please.” you whine, throwing your head back. you can hear the comment section notifications popping up, but kenma leans forward, mumbling a hasty excuse before ending the stream.

“you really couldn’t wait a bit longer, y/n?” at his question, you shake your head, crying out as his fingers circle your swollen clit. “hmm, guess i won this game then. now i want my prize, want you to cum all over me.”

MARRY - akaashi keiji. who wouldn’t want to marry him. fun fact - before iwa, i was all about akaashi hngggg.

out of the many things you loved about your husband, his dedication was something you came to admire greatly. it was all clear through his love for you, the way he cared for his friends, and his drive to succeed in his career. but his work ethic meant many caffeine filled late nights with early morning starts to repeat the cycle.

and it really became more obvious the past month. the bags under his eyes were more prominent, less time was spent in bed with you, and almost every other day he was running to the store to restock on coffee. so you decided to stage an intervention on a day you both had off, though akaashi was busying himself in his study.

“keiji, honey.” you called, entering the room, hot cup of chamomile tea in your hand. he was hunched over some paper work, but straightened up as you approached him. “i made you some tea.”

“thank you, love.” when you made no move to leave, he only stared up at you questioningly.

“why don’t you come and rest with me for a while.” as he opens his mouth, most likely to decline, you cut him off. “it wasn’t a suggestion, keiji. come with me.”

leading the way to your living room, you plop yourself down on the comfort of your sofa, patting your thigh and inviting your husband to rest on you. a soft, tired smile graces his pretty mouth, as he stretches out on top of you, sliding his torso between your legs, and smushing his cheek to your chest. it’s so peaceful and quiet, that only a few minutes later do you hear his light, muffled snores.

running your fingers through his curls, you cluck your tongue, cuddling him closer to you. “married a crazy workaholic...tch, next time you’re tired you better sleep, before i drag you to bed and never let you go.”

KISS - kuroo tetsurou. i have like three more fmk’s for kuroo hehe, so he can have a kith. a chaotic one lmao.

coming across of box of free kittens outside your apartment complex, there was absolutely no way you could turn away from the golden eyes peaking up at you. its fluffy, ink coloured fur almost akin to kuroo’s hair, had you reaching in and bringing the kitty back home.

your boyfriend couldn’t even say anything to protest suddenly having a pet, not with the way your eyes shone as you held the kitten in your arms like a baby. and it was definitely treated as such; months of your cooing and cuddling, had turned into a year. the male cat adored you, lived for your attention, but he despised kuroo. most likely because he had named the kitty, ‘bill nya the science cat,’ even though not once had the cat ever responded to such a name.

but the two main males in your life were at a constant war for your attention. the day before your cat had wrapped himself around your shoulders as you lounged out on the couch, hissing when kuroo had tried to steal you away, before licking at your cheek and glaring at the man.

and today it was kuroo wrapped around you, toned arm hooked underneath your head. you were just trying to watch your show, when you felt his tongue lick a clean stripe across your cheek. shooting your hand up to wipe at your cheek, your glare was unnoticed as he was set in an intense stare off with the black kitty; winning as your cat huffed, and ran off to hide away.

“was that necessary?” your answer came in the proud smirk kuroo was wearing. “stop fighting with my baby.”

“oh so he’s your baby?”

“tetsu-”

leaning down, his pink tongue darted out to lick the pout of your bottom lip, before he fully presses against you for a kiss. it starts to become heated, hands roaming freely, and just as you’re about to wrap your legs around his waist - your cat appears out of nowhere, leaping onto kuroo’s back and biting at the back of his head. kuroo yells out as they tumble to the floor; and all you can do is laugh, before moving to break them apart. the two of them really were your babies.

FMK CLOSED.

[angstyclowns]

Alpha! Izuku Midoriya x Omega! Reader (Ft.Omega! Ochako)

ANd I saId AhHaHHAHHA AHHHAHHA 

I SaID HeY WhaT’s GOiNg On~~~~

I’m as useless as the G in lasagna on this page I swear.

 I also swear I’m super sorry for the inactivity but I’ve been going on hardcore isolation for four weeks (FUcK TruDEaU HaS A CaCTUs DILdO In My AsS) and I’m losing motivation fast, but I’ll try to get some asks done as soon as possible!

Anyway-

I now present my first attempt at a fic on this page-

Warning! Cheating and alpha heart break. Poor IzUwU.

