#real lizard on a chair energy

[courfeyrec]

cousin just walked through the room singing 'karma is my boyfriend, karma is a frog' with no hesitation or reaction

[lunargrrrl]

Lights, Camera, Magic

Agatha Harkness sits in the director's chair of some of your favourite movies. Your world suddenly turns upside down when you're invited to audition for her latest screenplay, "Witching Hour".

Chapter 16

director!agatha harkness x fem!reader | slow burn | power dynamics | eventual smut | oh and agatha is a top in this, ofc | praise kink | smut | thank you all for your patience | i'm really bad at posting on tumblr

Dinner is served in a grand dining room, with elegant chandeliers casting a golden glow over the tables. Soft jazz plays in the background, mingling with the clinks of silverware and chatter. You glance at the set name placeholders, realising you’re seated slightly away from Agatha, opposite her and a few seats down, next to none other than Rio Vidal—the captivating woman you encountered on the roof terrace just moments ago. She exudes confidence in a tailored dark grey suit that perfectly complements her striking features and cool energy.

“I'm really glad I’m sitting next to you instead of some of these lizards,” Rio says, her voice light. “At least you know how to keep a conversation interesting. The last guy I talked to just wouldn’t stop bragging about his latest blockbuster flop.”

You chuckle. “I can imagine. It’s refreshing to talk to someone who’s real. I’m just trying to enjoy the moment and not get caught up in all the Hollywood nonsense. It’s all just… so intense.”

Rio nods. “Totally get that. It can feel like everyone’s just playing a part, trying to outshine one another. I mean, I love this industry, but sometimes it’s exhausting.” She glances around the room, lowering her voice. “I swear, if I have to hear one more person talk about their ‘vision’ for a film that’s been in development hell for years, I might just lose it.”

You laugh softly in reply as she leans in closer, a playful smile on her lips. “So, tell me, what do you do when you’re not charming the socks off everyone in this room?”

You take a sip of your drink, feeling the warmth of her compliment. “Well, the past year has just been so crazy, I don’t even know anymore. One minute, I was working for some tech company in my first job out of college, and the next, I’m here, auditioning for movies after some guy spotted me in a coffee shop. It feels like a dream that I’m just trying to keep up with.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Talk about a plot twist. Honestly, I see why someone would want to scout you. It’s no wonder people can’t help but notice you.”

You laugh, feeling a flutter of connection. As dinner progresses, the conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. As you chat, you can feel Agatha's gaze on you from across the table, her expression a mix of interest and something else—jealous, perhaps. 

That familiar, possessive gaze that refuses to leave.

-*-✨-*-

Dinner draws to a close as the servers begin to prepare the table for dessert. Rio is mid-story when her hand brushes against yours as she gestures animatedly. “And then I told him, ‘If you think that’s impressive, wait until you see my next project!’” she finishes, a grin on her lips.

You burst into laughter, and the moment is light. Friendly. But then, you catch Agatha’s eyes flicking toward you, narrowing as she engages with the heavyweight next to her, flashing a smile that feels a touch too flirtatious for comfort.

You try to shake off the discomfort, refocusing on Rio. “So, what’s next for you? Tell me about that project you’re crewing up for next year?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a new script that I think will turn some heads, I reckon you’d be a perfect fit for one of the roles,” Rio replies, her enthusiasm infectious. “It’s a dark comedy about—”

But your attention drifts as you catch another glimpse of Agatha, who is now leaning a bit too close to her companion, laughing a little too hard at something they say. Her fingers graze their wrist, and you feel a knot of annoyance tighten in your stomach.

You turn back to Rio, forcing a smile. “That sounds amazing...”

As you attempt to redirect the conversation, Agatha’s laughter rings out again, this time drawing out her iconic cackle, and you feel the heat of frustration bubble up inside you. You steal another glance at her, catching her playing with the producer’s fingers, and that’s it.

“Excuse me for a second...” you mutter under your breath, pushing back your chair with a noise that draws attention. You stand abruptly, not caring if anyone is looking, and storm away from the table, the air around you suddenly feeling too stifling.

As you pace towards the exit, the soft murmur of conversation behind you fades, drowned out by the thudding of your heart in your chest. You reach the elevator, and the doors begin to slide shut just as you take a breath to steady yourself.

And the second that the doors almost close, is the same second that a hand shoots out, catching the door and forcing it back open.

Agatha.

Your mouth goes dry, and your heart skips, responding to her presence like clockwork.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, her voice smooth as silk, laced with an undertone that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just needed some air,” you reply, trying to sound casual, but the way she’s looking at you makes it impossible to hide the tremor in your voice.

“Air?” she echoes, stepping closer, her gaze steady and piercing. “Why? You seemed pretty… relaxed out there with Rio.”

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you do your best to hold your composure. “And what about you? I saw you flirting with that producer all dinner.”

Agatha tilts her head, an amused smile dancing on her lips. “Flirting? Hardly. I was simply being professional, and sometimes you need to play into their hands in this industry.” Her expression furrows as she steps even closer, the air between you thick with electricity. “But I’ll admit, it’s adorable how you think you can tease me and get away with it, pet.”

