#like the larger figure Is Me (although i left out like. my hair. & glasses i guess)

[lambentumbra]

who are you in your head?

[mothgodofchaos]

Bat

The title for this one was too good to pass up. I wanted to make him a bastard but he just became way too adorable.

Vampire!Author x GN!Reader, TW: gore, murder, bloodsucking, implied attempted kidnapping Words: 728

You’re walking home alone, not the wisest decision but it’s done out of necessity. You were feeling unsafe as you were out with people, something just felt off. So without a word to anyone else, you left. Your hand grips tightly around your key ring, slotted between your fingers in an effort to make you able to do more damage. If needed, and you pray that you don’t need to.

A puddle splashes behind you and you pull out your phone, using it as a mirror. Shit, someone is following you. A larger car starts driving slower on the street coming in the opposite direction, and you realize how fucked you are. You recognize the guy behind you from the restaurant, and dread sets in. Do you have anything else to defend yourself with?

You pass an alleyway and another man steps out, and you think you’re done for. He pushes you behind him as he lets out a growl, lunging at your stalker with a barbed wire coated bat. The man is barely able to scream before his head explodes into gore, and the car speeds off.

Your defender turns around, coated in blood with glowing golden eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“I, I guess? Thank you?”

You watch in horror as he slings his bat over his shoulder, tearing off the man’s arm and sinking his teeth into it like it’s a turkey leg. It takes you a moment to realize he’s not eating the man, but drinking his blood. When he drops the arm, you catch a glimpse of his fangs as he licks his lips clean.

“Would you like me to walk you home? It’d make me feel better knowing you got home safe. Not like I can come in anyways unless you invite me.”

Somehow, that does make you feel better, although you’re trying not to look at the mutilated corpse that lays on the sidewalk at your defender’s feet.

“Sure, that’d help me a lot.”

“Lead the way! I’m Alric, by the way.”

He shines a smile at you, avoiding shaking your hand so as to not get blood on you. The two of you talk, and you’re shocked at how jovial he is. Usually vampires are depicted as dark and broody, but he seems to be rather humorous and sassy. He lights up as he gets you to laugh, trying to keep your mind off him murdering a guy and how unsafe people can feel at night.

The two of you get back to your place, and he walks you to your door. Once your door is unlocked, he turns to go, but stops when you call to him.

“Would you like to take a shower? Get the blood off you?”

Alric freezes, not expecting you to say that.

“Are you sure? You do know the rules, right?”

“It’s the least I can do, and I enjoyed your company. And if you’re still hungry, I have some steaks in the fridge.”

“As long as they’re the meat steaks, I’m down.”

He laughs as you hold the door open for him, thanking you profusely. You let him wash his clothes too, lending him a robe while they dry. He stops in his tracks as he catches you trying to clean off his bat, mid-towel drying his hair.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to. It’s alright.”

He squints at you, looking at the table and seeing a steak on a plate and a glass of red wine.

“I didn’t know if you drank water, but I figured you’d want something to drink.”

Alric just stands there, staring at you.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“You potentially saved my life, and I think that you should repay good deeds.”

“And the vampire thing doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?”

You make him pause, holding the towel around his neck.

“It usually does…”

“Well, it’s almost daylight and I don’t want you getting burned. So if you need a couch to crash on or some other kind of sleeping arrangement, I can make something work.”

“Oh, I can just sleep upside down as a bat. Here, look.”

He poofs into a bat, hanging off of your arm as he pulls a laugh from you. He poofs back, grinning big.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“Thank you, for getting rid of that guy.”

[merlinssassybeard]

More ex gojo headcanon 🛐

Gojo is his own warning

Reader has big boobies. Why? Im gay for boobs thats why. Im flat btw ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Ex husband Gojo

Random drabble

Gojo loves kissing you on the forehead. He wouldn't mind receiving either.

He wouldn't just kiss anyone on the forehead, you would have to be someone he's known for too long or someone who sees him for him and not just his looks, money or his power.

And that is why, you happened to be the recipient of his rare forehead kisses.

He still, after divorcing you, kisses you on the forehead, always.

Gojo has a very bad habit. His bad habit is leaving mark, both figuratively and literally.

That is why whenever he comes to see you and you're not grumpy, he manages to leave his marks on you.

His soft gentle kisses on your neck turn into hungrily sucking and eventually leaving a hickey.

Oh boy Gojo LOVES biting. Yes, Gojo bites. Those little sharp canines aren't for show.

Ex husband Gojo gropes on your clothed breasts while he bites on your shoulder and moves his lips to your neck again and licks all the red hickeys left by him. All while, you lay in your bra and panty, helplessly squirm and wiggle under his warm touch and the ecstatic feeling of the foreplay and the sudden rush of hormones made you go crazy as you grab and pull onto his white hair to which he gracefully replies with moans and pants.

Gojo is OBSESSED with your boobs because they're just so soft, squishy and sensitive. He loves to knead on your soft breasts while toying with your nipples as he continues to thrust in you.

Although, now that he has divorced you and maintains a healthy limit of physical contacts with you, Satoru is secretly still obsessed with your now even larger than before, booboos. Yes, booboos.

Apparently, Satoru loves your breasts so much that he likes to call them, booboos. You, though, found it weird but brushed it off as a 'man thing'. Lmao

They're just so big and squishier now, after having a child. He has even confessed to you mid chats when he comes to see his girls.

"you've been staring at me for a while now. Do you like my Taylor Swift t-shirt that much?" You jokingly asked as you took out all your groceries from the bag and placed them on the counter. Satoru, sitting across with his daughter on his lap, playing with a pack of biscuits. He had his eyes squinted, sunglasses lowered and hands on his chin, rubbing, he commented with a focused gaze, "98 centimetres". You, confused, asked, "98? What?"

"your booboos" he replied, unbothered by your now red flustering cheeks. "Satoru!" You shyly called out to him and threw a frozen peas pack on his face.

"ow oww what did you do that for!? I was just appreciating you." He pouted. "Afterall, you're doing better now than you did before."Gojo murmured, thinking maybe you didn't hear him but you did.

"do......do you....w.......want to....touch them?..." You awkwardly asked without looking at him. Your heart was now literally aching because it beated so fast due to the creeping embarrassment of recieving no reply and the fact that you dared to pop such an explicit question to your EX HUSBAND of all people.

You mentally slapped yourself before opening your mouth again, "forget i aske-", "yes".

Your head shot up to look at him. He had removed his glasses and his big round cat-like eyes felt as if though they were glowing. Shining in lightest shade of blue, like the sky on a clear day. He picked up his little chubby daughter and had her sit on the counter as he stood up and stretched a little.

Your, on the other hand, kept staring at Satoru with your mouth slightly agape. In your head, you were appreciating The Gojo Satoru's looks like a teenage girl. Starting from his tall figure to his lean body to his his gorgeous facial features. His bright eyes, his cherry lips to his gorgeous cat eye's white lashes and oh god! His snow like soft white hair.

You were abruptly snapped out of your thoughts when Satoru's figure came close to yours. You continued to look into his eyes that had never EVER failed to charm you with how much beauty and power those to two bright orbs hold.

Satoru leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, "yes".

You swear you would've fainted down on the floor right at that moment because he is your ex husband and you shamefully agree at the fact that he looks much more sexier NOW than he did when you were married.

However, magically somehow you managed compose yourself to look like the strong and cold ex wife persona you have for him.

You grabbed squeezed his cheeks, bringing him closer to your face and kissed his lips and just before pulling out, you bit onto his lips and whispered locking your eyes with his......

"its 106 centimetres now"

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

[frogsnbunnies0914]

hii, how are you? ☕ I love your writing style and the jjk content on your blog. could I request prompts with nanami kento? One that’s always left out + the only one that pays them any attention. Light kisses scattered across your lover's face down to their collarbone.

"the only one i want to pay attention to is you": nanami x gn!reader (18+ for nsfw/suggestive content!!)

prompts: one that’s always left out + the only one that pays them any attention, light kisses scattered across your lover's face down to their collarbone

content notes: kisses, hickeys, making out/getting teased in his car

an: hihi, im doing well, thank you for asking!! how are you doing, love? and hdsjfhkj youre so sweet, omg <3<3 you are always free to request! i hope you enjoy (this is not proofread) ^^ as a note, i havent written much nsfw stuff, so i apologize if the end isnt great. also i know you didn’t ask for nsfw content, so i hope this is okay, as it is what i thought of when i saw your prompt. i hope you enjoy!!

Nanami's head swivels around, looking for you in the crowded room. He had brought you to a work party, one where he figured you could mingle with his coworkers and the people they brought. If not, he didn't mind having you by his side the whole night. However, you had disappeared a while ago and he hasn't even caught a glimpse of you or an utter of your name. "Whatcha lookin' for, 'nami?" Gojo coos. Ah, of course. The reason he was looking for you in the first place. "My partner, not that it's any of your business."

"What, you'd rather spend time with them than lil' old me?" Nanami glares at the white haired man. "Yes, very much so. Now if you'll excuse me." Turning on his heel, Nanami walks away from the man who captured his attention. Gojo had recently fought a particularly nasty curse and felt it important to spread the information to the next person they would likely come to for exorcising it how he got inside the office building is something that still confused Nanami. This had taken much longer than your beloved anticipated, however, as you had wandered off and now he had to find you. He hoped to see you mingling, but no such luck. Some games were going on in the center of the room and the back of the room had a food table. Finally, he spots you near the janitor’s closet, holding a drink and looking at the crowd longingly.

“Having fun, my love?” Nanami questions. He chuckles as you jump before noticing the tears that had barely been forming in your eyes. His look of amusement quickly drops to one of concern. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“y/n...”

“...” You hesitate. “Kento, I don’t want to bother you, not at this party with--” his hand reaches for your face and cradles it. “Whatever it is, I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Although his glasses cover his eyes, you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “What’s wrong?” Finally, your tears grow larger and begin to fall. “I feel...I feel like I don’t belong here. Every time I try to play a game I get pushed out of the circles, every time I try to sit down and talk with someone they talk to someone else, I just feel so out of place, like I want someone to see me and talk to me but they see past me and walk through me.” At your heartbroken words, Nanami feels his stomach drop. He wanted you to come and have fun, not come to feel like less than you are. “Would you like me to spend more time with you? I didn’t mean to leave you alone like this.”

“No, it’s okay, you really should be paying attention to more important people like--”

“Sweetheart, the only one I want to pay attention to is you. You are the most important person in the room right now and it was never my intention to make you feel like less.” Slowly, he pulls your face closer to his as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks. “May I please show you how important you are to me?”

“I...” you bite your lip as he stops right before you meet his. Nanami’s eyebrow raises, awaiting your answer before continuing. “Please.”

--------(NSFW below!!!)--------

Although his car is more cramped than you would like, you appreciated that you could sit on his lap without fear that his coworkers would catch you. Small moans leave your mouth as he trails from your lips, down your jaw, behind your ear, and finally coming down your neck. After each kiss, he murmurs into your skin how much he loves you. As he begins to lightly suck the soft skin on your collarbone, your moans become more needy. “Please Kento, I need you.”

“And I need you more,” he mummers as he makes his way back up your face. Nanami catches your lips in his once more, this time more aggressive than the soft kisses on the way down to the parking garage. Your eyes close as you melt into the kiss. He can taste your tears still, despite having licked most of it off the first time around. While he distracts you by sliding his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sneaks down your front and begins to softly rub his thumb against your sensitive area. You moan into his mouth before dropping your head into the crook of his neck. “K-ken...”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“F-feels good~” His heart quickens at your words, even moreso when you begin to grind on his lap. He lets out a soft groan of his own as you connect with his growing bulge, the friction slowly becoming unbearable. When he can’t take it anymore, he uses what little amount of self control he has left to stop his hand movements. Immediately, you look up at him in confusion and frustration, chest heaving from excitement. “Huh...?”

Nanami shows a soft grin. “That was just a teaser, my love. Now why don’t we head home so I can really show you how much you mean to me.”

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[lee-aveyourmark]

excerpts of a mingyu work.

playlist: 

> ‘sunkissed’ by khai dreams > ‘nervous’ by shawn mendes  > ‘like me’ by pH-1 > ‘you’re the reason why i love’ by redpestbeats

wordcount: 2.7k+

“Heads up!” 

The words are shouted all too late as a football makes contact with your head, leaving you momentarily shaken as your vision flashes white. You stop in your tracks, hands immediately dropping the stack of notebooks and loose-leaf papers and flying up to clutch at the zone of impact. A wince forms on your face as you will yourself not to cry, fingers digging at your scalp. 

“Shit, I’m so so sorry.” 

The voice is laced with worry as a larger, sweatier pair of hands cover yours. Looking up, you make eye contact with a tall muscular boy adorned in sweaty football gear. His eyebrows are furrowed and is biting his lower lip in nervousness at your state of distress: injured in a messy sea of probably very important papers. The athlete quickly lets go of your head to bend down and pick up the excerpts of research papers you had printed out for your new assignment, apologising profusely all the while. 

“I really am sorry, I didn’t think it would hit you that hard. Or on the head for that matter.” 

You blink, trying to smooth your unkempt hair. 

“Wait, what?” 

The tree of a male stands back up and hands back your papers that he recollected into a neat pile with both hands and bashful eyes that are unwilling to linger on yours for too long. 

“You...hit me on purpose?” 

He scratches the back of his head, now definitely too afraid to look at you. 

“Um, yeah...I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you though!” 

You fold your arms across your chest, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment. 

“Then what exactly were you trying to do?” 

He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up, sticking out a hand. 

“I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Arts major. Star of the college football team.”

- - - 

The next time you bump into the attacking midfielder, he’s still a little sweaty. Only now, it’s just his hands that are perspiring out of anticipation. 

You’re relaxing on the couch when he catches sight of you: hair splayed out on the back pillows, hands resting comfortably on top of your stomach and eyes tracing the imaginary lines of your apartment ceiling. Mingyu takes a moment to quietly appreciate the lilac of your sundress, the glow of your collarbones and cheekbones in the dim lighting of your apartment and the pink peach painted upon your lips. 

His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him after he calls out your name, the Arts student quickly feeling himself blush under your gaze and perspire even more in his subsequent efforts to look presentable. He doesn’t think he could feel any warmer than at that very moment, holding himself back from reaching up to wipe possible beads of sweat forming on his forehead, until he hears his name escape from your lips. 

“Mingyu.” 

Your tone is soft, albeit surprised - so soft that he’s certain his heart is melting inside its chest. Mingyu wants nothing more than to run out of your apartment screaming in joy at how adorable every part of you is, arriving at his own dorm before violently shaking Seungcheol by the shoulders and furiously - but very gently, rubbing noses with his older friend’s blue British shorthair kitten Mia. Oh, and he definitely has to thank Seokmin profusely for inviting him to the party with his treat to barbecue at the grill house doted by college students placed on a week-long waiting list. 

That fantasy will just have to wait until he finishes this conversation with you. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

That is, if he even manages to make it out alive. 

- - -

Warm. That’s the only thing your mind can comprehend when he’s around you. Every detail of him, from his golden skin to his saccharine smooth talk, sends heat coursing throughout your body. The scene is so new yet so familiar: Mingyu dressed in charcoal slacks and a Prussian blue short-sleeve button up sitting opposite of you at a small round table for two in a cozy Italian restaurant nearby campus, delicately sipping on a glass of cheap, bright red wine with one hand and softly holding yours with the other. 

You hang onto his every word as he admires the mellow spring breeze and the bright starry night sky, stopping yourself from telling him how you think that they couldn’t compare to his wide and curious eyes. However, the glint in his eyes as he shifts his gaze back to you from the restaurant balcony that is fenced by chipping wood coated in a messy layer of white paint tells you that he’s already picked up on your thoughts. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as you look down at your bowl and continue to eat your pasta, being careful to not let the sauce smear to prevent the dream of Mingyu touching your lips being fulfilled. 

Although, when Mingyu tries his best to not whine about you not giving him a chance to be romantic while walking back to your dorm but ends his complaint with a pout and the swinging of his arms, you stutter to him out of sheer amazement at his brazenness that you’ll try to be more open next time. Excitement lights up Mingyu’s face at the thought of going on another date with you, prompting him to hold you firmly by the shoulders and swoop in for a kiss on your temple. His uncontrollable giggles afterwards is like music to your ears, and you wish you didn’t reciprocate the gesture of affection so quickly that you might’ve been able to listen to his audible enjoyment just a little longer. But his agape jaw and clasping of his left cheek with both hands is more than gratifying enough. 