Heartbreak kid

He knew deep down that she wasn’t the omega for him. He knew it, his inner alpha knew it, hell, he was sure deep down, even she knew it. But something in them kept them together. Neither were sure as to what is was, but it raged like an angry forest fire in both of them, keeping them at each others side even if they knew that something- no, someone- was out there, just aching to be a better match. 

Izuku knew he didn’t want to keep this relationship going, but the girl -He’d say omega, but that would imply his alpha viewed her as such, when in reality,it barely saw her as a person- was adamant on keeping him within arms reach. But lately, it’s taken such a turn, not even the alpha was sure he could keep up. 

Her nest was no longer an acceptable zone, the male not even allowed within a fifteen feet radius of the nest of bed sheets and pillows, her purrs no longer rang throughout the room whenever he cuddled with her, hell, cuddling alone- something both alphas and omegas needed- was so rare, Izuku was shocked beyond words. 

“Are you okay?”

 The words broke his train of though as the sudden coldness of ink disappeared from his bicep. Bright (E/C) orbs peaked up at him, bangs of (H/C) intruding every so often before she brushed them away. Her scent was vanilla sweet and surrounded him so nicely, making purrs erupt from deep within his chest. Her own purrs echoed around him reciprocation, making his alpha yip in joy. 

“I guess. Just thinking...”

The (H/C)ette hummed, resuming her work on his bicep. Somehow the omega below him convinced him to allow her to draw and doodle all over his arm, using skin safe markers of course, acting therapeutic in a way to both of them. 

“About Uraraka?”

He nodded as his purrs immediately softened, nearly disappearing completely. The click of the marker cap shutting tightly rung through his ears but, he remained stoic, eyes tracing over line after line etching onto his arm. Beautiful orchids and leaves trailed up and down his upper arm, highlighting the muscles he worked so hard to get. She even went as far as incorporating the scars into part of the piece of work, making them look like veins trailing up and down the petals of a primrose- the centerpiece of the artwork. The peice was beautiful in every way, and if he could, he’d get it tattoo’d permanently. Hell, his inner alpha was debating buying a tattoo machine just so he could have it done permanently. 

The soft hand on his un-inked arm brought his attention full circle once more, his emerald orbs snapping forward to meet (E/C) ones. Her facial features were lax and calm, and made him smile.  Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. He was too busy watching her facial features, how her eyes shined with whatever she was saying, brows raising in the cutest way, he barely even saw her stop talking. 

“-Zuku? Izuku? Izuku!” 

The alpha shook his head at the sound of his name, quickly flushing red as she giggled, waving him off as he furiously apologized. When he shyly asked her to repeat himself she did so with little hesitation. Thinking back, if he had done the same to his now girlfriend, she’d snap at him.

“I was saying that maybe you and Uraraka should have a movie night tonight. Maybe some time alone would do you both some good. I could help you set up!” Your smile was bright and it made Izuku’s inner alpha whimper at the thought of him and Uraraka alone. He wanted to have movie night with you. Laughing with you as you flawlessly recited lyric after lyric, holding you when the climax of the movie would hit and you would inevitably feel sympathetic for the main character, carrying you to bed after you fell asleep during the credits, cuddling with you until day break. All of these things were things he wanted to do with you. Not her. 

Nodding, he followed you into the dorms (Both of you sitting on the outside porch for some fresh air), thinking back onto his relationship with the brunette. She had asked him to scent something for her about two months back, and he was overjoyed. His inner alpha couldn’t care less, as he had already seen you as his omega, but Izuku knew deep down he wouldn’t get that chance. You were gorgeous in every way and he adored you for your kind hearted attitude. He adored you. But that was a far away fantasy in his mind so he settled for Uraraka. 

In the first few days, his alpha completely ignored the omega, only recently coming around to even think about her as a suitable omega; and then it was if a flip was switched and they were all back at square one. But this wasn’t his alpha’s fault. Uraraka changed completely, making even Izuku question if he wanted to keep the relationship going. And he was going to break things with her, but he didn’t have a reasonable excuse. 

No matter, maybe he could rekindle this dying light with your help. 

Or so he thought. Watching as your skipping form abruptly stopped at the kitchen entrance. His brows furrowed as his alpha pushed to the surface, immediately rushing to your side. His heart dropped at the sight. 

Iida and Uraraka were hurriedly trying to clean themselves up, the appearance of you obviously disrupting their previous activities (Izuku shuddering at  thought of what that could be. But between their disheveled hair and clothes, he could make a pretty good guess). His alpha was snarling wildly and growling, begging to be let out and put that damned omega in her place. Playing with an alpha like that was shameful that in olden days, it was punishable by death. 