She continues, leaning in, “Two can play at this game, sweetheart. Do you think I didn’t notice the way she looked at you? I think you were forgetting who you belong to.”

Your breath hitches at her words, the possessive undertone igniting within you. “Well, maybe I’m not so easy to claim.”

“Oh, but I think you are.” She steps closer, closing the space between you, “You just need a little reminder.”

Before you can respond, Agatha closes the distance between you with one swift, powerful motion, slamming you against the wall of the elevator. The cool metal presses against your back, causing you to gasp.

“Agatha…” you breathe, but she silences you with her lips, crashing into you with a fervour that ignites every nerve ending in your body. The kiss is urgent and demanding, her hands framing your face as she tilts your head to deepen the connection. You melt against her, responding with equal intensity, the frustration and heat of the moment fuelling your desire.

You gasp helplessly into her hot mouth as she brushes her tongue against yours, igniting a wildfire of longing that tears through you. Her kiss is a heady mix of passion and desperation, each sweep of her tongue sends shivers shaking all over you. You feel her breath hot and rapid against your skin, mixing with the soft sighs that escape from your lips.

Every second stretches into eternity as you lose yourself in her, the world outside the elevator fading into darkness. You explore the intoxicating taste of her lips, rich with the hint of the champagne you shared; the overwhelming strength of her hold wraps around you like a spell. You run your hands up her blazer, your fingers reaching and tangling in her long brown hair, pulling her even closer.

You want to surrender yourself to her completely.

A soft moan escapes your mouth, echoing in the confined space, and Agatha responds immediately, deepening the kiss. It’s as if she craves the sound, as if every whimper from your lips is a reward she cannot resist. Her mouth captures every ounce of your breath, each kiss a sweet torment that leaves you aching for more. She pulls your bottom lip into her mouth, teasingly grazing it with her teeth, sending a rush pooling through you that makes you whimper louder.

And the second that sound slips past your lips, is the same second that Agatha can’t contain the low, throaty sigh that escapes her.

Time seems to compress, each heartbeat reverberating in your chest, leaving you breathless and aching for more, as if every inch of you is ablaze—and only Agatha has the power to quell the flames.

And then, without a word, she reaches into her pocket, retrieving a sleek hotel key card. You manage to catch a glimpse of what it swipes on the elevator panel:

Penthouse Suite

Your breath catches.

Your heart thuds.

Every inch of you pulses at the implication.

Breaking the kiss once more, Agatha pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression a mix of possessiveness and desire.

“It’s time to show you who you really belong to.”

Continue reading on AO3:

[fowl-leaf]

my 2023 summary of art!

Template:here

still not consistently posting anywhere, but I like doing these. they're fun there's a lot of things i would've liked to include but had to exclude, due to not being shareable on this account. maybe i'll have more stuff next year!

this is long, so details under the cut

JANUARY silly lizard oc i generally dont do much single line hatching, so it was nice to fiddle with it this time

FEBRUARY the wittle scrunkly lizard last time i drew this one, they were an lps shitpost, so its nice to like draw them normally lol

MARCH herman is running out of time glasses axolotl but make him neon idk

APRIL fancy calico i honestly dont know whats up with the clothes, i just kinda drew whatever tbh

MAY yippie!! toontown oc! was playing ttcc w/shard and co, this is the character i ended up making i also got covid around april-march iirc so i was feeling horrid for a while (and the remaining symptoms didnt clear up till like june)

JUNE an oc i got years ago but didnt have the confidence to draw for a while lmao anyways i like her colors and shape, she's fun

JULY mandatory artfight posting this was one of the last ones i did! ocs belong to pookapooka and they were so fun to paint

idk if ill be doing artfight again tbh. ive been doing it consistently since sun vs moon but its honestly felt less fun ever since the tiktok invasion`and how ppls behavior has changed, and especially since the whole ownership thing that happened mid fight this year. (not interested in any of the alternatives ive seen either bc they have the same issues, notably worse issues, or are not furry friendly) but tbh that might just be me being disenchanted with online art spaces due to the intensifying shittification of basically everything, fucking rip

AUGUST ring but hes going to jail (again but for real this time) the staxie monthly prompt was barbie mugshots but i . . . i did this with ring and lumos and promptly forgor to do this with cakes and ale like i was planning to lmfao im actually gonna watch the barbie movie tonight, renting it so i can watch it on the big tv (didnt watch in theaters bc expensive (movie tickets are generally 15-25 bucks in my area (compared to the 5-10 in my aunt's area (renting is cheaper per person)), and they changed the chairs to these weird uncomfy pleather recliners that make my skin crawl to "justify the price raise" + i hate sitting for more than an hour i need water, bathroom, stretch, and snack breaks))

SEPTEMBER ganache went over the hedge was very busy w/projects so i did little casual art this was inspired by me comparing the over the hedge version of supermarket by ben folds (upbeat & high energy) vs the one by the clash (melancholy + commercial-induced agony) ever since then i cant stop thinking abt how much the lemon demon guy's voice sounds like the fucking clash guy sdjkhfkjsd also over the hedge was one of my favorite movies as a kid and i watched it at least 10 times before we had to return the dvd to netflix. i also regularly played the flash games on the site until i forgot about it after finding out about miniclip + notdoppler from other kids and decided to use those for flash games instead bc more options lol