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, tongue poking his cheek, and your heart stops. 

“Wow, I really I can’t believe that I like you this much.”

- - -

One of your many other meet-ups with Mingyu later is at one of his football training sessions. His face is gleaming and his team jersey is clinging to his defined body like a second skin, the neon green of his bib fluttering against the wind as he dribbles the ball with ease across the vast green field. You’re waiting on the benches, watching him finish up the last of his practice. The mock match ends with campus heartthrob Jeonghan kicking the final goal before shooting finger guns and winks at a group of girls seated at the adjacent section, the shrill blowing of the whistle bringing some players to collapse onto the soft grass beneath in relief. You rise to your feet and send a few claps the team’s way in acknowledgement of their hard work, eyes immediately locking with Mingyu’s at your show of support. 

Despite the strenuous exercise, you still manage to pick on up his cologne - the same one at the party and during dinner, when he runs over and greets you with a kiss on your cheek that lingers. His action brings on a cacophony of cheers from his teammates, the captain Seungcheol patting him on the back with a dimply smile while jogging by.

“Let me get washed up, and then we can go to that new dog cafe on the corner.” The suggestion is mumbled in a smile against the warmth of your cheek, ending with another kiss before Mingyu pulls away and rushes off to take the quickest shower of his life.

As the two of you walk in the spring breeze, you can’t help but think that the world is on your side when watching the cherry blossoms fall. The feeling of his calloused hand tightly holding yours and his attempts to close as much distance between as possible by pressing his side to yours brings butterflies to your stomach, the nervousness and excitement persisting whenever you’re with Mingyu. 

And when he leans in to plant a sweet kiss on your cheek just before taking a picture of you two crouched on the floor of a dog cafe cuddling a lovable Samoyed smothering kisses on your other cheek, you hope that the butterflies never leave.

- - - 

“I think Wonwoo likes you.” 

Your head snaps up from your notebook towards your study partner with wide eyes, your pen stopping its writing mid-word. 

“Wonwoo? My Wonwoo?” 

Mingyu doesn’t reply, just stares at you with an unknown expression clouding his face. 

“Come on Mingyu, if you’re jealous, you can just tell me. And besides, you know that there isn’t anything between us.” You laugh, refocusing on your notes with a light shake of your head. 

“That’s want I want to believe as well, but I don’t think that’s true. I think he does have feelings for you.” 

Mingyu thinks back to all those times he’s seen you with your best friend, the way that Wonwoo looked at you, his eyes all too similar to how his own shone when catching sight of you. He thinks of Wonwoo, the best friend who doesn’t bat an eyelash when insulting any person on earth but doesn’t make a single judgmental comment about you, even when you do need the discipline. Wonwoo, who tries so hard to be physically and intimately close to you as possible without being rejected, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder during lectures and sharing his drink without a second thought. Wonwoo, who Mingyu has made attempts to befriend, but can never find himself to be successful at doing so for vague reasons. Vague reasons that he now has come to understand. 

You notice Mingyu being caught up in a trance, thoughts plaguing his mind as he chews on his bottom lip. With a stroke of his cheek and a mention of his name, you bring him back. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“How do you feel?” 

He breaks gaze with you to look at the chipping of the table, the chewing of his lip highlighting the distress that whirls inside his mind. 

“I...I don’t know. I want you. But, I don’t want to take you away from your best friend.” 

- - - 

You see him everywhere. 

Running across the football pitch, hanging out with Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the campus cafe, in deep conversation with Minghao at the library. You don’t look for very long, afraid of what might happen if he caught you staring, but your memory captures his figure quite vividly. His slowly growing fringe covering his eyes that still manage to shine through, his golden cheeks that radiate the early sunset glow, his lips that trapped between his teeth when he stumbles across an obstacle. The details appear in your dreams. 

Your subconscious thinks back to how you used to run your fingers through his hair, sweeping that fringe back so that you could gaze into his loving eyes better, how you used to place lip gloss stained marks on those cheeks which would shine on summer nights as he smiled in contentment, how you used to catch his bottom lip between your teeth on a slow Friday night. Even when you close your eyes, you still remember the darkness of his hair and the tan of skin as clear as day. 

But as you continue to walk past the football team in practice, as you decide to hang out with Seokmin at a cafe off campus, as you choose to move your Thursday study session to your dorm, the fear of forgetting such beauties grows within. 

Slugging back to the dorm after a long day of classes and grueling part-time work, the cycle continues as you toss your bag to one side of the couch and meet Seokmin’s arms at the other where he places slow, comforting pats on your head and back.

“Mingyu, huh?”

- - -

The coolness of the window does little to alleviate the blazing heat flaming your entire body as the taxi drives you to the campus dorms. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to relax yourself against the oddly slippery seat of the car, your mind drifting to the events which occurred just before. 

“Fuck, I can’t give you the love you want from me. You know I can’t.” 

You stare at the blue ocean breeze candle decorating the console table in the entrance of your dorm, it’s flickering flame barely illuminating the eyebags sunken into both yours and Wonwoo’s faces. 

Your best friend doesn’t respond, instead he just fixes his gaze on the same light.

You wish he would say something. Anything. Anything to help let you know where his mind is right now, because you’ve grown weary of trying to read Wonwoo over the past few weeks. You can’t seem to understand Wonwoo anymore, especially when he refrains from sharing his feelings with you. 

The thought of the change in your relationship with him brings tears to slip out, streaming down your cheeks. Your hands quickly lift to wipe away the hot streams, nose sniffling from what you wish was the cold of winter season. 

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Just stares. His fingers tremble slightly, and his eyes glisten, but he doesn’t reach out towards you. 

So you take a deep breath. 

“You should go back to Hayoung. She’s probably waiting for you.” 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, then unhinges. Closes his eyes, then opens them. Takes a slow breath. In and out. 

Seokmin comes around the corner, the couple of drinks in his system bringing rose to tint his caramel visage. He catches you slipping on your shoes and putting on your coat, and moves forward past Wonwoo to wraps his arms around you. 

“Where are you going?” His question is muffled into your neck. 

You return the auburn-haired boy’s hug, planting a firm kiss on his cheek before stepping back to take hold of his hands. 

“I’ll be back, okay? Don’t wait up. And make sure that Woozi eats something, he can’t drink on a handful of Flamin Hot Cheetos.” 

Seokmin nods with a pout, embracing you tightly once more. Walking back to the party in the living room, he stops to give a consoling pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder then continues on towards the said Music major reaching for his fourth shot of soju for the night. 

You clear your throat, partially due to the lack of liquid consumed in the past half hour, and also in attempt to rid the fear lurking in the pit of your stomach. With your eyes trained on the floorboards beneath, you step closer to Wonwoo and reach out to grab his forearm. 

With another clear of your throat, you look up at him. Tears gloss over his eyes, threatening to spill, but never falling. You see the miniscule quiver of his chin, a sight only beheld when being at such a proximity; a sight that you don’t think you will really ever be able to see again in all its vulnerability. 

“Goodbye Wonwoo.” 

- - -

He looks so out of place, sitting in the small retro diner wearing a grey taupe two-piece and shiny black dress shoes with his hair slicked back accessorised with a pair of tired eyes as he stuffs four fries into his mouth and sighs. You hear parts of the conversation they’re having, mainly of Seungcheol trying to cheer him up by praising him for doing well in the interview, but the arch of his spine renders the older friend’s attempts obsolete.

“Mingyu.” 

Your voice is quiet but he catches on, blinking in bewilderment before sighing loudly once more. 

“Hyung, I think I’m going-” 

“Mingyu.” 

You’re moving towards him this time, the sound of your shoes against the tiled floor bringing him to perk his head up and look around the diner with frantic eyes. 

His gaze falls on you, and your feet stop its movement. 

As he stands up and walks over, you notice that attached to his navy tie is the silver tie clip engraved with the initials kmg that you bought for his birthday, and that as he wraps his arms around your beneath your coat to sweep you off your feet, he still wears the cologne you bought as an accompanying gift. 

You also notice, as you bury your head in his neck, that tears are dampening the shoulder of your thin wool coat and his body is shaking with each sob that he racks out. 

"Oh, Mingyu.”

Thank you for reading this! I hope you’ve enjoyed it, even though it’s at its bare bones. I don’t think I ever will rewrite this the future to fill in the gaps, so I’ll leave it to your imagination. Thank you again. 

Also, stay tuned for the version of this more focused on Wonwoo’s relationship. 

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 21

Prompt: Yandere/Spanking w/ Inoichi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Yandere, Mutual Pining, Implied Stalking, Mild Dubcon, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Aftercare || Characters: Inoichi Yamanka, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

this fic contains yandere and mild dubcon themes, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read!

With a content sigh, you unlocked the front door to your apartment, a slight fuzziness blurring your vision and limbs thanks to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your keys were discarded into the cutesy trinket tray, your shoes kicked off into the ever-growing pile nearby. The date was an okay one, nothing extremely exciting but, hey, he was cute and it was a fun time. It may have sounded obnoxious when said out loud, but no men your age interested you. Not like you didn't give a plethora of them chances, and you still made friends with most of them. You just never seemed to form that romantic attachment you craved so desperately. What that said about your mental health wasn't totally lost on you, but not like you could (or wanted) to do a whole lot about it.

The sweater covering your shoulders was thrown onto a chair, your constricting belt quickly following as you made your way to your bedroom. At first, you didn't notice it, didn't notice anything at all. You simply continued walking on past the kitchen and living room, into your bedroom where you stripped your shirt and pants off. Trudging back out to the bathroom in your underwear and bra, your brows furrowed. You didn't remember turning one of the lights on… Chalking it up to the kitchen stove light you always left on, you continued your mission of brushing your teeth and face. When you came back out of the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, freezing when you saw a figure sitting in one of your chairs, contently reading a book.

"S-Sir?!" the big kitchen light was on, illuminating the stoic face of one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

The older blond man placed his book down, seeming annoyed it took you this long to notice him before he started with a huff, "I pay all my employees well, even ones as low down on the ladder as you. One would think that allows for better locks. And it's about time you arrived home, considering you have work tomorrow, no?"

Confusion was about the only emotion you could feel as your boss all but scolded you, besides the dull horny you always felt when it came to the man in front of you, though you suppressed that part for now, "Better wha- What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Inoichi stood slowly, towering over you and making you regret the harsh tone you used, "Because it seems you forgot whom you belong to, dearest rosebud."

Besides the fact that his reply gave you more questions than answers, you silently gasped at the pet name he used. It was the same pet name your secret admirer had been using for you. You never saw the constant flower bouquets, food deliveries, or expensive gifts as harmful. They were, if anything, an ego boost to you thus far. All delivered to you with the sweetest notes, describing how ethereal you were, and always addressing you as rosebud, albeit also sounding a bit possessive. Additionally, in the six months, you had been receiving gifts, you hadn't been on any dates, instead choosing to focus on your new career supporting the Torture and Interrogation Department. A career that found you moving up the ladder fast, though you were still just doing menial tasks. Briefly, you wondered how much Inoichi had to do with those promotions, but he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hand, and tore you from your thoughts.

"I think it's about time you come home. To your true home, don't you?"

Your heart thumped loudly in your throat and you nodded against your better judgment, "I do."

The smile you were met with sent a warm tingle through your body, and you returned a smile of your own. Inoichi nodded and picked his book up from the table, his other hand patting the top of your head. The silent praise had your chest swelling with pride for some reason unknown to you. It should have alarmed you how easily you accepted his offer, though you rationalized that you didn't have much choice, fearing that if you rejected him the trained ninja would take you anyways. Better to go willingly than be taken by force, right? Well, that and you were still a bit tipsy.

Before long, you were tucked snugly into the side of the blond man, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The route to his home was longer than it should have been, you suspected he was purposely avoiding the main streets. Being a high ranking shinobi taking a girl home during the early hours of the morning would raise questions. Especially a girl that worked under him. His warm touch was protecting you from the cold and the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. It had you snuggling into his side more, an act which made him smile, he knew his rosebud wouldn't deny him. This definitely proved you deserved a present larger than anything he gifted you previously.

The Yamanaka clan complex was expansive and the main house was nothing to sneeze at either, easily dwarfing your apartment several times over. He led you inside, showing you around and you took notice of how similar his place was to yours. Not in the layout or big furniture pieces, but he had the same type of napkins, your favorite drinks, even your shampoo in his bathroom which you assumed was his daughter's. It didn't dawn on you until he took you on a tour of his room just how deep you were in. In his room, you found clothing that was unmistakably yours, items that had gone missing months ago and some just last week. They ranged from shirts and leggings to underwear and even a pillowcase. You tried not to take note of how some pieces were stained with white spots. Uneasiness began to grow in your gut as you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into when your phone buzzed with a notification. You pulled it out, only to have Inoichi take it from you and punch in your passcode.

His face soured, "You really think that lowlife deserves a second date? Before you give me even <em>one</em>? Disgusting."

Your date from earlier must have texted back after you replied you wanted to see him again. He was about to slide your phone onto the dresser when it began to ring. If the scowl on his face told you anything, it was, unfortunately, your date calling. The guy did say he preferred talking over text and at the time, you didn't mind, but now, it was really rather annoying.

"Answer it. Reject him. Reject him like you know you want to," the direction was clear and stern, leaving no room for discussion as he thrust the phone in your direction.

Nervously, you took the device from him and answered the call. Rejecting someone, in general, was an anxiety-inducing task, but to have an overbearing admirer glare you down while doing so was all the more nerve-wracking. Your voice wavered slightly as you talked and although Inoichi still frowned, his hands played through your hair, skimming the ends of your locks. The guy on the other end was rightfully confused while you explained you never wanted to see him again because just an hour ago you texted you were looking forward to it. Part of you hoped he would pick up on the odd behavior and come after you, but the realistic part of your brain told you the boy was too daft and a measly coward. The opposite of the man in front of you.

Once the call was complete the smile returned to the blonde's face, "Good flower! I knew you wanted to be with me. But-," his face fell again, a look of complete seriousness that made you swallow hard, "I can't forgive your little indiscretion. Not yet. It seems you need a punishment to truly remind you of whom you belong to, rosebud."

Your face grew cold at the implications, yet still, you allowed Inoichi to lead you towards the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his expansive thighs, hardened with all the training he did. You should be refusing, should be running far, far away from this situation. But, it was too tempting. How many times does the man you fantasize about return your affections so vigorously? Additionally, a spanking from him sounded like time well spent and you did deserve it for trying to date someone else when you were meant for him. You laid yourself across his legs, the pants you haphazardly put on before leaving being tugged down to your knees. His hands caressed your backside, massaging your ass cheeks before giving a playful swat to them.

"Count them. If you lose count we start over. We'll stop when I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?"

You nodded before squeaking out a, "Yes, daddy."

The name seemed to both please and shock the man, as his hand stalled in mid-air before he grinned. Then, he brought his hand down to your cheek, prompting you to call out the number. A second smack was quick to follow onto the other cheek along with a third, his hands only stalling to hear you mutter out the number. Thankfully, he was merciful in his technique, alternating cheeks and making sure to smack the untouched parts of your backside. A couple even landed harshly on your folds, the wetness gathering there only intensifying the pleasure-pain you felt. After spank thirty, it was hard to find an area that wasn't welting up, and so he went over the areas he already smacked. It made it all the more sensitive as your legs jerked slightly and hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. Your ass was raw and bleeding slightly in a few places, yet still, his hands struck you, enjoying each conflicted whine that left your mouth.

At fifty, you prayed he would be finished, but he kept on spanking, making sure to land more smacks over your pussy. He'd make comments that were a mix of degrading praise about how wet you were for him and how well he was going to fuck you. The promise of being railed by the ever-growing hard-on beneath you was the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop. You were determined to be a good girl for your daddy, despite the burning pain you felt on your rear. Somewhere in the midst of the sixties, you actually came on his hand after he smacked your pussy again, earning rumbling praise from the man above you. Finally, at seventy-five, he stopped, most likely because his hands were sore at this point too. Your reprieve was capitalized by him affectionately rubbing and massaging your abused cheeks as if it pained him to hurt you. Without restraint, you whined into his chest as he held you, hips grinding down against his.

He laughed softly and kissed along your jaw, "Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to accept me as your one and only?"

"Yes, I've learned my lesson, daddy. You're the only one I want in my life. Now and always, please never leave me," you held onto his shirt as you locked gazes with him, your best puppy dog eyes on display.