But Izuku knew that would nothing but scare you, and he didn’t want that. So sucking up his tears and clearing his throat, he merely let the alpha relish in the look of horror that crossed their faces.  Clutching his hands into fists, he growled lowly before opening his mouth to speak. Yet the words he heard weren’t his. 

They were yours.

“You pitiful excuse of an omega! How in the world could you even think about cheating on an alpha, let alone one as sweet as Izuku?!” You spat the words, snarling as you stepped forward, anger apparent in your words, actions and scent. “Your pathetic doing so! I’m so ashamed of your actions, you almost make me ashamed to be an omega. God, there aren’t enough words in any language to describe how inexcusable your actions have been, much less disgraceful.”

You snapped viciously before turning to face Iida. “And you! How could you do this to one of your best friends?! This is deplorable and surely is enough to tarnish the Iida family name don’t you think?!”

The shocked look the two gave you was enough for you to deem this a triumphant victory before pulling Izuku, who looked seconds away from breaking down to his room. You watched as he let the rivers upon rivers of tears escape the corners of his eyes, eventually leaving him to his own devices, as an angry and upset alpha was also an unpredictable one.

<>~<>~<>~<>

Five days. It had been five days since anyone had seen Izuku. You left him food by his door everyday for every meal, praying he was eating it. Since the stench of death wasn’t constantly wafting from his room, you would say he was. 

You had been in his room once within those five days, hoping to collect the dishes he was obviously compiling. He let you in, but holy shit did he look like death hit him with an iron mallet. His hair was greasy and his shirt had stains all over it; eyes puffy from days of crying. It made your omega whine in agony. You ended up making him a makeshift nest that day before leaving with the dishes. 

Right now, you were wishing you had stayed with him though. Recovery girl and Aizawa stood in front of you, each looking incredibly disappointed.

Uraraka had challenged you to a fight in the middle of the night, and with your omega still being incredibly angry at her, you didn’t get the chance to decline. It had been a long and tedious battle- mainly because she just wouldn’t give up- but you won in the end; with a price however. 

Your eye was swollen and turning darker by the second and the bottom right of your lower jaw was bandaged, and you had numerous other bandages covering cuts all over your body (She had thrown you through a window). 

“I’m sure you both realize how incredibly foolish this was-”

“Y/N!” 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, green hair quickly entering your line of vision as a body collided with yours. Pain seared through your side but you pushed through it, just happy to see the alpha out of his room. Your omega purred loudly before you could stop it, Izuku holding you close to his chest, almost in fear of letting you go. A small cough from the male teacher behind you quickly made him let go, but he still kept a hand on your shoulder. 

He sat silently as Aizawa dealt out reprimendments and  punishments, turning to you once more after he left.

If you thought he looked bad before, he looked much worse now. Bags set under his eyes, heavy and deep, and his eyes were much more bloodshot. Tear tracks reflected off of the light above you and you could see the nearly gone remnants of the drawing on his arm. 

You didn’t get to ponder more on it before he laid his head on top of yours, hiccuping as his breaths came in short gulps of air. It didn’t seem as if he were crying, but you’ve been wrong before. 

“Please. Never do that again. When I heard you got into a fight, I- I thought I had failed you again and you were seriously hurt.” His voice cracked, but his arms remained firm, keeping you tightly against him. 

“What about me, Deku?” That very voice. The one that started this mess seemed to make Izuku grip you even tighter.

“What about you?” For a normally docile alpha, the growl that escaped him would send shivers down even Bakugo’s spine. You arms instinctively wrapped around the alpha’s ribs as you nuzzled into his chest. You know he’d never hurt you, but your omega would be damned if he wasn’t surrounding by his scent right this minute. 

He purred lowly before turning his head to face the brunette beside you two, “I trusted you, Uraraka. And you broke that trust. As far as I’m concerned your nothing but a classmate right now. Maybe one day, we could rebuild a friendship, but I don’t see that day happening anytime soon. I may be partially to blame for trusting you so easily, but even then, cheating on me in downright implorable, even for a villain. You destroyed our friendship, destroyed our relationship and tried fighting Y/N. If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut up and leave me and my omega alone right now.”

Without another word, Izuku picked you up bridal style, quickly carrying you out of Recovery girl’s office. 

Deep down, you both knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship just yet- it would take a while for him to get over the harsh reality of a heartbreak. But now, Izuku could look forward knowing you were there to help him on his journey, and when he was ready...

You’d be waiting with open arms and a smile on your face.

[orionwhispers]

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.