OCTOBER dta img for a new oc i got, funny long neck budgie thingy busy w/projects again so little casual art had to use old mini tablet bc previous tablet was completely unusable fucking rip

NOVEMBER ganache + cactus pony, they want to know if you have any bubblegum. do you? busy w/projects again so little casual art doodle i made in heavypaint (one of the old layerless versions, i bought a lisence for it a while ago.) i got a new tablet on black friday since the mini tablet was horrible + my broken tablet was making me work very slow

DECEMBER ring in the void (this is lore accurate) or as nic put it, "fucked up twilight sparkle" lol busy w/projects + gifts so little casual art i actually sketched this w/the mini tablet, but didnt finish it up till getting the new tablet

---

for reading this far, you get to see amogus.

i would've put amogus whisper on the chart but decided against it since im not done with that one yet lmao

[just-your-average-cryptid]

The detective's office was unassuming enough that most people failed to notice the strange shimmer around the only empty corner in the room. The clients with more... unusual cases were brought in here, where even a Tailing enchantment couldn't follow. It wasn't as well-kept as the office - in fact, it looked more like the abandoned hovel of a conspiracy theorist - but there was still a chair, a desk, and conveniently always-fresh tea for anyone who needed it.

Unfortunately, another Dark Mage was not most people.

A ball of energy whizzed past her, just barely missing her head as she rolled out of the way. Kyan was out on a case, and she'd left Pyra to watch the place. Premonition, she'd said. As usual, she was right.

They had the smug look of someone who thought they were the golden child of the city, gracing all lesser beings with there mere presence. In other words, arrogant as hell and too self-obsessed to think about, say, why a "mere mortal" was left to guard Kyan's hideout.

"How strange. I was expecting some ravenous beast or a dozen paltry security spells, not some little human. I almost feel bad killing you."

"Yeah, well, I won't," she fired back, heat rising under her skin.

They laughed. They laughed. "You, an ordinary mortal, kill me? Even your clever little friend hasn't managed that. I doubt she even knows I exist."

"Actually, we've known about you for two months, Demoness. Not very creative in the name, by the way. Are you a mage or some demon's arm candy?"

That got to them, badly. Good. Raging egomaniacs tend to get real dumb once their facade cracks. "I am the most powerful Dark Mage in Dystaria, and I will not tolerate such... such insolence!" Their eyes burned with anger. Energy crackled around their fingertips.

Pyra simply cracked her knuckles and smiled slightly. "You know why I got this job in the first place?"

"Because the city needed a leash on that feral friend of yours?"

She snorted. "Me? Her leash? Nah, you got that backwards." She inched forward. Confusion flashed over Demoness' face, and suspicion.

A small blue bottle sat on the desk behind them, snowflakes printed on its side. Something had told her to wait on the pill today. Her skin was burning. Demoness was now just out of arm's reach, and backpedaling fast.

"They stuck me with Kyan because the last time I took a case on my own..."

With a simple twitch, she ignited, flames bursting from her hands and running up her arms.

"I burned a man alive."

The dark energy surrounding them was gone in the blink of an eye. Whatever demon they'd made a pact with had wisely decided to scatter for the moment, leaving behind a very scared, very mortal, very flammable human. Said human bolted for the exit, but not before Pyra managed to tap their back. Fireskin flames didn't last long once she wasn't in contact with them, but the message would stick. Don't come back.

When Kyan returned, she sniffed the air. "Smells like smoke."

"Does it? Sorry 'bout that. Had a little incident with that Demoness kid."

She smirked. "So they know you're a Fireskin now?"

"And they won't forget it."

"That's my girl," she said, grinning. "You get hurt?"

"I'm alright, their first shot missed and the demon went packing at the first spark." Kyan nodded, gesturing to one of the boards on the wall. The note next to their photo was updated accordingly. "So, what'd you find out?"

"Well, lizard-boy still thinks he's scarier than me..."

When the villain only found you, the hero’s sidekick, in the hero’s hideout they thought that this was going to be easy. You are excited as well, because finally there is no-one there to hold you back.

[cringefictionallizard]

More lizard practices from a while ago + obligatory info dumping [long-ish post]

HC: Toffee doesn't hate using pillows, he just doesn't like them on his chair. However it's a common for septarians to sleep on their stomach when there's adequate cushioning, often having large pillows to support their head and neck. Completely inspired by the way Elias sleeps from Mahoutsukai no Yome!

Yeah idk how to draw lesbian lizard women

Intended to be Toffee's parents but I'm still intimidated by not getting the septarian style to look right nor appealing so maybe I'll tackle original designs later...

The septarian who conceived Toffee is intentionally meant to look exactly like him, but I still want to give her a subtle visual difference to him because based on the poor research I did and bending real life logic, asexual offspring are mostly to completely genetically identical.

At this point it's really late and I'm tired but I won't have the time nor energy to work on this later so here we go...!