They worked their intended magic, as you could see his expression soften almost immediately, "Good little blossom. I'll never leave your side and you'll never leave mine. Especially not after we become one, petal."

The notion was intoxicating, being loved by someone so much they'd do anything for you. But right now, the love you needed was physical and with the goal dangling right above your head, you were desperate to reach it. Your hands slid under his shirt and peeled it off, your own being removed soon after. Within a flash, you both were naked and kissing each other feverishly. Inoichi laid back on the bed's pillows, admiring the sight of you perched atop him. You didn't mind being on top, taking the advantage to push his cock into you quickly. As you sank down on him, his hands stroked up and down your thighs, giving a testing thrust up into you. You sat on his cock as much as your body would allow and without hesitation, began to bounce yourself on him. He sighed in pleasure as you wrapped around him so perfectly, telling you he expected nothing less from his perfect rosebud. The praise drove you wild, finally getting the recognition you deserved, albeit in the form of compliments on your sex technique.

When your thigh muscles began to clam up from overuse he laid your body down on top of him. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and he wasted little time in thrusting up into you. Hands caressed your shoulders and he locked gazes with you, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. In the midst of your passionate throes, Inoichi couldn't help but get lost in your otherworldly beauty, only the noises you made and the movement of his hips kept him grounded. It felt like your pussy was made for him, wrapping around him so perfect and driving him insane, he had trouble restraining himself from fucking into you harder. His lips met yours fiercely, kissing and holding onto you like you might disappear at any time. You put a hand on his cheek as you kissed him back and snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. Though, your hand was soon removed, being replaced by one of Inoichi's, who explained he was determined to be the one who pleased you. As if you'd have any qualms about that.

His surprisingly smooth fingertips rubbed at your clit and with the constant feeling of his cock pounding against your cervix, you quickly came a second time. Yet still, his fingers kept moving, only stopping for a brief moment to let you ride out your high. The look on his face let you know he was close to orgasm himself, the blush covering his cheeks made your own heat up. Seeing the older blond man so lost in ecstasy, lost in your body, was absolutely pussy clenching. He groaned and held onto you tighter, his face burying into your neck as he moaned your name. The number of times you imagined him calling out your name in pleasure had absolutely nothing on the real thing. You whined into his chest and dug your nails into his shoulder, relishing in the way his cock pounded into your hole, hitting the same spot over and over. Every little thing was mind-blowing when added together and when you heard Inoichi announce he was cumming inside of you, you easily spiraled into another orgasm of your own. You clenched around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was giving you.

After you coaxed a second orgasm from Inoichi you let him pull out, both panting hard and nearly passed out. Yet somehow, he managed to get you into the bathtub and cleaned you up, personally washing you as he whispered constant praises in your ear. You nearly fell asleep like that, if it wouldn't have been for the cold surrounding you once the water was drained. Inoichi sat you down in front of the vanity after he dried your body and affectionately brushed your hair while blow-drying it. Again, the attention and repetitive actions almost put you to sleep, your daddy coaxing you awake with kisses to your jaw. He instructed you to pick out something to wear in the closet while he waited for you in the bed. You assumed he meant to pick something of his to wear for the night, but once you entered the expansive walk-in closet, it all became a bit too clear. The wall opposite of what you assumed was Inoichi's was filled with clothes that fit your exact aesthetic. A few flips through and it confirmed, they were all in your size, some items were exact copies of things you had in your closet, others literal things that you had gone missing. The sight should have disgusted you, creeped you out, something. But looking at the wall of clothes and shoes all you could think of was how thoughtful it was of him to so thoroughly prepare for you moving in.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[apiratewhopines]

Because @jrob64 asked for another chapter and I can’t tell her no.

Midnight

Chapter 5 — The Pumpkin

Summary: In which our heroine really gets into it

Chapter 5 of 7 on AO3

“I had the craziest dream last night, yes I did.

I never dreamt it could be

Yet there you were, in love with me.”

-I Had the Craziest Dream, Harry James and His Orchestra and Helen Forrest

Emma may as well have been glued to his side. His hand was planted firmly on her hip, keeping her cradled next to him as he made the rounds like a seasoned politician. She should have been upset at his overbearing manner, forcing his way into her life and nearly ruining the biggest payday she was ever likely to see.

Instead, she curled into him and realized that instead of bacon, he carried the scent of cocoa with cinnamon. She wasn’t disappointed, though. Not even when he looked at her with a knowing glance after she took a long sniff at a particularly tempting patch of skin just above his collar.

She tried to tell herself it was simply because that was what a wife would do when reunited with her husband and she didn’t want to make a scene.

The party was winding down when the dreaded introduction to Lance happened. He stayed in the shadows, burning holes through her as she clung to the husband who was supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic. Even from a distance, she could see the challenge in his stare. Instead of being discouraged, the other man was planning to fight his way into her affections.

She had hoped to bypass the whole thing, but Guinevere was determined since her other method of entertainment was spoiled, she was due a different kind. She stopped them with a bright smile and hard eyes as Killian was attempting to maneuver away from the breaking crowd. When Guin waved at someone behind them, Emma caught Arthur’s wandering gaze and silently summoned him to help. “Baron Jones, I’m so glad you’re able to join us for the weekend. Lancelot did his best to keep your wife company, but I’m sure he’s no replacement for you. Lance, do come over and meet the baron.”

With a rueful smile, Lance joined the group and nodded tightly at Killian. “Baron Jones, you’re the envy of every man here. You’re quite lucky in your choice of wife.”

“Oh, it wasn’t luck. Some said the Baroness would do anything for a piece of the pie, even take the name of a man she barely knows. But we both know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart? It was love at first sight.” His fingers moved further down her hip and she felt his body shake with contained laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort, growing bolder in his caresses with the knowledge they had an audience expecting her to be eager for his touch.

Arthur choked on the shrimp he had just eaten, breaking the tension and causing the posturing males to quit glaring at each other and Guin to abandon her machinations to thump her husband on the back. Arthur was too busy trying to breathe to notice his wayward wife had a look of true concern on her face as her pounding turned to a light caress while he regained his breath.

Calling a waiter over for a glass of water, Guin continued to rub Arthur’s back as she addressed Killian. “We’ll move you to a larger room where you will be more comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. The Baron and I are used to sleeping apart while one or the other of us are traveling and we don’t want to cause you any trouble. Tomorrow is soon enough,” Emma assured the woman even as Killian’s arm tightened around her. By then, she will have convinced him to leave quietly. She turned to him with adoring eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “Isn’t that right, Captain?”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. It’s why we have staff,” Guin said before Killian could answer, her tone distracted. For once, Emma thought she wasn’t causing trouble on purpose. The woman’s attention was still on Arthur, whose face had yet to return to its normal color.

“Did you hear that, love? No trouble at all,” Killian echoed, his touch flittering lightly along the exposed skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He was wrong, of course. It was all kinds of trouble.

—

“What a wonderful room,” Killian observed, ushering her into the large group of rooms ahead of him. He hadn’t spoken two words to her since they entered the home with their hosts, focusing instead on debating the merits of Neoclassical versus Georgian architecture with Guin. The other woman was charmed, her expression warm and open as she hung on his every word, neither of them noticing their partners wore matching scowls.

“It’s the bridal suite. I’m so glad you approve, Baron Jones. It’s not often we get visitors of your stature in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Perfect. In many ways, this is like a honeymoon for us, isn’t it, darling?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering how much longer he planned to play the part of doting husband. He remained in constant contact with her, his fingers gripping her elbow, his hand brushing her cheek or lingering at her waist. It made it impossible to think. Now they were in a bedroom, staring down a long night of complete isolation once the Soberanos left them to their own devices.

“Ahem, yes, my dear Baroness, there is a panic button on the end table. One push and it will wake the entire household,” Arthur explained, addressing Emma but giving Killian a look that threatened retribution for any shenanigans. She could tell the man was uncomfortable leaving her with him. His gaze kept seeking hers as if to get some reassurance she would be okay.

Guin reached out and swatted his arm. “Arthur, don’t scare the poor girl. We’ve never had any trouble here. You will be perfectly safe and I look forward to getting to know you both better over breakfast.”

Killian smiled as they walked out, shutting the door behind them. Walking over to the minibar, he commented, “Lovely couple. So glad you ran into them.”

His calm attempt at normalcy made her want to scream. So she did. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How did you find me? Why did you find me? What do you want?”

“Which one of those would you like me to tackle first, Swan?” His back was to her as he poured a drink. “Although after all the sleepless nights you caused me with your little runaway stunt and whatever the hell this charade is supposed to be, perhaps I deserve to have my questions answered first.”

He downed the rum in one gulp and turned back to face her. He looked hollow, his gaze searching for something, his hand outstretched before he thought better of it and ran it through his already wild hair. “Why did you run, love? I wasn’t going to hurt you. And what are we doing here?”

“I did it for your own good,” she insisted, moving to the other side of the room because the temptation to touch him was so strong she could taste it, along with the lingering flavor of his kiss. “As for why we’re here, I’m trying to start a new life. I have no idea what brought you to this neck of the woods.”

“I’m trying to do the same thing. But my version doesn’t involve false titles and cozying up to obnoxious cads.” He crossed the room in four quick strides and pulled her into his arms. “Why did you do it, Emma?”

If he had tried to push for more, she would have been able to resist. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he just always knew what she needed, so he simply held her. She couldn’t help but relax into it. The weight and stress of the last few days melted away as she listened to his steady heartbeat drumming under her cheek. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He chuckled, pressing a featherlight kiss on the top of her head. “Why did you pick my name when you don’t even seem happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Captain. I…I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair when you’d been nothing but decent to me. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Door Number One once or twice since then.”

“You’re dodging the question, Swan. Or should I say Jones?”

“I know you want it to mean something, but it doesn’t. I needed a name and yours was the first that popped into my mind,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Why do you think mine was the one on the tip of your tongue, Swan?”

She was stubborn enough not to answer but not strong enough to pull away.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman who has been alone for a long time, even when she’s not. You muscle your way through life on grit and nerve because it’s the only way you know how to survive, and you crumble at the first hint of softness, not because you don’t crave it with every fiber of your being, but because you don’t trust it to be real. The only part I can’t figure out is how long it will take to admit to yourself you took my name because I mean something to you.”

“Captain…you need to leave.”

“You can’t run away from what started between us. You’ve tried repeatedly, but it’s useless. We’re right for each other; I know it deep down in my bones. Don’t you?” The soft kisses he brushed against her forehead made her feel like she was on fire. Warmth flooded her skin and pooled in all the places she wanted to feel his touch. “Do you really think love is easier in a place like this? Don’t be a fool, Emma.”

Her name came out like a breathless prayer, and despite her best intentions to step away, to make him understand they were a mistake waiting to happen, she couldn’t resist cradling his jaw and bringing his lips to hers again.

It was all the encouragement he needed. The next thing Emma knew, her back was against the wall, his hands running the length of her form. His mouth soon followed, abandoning hers and trailing down her throat. She could feel the way his muscles tensed, his body hard and unyielding as she fought to get closer.

She would climb inside him if she could figure out how.

“The bed. Now.” His voice was a ragged command she wanted to obey but couldn’t quite manage as she felt his hands gliding beneath her dress and slowly tugging the silk up along her hypersensitive skin. He pulled back and gazed at her through hooded eyes, his mouth red from the heated combination of her passion and lipstick. “Or better yet, let’s go. Leave and never look back.”

It was like he doused her with cold water. What was it about this man that made her lose her mind? And her heart, for that matter. She gaped at him, disheveled from head to toe, and whispered, “No.”

“No? To the bed or to leaving?”

“Both. I’m sorry,” Emma said, pushing his chest gently to add distance between them.

He moved at the light pressure she used but captured her hands before she could lift them. Placing a reverent kiss on the inside of her wrist, he murmured, “Your kiss tells a different story, Swan.”

“I kiss everybody that way.” She was lying, and they both knew it, but she felt she needed to try to regain control of the situation.

With an exasperated expression at odds with his adorably wrecked appearance, he asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Does that include your new friend Lancelot du Lac?”

She didn’t need any more evidence that Killian Jones was not like Neal Cassidy, but if she did, his measured voice and probing question about Lance would do it. Neal was an incredibly jealous person, probably because he was cheating during their entire relationship. She couldn’t imagine having a calm conversation with her ex about a man who practically tried to pee on her leg while being introduced to him. He would have accused, he would have pouted, then he would have made her feel like garbage. But this man in front of her simply asked. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like a ticking time bomb that will blow up in your face.”

Maybe it was precisely what it looked like then. “That’s not your concern. It’s my face, and it won’t be the first time.”

“But your face is quite dear to me, Swan. I’d do anything to put a smile on it.” He pressed another one of those barely-there kisses on her wrist, this time letting his lips move further up the inside of her arm slowly.

“Then you should leave. Tonight.” Even she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. It didn’t help that her head had fallen back against the wall, eyes tightly shut so she could savor the feelings he was inducing without pesky things like lights or coherent thoughts getting in the way.

“Not a chance, love. We’re a package deal. We stay or go together. Now come to bed, and let’s work on that smile.”

She allowed herself to move but was surprised when he went to his bag and tossed a shirt in her direction, grabbing one for himself as well. Turning around to give her privacy, he didn’t join her until she clicked off the light on her bedside table. Wrapping her in his arms again, he buried his face in her hair and murmured, “We’re leaving tomorrow if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

“If believing that will help you sleep tonight, I won’t be the one to burst your bubble,” she answered with a yawn. “About that smile…”

“You’ll have to keep it in your pants, Swan. I’ve changed my mind. Our first time won’t be on a bed of lies. I’m not going to let you lump me in with the rest of this fantasy land you’re playing in and then be dismissed when it’s all over. Besides, I need some kind of carrot to dangle in front of you to convince you to leave.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Maybe your carrot isn’t big enough to make me abandon my plans.”

“I’ve had no complaints, love, but I look forward to earning your opinion on the matter.” She felt his laugh more than heard it, the mattress shaking slightly and her hair rustling. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Of what?”

“Seeing you in my shirts.”

It wasn’t the way she thought he would put a smile on her face, but she couldn’t grumble when the last sound she heard before falling asleep was his gentle snore.

—

The lightness to her step she attributed to the man still passed out in her bed. Their bed. In the bridal suite.

When had life gotten so beautifully complicated?

The weather was bright and clear, the air pleasantly warm. Emma followed the sound of voices out to the terrace and saw most of the guests were already dining al fresco from buffet tables running the entire length of the house and laden with every manner of food one could imagine. She was filling up two plates when she felt someone approach her from behind.

“If you’re going to lurk, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder to verify the identity of her visitor. The brooding silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Hold this plate.”

Lance took it from her and held it aloft with all the patience of a toddler who had his favorite toy taken away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, and yourself?”

“Miserably.”

“That’s too bad. You should ask them to put you in the bridal suite next time. The mattress is great.”

“Only if you agree to join me,” he retorted, a hint of his former confidence resurfacing.

She actually started feeling sorry for him. It was hard going through life so scared of love you only made connections with unavailable people. She would know. “You’ll have to take that up with my husband. Although I warn you, he’s the jealous sort.”

Glumly, he picked at the stem of a strawberry and muttered, “I eat husbands for breakfast.”

“How odd. Are they better with toast or fruit?” She snorted at her joke, but he remained impassive. “Come on, Lance, it’s not the end of the world. We had our fun, but the cat is back. Behave.”

They ended up at the head table with Arthur, Guin, and Sidney. It was the last place she wanted to sit, but since it was also the only place and she was hungry, she decided to bear it as best she could. The conversation flowed easily; plans for the day were discussed and discounted in the same breath.

As she contemplated a third plate, Killian rushed to her side. Kneeling in front of her and wrapping her hand in both of his, he announced, “Darling, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Torn between amusement and anxiety, she responded with a single syllable. “Oh?”

“Yes, I didn’t check my email before I arrived last night, but it must have downloaded while I still had a signal. Thank goodness, because I had a message from my mother. Little Hope is sick, and we need to get home right away.”

Looking unconcerned with the newest development, Sidney asked around a mouth full of French toast, “Who’s Hope?”

“You didn’t tell them about Hope?”

“Well, you know how it is…new friends have so many things to talk about it’s hard to fit it all in,” she said with a half-hearted smile, wondering what he was up to.

Ignoring her, he focused his attention on Lance. “Hope is our three-year-old daughter, the light of our lives. And she’s running a high fever and has a horrible rash.”