I'd also like to mention that I've taken some thematic inspiration from "What Remains of Edith Finch" after I saw similarities with what I was trying to go with storywise but never knew how to convey it. I'd like to elaborate more on it some other time.

It was just a silly thought of Toffee having top surgery after seeing that post about the tapestry storyboard error. I wanted to look for that post again to check if it really happened but despite my search efforts couldn't find it.

I planned out further details but idk... I'm starting to feel like this is might be going out of range. Him being intersex because he has male attributes despite genetically being a "clone" of his mother. Probably going with they/them/he/him pronouns but only family and allies ever refer to him has they/them behind closed doors because he specifically requested out of spite of giving his enemies a chance to use it against him, in the same way his true gender is not known of from the outside.

Before vs after top surgery supposedly, Idk how to really make it show

[willowcrowned]

Hi! I know you haven't written for teen wolf in a while, but if you feel like it, maybe your favorite characters fighting (or just interacting with) a creature you wish was on the show? I love your writing by the way, I really like how your dialog sounds!

oh, thank you so much for saying that! One of the things I do try to cultivate with my writing is a rhythm in the patterns of the words and lines, so the fact that someone noticed it is really nice to hear :)

I didn't manage to write a full oneshot for this—my energy fizzled out halfway through—but since I don't want to leave you high and dry, here's what I did manage to get through:

There are exactly three seconds between Stiles seeing the creature and Stiles realizing that he’s about to win a betting pool filled with more money he’s seen in his entire life. Those three seconds are filled with fangs, blood, and tortured moaning that sounds like it’s straight out of the dubious porn he once got grounded for downloading. Then things click, because Stiles isn’t an idiot. He knows what he’s seen. It’s a vampire.

“It’s not a vampire,” Derek says the minute Stiles tells him. “Vampires aren’t real.”

Peter—who, by the way, Stiles still thinks they should stick right back in the ground, though it’s not like anyone listens to him when he says objectively true things—immediately agrees, and then murmurs something patronizing and irritating that Stiles refuses to acknowledge.

“Says who?” Stiles argues back, because like fuck is he backing down on this one. The only alternative is a weirdo with a blood fetish and surgically sharpened teeth, and those don’t usually actually fly.

“Says centuries of supernatural scholarly inquiry.” Peter, if it’s possible, looks even more evil and patronizing.

“Oh, fuck you.” Stiles huffs, and stomps out of Derek’s new place—much less disgusting than anywhere else he’s stayed, but more depressing in that Stiles is pretty sure the chandeliers cost more than he’ll ever make in his life—to go find someone who will listen.

-

“Oh, yeah, it’s totally a vampire,” Lydia says, and Stiles isn’t sure whether to whoop with victory or collapse into her white faux fur bowl chair with matching lavender throw pillow. “Did they tell you it wasn’t?”

Stiles nods.

Lydia makes a noise of disgust. “Not a single reputable research practice between them. I’ve been reading those books they lent me, and even when they do put the sources in, half the time the source is just ‘it is known.’ No wonder the supernatural world is in shambles if none of them can muster together a decent research team.”

“Is the supernatural world in shambles?” Stiles asks curiously.

“If it wasn’t, would anyone be letting Derek bite random teenagers and turn them into venomous lizard monsters?”

“Point.” Stiles decides to sit down. “So, what’s the plan?”

Lydia finally turns around from where she’s been sitting at her desk, going through the most immaculately color-coded spreadsheet Stiles has seen in his life. She smiles. It’s a little terrifying. And very hot. “Research.”

[heli0s-writes]

Bucky Barnes with a whole ‘heart eyes muthafucker’ hoe phase for reader but reader’s lizard brain isn’t connecting the dots and instead is like “somebody come get your mans pls he has a really dumb puppy look on his face and i am concerned for his health”

A/N: 800 words of nonsense and 1 conversation about Cap’s erection. Crack. Spicy like a little red pepper flake.

Bag of Tricks one-shots

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.  

A little Sherlock Holmes kind of talent. Except less cocaine and no Watson.  

Regardless, Tony calls it your reading.  

“Hey, mind-reader, tell me if Cap’s gotten laid in the past year or not?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably across the room, and that’s all you need.  

“He’s gotten it way more than you. Real wild stuff. The girls could barely take it, Tony.”

Steve flushes a shockingly bright crimson and hides his face in his palms.

“Shit!” Tony cries in disbelief, panicking before making his quick exit, hollering for Pepper down the hall.  

“Jesus.” Beneath your stretched-out legs, Bucky bounces his knee and tugs on his jacket spread over your shoulders. His other hand flips the pages of a book, forearm rubbing lightly on your thigh.

“That was just one time…” Steve mutters embarrassed, and you hide your knowing smirk. You didn’t have to read anyone’s mind to predict that in the last eight months Captain America has gotten laid at least once-- and considering his rabid fanbase, someone has got to be into something kinky.  

Truthfully, you think, Steve’s probably the kinky one. All that pent-up energy for the last 70 years has got to be... explosive. Under your gaze, he squirms and rearranges himself awkwardly.  

“Well, I gave you a gift: now Tony thinks you’re packin’ and you lay pipe. Use it for evil, Rogers.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Bucky groans again, “What did we say about your choice of words around others?” He snaps the book shut and slaps your chest with it.

Unbothered, you turn back to Steve, who is trying desperately to communicate to Bucky with his eyes— sharp jerking motions, probably code for the manual on how to shut you up. Nah. There ain’t one.

“Steve…tell me the truth,” You ask slowly, “It’s big, isn’t it?”

“Okay!” Bucky yells, pushing you off the couch, “That’s enough of that. I’m going shooting.”

Landing on your shoulder with a grunt, you brush away the rough sting of the carpet and catch the last second of his shadow before he’s gone from the room.

“What?” You call, projecting your voice and hoping he hears, “What’d I do? Buck!”

The scape of the chair legs signals Steve standing up, too. A shake of his head and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know,” he starts, “For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.”

There’s nothing in your head but sawdust and thoughts about his... measurements. You shake it out of your brain before it lingers too long. Steve points sharply down the hall to where Bucky’s shadow has slipped out of view and hearing-distance.  

“You know he likes you, right?”

Uh? Your brain is the mac loading wheel, just spinning. “Of course he does? We’re buddies?”

Steve cuffs you in the back of the head, “Get it together. Like is putting it lightly, too. Love is closer to the truth.”  

Then, he saunters off, shaking his head all the while, leaving you to gape down the hall like a fish. Bucky? In love? With you?  

Flashes explode in your brain like fireworks. His jacket over your shoulders—not the first time. Sitting underneath your legs— nearly tradition. Morning jogs even though he hates them. The banter—him, scolding your motor-mouth, you— never stopping. Circles he rubs on your knees— the laughter—damn it, so much laughter.

Bucky? In love? With you? It’s more likely than you think. And you just spent ten minutes talking about his best friend’s dick.

A gasp. A choke and a wail somewhere deep inside your chest and then you’re outta there.  

“Buck!” You scream, tearing down the hallway. “Buck! Bucky! I’m sorry! Bucky oh my god! I’m a fuck up!”  

You bang on the glass separating you from the cracks of his pistol and he turns slightly confused, one hand on the side of his earmuffs.

You must look a wreck, hair in disarray and panting hard, his jacket, half-on, half-off.  

Bucky raises an eyebrow, blinks at the way the front is sliding from your shoulder and puts the gun down.

-

“You’re so stupid.”  

An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. He peels his bomber off your back and throws it onto the floor. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the button of his jeans. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touch has jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you.” Bucky calls impishly. “First, how big do you think I am?”

“Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.  

“Do you think you can take it?”

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

been a while since i posted a fic update! anyone wanna read some cowboy au nonsense? sure you do! well here it is

The blinding, unforgiving midday heat is enough to raise blisters on the skin. Looking out over a crowd of folks booing him, calling for his demise, probably should have had some kind of emotional impact. On the occasion of one’s death, after all, one does expect tears. Flowers, laid out in lace, dark veils and coal black clothes, a few muffled sobs from those further back in the funerary procession, unable to contain themselves. Instead he’s met with the dusty faces of former neighbors and strangers alike, all eagerly waiting to hear the exact tone and pitch that his neck will make when it snaps.

Bored, he turns his attention from the crowd, and watches a lizard scurry across the wooden planks of the gallows, as a man to his right fits a rough bit of rope around his neck. It scratches, but he doesn’t react, not feeling frightened or even especially interested. A similar rough twine is binding his hands together behind his back, keeping him from having any viable way to save himself. The crowd is calling for blood now. Hangings generally are not gorey affairs, but he did once see a drop too sudden and a rope so long that the fella wasn’t just hung, he was decapitated. Beetlejuice glances back down at the crowd, tries to imagine what direction his head would roll if that happened here, and smirks, because it seems to him the last thing he’d see would be the view from inside the skirts of some of the women standing front and center. Not the worst last sight a man could have. “You think you could hurry this along?” he asks the man fitting the noose around his neck. “Sun’s beatin’ down somethin’ fierce an’ I ain’t got my hat.” His personal possessions are back at the sheriff’s office- hat, bandana, silver plated, pearl handled pistol, and his custom belt buckle, just about the nicest, and maybe only, thing he ever paid for. God damn corrupt lawman’s probably gonna pawn his stuff as soon as he’s swinging. Maybe before. Maybe his last worldly possessions are already gone. S’not like he’ll need them, where he’s goin.

A face he recognizes is led up from the crowd, an ancient wizened body tanned for years by the all too eager sunlight and scorching sands. It’s the local preacher, who he remembers from his formative years. The old man used to give him bread and plain, unseasoned chicken in return for listening to him talk about god, and if he hadn’t been nearly starved to death half the time, he might have spat in the old man’s face. Shouldn't charity be done for the sake of charity, not proselytizing? He’d said so once, and that was the last meal the old miser had given him. Jackass.