She had been attempting to swallow, but when he announced the existence of their imaginary daughter to the group, she managed to dribble most of her mimosa down her chin. “Crap.”

“I know, darling. It’s terrible news.” He ran his hand up and down her back in soothing circles, but when she looked at him, he had a dare in his eyes.

Challenge accepted.

“Maybe she has measles. Or chickenpox. Do those still exist? I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sidney responded, dismissing the drama and helping himself to some of the biscuits from the basket at the center of the table.

“We can only hope so. At times like these, a child needs her parents. We should leave. Now.”

“You’re absolutely right, Captain. But your poor mother. Where’s the nearest phone? I need to call immediately and check-in,” she said, making a show of squeezing Killian’s hand and then turning to her friend and adding, “Arthur, would you ask some of your staff to meet us at our room in a few minutes to help us pack while I make a call?”

With a wink, he was off. Emma followed shortly thereafter, hoping she was giving him enough time and that he had glommed on to her plan. Guin had her taken her arm and was leading her into the hallway while everyone else trailed behind. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry about your little girl.”

Emma believed her, and for the first time, she could see why Arthur would forgive her anything.

“What are you doing, love? With the time difference, they’ll be napping. Better to let them sleep. We can call from the airport.”

“No, I couldn’t bear to leave without an update.”

Reaching the old-fashioned hallway phone, she picked it up and dialed the number for her room, ensuring her body concealed the keypad from view. It rang twice, and then Arthur answered. “Your fake husband is a troublemaker. I think I may have found a new best friend.”

“Oh, Mother, thank goodness we reached you! How is our little Hope?” With a side-eyed glance at Killian, she continued, “What did the doctor say?”

She could hear Arthur’s smile as he continued, “No worries, Emma. She doesn’t have measles at all. It’s just a plain old case of a bad hangover. Hope got into her daddy’s rum, and we found her in the gutter this morning.”

With a guffaw she tried to pass off as relieved laughter, she responded, “Oh, how cute of her! Like father, like daughter. She loves it so…” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and told the group, “She’s all better. The fever broke, and the spots are practically gone.”

She heard Arthur giggle like the little girl her daughter supposedly was and ask, “Is it safe to hang up?”

“What was that, Mother? Hope wants to talk with her Daddy? Of course, he’s right here.” She turned to him, a smile on her face when she noted his grudging respect, and handed him the phone.

He reached for the device as if it were a venomous snake and placed it against his ear. Emma wasn’t sure what Arthur was saying, but Killian’s eyes got wider and wider until he replied, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better dear heart. We’ll see you soon. Listen to your Nana.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? It wasn’t anything serious. Just a heat rash. We don’t have to leave after all.” Impetuously, she threw her arms around him.

He kissed her temple and whispered, “I’ll make you pay for that, love. This isn’t over.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

[hawklanstargazer]

Fractured Diamond Chapter 4

(TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault)

Mondo didn't know how long he sat there. He could see no indication of light anywhere in the room, although the cloth tied around his eyes didn't help either. The gang figured a blindfold would provoke more fear, thus better reactions, better screams. Not that it would even matter, Mondo couldn't even see if he wanted to. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right was sealed under a thick line of blood from his forehead. He figured the gang preferred it anyway for twisted aesthetic purposes. The cement chamber had proven to be soundproof, so it wasn't like he could call for help anyway, his throat felt like sandpaper. Every breath he was forced to take was agonizing, even shallow ones were labor. Every time his chest expanded was as if his ribs were stabbing him through his lungs and sides, fractures creaking against each other like an old wooden door. Breathing through his mouth would result in him gagging blood from where his rear teeth used to be, only furthering his burning chest. Breathing through his nose was his only choice, forcing him to take in the horrid stench of blood, sweat, and urine that lingered in the air. He remembered their jeers before leaving him in his "pigsty". He should've been humiliated, but breathing was taking up all the energy he had left. 

No one was coming for him. And why would they? What samaritan would wanna fought off one of the most dangerous gangs in Japan to save some lowly biker who probably screwed them over somehow? Was this the price for being in a gang? For being a Diamond? No, he wasn't a Diamond. Not anymore. Or maybe he never was. 

'Just a shiny piece of glass, shiny piece of glass, shiny piece of glass...'

Intrusive thoughts were nothing new to Mondo they were his only company at this time. Every taunting word stuck to his brain like a hair on honey. Not once did he try to shake them out. At first, he did, but eventually learned to like it. Like a dog learning his name, Mondo learned his place in the world. 

A faint but alerting metal clashing against a concrete wall crawled its way through Mondo's intrusive thoughts, he was too familiar with it by now. His body instinctively curled in on itself as much as his bindings and injuries would allow, which wasn't much, prepared to take whatever beating he was about to receive.

'...notadiamondnotadiamonddnotadiamondnotadiamondnotadiamond...'

Mondo wheezed in a small whimper as inside and outside voices blended in his skull. "..Okay...I...I get it..!" he slurred in a half-sob "I...I'm not a Diamond..! Okay..?! I get it...! You were right..!"

'notadiaMondnotadiamOndnotadiamoNdnotadiamonDnotadiamOnd..'

He jumped as something or someone grazed his bruised face. He cried out as loud as his broken ribs would let him. "S-stop...! I'm sorry, okay?! Jus...just lemme...lemme...d..!"

"--MONDO!"

He felt something touch his cheek again, but something felt different. Familiar. He hadn't realized his blindfold had been removed when he forced his swollen eye to open. He almost believed what he saw was real. 

Daiya, his brother, standing before him at eye level. His figure was silhouetted from the illuminated doorway, but there was no doubt it was him, Mondo recognized those sunset-orange eyes anywhere, glistening like dim but burning embers. But something was off about his face. It seemed to be stretched in an expression Mondo wasn't familiar with. Panic? That wasn't a face Daiya was known for. He always kept a cool front, no matter how fucked the situation was. His thick, black eyebrows were always furrowed, and his lips in a permanent half-smile to assure anyone he's ready to take on anything. So why does he look so scared? Mondo could see his lips moving, and it only took a moment to finally snap out of his daze and hear his brother.

"--ondo! Can you hear me?" he moved Mondo's crimson-caked bangs from over his eye, and Mondo was finally able to open it. 

"Gnhh...D-Daiya..?" he said in a hoarse whisper

Daiya rested his chin on his chest as he heaved a brief sigh of relief. "Thank god, thought I lost ya there, Lil bro." he half-chuckled, "It's okay, you're safe. We're gonna get you out."

'We?', Mondo thought.

As if hearing his thoughts, Daiya turned behind him and called out. "Michi, guys, he's over here! Come help me out with this!" 

"Got it!"

Another voice. Mondo recognized it; Takemichi, their youngest brother. Mondo was still trying to fathom it all, but there wasn't any room for doubt. This was all real, happening right before him, and he could not be more ashamed. 

Takemichi's darkened figure appeared through the doorway and froze where he stood, eyes fixed on Mondo. "Holy shit..." he breathed. Michi hasn't been in the gang for very long, probably less than a year now. He was still a middle schooler, still had some childlike innocence in him that was reignited after he ran away from his abusive household and found a new home with the Diamonds. Daiya wanted to preserve that innocence as much as possible, keeping Michi away from the action when things got bloody. So much, he wanted the boy to stay at the base while they rescued Mondo, but his stubbornness was like that of an ox. He was a Diamond, after all. Most times, Mondo believed him to be more so than himself.

An orchestra of boots stomping grew heavier and heavier until the room was flooded with Diamonds, all exchanging looks of shock and even concern when they saw the room and Mondo's fragile form. It was overwhelming, for them to see Mondo so pathetically mounted like this, like a prisoner, the fact that this image of him will be burned into their brains forever, Mondo felt as though he could just die right then and there if the universe showed him a glimmer of mercy. 

"Woah, stand back, guys." Takemichi directed the other gang members, "Give him some air. We only need a few men in here."

Daiya peeked over his shoulder to meet eyes with the gang. "You heard 'im. Clear out," he said in a stern tone, firm enough to command his team but soft enough not to frighten Mondo. Understanding the order, most of the members left while only a select few remained. Michi turned to Mondo and have him a reassuring smile before going to help Daiya. 

Mondo felt the two crouched on each side under his arms as the other Diamonds cut through the rope binding his wrists. Losing the support of the rope, he fell and would've crashed onto the concrete if Daiya and Michi weren't ready to catch him. He wished it was comforting as it was, but their support reignited his bodily pain. Crouching forward brought agony to his ribs, but straightening up burned the cuts on his back. He let out a dry painful groan. As if remembering, Daiya quickly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a water bottle, offering it to Mondo's lips. Mondo winced at the sight of the object, visions of past events screamed in his head, but his thirst screamed louder as he chugged the bottle. 

"Woah, hey. Easy, bro, easy." Daiya cooed softly, as he directed Mondo to drink slower. He didn't blame him one bit but knew Mondo would only feel worse if he chugged it. Taking his time savoring the liquid, Mondo had finished the bottle, sighing a relaxed breath as best as his burning lungs would allow. 

Daiya returned the empty bottle to his pocket. He gazed at the rope still loosely binding Mondo's wrists and gently removed them. He winced at the raw ligature wounds, old and new blood alike, coating Mondo's skin. He heard Mondo weakly hiss in pain. He only dared to look at the rest of his body. That didn't matter now, the only thing that did was getting his brother out of this hellhole. "I'm sorry, bro..." he breathed softly. 

Letting Mondo's head rest wearily on his shoulder, Daiya scooped him up in his arms as if he were carrying him to bed when Mondo was a little kid. As they left the room, Mondo felt Daiya nonchalantly step over something, probably some fallen furniture, though judging by the disgruntled expression plastered on Daiya's face and the faint groan under his feet, Mondo figured it was more like someone. The hallway was littered with limp beaten figures of Reapers, only Diamonds standing above them, pinning them down under their feet, giving them a boot to the face if they so much as twitch. Mondo glanced at Daiya's bruised and bloodied knuckles. Of course, his brother wouldn't go on without caving in a few faces of his own. Daiya stopped in his tracks when heard a wet cough behind him, his scowl grown deeper.

"Hey, Owada..!" Several feet away from the Diamond leader lay the grey-clad Reaper leader, beaten and broken. One of the larger Diamonds stood above him with his foot on his neck, although judging by the man's unnaturally bent knee, it was apparent he couldn't return to his feet even if he wanted to, the stance was more for physical empowerment than provided security. The grey man spat out a few bloodied teeth before continuing. "How does it feel...when you lose a brother..?" he wheezed painfully but sternly. "Bet it makes ya feel...fuckin' powerless, knowin' you... coulda done some'in ta prevent it..! My brother...is gone...and so's...yer's. Tell me...how does it feel..?"

Daiya stood strong and firm as a diamond, his expression hadn't faltered. Barely even breathed.

The grey man growled, face contorted in hatred. "What? Ya don't remember me..?" his scowl turned into a sinister smirk. "He does."  

Daiya glanced down at Mondo's body curling up in reminiscent fear. He could only pray those words had an empty meaning. Still, he couldn't help but recall how fragile and painfully Mondo fell to his knees as if he were suffering from a terrible stomach ache. Bile crept up Daiya's throat. 

The man noticed the reaction and his grimace twisted further, showing bloodied teeth. "He knows my name. I...made sure...he never forgets it. He was...beggin' me ta stop, y'know. Beggin' for you...ta save 'im. His whimpers were so...beautifully pathetic. I wish...I recorded it for ya. But I figured it'd be better if ya...imagined it yerself. If ya didn't...drag ya feet, maybe...he'd still be your brother. But now...he's my pet." he let out a wet chuckle as he saw Mondo tremble like a leaf in Daiya's tensed arms. "Go on, boy...tell 'im..! Jog 'is memory..! Say my--" 

"Sasaki!"

Came a deep voice. Mondo would've thought he said that if his throat wasn't already so torn up from screaming that cursed name, his lips couldn't even form the word. He looked up at his brother's discontented face. Surely, he didn't. Another wet laugh from behind. A sharp pain shot through Mondo's heart. 

"So, you do know! Good boy!" the grey man cackled. "Try an' remember that now...! Remember the name...of the man who destroyed you and your brother..! I would say we're even...but there's no reason I can't still have fun with your gang..!" Daiya could feel Sasaki's eyes shift over to Takemichi. "Like him. He's fresh. Doesn't matter if 'e's...just a kid...He's in a gang...an' is better to...learn the hard way. Are you broken yet, Daiya Owada? Or do I...have--"

"Just shut the fuck up and listen, Reaper," Daiya growled, making it clear he wasn't finished talking. The grey man listened on, slightly disappointed at the white-clad man's retaliation. Daiya turned to gaze down at the man with eyes burning like the sun.

"I killed your brother Chisaki." his words flew from his mouth as if it were the most natural thing ever to be said. No hesitation, no remorse, not even a hint of regret. Mondo blinked and looked up at his brother. He couldn't remember the last time Daiya said something so cold, or if he ever heard him speak that way at all. Still, Daiya's eyes hadn't left his target. 

"He didn't seem to get my last message about staying out of our turf. He knew what he was risking when he crossed our path. And he paid for it. I pulled the alarms, I alerted the cops, and I left you all to die. I trust you and your colleagues have enough pattern recognition not to follow in his footsteps. Do what your brother couldn't do, and stay out of our way. If I ever see you or any Reapers on the streets again, it's kill on sight. Consider this business and personal." 

The grey man shuddered but let out a low, blood-curdling growl. "Do it, then!" he coughed and wheezed. "I ain't goin' nowhere, so...ya might wanna finish the job now! Kill me, an' there'll be no more Reapers, no one ta take my place..! So, do it! Kill me!" 

Daiya didn't turn back, nor did he respond. He just walked away, his gang followed, leaving the grey man broken on the ground. 

"Come back an' finish this like a man, Daiya Owada!" Sasaki cried, struggling to pry himself from the floor but to no avail. He heaved in one shaky breath after another as something wet splashed on his hand. 

Daiya heard one last pathetic scream as the door slammed behind him.

"OWADA!" 

[svtskneecaps]

crew and cast

(gender neutral) reader x jihoon

genre: fluff + some?? angst? listen i tried lmao; words: 2.8k

well howdy @toxicsocial​ tis i, your tct secret santa. so uh, i can’t actually make people cry in a timely manner and i didn’t figure most people would be down to read like 9k of buildup, so!! the angst is minimal!!! but i tried really hard and i hope you like it i love you so much also i forgot to title it again until right now so don’t look at it too hard

You loved your high school’s theatre crew. From freshman year they’d been a staple in your life. It was refreshingly stable to be able to walk into the tech room anytime and reliably know what would be going on. Except, there was one thing about theatre you couldn’t stand: Lee Jihoon. You’d avoided him since freshman year, but unfortunately for you, you’d taken over the position of Run Crew Head and Prop Master, and he was the Student Director. You were forced to sit through every production meeting with him.

Which, fine. You’d do anything for the show to run well. But that didn’t change the fact that he made you want to commit a crime.

Or three.

“Great news guys!” you yelled, sweeping into the tech room. “The crutches still aren’t right and Jihoon wants us to repaint the brickwork on the platforms to be less ‘garish’ and the typewriter is from the 1940s when it should be from the 1890s and I’m going to set something on fire!”

Chan slammed his head against the nearest cabinet. “This is the third time he’s rejected the brickwork, oh my god.”

“Fourth time he’s hated the crutches too, and I’ve told him that the only period accurate typewriter in the basement is literally one wrong keystroke from breaking onstage but I guess he’s willing to take that risk for a typewriter that’s going to be in one scene.” You massaged your forehead. “I’m gonna stay late Wednesday so we can have our shit together by Hell Week.”

“I’ll have to join.” Chan peeled his head off the cabinet, cracking his knuckles. “You think Mingyu’s got time to spare? I might get him to help; there’s way too much platform for me to do in time.”

“Dunno, he’s pretty busy.” Vernon scooped a loose screw out of a sawdust pile and swept the whole thing into the dustpan. “Makeup’s been working hard to get the ‘ragged urchin’ look right.”

“I’ll con Soonyoung into it then, I don’t think they’re rehearsing the dance numbers tomorrow so he might be free.”

“I wish you luck with that, dude.” You scooped the crutch off the floor. “I gotta go beg costumes to let me into the basement storage and see if there’s another goddamn piece of fabric I can use for the crutches.”

“You have fun.”

You ended up getting lucky; Minghao already needed to go down there so you wouldn’t have to fight for cell signal to make sure you were allowed to deface the cloth scraps you’d found.