“Beetlejuice,” the preacher begins. His name is said with disdain and a curled upper lip. It’s one of the reasons he chose it, honestly. “You still have time to repent, young man. I remember you, as a child, bright eyed, curious about the kingdom of heaven.” Well now, that’s the very definition of taking artist liberty. “Now, here, you have one more chance to repent, to accept god’s mercy, and avoid the lake of fire.” The crowd is watching, waiting to see if he will confess his remorse. Beetlejuice hums, rocks on the balls of his feet, and then sighs. “.. C’mere,” He mumbles, jerking his head to indicate the old man should step closer. The holy man does. “I got a lot to confess to, preacher man, an’ not much time.” His voice is soft. The ailing man can’t hear him, steps closer, if only a little. “So much to confess to, in fact, I oughta just… Skip th’ whole thing an’ go straight to hell!” And Beetlejuice reels back, and then slams his forehead into the old man’s face. The sickeningly satisfying crunch of cartilage tells him he’s broken the preacher’s nose, as the elderly man falls back, crying out in pain, blood gushing from his new wound. The crowd roars, furious, and he grins, and laughs. “Ain’t no good extendin’ your pious pity to me!” he calls, gleeful, as he’s pelted with whatever the people watching can get their hands on, and the old man is helped, taken away, led off of the platform. “Enough, enough, we will have order!” a lawman cries, coming up the gallow steps, to stand in front of the outlaw. It’s enough to get the crowd to settle, or at least stop throwing things. There’s still a bad energy in the air, which Beetlejuice can taste on the tip of his tongue. His smile is rictus, he’s delighted to be the cause of it all.

“This man has been tried and found guilty,” the lawman continues. The trial had been very short, and his incarceration shorter. He understands he’s being made an example of to other outlaws, bandits, and trouble makers. They intentionally didn’t give him any time to plan anything, or for any coconspirators to come and assist him. Joke’s on them. They could have taken all the time in the world. Ain’t nobody alive who cares for this outlaw. Not a soul who would dare to come and stage a rescue. He’s utterly alone. “He’s allowed his last words. Clearly,” the lawman turns, eyes Beetlejuice, who smiles flirtatiously. The other man’s expression shifts from annoyance to disgust. “He’s disavowed the advice of Pastor Neighbors.” “M’not so sure you’re usin’ that word right, friend,” Beetlejuice snorts, but he’s ignored. “Any last words?” the hangman to his right asks, his hand itching to grip the lever that will drop the floor and finally, finally, release the outlaw from the confines of mortal life.

Beetlejuice grins.

“If any of you have a message for th’ devil, give it to me!” he shouts, with a cackle, and he watches in rapt and morbid delight at the way the faces in the crowd twist. “I’ll carry it down to hell for you!” The crowd is furious enough it almost seems to him they’re going to storm the platform, and maybe beat him to death. The wave of gasps from the women folk is particularly amusing.

“Enough of this!” He hears the voice of the lawman, disgusted, and the hangman must agree, because the last thing he hears is the lever being thrown, and the floor gives out under him, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

His ass hits a chair.

There’s a moment of blinded confusion, because he's gone from the unbearable dusty sun of midday California, to a cool, dark, musty smelling interior. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the change. He’s sitting in a room he doesn’t recognize. The chair under him is plush, but just thin seated enough to be a tad uncomfortable. He squirms in it, confused, and finds his hands are still tied behind his back. He turns his head. Seated across from him is a young woman.. Well, little girl might be more accurate, she’s maybe fourteen. There’s a wicked looking hoofprint emblazoned on her right temple. The blood that’s leaking from the wound has gone a sickly old color. They stare at each other. “Did that hurt?” she asks, first, and he squints, because he’d been about to ask the same question. Her hand has gone to her throat, as she looks at him, and he looks down, pressing his fat face into his fat neck to create an unflattering double chin as he does so. He can feel the rope around his neck. He follows the line of it with his eyes, and turns to look up. The rope travels up from him, into the ceiling. It’s still taught, like he’s suspended by it, but his ass is touching chair, his boots are on the ground, and he doesn’t feel choked by it’s presence. He tuts. “Didn’t feel a thing. That hurt?” he tries to gesture to her wound, but again, he’s reminded his hands are bound behind him. She stands. “Hurt a bit, but then I got so dizzy I didn’t hardly feel it, after,” she tells him, and then, like the good little frontierswoman she is, she produces a knife from inside some pocket in the volume of her skirts, and gratefully, he leans forward. She rests a knee on one of the chairs, to get a better angle, as she uses her bowie to cut through the rope at his wrists. “Awful kind of you, half pint,” he tells her, and she smiles. “Ain’t nothin.” She settles into the chair next to him, which is a little surprising, but he doesn’t mind, over all. “You’re an outlaw, then?” she asks. He grunts, and then turns to face her, with a grin. “You probably heard of me. They called me Th’ Ghost, on occasion, cause I could slip away without bein’ caught-” he watches her eyes travel up the line of his noose, and then settle back on his face, a little less impressed than she ought to be. He responds by pinching her nose, and she swats at his hand, and laughs. “I do think I heard of you,” she concedes. “I’m Presley.” “Presley, alright. You got a clue where we are, kiddo?” “I just was told to wait.” “Told by who?”