“You seem stressed,” he noted as he unlocked the basement door.

You snorted. “Stressed is an understatement.”

“Jihoon again?”

“If he tells me to redo the damn crutches again I’m going to nail him to the wall.”

Minghao lead the way down the stairs. “I really thought you had it that time.”

“Nothing is good enough for that guy.”

He shrugged. “He just wants the show to go well.”

“Yeah, well, so do I. He doesn’t have to get up everybody’s ass sticking his opinions where they don’t belong. He’s never been crew, why does he get to make us repaint the entire damn set anyway?”

“He’s the director.”

“Everyone else thought the bricks looked fine!”

Minghao looked at you sideways. “What’s your deal with Jihoon?”

“Like I said, poking his nose where it doesn’t--”

“No, you had beef before he got appointed Student Director.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. He’s always kind of been a pain even when he was ensemble.” You drove your finger into your temple. “And he broke a crucial prop that wasn’t his the night before the show opened and didn’t tell me.”

“You did props?”

“Buddy I was Prop Master. I literally didn’t find out until the Stage Manager tried to run that scene before school.” You glared absently at the shelves of typewriters to one side of the walkway. “I literally had to skip my last three classes and dinner to get a replacement and he never even apologized for it.”

Minghao whistled. “That’s unforgivable.”

“Tell me about it.” You waded through the costume racks to get to the bins of scraps in the back.

“And you’ve never considered forgiving and forgetting? I mean, it’s been two years.”

You sighed, leaning the crutch against a shelf. “I mean. . .”

He snickered. “Come on, it’s just you and me and the ghosts down here, you can say it.”

“I mean. . . he just makes me so mad!” You yanked the lid off a tote with a snap that echoed across the basement. “Like, every time I start thinking maybe he’s not so bad he pulls some other shit on me and I slam right back into hating his goddamn guts.”

“You’re on the same team,” Minghao called down the row. “You’re just trying to make the show better.”

“Making the show better shouldn’t involve painting the entire set three times.”

“I’m just saying, it’d put at least three years back on your lifespan.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You managed to update the crutches by the end of the day, and repainted the entire set on Wednesday--although you had to sacrifice your lunch and free periods and several hours after school to get it all done. Thursday left you with a finished set and another production meeting.

He didn’t like the bricks.

You saw red.

In the hallway, you pulled him aside.

“What don’t you like about the bricks?”

He frowned. “They detract attention from the actors.”

You wanted to seize him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “It’s gray! It is the darkest most nondescript color we have in the buckets and you’re telling me it detracts attention from the actors? You haven’t even seen them rehearse with it!”

“It’s gonna be too much,” he argued. “It’s the same color as half the costumes--”

“I have seen every single costume in the show, it’s not even close to the same pigment!”

“Even still--”

“Listen,” you snapped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “if you want the set redone in time for Hell Week then I expect to see you in the goddamn tech room tomorrow after school wearing something you don’t mind getting paint on because I’m not going to make Chan and Vernon repaint the entire damn set by themselves for the fifth time and I have to figure out how to keep that 1890s typewriter from falling apart, do I make myself clear?”

He looked almost disgusted at the prospect, but he nodded stiffly. “Crystal.”

You turned on your heel just as stiffly, striding away before you lost all composure.

To your complete surprise, Jihoon actually showed up the next day, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a shirt so faded that whatever decal had been on the front had long washed away.

“So he arrives!” Chan yelled from his perch on the desk, where he’d been watching you wrestle with the typewriter.

Jihoon looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he squared his shoulders. “Where do you need me?”

“We gotta move all the set pieces in before we start,” Chan said. “Then I’ll probably have you start on the legs. We gotta wait for Vernon before we can move the tall stuff. One sec, I’ll--” he bolted into the hallway.

Jihoon stared after him, then looked to you. “Where is he going?”

“To tell Vernon we’re actually doing the repaint.” You shrugged. “Honestly I’m surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would.”

“Actually you just said you understood the ultimatum; we had no idea if you’d show or not.”

“Oh.”

You shrugged. “Good to have you anyway.”

Chan returned with Vernon before the silence could get too awkward, and you helped them move all the platforms back into the tech room. From there, Vernon set up his speaker and the real work began.

Jihoon helped choose the color of the bricks (and Chan threatened to really break his leg if he changed his mind about it later), and they got to laying down the base coat. You went back to glaring at the typewriter and reading through every antiques article you could find online.

After trying seven different methods to no avail, you shoved your chair away from the desk. “Typewriters are hellspawn created by the Devil himself to punish unfortunate Prop Masters.”

Vernon snickered. “That good, huh?”

“I’m going to put a screwdriver through the keyboard,” you said mildly.

“Okay maybe don’t do that.” Chan paused to pull a clean paintbrush out of his pocket and throw it at you. “You know where the overalls are; come take a break.”

“Why do you just have that?” Jihoon asked.

“A painter is always prepared.”

Jihoon glanced at you. You shrugged. “I don’t question it.”

Between the four of you, you managed to finish all but one platform by the time Chan and Vernon had to go. Being older, you had infinite time, so you cracked your knuckles and sat back at the typewriter. Jihoon lingered in the doorway.

“You need any help?”

You looked up. “Nah, I think I got it. Thank you, though.”

He shifted. “Listen, I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot but, I’m sorry. I know I never really apologized for the prop, and I’m sorry for how long it took, too.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. It’s kind of unfair of me to hold it against you this long anyway, so, I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t the only reason he made you so angry, but that chip on your shoulder made a lot of other offenses you would have normally overlooked seem larger.

“Can we maybe start over?” he asked. “Freshman year all over again?”

You actually found yourself nodding. “As long as you don’t make us repaint the set ever again.”

He laughed, running a paint-stained hand through his hair. “No, I won’t. I can’t do that to your crew again.”

“Good. Cause we weren’t kidding about breaking your legs.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He hiked up his backpack. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Happy Hell Week.”

Hell Week was hell (and the sky is blue).

Three of the actors lost their voices four days before Opening Night. One of the glasses for the restaurant scene shattered during the dance number--even though it was supposed to be offstage already--and the third lead got very close to twisting her ankle after landing a jump wrong. The actors could never manage to find their light, there were technical glitches with the backstage mics, and you were so on edge that if you heard the word standby you’d jump so bad you’d bruise your knee on the table.

The typewriter gave you more anxiety than it was worth. The actress using it had strict instructions not to actually touch the keys, because the only thing holding it together was gaff tape. You’d put Jun and Wonwoo in charge of bringing the desk it sat on onstage, because you trusted them to have it under control and keep it from tipping, because if it tipped at an angle any more than about 30 degrees, the keys would get out of alignment and that required time and experience to fix, of which you had neither.

Needless to say, you were two steps away from tearing your hair out.

At least you weren’t fighting with Jihoon, though. You’d even gone out to grab takeout with him for dinner, once, and yelling about all the problems in the car was really cathartic and you came back refreshed and relaxed, for once (only for every muscle in your back to clench at once because an actor bumped the prop table in their hurry to get in costume and one of the glasses fell over).

But it was Opening Night, and you were wound tighter than a spring waiting for everything to go wrong.

And it did.

Jihoon was in the hallway behind the stage, giving Joshua a few final notes about his big solo, and he didn’t check his surroundings closely enough. In his wild gesturing to demonstrate the level of enthusiasm, his arm clipped the typewriter.

And it fell.

He stared at it. Joshua stared at it. You could not tear your eyes from it.

The keys had tilted out of alignment. The bar holding the paper was skewed. The decorative paneling to one side had cracked down the middle. You didn’t have time to fix it before it went on. Maybe you couldn’t fix it at all.

“I am so sorry--” Jihoon started, but you stopped him with a hand, balling the other into a fist.

“Don’t,” you forced through your teeth, because you didn’t want to start yelling at him; it was an honest mistake and it was your fault for not resettling it on the desk after the last run. You were just seething with rage, at yourself, at the typewriter--you didn’t want to project it.

“Ten minutes to go!” someone yelled down the hall. You forced yourself to exhale, gingerly picking it up, flinching with every shift of the keys.

“Is there anything I can--”

“Get to the booth. Tell Seungcheol what happened, just-- be in your place. Jun!” you yelled into the tech room. His head jerked up. “I need you to take over headset for me, can you do that?”

His mouth fell open seeing the typewriter and he nodded, wordlessly, leaping to his feet and hurrying backstage.

Jihoon still stood there, looking between the typewriter and you with an anguished expression. “You’re sure you don’t--”

“I got it,” you said again, clipped. “I can handle it. I can-- just get to the booth, Jihoon!”

You hadn’t yelled. You knew enough not to yell when the audience was already in their seats. But your words had the same effect, because he flinched, and he nodded, and he turned the other way and ran.

Your rage was turning inward as fast as it was dulling, but you had a show to put on, so you placed the broken typewriter carefully on a counter in the tech room and sprinted for the basement.

You managed to get the 1970s typewriter back upstairs and on the desk before it went on, and the show went on without a hitch. The actors hit their marks, all the props found their way back to the prop table, and the pit orchestra didn’t have to loop a section for a missed cue even once.

You waited until everyone was gone before you let yourself cry.

“I really am sorry.”

You looked up.

Jihoon stood in the doorway, twisting his hands.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s partially my fault for not making sure it was centered right.” You rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, hoping to disguise the redness. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”

“I don’t know if it can even be fixed,” you said, staring blankly at the remains of the typewriter in front of you. “It might-- it might be beyond my help.”

For a long moment, you stared at it, mind spiralling.

You pushed yourself up. “They’ll want to lock up.” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll just come in before the show and work on it. Maybe get Jun to grab me some McDonald’s or something and eat during the intermission.”

Jihoon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not healthy.”

“I’ve done it before.” You waved him off. “The show must go on, you know?” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The day came by in flashes as you researched the typewriter with a renewed vigor. You could probably use hot glue and some kind of putty to hide the crack in the paneling, you could probably put the keys back or at the very least tape them to look like they were back, from a distance. The bar at the top would be much harder but you hadn’t really inspected it the night before so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was?

You didn’t feel particularly hopeful when you stopped by the tech room to pick up the typewriter.

Until you saw the typewriter.

“What the fuck.” It was fixed. The keys aligned, the crack sealed, the bar sitting on top just as it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like it had when you’d first set it on that desk.

Jihoon came around the corner, dried putty staining his hands. “Hey,” he said, seeming tired but absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you do this?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want you putting your health on the line.”

“Oh my god, thank you. I can’t-- this is incredible!” You kept tracing your fingers over the ridge formed by the sealed crack, but you couldn’t see it.

“I did a good job, then?” He put his hands in his pockets, grinning.

“Better than good, oh my god I could kiss you!”

Your cheeks burned when you realized what you’d said, but he laughed. “Whoa, buy me dinner first.”

“Bet,” you said, accepting it like a challenge. “You pick the place, I’ll pay.”

“Okay,” he said, and then lifted his hands. “I gotta wash up.”

“Meet you by the front door in five?”

“It’s a date.”

[krzewicaa]

First meeting //How I imagine Atsushi’s and my OC first Meeting// (bsd*OC)

It was a rough afternoon. The agency got a summons regarding a possible person with abilities. According to the information, this person often lives in the same district. The witness admitted that this person had an unusually cold aura. When he heard a noise outside, he decided to see what it was. He got out of bed and opened the window. He saw the figure. It was dark so he couldn't see much, but he could see that the person was short and had fair hair. It was looking for something in the dumpster when another non-natal figure began to strangle it. It looked like one thing. This person will lose because the other person looked much bigger and stronger. However, suddenly the larger person started limping with pain and began to slide downhill. The smaller person looked at the window from which the witness was watching. Suddenly he felt a chill. The mysterious person's cold eyes stared at the witness for moments where he suddenly disappeared. The second figure remained on the floor, not moving. Police reported that the injured person was a 24-year-old man with heavy debts. His body was deathly cold, but his heart was still pounding as the police arrived at the scene of the crime. It was considered a gifted person. Maybe something related to ice or frost. They called the agencies to have them deal with the case. Here they are Atsushi, Dazai and Kunikida, sitting in the bar waiting for someone to show up. By the way, they bought a drink each, so as not to arouse suspicion. They knew that waiting like this would do nothing, but the people said that some weird person would visit the bar a lot. So they looked around. Until a little guy, around 20, appeared towards their eyes. He wanted to enter the bar, but when he saw the members of the agency, he slowly started to back away. Kunikida ordered Atsushi to stay in the bar just in case he reappeared or noticed another suspect. So here he was waiting. He was new to the agency and still studying. Although he knew that working with Dazai and Kunikida was one of the worse things, somehow they always got to the bottom of it. As he waited, he suddenly felt uneasy. As if someone was watching him. He looked around the bar. Some of the men's eyes were turned towards him. The bar was almost empty. When the last man in the denim jacket left, 5 men got up and walked towards the white-haired man. They were standing over his table. One spoke - Atsushi Nakajima? - The young man nodded cautiously, feeling what was happening. — You'll go with us. —

Atsushi was ready to fight, but he was afraid to hurt them, because he did not know if it was normal people or some formidable organization. But they want to take him, there must be something wrong. Since many wanted to caught him. You have to take a risk. — YOU HAVE NOT HEARD? — he sounded  — YOU WILL COME WITH US!  — Meanwhile, without even noticing, one of them got a glass in the back of the head and fell. They were all shocked, both men and Atsushi. Everyone turned to face the throw. There was a woman of medium height, dressed in shirt covered with various flowers, a necklace on which was engraved some symbol, and her hair was pale and eyes blue like sapphire. She looked dissatisfied. — I'm not going here to drink at all … — she announced. One of the men replied, —Do you know what you've got into?— She didn't seem to care. — What do you want to do with the boy? — she asked, coming slowly. — It's none of your business, bitch! — another spoke up. She looked at them and at the boy. — I was drinking my drink quietly, then I hear you yelling at this boy, interrupting me. Plus, the boy looks underage, so as a responsible adult, I should be interested, shouldn't I? — She replied, getting even closer. The third man rolled his eyes, apparently sick of her talking. — Oh, by the way, the employee was going to take a break for cigarettes, and the doors and windows are closed, so if you want to escape, it's not possible anymore — she said, pointing to the bar where the bartender should be, but he is not there and  the windows that were just open but now aren’t. She closed them? As? But we'd hear her. Atsushi thought. One of them could not stand it and extended his fist towards her. She pulled away and the man fell to the floor. She didn't say anything, just watched. Another licked at her. She grabbed his hand and began to twist it. The man howled in pain. She did it incredibly fast. The rest of the gang were getting ready to attack together. They started on her. The woman took the man in trouble and threw it at them. Everyone has fallen.

Another guy who tried to hit her first attacked her from behind, grabbing her with both hands. He kept her in check. The smiles on the men's faces did appear. And there was a worried face on Atsushi's face. However, he shouldn't worry, because the woman took a moment to hit the back of her head to the nose of the man that was holding her. In addition, she strongly stepped on his leg. He released her immediately and fell to his knees. To finish him off, she kicked him in the face. He fell and did not get up. Another tried to attack her with a knife, to draw attention to himself, but his attack instead of attacking her stabbed his friend, whom the woman had earlier caught to use as a shield. The guy with the knife was shocked, which gave the woman a chance to take the knife and use it on himself. There are three left. The woman dropped the knife and ran at them, leaping on the shoulders of one of them, tying her legs around his neck, taking the swing up and down, unbalanced him, and finished him with a punch in the face. The last two did not feel so confident anymore. They stared at each other, irritated as to what they could do. But before they could think of anything, the woman grabbed one on his back, twisted hard, and threw it against the wall. He lost consciousness. She came to the last one, who was already scared, kicked his balls and grabbed him in his ear, ordering him to follow her. She reached the table where she grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face against the table. They were all on the floor. Atsushi was shocked that he didn't say anything. The woman walked over to his table and sat down, sighing hard. She took his friend's drink and took a sip. — Your friend has a strange taste in alcohol. — she commented. Atsushi was still shocked so he didn't say anything. Instead, he was looking at the men who were lying on the floor. The woman noticed it. — Don't worry, they are alive but unconscious. They probably have something broken so you would better call police or something. — she said. — Besides, the fools thought that if they caught you, they would get you a fairly large sum on the black market. You're not worth that much anymore. — she added. She got up and walked towards the exit. — And ... let it be our little secret, okay? — She blinked and left, not expecting a rare reply. ________________________________________________________ Thank you for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it. This scene came just in my mind and I had to write this down. Thank you again.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 5

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Fine if meeting them didn’t give them a clue maybe this will.

First < Previous > Next

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“So Tim said you have a lot of siblings?” Marion asks Dick as they walk down the hall, he chuckles.

“You could say that, we aren’t all blood, but we’re still family,” He guides them down the stairs, the elevator not being large enough for the whole class.

“Doesn’t matter to us,” Marinette chimes in, “We’re adopted too, we never met our birth parents,”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Marion hums, “I don’t think Aunt Selina is actually related to Papa either,”

“People always say that we look like her though,” Marinette smiles, “Although they do say the same about Maman,”

“I’m sure you’ll fit right in with us, you’ve got the whole black hair, blue eyes going for you,” Dick jokes, as they reach the end of the stairwell, “On this floor we have some of our publicity team who manage the image for Wayne enterprises and the Wayne family,”

“It’s still kinda rude for him to ignore you,” Alya was clearly unaware of her own hypocrisy. Dick ignores them in turn and carries on.

“Bruce was just surprised, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Lila explains, clearly not having heard any of the conversation between the newly acquainted cousins.

“Hopefully you get some time with them, if the twins don’t hog it all,” Sabrina glare can be felt.

“I’m sure once the shock runs out they’ll have plenty of spare time to catch up,” Lila gloats, “I have known the Waynes a lot longer, the twins are just strangers,”

“You two do seem pretty strange to me,” Dick whispers teasingly, before speaking out to the rest of the group.

“You have no idea,” Marion glances at his satchel carrying two small gods.

“-I’ll talk to them,” Kim speaks up, speeding up to reach the twins. Lila having said something in the five seconds they weren’t paying attention that caused him to take action.

He walks over to them, to his credit only hesitating slightly under Kagami’s glare.

“Hey, you should know Lila’s pretty upset you didn’t let Bruce say hello,” Kim whispers to him, even though everyone could hear. Marion stops and turns to him.

“Kim, if Bruce wanted to say hello he would have,” Not that Bruce would have, “In case you didn’t notice we were talking with Dick most the time,”

“I just think you should back off, Lila doesn’t get to see the Waynes often,” Kim frowns, glancing back at Lila who was playing her part, looking distraught.

Marion tries not to smirk, thinking; ‘Clearly not as she can’t recognise one right in front of her’

“Kim you know we don’t get to see our Aunt often,” Marion scolds, Kim flinches probably at reminder they were childhood friends, “Mr Wayne can invite whoever he wants, he could be literally anyone, I don’t care, I just want to spend time with my Aunt,”

Marion leaves the shocked Kim behind, he rejoins his sister and friends.

“The idiot doesn't talk to you for weeks but comes running the second Lila beckons, ridiculous,” Chloe is glaring back at the boy who is talking to Lila now, as her frown grows.

“Maybe he’s telling her to back off?” Marinette rubs comforting circles on Marion’s shoulder.

“I doubt it, he’s pissed at me for some reason,” Marion shrugs, Marinette takes the hint and drops her hand with one last pat.

“Probably Lila related,” Adrien says sadly, as Kim rubs his head sheepishly with a quiet laugh.

“Can’t completely blame her,” Marion speaks the most unlikely words, “You guys know how we are with plans,”

“A true friend would not betray you for a few cancellations,” Kagami fumes, as they walk through an office area with a view looking down at the street below, “Adrien and I also have similar situations,”

“That’s right, I’m the only one in this group with any sense of punctuality,” Chloe boasts teasingly, Dick doesn’t interrupt them.

“You were once an hour late for a picnic cause you were doing your hair,” Marion snickers.

“Did you see my hair that day?” Chloe gestures to her hair, “Worth it,”

“It was-”

Kagami was cut off by the loud shattering of glass. Everyone ducked as glass spilled everywhere, shouting or screaming. Marion drops into a defensive stance, Marinette, Kagami, Chloe and even Dick doing the same. Marion watches as a figure lands on a desk with a grunt, an employee hiding underneath it. Marion's eyes go wide as he watches Red Hood- the Red Hood trying to push himself up. His totally-not-fanboying is cut off when a villain he doesn't recognise jumps through the broken window. Marion watches as the villain takes slow purposeful strides towards Red Hood, glass crunching underneath his boots. Marion ignores Dick as he tries to herd the class out of the room, most employees already making their way to the emergency exits. Minus the one who was trapped underneath Red Hood.

“Well Hood, seems I’ve got you,” The villain looms over him, taking aim.

Marion sprints into action, using his momentum to tackle the villain. Sending him off balance, bullet hitting the opposite wall. First order of business; the gun.

“What the-get off,” The villain aims the gun at Marion, the angle making it hard as Marion is standing on the opposite side.

As he turns Marion holds on tighter lifting his feet off the ground. Putting the villain off balance again and keeping Marion out of reach. Marion uses the hesitation to slip behind him, vaulting onto the villains shoulders. He wraps his legs around the villains neck

“You little-” Both arms come up out of instinct to get him off.

Marion grabs the arm with the gun, holding it with both of his. Pointing the gun up to the ceiling. A punch connects with his side, the impact muted by the bullet proof armour he wears underneath. Marion looks behind them, judging if the space is big enough to pull him down without hitting the desks. He also looks further back, making sure no one would be in the path of gunfire. Deeming that both are clear he leans back, making the villain shout as he loses balance, sending them both down. Marion falls as safely as possible in his position.

They hit the ground with a grunt. The villain loses all the air in his lungs because of the impact. Marion doesn’t risk losing his grip on the villain to disarm him. He keeps his hold as steady as possible as the villain starts to struggle. The punches to his side start to give a dull ache, the angel making the blows less powerful at least. Great, this was usually the part where Ladybug would swoop in. In light of any magical Ladybugs marion squeezes his legs tighter, trying to make the villain pass out. The villain starts firing his gun blindly, Marion flinches at the sound, far too close to his ear. Making him realise just how close the gun was to his head, he closes his eyes and turns away instinctually. He braces for another blow but it doesn't come, then the shooting stops.

“Fuck,” The villian shouts, Marion opens his eyes turning his head towards the gun. He sees the heel of a boot pressing down into the villain's wrist. The grip on the gun goes lax and the boot kicks it away.

Marion follows the leg up to see Red Hood standing over them. The angle making him seem much larger, casting a shadow over Marion. The expressionless mask staring right down at him. Marion gulped, yeah that might be slightly intimidating

“Sorry,” Red Hood grunts, pulling the villains arm at an unnatural angel making him yelp.“Getting thrown through a window ain't fun,”

“Tell me about it,” Marion knows exactly how that feels, as Chat Noir, and this guy is just a human. How quickly did he get back up? It couldn't have been over a minute in the scheme of things. And oh wow he was still standing over him and Marion was having a hard time keeping his eyes on his face or rather helmet.

“I think he’s out,” Red Hood says with a slightly amused tone.

Marion jolts, not having even noticed how the villain stopped struggling. He relaxes his grip cautiously, ready to hold back on if he starts moving.

“Pass me that arm,” Red Hood says, taking out a pair handcuffs snapping them around the wrist he was already holding.

Marion just keeps staring until Red Hood starts to just reach down. He startles, thrusting the limp arm into his hand and scrambling up, trying not to blush. Red hood secures the villains wrists before dropping them. He steps to the side and pushes the villain out of the way.

“Are you ok?” Red Hood crouches down to ask, Marion stares dumbly, “What's your name? Where are you?”

“.... Marion…. Wayne Tower….” Marion falters a little(a lot) star struck, before realising why he’s asking, “I don’t have a concussion! I’m fine really!”

Red Hood nods, standing back up. He reaches out an arm to help Marion up. Marion wants to take his hand, he really does, but his arms don’t seem to be moving. He’d probably just trip over anyway. Red Hood lets his arm drop once its clear Marion won’t be responding anytime soon. Instead he reaches down and throws the unconscious villain over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’re going to get plenty of lectures on how stupid that was,” Marion cringes at the harsh tone “So… thanks…. that was really brave,”

Marion is left to internally combust as Red Hood swings out the window with a grappling hook.

“Marion! Mari! Are you ok,” Marinette rushes to him, followed by the rest of the class.

“What just happened?” Marion is still staring at the spot Red Hood disappeared from.

“Dude, you took that guy down in seconds!” Nino exclaims, Marion fixes his glasses only the magic of the miraculous keeping them on.

“Huh, it felt longer,” Marion turns to his class to see everyone, minus Lila, looking down at him with concern.

“We need to get you checked out,” Dick helps him stand,“There's a medical bay in Wayne tower, lets go,”

Marion just nods, slowly coming to himself to realise he was very much not alright. He clutched his side that ached, armour shielding the majority of the damage didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting. His back also hurt from landing on the ground, luckily Marinette had reinforced his jacket so he knew it wasn't cut up. Apparently he had gotten away with no cuts, as he had kept his head off the ground and was wearing reinforced gloves. His ears were ringing from the gunshots, in hindsight, that hold wasn’t the best idea, but they rarely had to deal with actual guns so he was left unprepared.

They reach the medical bay, Dick trying to get his classmates and teacher to calm down the whole way. Marion didn’t answer any of their questions, knowing he had to consider his answers carefully. He made sure to pass Marinette his baton, for her to hide in her backpack. In the medical bay there were a few employees who were part of the attack getting their cuts disinfected. Marion gets a thank you from an employee who he recognises as the one trapped under the desk. Marion nods in response, being guided to a seperate room only Marinette was allowed into.

The nurse checks him over, revealing a growing bruise on his side. He seems surprised it's not worse after Marinette explains what happened, luckily he doesn’t notice anything amiss about his clothes. He also checks his back, telling him it should be fine in a day or two and if it’s not, to see a professional. Marion knows that even if something is wrong his increased healing ability from his time as the black cat would set it right.

“The ringing should wear off in a few days,” Marion knows it will stop by the end of the day, “It’s a natural symptom after loud noises,”

Marion nods and the nurse leaves him to rest, letting Marinette watch over him.

“That was reckless,” Marinette states simply, as soon as the door closes.

“Can we save the lecture for later?” He rolls over on the bed the nurse insisted he rest on.

“Marinette is right,” Tikki flies out of her purse, followed by Kaalki and Plagg. Plagg doesn't say anything just comes to sit on Marion’s chest. “Your whole class was watching,”

“I know! I just wasn't thinking!” Marion pats Plagg's head, silently telling him he’s alright.

“I don’t know,” Marinette leans back and smirks, “I think you were thinking of one thing in particular,”

“No, go back to the lecture,” Marion buries his face in the pillow.

“So how was meeting him? You seemed a little flustered,” Marinette leans her elbows on her knees and holds her face.

“Ugh, I was totally embarrassing, wasn’t I?” Marion fixes her with pleading eyes.

“Oh, definitely, you also completely ignored him trying to help you," Marion screams into the pillow,

“This seems to be an effective punishment,” Kaalki muses, zipping away with the rest of the Kwamis when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Marinette calls, as Marion sits up.

“Marion Cheng-Dupain, explain yourself!” Aunt Selina bursts through the door.

“Auntie! Who I love so much, so good to see you, did I tell you that you look lovely today,” Marion shifts back as she approaches.

“Nice try, why did I get a call from Dick telling me you were in the medical wing?” She stops to stand in front of him, hands on hips.

“I assume it’s because of the villain attack,” Marion glances at the door to see Dick peek in before closing it, “But I’m not sure,”

“A villain attacked you!” Selina bellows, Marion realises its probably a good thing he can't give her their name.

“Well no. The villain attacked Red Hood, I attacked the villain before he could attack Red Hood,” Marion rambles making gestures to explain the process. Marinette gives him a flat look.

“So you thought attacking a villain unarmed was a better idea then running away?” Their Aunt looks horrified through her anger.

“Yes that would be the gist of it,” Marion agrees, Marinette face palms.

“Don’t worry I’ve already given him a lecture,” Marinette covers and Marion knows he owes her one.

“What am I going to do with you?” Their Aunt sighs rubbing her face.

“Give me a hug and ask if I'm alright?” She rolls her eyes knowing exactly what he’s trying to do, but sits down next to him anyway.

“Come here you two,��� Marinette comes and sits next to her and she pulls them both in for a hug, “You’re not allowed to scare me like that ever again,”

“Ever?-ouch,” Marion yelps as Selina pinches his cheek playfully.

“You’re meant to say ‘sorry I won’t do it again’ and then be sneakier about it next time,” She scolds, as Marion rubs his cheek.

“I promise next time I decide to impulsively fight a villain you won’t find out about it,” Marion swears, making their aunt roll her eyes.

“You’re a brat,” She ruffles his hair, not that it wasn't already messy.

“I get it from you,” Marion grins, Selina sighs.

”... yes you do,” She gives him a sad little smile and they fall into a familiar silence.

This was something their Aunt did often, randomly becoming solemn and closing off for a little bit.

“Marion, Marinette are you ok?” Madame Bustier pokes her head through the door.

“Yeah, nurse said I’m fine, just a few bruises,” Marion sees her relief, "Did you call our parents?"

"Yes I called yours first, I told them you were being looked at," Madame Bustier explains, "You should call them soon,"

"We will," Marinette promises, neither looking forward to that conversation.

“Alright then, are you free to go?” Madame Bustier asks, “The rest of the tours been cancelled and the class is ready to leave,”

“I’ll take them,” Selina steps in, hugging them tighter “I’ll drop them off at the hotel later,”

“Alright then, don’t stay out too late” Madame Bustier gives them a smile, disappearing behind the door.

“She isn’t even going to ask where we’re going,” Their Aunt huffs, glaring at the door.

“Aren’t we going to dinner?” Marion asks, Marinette nodding.

“I was planning on just letting you rest without your classmates bothering you,” Their Aunt admits

“I’m fine, I want to go to dinner," Marion receives an unconvinced look from their Aunt.

"Please,” They chorus using their twin powers, that breaks her.

“Fine, fine," She relents, ruffling his hair again, Marinette's hat sparing her, "But Bruce probably needs some time to sort everything out,”

“Already handled,” Bruce walks through the door right on cue, “I must apologise for this happening to you both in my building,”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re fine,” Marinette answers for him, Marion getting tired of repeating himself.

“I watched the security footage," Bruce tells them, standing at the bed.

'right that exists' Marion thinks, 'I can practically fell Marinette scheming how to steal it', if only to immortalise his pain.

"Where did you learn to fight?” Bruce inquires, neither missing the subtle glance to Selina.

“Um, we taught ourselves, did some self defence classes,” Marinette answers, both feeling their Aunt relax against them

“Plus Aunt Selina has trained us a bit since we were kids,” Marion adds, with a teasing smile.

“Has she,” Bruce states, looking at his fiance.

“You little snitch,” Selina mocks anger, ruffling his hair with both hands now in retaliation, Marion laughs.

“If you aren’t up for dinner we can postpone to a later date,” Bruce tells him, Marion swears he can see a slight smile.

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine, I’d love to come,” Marion tries to push his Aunt away.

“If that's the case, we can go to the manor right now,” Bruce offers, the twins nod, “Just a minute, Selina?”

Selina leaves Marion's hair alone and follows Bruce out the room. Marion starts to go over the events of the last hour in his mind. Coming to a horrible realisation.

“Wait a minute… did Red Hood see me wearing his outfit!” Marion turns to Marinette.

“Oh come on, like he recognises it,” She says through her laughter.

‘He was wearing my MDC outfit’ Jason thinks excitedly to himself, having dropped the criminal off to the police.

‘He seemed scared so he probably isn’t a fan, maybe he just likes MDC’ Jason's thoughts sour, back at his shared safe house with Roy.

His phone rings. Jason is about to ignore it when he sees Alfred's name on the caller Id.

“Hello?”

“Master Jason I would like to invite you to dinner tonight,” Alfred speaks from the phone, as Jason paces around the apartment.

“What's the occasion?” Jason asks, Roy glances up from whatever he's making on the couch.

“Miss Selina’s niece and nephew are in town and it would be nice for them to meet the family,” Jason snorts.

'Family huh?' he doesn't dare say to Alfred.

“I believe you already met Marion today at Wayne Tower,” Jason pauses, recognising the name as the boy gave him when he was checking for a concussion.

“He’s Cat Woman’s nephew?” Jason whispers into the phone.

‘Makes sense his movements did seem similar to hers,’ Jason wonders if she properly trained them.

“Yes, although I doubt neither he nor Marinette are aware,” If Alfred was saying that it was probably true.

“Alright fine,” Jason agrees, drawing Roy's attention again.

“Very good Master Jason, I will see you this evening,"

"Bye," Jason hangs up shortly.

“You’re actually going to dinner?" Roy knows his relationship with the rest of the Bat's is testy at best, plus he broke Bruce's window today.

“Remember the civilian I told you about?” Jason plops down onto the couch next to him.

“The one who saved your butt? The one you haven't stopped talking about? The one who's kinda cute? nope,” Roy pops the 'p' turning back to his newest gadget.

“He’s going to be there,” Jason ignores Roy's taunting.

“Why?” Roy keeps fiddling with a gear.

“Apparently he’s Cat Woman's nephew,”

“What!" Roy drops the gadget, cursing as pieces scatter everywhere.

“I want to check on him, he seemed really out of it,” Jason ignores Roy's outburst.

“Wait so does that make you two like... adopted cousins in law or something?” Jason chuckles without any humour.

“In case you haven't noticed I haven't been Bruce's son for a long time,”

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais, Chapter Three

three chapters in three days i'm insane-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: overall creepy vibe, i was almost too scared to finish, that's why it stops so abruptly, i don't recommend reading late at night or in the dark, ask to tag

word count: 1715

tagging: @fire-sapphics @zoyyanazyalensky @dirty-racoon @della-vacker-supremacy @raiinyrxse @lucat13 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @genyyasafin @cadence-talle @thewhiteblades @gay-otlc @brilliantblindinglights @enbies-and-felonies @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @littlemisscupcake lmk if you want to be added/removed!!

SLAM!

Nathalie awoke to the sound of what she assumed was a door slamming shut. The wind howled outside her window, making the panes rattle. She looked at the clock, but the room was too dark for her to see. She lit the candle that had been sitting on her bedside table and padded across the floor to look. Two-fifty-four.

Given the strong winds outside, a draft blowing a door shut was nothing too out of the ordinary, so Nathalie decided to return to bed. She started crossing back to her four-poster when she heard another SLAM! It sounded closer, as though the first one had been one of the vacant bedrooms at the far end of the hallway, and this one was only a few doors down. While it did seem odd, she didn’t think much of it. An old, empty manor could only withstand so much on a night as windy as this one.

SLAM! A third door slamming shut, this one stopping Nathalie in her tracks. It sounded as though this door was across the hall, the door to the only accessible room that was currently vacant. She turned around slowly and crept towards her door, so she could check the hallway and put her mind at ease before returning to bed. She reached out to grab the doorknob before she realised she was shaking. Maybe checking the hall wasn’t the best idea. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she kneeled down on the floor and laid down on her stomach, peering under the door. She couldn’t see anything, and after a few minutes she was ready to go back to bed, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

She could just make out a heavy pair of boots, walking swiftly yet somehow silently across the floor. She held her breath as the boots stopped right in front of her door. Her heart was pounding, louder than it ever had before. The boots moved closer to her door, taking one step, then another, before stopping once more. They turned and ran down the hallway, towards the vacant bedrooms.

Nathalie wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, on the floor next to her door, the only light the candle on her nightstand slowly dimming as the wax melted. Not another door slammed, though the wind blew ever stronger. Who was that, with the black boots, and why were they here? How had they gotten here? Her brain rattled with questions, like the panes clattering in the window frames. But there was nothing she could do about it tonight. She’d ask Lady Lucie in the morning.

Slowly, she got up off the floor and climbed back into bed, snuffing out the candle as she did so. Her heart was still racing and her head was still pounding, but as darkness enveloped the room once more, she couldn’t fight the exhaustion, and she slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-:-

Nathalie was awoken by the sun streaming through her windows, so bright it felt blinding. The house was quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound. Nine-twenty-seven. Lady Lucie had said breakfast was typically at nine, but she’d make it fresh for Nathalie. She could afford a few more moments in bed before getting ready for the day.

Thoughts of breakfast and sunlight and the other ladies in the house distracted her for a moment, but it wasn’t long before her questions about last night’s events took front and center in her brain. Even now, she shuddered at the memory of the boots standing outside her door, silent on such a creaky floor.

She couldn’t bear to sit and wallow in memory any longer, so she instead climbed out of bed and changed out of her nightdress to an outfit nearly identical to that of last night, only the skirt was green and the blouse was white. She quickly untied the ribbon wrapped around the end of her braid and tied her hair into a bun, the same way she had everyday since she was a child. Slipping her grey shoes back on, she headed downstairs to the dining room they’d eaten in the night before.

There was no evidence anyone had used the dining room thus far that morning, but the door to the kitchen was propped open. Nathalie cautiously walked towards the kitchen, spotting Lady Lucie elbows deep in the sink. The clatter of dishes being plunged into the soapy water was loud, but it still seemed strange to Nathalie that her footsteps hadn’t been loud enough to alert Lady Lucie to her presence.

“Good morning,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard above the dishes.

Lady Lucie whipped around, as though she hadn’t been expecting Nathalie. “Lady Nathalie!” she cried. “Good morning! Don’t mind me, just tidying up after breakfast! I left a bowl next to the stove for you, and there’s a plate of fruit and a bowl of sugar on the counter.”

She pointed as she spoke, guiding Nathalie to a pot of porridge on the stove. She groaned. After eating it nearly every day of her childhood, she despised porridge. The bland, tasteless mush was one of the worst things about Hazelford Children’s Manor. However, she couldn’t deny that her stomach was rumbling, so she took a small scoop and added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar before taking her bowl and the whole plate of fruit to the dining room. There wasn’t much on the plate, as the native berries were mostly out of season, but there were apple slices, which in Nathalie’s opinion, were the best of all the fruits. She reluctantly put a bit of porridge on the apple slice and ate it, delightfully surprised at her creation. No longer despising the food in front of her, she ate it as quickly as she could.

Partway through her bowl of porridge, Lady Lucie emerged from the kitchen and joined Nathalie. “I trust you sleep well?”

For a moment, Nathalie debated lying, saying that her sleep had been uninterrupted. Would Lady Lucie know if she lied? But she decided to ask about the heavy yet silent black boots last night.

“There were some doors that slammed last night. I don’t know if you heard them. They woke me up, and I saw something...strange.”

“Oh? Strange how?” Lady Lucie seemed surprised, though Nathalie couldn’t fathom how. The doors had been quite loud, and she wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep through them.

“There was...a person, in the hallway upstairs, I think. I saw, under my door, a pair of black boots, but they were silent.” She decided to leave out the part where they had walked towards her door, and had seemingly been called away.

Lady Lucie paled. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

“The what?”

“Cavalier de l'ombre. A legend,” she said, jumping up. “Come, to the library, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Nathalie had no time to argue, because Lady Lucie had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her away from the table. She had no choice but to run to keep up as they wound through hallways, past closed off sitting rooms and boarded up doors, too many to count. Finally, they reached a pair of the largest doors Nathalie had ever seen, even larger than the front doors. Lady Lucie let go of her wrist to push the door open, not straining despite their size.

Had she not been terrified of what seemed to be imminent doom, Nathalie would have stopped and marveled at the library. The ceiling was three stories tall, and at least half of Hazelford Children’s Manor alone could fit in here. Bookshelves spanned from floor to ceiling, with two balconies wrapping around the entire room so books higher up could be accessed. There were at least a dozen ladders hung onto rods above the bookcases with small wheels at the bottom so one could reach any book they pleased. The highest balconies had small baskets on pulleys to lower books down while climbing down the narrow spiral staircases hidden in the corners. Grand chandeliers illuminated the room, along with the light streaming in the great stained glass windows directly opposite the doors, the only bit of wall space that wasn’t covered in books. Sofas, tables, armchairs, and desks were scattered about so that everyone had a spot to read and study, although there was a fair number of floor pillows as well.

But Nathalie had no time to marvel at these wonders as she was dragged up a spiral staircase and around a balcony until Lady Lucie stopped so abruptly, she almost fell over.

“Here it is,” Lady Lucie said breathlessly, pulling a book off a shelf at eye-level and flipping through it frantically. “Legends of the Ladies, by Lady Auriane. It’s old, maybe 12 cycles, but it’s one of the best when it comes to our lore. Here,” she said, settling on a page and pointing to the header. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

She offered it to Nathalie, and she took it and started reading. “Le Cavalier de l’ombre is a figure who has no face, makes no sound, and leaves no memory of their visit. They travel in shadow, typically appearing at night to unsuspecting souls. Only appearing to the ladies of the order thus far, they seem to steal immortality, weakening the lady until she has no life left within her, so she meets her demise shortly thereafter. The ladies who fall victim pass with no knowledge as to how or why. No lady has been able to speak of how their immortality is stolen, but all can recall a sense of dread and a drop in temperature before their memory is blank. There seems to be no pattern as to who falls victim to this being, but they will choose one lady and pursue them until they have achieved their goals. Thus far there has been no way found to harm this creature.”

Nathalie finished reading and looked at Lady Lucie, who was paler than any person Nathalie had ever seen. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Lady Lucie choked, “you’re the next victim of le cavalier de l’ombre, and we don’t know how to stop it.”

[mintsuke]

Forelsket | 8 - Not a Dream

Tsukishima Kei  x f!Reader

Note: Out of embarrassment, you closed your eyes during the whole process.

A/n: A little short but finally LMAO.

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Perhaps you never quite forgot about the pretty boy, who had quite literally swept you off your feet and stole a kiss from you. Soft-looking blonde hair and a warm shade of honey brown eyes. Tall and stoic, a mysterious kind of guy maybe. 

Yet, all of that was ruined when he decided to open his mouth. A very soft... or harsh... reminder that boys were just not it for you right now. Gosh, if only. You really might have taken Kuroo’s advice to move on by finding a new beau. Was the world just against you, that it decided the men in your life were all shit. Besides Kenma of course. 

Kuroo was debatable. 

So when you wake up the day after you return to Tokyo, world pitch black from the eye mask you didn’t know you had, you weren’t expecting the foreign contents of what was supposed to be your room. 

“Tetsu?” You yawn, confused why your bed felt emptier. The middle blocker had been sleeping over, and you really hope he’s not destroying your kitchen in attempt to cheer you up from yet another barrage of calls from your ex. 

You froze. Was that your voice? Were you sick? Slipping off the eye mask, you set it down on the bed. Ignoring your abnormally larger hard, you brush your palm over the mattress. Were these your bed sheets? You don’t quite remember having this color. Glancing around, you don’t even remember ever having such bad eyesight. 

Through the blurry blobs, you spot glasses on the nightstand and don them as you examine your surroundings. You notice the shelves lined with figures of dinosaurs and the school uniform and volleyball jersey that hangs on hooks on the door to your room... at least whoever’s room you were in. 

You were either kidnapped by a prehistorical nerd, or your childhood friend had somehow changed the whole layout of your room within hours. The latter didn’t seem to convincing, but knowing Kuroo, it was still possible. 

Scratching your head, you squeeze your eyes shut at your lack of longer hair. Soft and short strands met your fingertips as you swear to any god out there, if Kuroo Tetsurou cut your hair in your sleep as some sort of prank - he was going to meet his death.

Slipping out of bed, you glance down at your abnormally longer legs. You’re equally as weirded out as you stand and find that you reach the height of the doorway when you leave the confines of the room and into an unfamiliar hallway. Through trial and error, you find the bathroom, switching on the lights as you glance at the mirror. 

Your heart stops.

Was... was that you?

“Hah?!” You exclaim in shock, gripping the edges of the counter to stare at your reflection. Familiar honey eyes stare back in mirrored shock, wide in disbelief, as you recognize the face of the pretty boy from just the day before. 

Slowly raising your hands to your face, you watch as the reflection mimics the way you brush your digits over your cheeks. 

Was this real? Were you hallucinating? A dream? 

You pinch yourself with a wince at the sharp pain.

Not a dream apparently. 

“Hey— you’re unusually loud this morning, you okay?” 

You flinch, glancing over at the male standing at the doorway. He’s slightly shorter than your current body, sporting the same blonde hair color and honey colored eyes. His expression is notably more softer than the stern frown you had seen on the boy in the mirror. 

Currently, you were still finding it hard to believe that you were in that boy’s body right now. You didn’t even sleep that late last night. So how was any of this even possible?

Were you reading too many shoujo books? Body swaps couldn’t possibly be real... right?

“I’m fine,” You answer finally when you realize he’s still waiting for a response. 

Was this his brother perhaps? The similarities in appearances were striking. He was too young-looking to be his father.

He doesn’t seem too convinced by the answer, but he shakes his head and shrugs, “Alright, if you need anything let me know, you look a little pale.”

He was right. When he finally left you alone, you shut the door with a click of the lock and turned to once again appraise yourself in the mirror. The color from your cheeks were draining and you looked as though you’ve seen a ghost. Although, honestly the expression seemed so out of character and weird on the middle blocker’s face.

You were starting to panic, chest tightening as you gradually grew dizzier. Taking a seat on the toilet seat cover, you placed your head in your hands. 

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. 

You stayed like this until you felt the world come to a stand still and you could breathe normally again. 

How did this happen in the first place? Your brows scrunched together in hard concentration, thinking back to your only interaction with the boy. The pads of your fingers brush over your, well... his bottom lip, remembering the static of electricity that had shocked you when you’d both kissed that night. Could it have been...? Was that even possible outside of anime and manga? 

Then you felt it. Horror struck across your expression as you glanced down at your crotch. 

You really had to pee right now.

.

Tsukishima opened his eyes to the bright shine of the sun slicing through the blades of the blinds. Irritated, he wondered where his eye mask had gone in the middle of the night. He shifted to sit up when he realized he was being held captive by a tight hold around his middle. 

Finally growing aware of the warmth surrounding him, he raised his chin to glare up at the sleeping face of Kuroo Tetsurou. 

Wait. What. 

He looked up and down multiple times, squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them, in case he was hallucinating. Each time, he grew even more uncomfortable with how close his mentor was, and even more disturbed by his sudden appearance.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house Kuroo-san?” He spat harshly, before his mind went blank at the pitch of his voice. 

Seriously what the fuck?

“Mm, Kuroo-san? I don’t remember pulling a prank on you just yet (F/n),” The raven-haired middle blocker hums, stirring from his sleep at the sound of his name. 

Tsukishima didn’t remember seeing Kuroo last night, nor did he remember getting in bed with him. The disgust at the thought and the experience right now, was making shivers run down his spine. He needed to get out of this weird cuddle position they were in, and fast. 

“Let go of me you pervert, I’m not into that,” He hisses, ripping himself from the other middle blocker’s arms. The sound of his voice continued to throw him off as he sat up and glanced around the room. 

What was going on? His eyesight had significantly improved. Moreover, this was definitely not his room.

“(F/n), are you okay? You literally asked for cuddles last night?” The other male says, more confused now as he sits up with a drawn out yawn. 

“(F/n)? Are you blind now? I’m Tsukishima?” He snaps in annoyance.

Who the hell is (F/n)?

Kuroo’s eyes open wide now, more awake and even more confused by his answer. 

“I’m serious, are you okay? Did kissing Glasses-kun mess you up that bad?” he asks teasingly, ruffling the shorter’s hair. 

That’s when Tsukishima notices his longer hairstyle. He’s also suddenly aware of how much bigger his mentor appears in comparison to himself. Had he always been that much larger than him? They were supposedly about near each other’s heights. 

Wait. Kiss?

Tsukishima turns to him with squinted eyes, frowning up at the elder.

“How do you know about the kiss?” 

The older blinks down at him. Really what was going on with his childhood friend? Were you having a random case of amnesia? So suddenly, was that even plausible?

“You told me? Are you sure you’re okay? Did you fall down again before I came over?”

His brows furrowed, he didn’t tell anyone, not even Yamaguchi told the two idiots plus Yachi. His friend didn’t even talk to the opposing captain either, so how?

“No what the fuck, besides that, where are we? This isn’t my house.”

Kuroo makes a face at that. 

“We are at your house (F/n).”

“No, and I’m Tsukishima.”

Hazel eyes squint down at him. Kuroo opens his mouth to say something when his phone vibrates incessantly on the nightstand. With his back turned to reach for the device, Tsukishima glances at the table to find a picture frame of the Nekoma captain, his pudding-haired setter, and you  — the girl he’d knocked over on his descent down the stairs and kissed just the other night. 

Picking up the phone, Kuroo is momentarily surprised to be receiving a call from the caller ID titled as “Tsukki”. Once accepting the call, he’s about to express his surprise about receiving a call from the aloof blonde, when his eyes widen at the frantic voice on the other line. 

“What do you mean you’re (F/n)?”

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[skiller0dani]

Aching Curiosity | Klaus Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

smut requested requests info

I am now talking The Umbrella Academy Requests! See my requests info for the details. Klaus is my precious baby bean, he’s one of my favorite characters. god I am so hot for this man. like look at his smile, and his shoulders, and his neck, and his jaw, and his chest, and and~~ 

okay I’m done. enjoy xx

You knew he was a mess when you met him. 

You could tell before he even spoke a single word to you that his life was falling apart, even with the cheeky smile he sent your way, along with the palm that read Hello. Reginald Hargreeves had hired you recently as a maid, cook, personal assistant to Grace. You knew almost nothing about him or his 7 strange children, other than that there were comic books written about them, along with action figure toys made. You’d always found that odd, was it because Mr. Hargreeves was rich? One of his daughters, Vanya Hargreeves had released a book but you have yet to pick up a copy. You were employed to her father, it felt like spying on him. Even after Mr. Hargreeve’s death you remained with Grace and Pogo-  it didn’t take you long to figure out what made the Hargreeve’s children so famous. 

One has super strength, Luther.  One never misses, ever, Diego.  One can control peoples minds, Allison.  One can speak to the dead, Klaus.  One can time travel and teleport short distances, Five.  One had tentacles emerge from his body, Ben. And one was completely ordinary, Vanya.  

While you had met most of Mr. Hargreeves children, Ben had passed away a few years prior and Five went missing nearly 16 years ago. Either way none of the children lived in the house anymore, you spent your days with Mr. Hargreeves, Grace, and Pogo. Until the untimely death of Mr. Hargreeves. 

As soon as he’d stepped foot in the door, you knew he was a mess. There was black rimming his red hazy eyes, a joint in one hand and a big lazy smile on his face. An eyebrow cocked when Klaus’s eyes landed on you, and the other eyebrow joined when his eyes trailed over your uniform. He had a bottle in his palm and his tongue darted out to catch a drop rolling down the side. Grace came up behind you, “welcome home dear. This is Y/N, your father’s new maid.” She smiled, her eyes wide and robotic as Klaus pressed a kiss to her cheek. Your heart felt as though it was beating like wild when Klaus turned to regard you once again, a smile was pressed to his face and you waited in anticipation when he opened his mouth. “Why the hell would you take a job here?” A short laugh escaped as a huff from his mouth before he’s turning for the living room- and a bar. 

With only 1 person, 1 robot, and a monkey living in the house it wasn’t particularly dirty. Pogo gave you your instructions most of the time but since Mr. Hargreeves died he didn’t have much of anything for you to do. Most often you roamed around the house, admiring the books or examining the individual brush strokes of each painting. You followed Klaus into the living room, where your eyes landed on a painting of Five. Klaus leaned against the bar, another bottle in his hand. He tilts his head back as he ingests what you hope is a medication that was prescribed to him. Based upon his appearance however, you doubt it. 

“Why did you take this job?” He asked, turning around so that his back is pressed against the bar. 

“Good pay.” You say simply, truth is, is that there’s more to it than that. But you don’t feel like saying your sob story to a drunk pill popper. Klaus must have caught wind of your timidness as an almost greedy smile crossed onto his face before he pushed away from the bar. He swayed from foot to foot before finding his balance. You felt heat simmering in your lower belly as Klaus towered over you, his eyes narrowed. A teasing smile stretched across his lips, “my father was probably the most miserable person to be around, and you chose to spend all day with him, every single day for... good pay?” Klaus inquires, a sarcastic tone in his voice as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. You blushed under his hard stare. 

“You’re either really lonely or really desperate.” Klaus shrugged, standing up straight. He had to have been the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on even though he had an air of femininity to him, which strangely made him more attractive. Feeling embarrassed by his interrogation you make a beeline for the staircase, watching Klaus’s smile turn upwards in victory as you retreat. 

It wasn’t until hours later that you’d seen Klaus again, and this time he sought you out. The sun had long set under the edge of the city, and most of all the other siblings had arrived- even Five. Which you couldn’t wrap your head around still- the image of him falling from the sky replaying in your head. You were tidying your cramped bedroom, or rather broom cupboard that Mr. Hargreeves had given you to use as a bedroom. You folded clothes, yours and Grace’s to be exact, so they would be ready to put away the following morning. One harsh knock, followed by 2 more took your attention from the laundry in front of you. You almost never had anyone knocking at your door, and all the siblings except for Klaus and Vanya had all but ignored you. You didn’t take it personally, they did just lose someone although you’re not sure Mr. Hargreeves was very important to them. 

“Klaus?” You were confused to say the least to see him leaning against the wall opposite your bedroom. He had a smile resting lazily on his face and in his hand he held a bottle and two glasses. “Have a drink with me.” There was a twinkle in his eyes and you knew already that you lacked the strength to turn him away, it was curiosity that drove you forward. You took one of the glasses as you led him down the hallway, your bedroom was far too small to sit comfortably in. “Mine.” Klaus said as he snatched your wrist, and with a short nod you were following him back through the house towards his own- much larger- bedroom. 

You felt nervous as you crossed the threshold into his bedroom. Klaus collapsed against his bed, and you stood stiff as a board in the doorway. “Sit down, Jesus before you turn into a fucking statue.” Klaus grumbled with a playful smile, and you try to ease your nerves as you sit on some cushions he has placed on the floor. Being alone with Klaus, sent tendrils of electricity pulsing through your entire body, and you’d only known him a few hours. You felt a strong magnetic pull towards him and anytime the opportunity presented itself, you allowed your eyes to take peaks of his body. Klaus poured the clear liqueur into his glass and you followed suit. 

“Why did you really take this job?” Klaus asked after the 4th glass, and to your surprised he still seems pretty composed. You were on your third glass and were already starting to feel the alcohol’s effects. You let out a deep breath as you slam the rest of the alcohol in your glass, “needed an escape. Somewhere I felt safe, my ex boyfriend is a real piece of work.” You say with a sigh and Klaus’s eyebrows furrow together as he scoots of the bed to sit on the floor with you. “He used to go on drunk tangents, would break stuff, threaten to hurt me. He scared me so when I got the offer from Mr. Hargreeves to be a live in maid, I immediately said yes.” You didn’t realize tears were in your eyes until Klaus was brushing one away as it fell down your cheek. A dark look flashed in Klaus’s eyes before he was cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Did he ever hurt you?” There’s a haziness in his eyes but you can tell he’s being serious. You shook your head, even though it was a lie. Your ex boyfriend definitely has hurt you before, but something tells you that this would upset Klaus beyond belief and you don’t want him to worry. When you noticed Klaus’s eyes locked on your lips your heart jumped in your throat. You froze as he inched forward, giving you plenty of time to stop him. Much to his delight, you don’t stop him before he presses his lips against yours. Normally Klaus isn’t this assertive, tending to be more submissive but he can practically taste the timidness coming from you. He wants to feel your lips on his, to feel your body on his and he knows that won’t happen unless he takes the lead. 

At first you’re stiff, but when Klaus’s hand tangles into your hair at the back of your head you immediately melt against him. Knocking the glasses aside you lean up into his inviting lips as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. Klaus cups your cheek with his left hand, his other still tangled in your hair as he presses you more firmly against his mouth. You feel like there’s a drum beating in your chest as you lean up on your knees to press against Klaus. He falls back against his bed, and in your drunken haze you crawl frantically onto his lap. You grind your hips down on his hardening bulge, your brain fogged by alcohol and lust. All you can feel is him- lips and tongues and teeth and hands wandering all over each other’s bodies. After a few minutes of a heated make-out session you finally regain your sanity and come to your senses. Klaus’s lust blown eyes stay locked on you as you have your hands pressed to his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” His question is genuine and his chest is heaving as he catches his breath. Your lips are pink and swollen as your heart hammers wildly in your chest, “K-Klaus I can’t. I’m a virgin.” You whisper the last part, your mind screaming at itself for not having lost your virginity yet. Your body longs desperately for him, for his cock to be buried inside you. Klaus leans against his bed, his chest heaving, “oh.” Is all he manages to huff out. His lips are tingling and all the blood is rushing to his cock. His hands grab at your hips, his grip his loosening even after your confession. “Well that’s okay, I don’t mind.” Klaus shrugs, his eyes scanning your face but he can’t tear his gaze away from your lips for very long. Your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, “you still want to...you know...with me...even though I’m a virgin?” Your cheeks blush darkly as the words stammer from your lips. Klaus smiles like a schoolboy, “oh yeah.” He reassures, his hands ghosting up and down your sides. 

Timidly, you press your lips against his once more. Klaus moans into your mouth at the contact, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of your head. The kisses become more and more desperate as your lips begin to move against his faster. Klaus’s hand drifts up your back to suddenly push your body against his, your breasts crushed against his chest. “You sure you’re okay,” he starts, beginning to kiss down your neck, “with me popping your cherry?” Klaus gasps in between kisses as he nips at your neck. Your hands grab at his biceps as you moan softly, feeling his lips working down your neck to your collarbones. “Mhm I’m sure.” You whisper lazily, your head rolling back as Klaus’s mouth presses wet kisses to the tops of your breasts- still mostly covered by your shirt. “If you want me to stop just say so.” He says, pulling away from you to look in your eyes. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were gay when I first met you.” You muse aloud as his mouth returns to pressing kisses to your collarbones. Klaus chuckles as he thumbs the bottom of your shirt- you quickly get the hint and nervously pull the fabric up and over your head. “Oh baby I don’t fit in any one box, I fuck whatever makes my dick hard. Be it a man, woman, I don’t care.” Klaus mumbles, his lips exploring the newly exposed skin. Your breasts are nearly spilling from your bra when Klaus’s hands hastily yanks your bra down to expose them to him completely. His eyes widen and Klaus swears his mouth is watering at the sight of you, “fuck” Klaus hisses under his breath. Fumbling with the clasp Klaus eventually just yanks the bra off, tearing it in half as he does so. You moan as he does so, and Klaus arches a brow at your response. 

Klaus is leaning down to capture one of your hardened nipples into his mouth as his other hand drifts down your stomach. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his teeth bite down on your nipple, forcing a cry of both pain and pleasure to erupt from your mouth. You reach up to cover your mouth with your palm but Klaus gently removes your hand, “I want them to hear you.” As soon as the words leave his lips you feel a rush of arousal head south, dampening your panties. Klaus dips his hand into your sleep shorts as you pull at his shirt, helping him yank it over his head. You stayed in his lap, subconsciously grinding against him as his fingers make contact with your aching clit. 

“Am I not going fast enough darling?” Klaus teases as he watches your hips lazily roll against his hard cock on their own accord. A blush darkens your cheeks as you play with the short hairs on the back of his neck. You shake your head, “faster.” You whisper, your empty pussy clenching around nothing. Klaus presses a quick kiss to your lips before lifting you with him as he stands. Turning around, Klaus gently lays you back on the bed, and your heart is hammering hard. Your head is still hazy with alcohol, and all you can think about is Klaus’s cock pushing inside you. Klaus reaches up to hook his fingers into your sleep shorts and panties, and he yanks them down your legs with one quick yank. Once you’re laying completely naked underneath him you squirm from the heated look he’s giving you. Klaus’s fingertips brush against your tummy, a wide grin splitting across his face. 

Gliding his fingers through your folds, you whine loudly while Klaus hums appreciatively at how wet you are. Prodding a finger against your entrance, Klaus very gently pushes a finger into you. Your legs spread open further as you moan softly, feeling sparks shooting through your entire body. Klaus begins to steadily pump a finger into you, and he can’t take his fucking eyes off you. Your back is arched slightly as the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard tumble from your parted lips. Very carefully Klaus adds a second finger and you groan, your fists curling into the sheets as you already feel a climax approaching. Seeming to sense your orgasm as well, Klaus pulls his fingers from your wet pussy immediately, standing straight. Your chest is heaving as your head thumps back against the pillow, but you lift your head when you hear Klaus undoing his jeans. 

When his tight pants are shimmied off his legs you can’t take your eyes off the prominent bulge in his boxer briefs. Klaus leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips before digging around his bedside drawer, his mouth turning up to a smile when he pulls out what he was looking for. A condom. “Hold this for me okay baby?” Klaus says gently, sensing your nerves coming back. You swallow thickly as your trembling hands reach forward to take the condom from him. “Still want to do this?” He asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of his briefs. You nod instantly. Klaus smiles before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before pushing his briefs down his legs, allowing his leaking cock to spring free. Klaus hisses in relief as his aching cock hits the cool air and he smiles at you before plucking the condom from your shaking hands. 

You watch as Klaus tears the condom wrapper open to slowly roll the condom down his shaft. You swallow thickly as you part your thighs for him, settling your head into the pillow as Klaus leans over you. “Will it fit?” You ask, feeling dumb for even asking. But Klaus simply presses another kiss to your lips as he nudges the blushing head against your wet opening. “Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.” Klaus reassures, one of his hands snaking between your bodies to line himself up. Once Klaus slots the head of his cock against your tight opening he looks up at you before does anything, “are you absolutely sure you want this? I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow with regrets.” He says, his face falling. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m sure. If we don’t do this, that will be the only thing I’ll regret tomorrow morning.” You whisper as you pepper kisses along his neck and shoulder. Klaus licks his lips with a nod and a small smile. 

Very gently Klaus begins to push into you, his lips pressing sweetly against yours as a cry of pain begins to escape your lips. Klaus’s hands find yours as he slowly works the head into you, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the pain. Klaus begins to slide the shaft into you and your mouth falls open as tears drip down your cheeks, the burning is unbearable. Noticing your tears Klaus panics and comes to a halt, “oh shit I’m so sorry, am I hurting you? Do you want to stop? W-we can stop-” His voice is bordering on frantic as he brushes your tears away quickly. You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, but when you pull away you still see the panicked and guilty look in his eyes. “Please keep going, I don’t want to stop.” You beg, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Klaus remains still inside you, he looks unsure. “Klaus please, please I want this. I want you, I can take the pain.” You plead, and finally he gives in.

Klaus very timidly resumes working himself into you, his eyes darting back up to scan over your face as he slides into you. Eventually he hits the hymen and by now he’s damn near panting because of how tight you are hugging his cock, and it’s taking every ounce of self control for him not to pound into your little pussy. Klaus presses his forehead against yours, his arms curling around your body as he surges his hips forward- breaking your hymen and sliding fully inside you. You gasp in pain as your arms wind tightly around him, holding onto his back. Klaus pants into your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Holy shit,” He gasps, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. Klaus sits still inside you, waiting until you give him the green light to move. 

After about 5 minutes you release a shaky breath, the burning subsiding. “You can move, but gently okay?” You tell him, your words muffled by the skin of his neck. Klaus leans up on his elbows, as he brushes his nose against yours. He gently pulls his hips back before slowly sliding back into you. The small thrust has stars bursting behind your eyes as your nails dig into his back. Klaus continues his gentle thrusts, sliding back in with a little more force then before. As he feels the pleasure building in his stomach Klaus’s lips frantically find yours, his thumb reaching down to roll your clit as he sweetly fucks into you. You kiss him back with fervor, feeling your own climax approaching again. “Please don’t stop, fuck Klaus don’t stop.” Your pleas spur him on as he gently fucks into you a little harder, rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. “Oh God Klaus fuck I’m-I’m-” Before you can finish your sentence, you’re clenching hard around his cock as you cum. You gush around him as he cums in hot spurts into the condom as soon as he feels you clamp around him. 

Chest heaving, Klaus pulls out of you with a wince to discard of the condom. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and your legs feel like jello. Klaus comes back to bed and collapses next to you, a smile stretched across his face. He flicks his lamp off, and he brushes his nose against yours. “Did I do okay?” Klaus asks, insecurity creeping into his voice. You wrap your arms around him to pull him against you, “you did perfect.” You reassure him and he nuzzles his head against your chest, before the two of you drift to sleep. 

The next morning you’re being carried to the kitchen on Klaus’s back. You had tried to stand but your legs wobbled and you fell back against him. That’s when he scooped you into his arms and began to piggyback carry you around the house on his back. As the two of you enter the kitchen, Diego raises his eyebrows. “Did you have a good night?” He asks, a knowing smile on his face. You blush and open your mouth to try to deny it or even explain yourself but Klaus smiles widely, “fuck yeah I did! I totally got laid.” You hide your face in his back in embarrassment, feeling the vibrations of his laughter.