Across the room, a window he hadn’t registered as being there slides open. This place vaguely resembles a bank, he realizes, and so that means that’s the teller’s window. A woman with a tired expression on a pretty face peers out at him. “Hey, dead beat,” she calls, her accent thick around the words. “Juno wants to see you.” He motions to himself, questioningly. She raises an eyebrow in silent confirmation. “Should I care?” he asks, and her upper lip curls in the most beautiful version of a sneer he’s ever seen. “You’re real funny. Get in there before she loses her temper.” And she reaches up, and slams the window shut.

He looks to Presley, and they both share a little shrug, before he stands, and takes a step. The rope going through the ceiling moves with him, not along any visible track, that he can see, but seeming rather more like a toy balloon on a string, bobbing along as though after a child winding their way through the crowd of a state fair. There’s a door by the teller’s window, and he makes for it, only for the window to slide open again, and that beautiful face to reappear. She looks him over, not seeming particularly impressed, but also not outright cruel. “Where’s your handbook?” she asks. Beetlejuice tilts his head. It lolls a little comically to one side, presumably because his neck is broken. She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t bring your handbook?” “Listen, lady, even if I had whatever book you’re talkin about, I couldn’t read it,” he counters, and she pauses, at that. “Illiterate. Of course. What’s even the point of the handbook when so many folks can’t read it?” she mutters to herself, and then she waives him at the door, the conversation apparently over. Alright.

The door, predictably, leads to a hallway, a bit unlike anything he’s ever seen before, in terms of sheer length of the thing. It twists around like a snake, and the number of doors along the hall leads him to believe wherever he is, it’s massive. The hallway is empty, save for a man at the far end, mopping, and there doesn’t seem to be anything around for him to tuck into his pockets. Too bad, he mopes, as he carries himself down the hall, boots clacking in a way he finds tactile and pleasant. He passes the custodian, who stares at the floor behind him and sighs, and Beetlejuice looks back to see a mess of dusty footprints he’s left on a previously slightly damp but otherwise pristine floor. With a snort, he spits into the bucket of mop water, and the other man jumps back, disgusted, as Beetlejuice cackles, and continues his leisurely walk down the hall.

At a certain point he realizes he’s got no idea where he’s going, but it doesn’t especially matter. Wherever he is now, whatever version of the afterlife this is, because clearly, that’s what this is, it doesn’t seem to be fire and brimstone and all that bullshit, so he takes it easy, opening doors at random and peeking through. The things he sees don’t always make sense to him, feel like they’re out of place from the world as he knows it. He opens one door, and suddenly he’s staring at what must be a city, but the buildings are so tall they’re touching the sky, going up past the clouds, up into the heaven he doesn’t believe can really be up there. The people are dressed strangely, men and women wandering around in little more than underclothes, which he likes, instantly, and the streets are black with painted yellow lines, instead of dust and earth. Some kind of metal.. Something, a trolley without a track, moves on it’s own down the street, and he catches a glimpse of faces inside. He gets lost in the contents of this door, staring for a long time, entranced, and then it’s slammed suddenly. He turns, catches sight of the custodian with his hand on the door, and growls, an animalistic sound he didn’t know he could do. And then he stops, and turns to look, because the custodian is still a ways behind him, mopping with spit water. It’s the same man. “You don’t need to go poking your snout into places it doesn’t belong,” the man says, simply, and then in a blink, both versions of him are gone from the hallway. Maybe that’s just an… afterlife thing.

He reaches, after what feels like a boring and dragging eternity of twenty whole minutes, a set of saloon doors, the swinging kind. There’s a void of blackness behind them, but the draw he feels is unmistakable, and he pushes them open, and walks through. Instead of a room black as ink, he finds himself… standing on the wooden porch of a bar he remembers frequenting fairly often, in his younger days. At least, he has clear memories of walking into the bar. How and when and why he ended up outside of it, well… whiskey has a hell of an effect on a man’s memory. It’s a fairly chilly desert night. The chirping of crickets and the long ways away lonely baying of a dog is a sort of familiar comfort, but god damn it, he’s just left this world. He wasn’t intending on coming back to it, ever. The dusty streets are dim, illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and the few lamps still burning in windows. The town is quiet.

On the dirt road in front of him is a woman, staring at him. She’s small, older, nicely dressed, with hair shorter than he’s ever seen on a lady, and a mouth sort of like a toad, long and downturned. There’s an unlit cigarette between her fingers. She’s watching him, curious and apathetic all at once. He returns the look. “Juno, then?” he grunts, stepping off the porch. No dust lifts when his boots hit the unpaved road, which he notes. Maybe he’s not really here. Maybe he’s a ghost. Fitting.

“Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth,” she says, as he comes to stand in front of her. “Took you long enough. You realize I’ve been waiting here for days. You get lost, or something?” Her tone is sharp, like a schoolmarm with too much on her hands and not enough energy for it all. He feels a little sheepish, if only because no, he hadn’t realized that. “Gimme a break,” he says, instead of an apology. “I just died.” “Like that makes you special,” she huffs, and then, waving her unlit cigarette in his face, machine rolled, not hand, he notes, she asks, “Have you got a match?” He produces one from one of the many pockets of his moss green duster, strikes it on his thumb, and holds it up for her. She has the decency to look grateful, as she leans in, cigarette to her lips, and lights it from that little flame. “So,” she exhales smoke, and it curls from the corner of her lips, and out a previously unspotted slash to her throat. No wondering how she died, then. Speaking of, he glances up, to see that his noose is no longer floating above his head, and turning, he catches sight of it dragging on the ground behind him, long and snake-like in the way it’s twisted and coiled. Juno snaps her long red nails in his face, brings his attention back to her. “You weren’t supposed to die, you know. You’ve mucked things up for me.” “Whut?” he grunts, a bit thrown. She rubs her temples. “You were supposed to go in your seventies. Catch tuberculosis and wither away in obscurity. How old are you?” “Thirty four, or abouts,” he croaks, and she takes another drag. “You let yourself be caught,” she accuses. Well.. yeah. But how the hell does she know that? “I got pinned down in a shootout. Lucky they didn’t blow my head off, right then.” “You’ve gotten out of worse.” She looks almost.. Disappointed. “And then you put down your weapons, instead of fighting it out.” “I was surrounded.” “You were sloppy.” “What’s it to you, anyway?” he growls, again low and animalistic, which Juno ignores, as she walks circles around him, studying him. “You let yourself be caught, and you let yourself be hung. You didn’t even try to get away. You might not have killed yourself, but you let them kill you, for you,” she says. “And it’s giving me a hell of a time, both because it’s changed you, and because I have to put you somewhere, Beetlejuice, and now no one knows where you should go.” “So what does that mean?” “It means, my little statistical outlier, that you’re going to be staying up here, probably a lot broader a time than it would have taken you to just live your life and die at seventy,” she sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “Which is a shame. Because.. I was looking forward to.. To you. And now we both have to wait longer,” and here, she finishes her circle of him, to stand face to face with him again, and she flicks his ear, the way he always imagined an frustrated mother might. “Because you gave up. You weren’t supposed to give up.” “Wasn't much worth livin’ for,” he says, and it’s got more emotion behind it than he meant to give it. Juno’s hand goes to her throat, and she looks pained. “I guess that’s an inherited trait,” her voice is soft, and he squints at her, confused. Instead of giving him any context for that, she points down the dusty main road. Shining under the moonlight, he can see, vaguely, a dark shape suspended in air, near the gallows. “Go put your suit back on,” she says dryly. “And try not to cause enough trouble that I have to come up here and get after you, understood?” “What part of outlaw ain’t you gettin?” he snorts, and she responds by giving him an affectionate pat to his scruffy cheek, before she takes another drag, and vanishes inside the swirling smoke. He’s left standing on his own.

His “suit” is still hanging, he notes, looking up at himself. He’s strung up on a tall pole by the platform, leaving it free for more use, if need be, with his body on display as a gruesome reminder for potential criminals that this is a hanging town, and they’ve even hung their most despised son. His neck is bent at an ugly angle, a little bulge at the side betraying how exactly his bones had shattered, and his skin has gone a bad color, gray and foul looking. But aside from that, he’s not rotted the way he would think he ought to be. Juno’d said she’d been waiting for days, presumably meaning it has been days since his death, but his body is looking remarkably unbuzzard pecked and unrotted. He shimmies up the pole he’s hung from, his ghostly noose trailing behind him, and the moment he touches his own boot, the world spins, going upside down and inside out in a way that’s too painful to try and perceive.

“Gahh-” says Beetlejuice, because he’s back in his body, which is still being hung by that god damn noose, and he realizes, annoyed, that he has no way of cutting himself down. He kicks, pointlessly, one hand going to the rope at his neck, to clutch it and try to keep it from choking himself again, and the other grabbing at the rope further up, gripping it to pull himself up, give himself some slack, instead of hanging taught. It’s not the most coordinated he’s ever been. At least there’s no one around to watch him struggle.

“Holy shit, the body’s movin!” he hears someone holler. Oh, come on.

Read the rest, right over HERE

[mxvladdy]

Sleep HCs

It’s a sleepy day for me and by doggo so here are some sleep head cannons of the brothers bc why not.

Lucifer 

Is a stomach or side sleeper. Not because he likes it but out of necessity. His back still irritates him, so when he actually schedules some shut eye he preps meticulously. 

He bathes before hand, usually soaking in a mix of muscle relaxers to help release some of the tension from the work day and to help with his nerve damage. His favorite scents are lavender and a blend of spearmint. They make him a little drowsy and soften his perpetual headache. 

His bed is very nest-like. Pillows and blankets meticulously placed to help him stay in one place while he rests. Too much tossing and turning irritates him. He likes feeling cocooned and tight. It is a self soothing mechanism he developed over his first few years in the devildom. 

But this is all when he actually has time to sleep for more than a few hours. 

Most of his sleeping is little naps thrown in over the work week. On average he gets about 14-18 hours a week. It’s enough (so he says but he is a cantankerous bastard regardless so it’s hard to tell for sure) 

He sleeps like the dead, hands down corpse like. But don’t let that fool you, he doesn’t sleep like the dead. He is up and moving the moment he hears something that sounds like trouble. 

Runs cold. Has fancy silk pajama sets. A gift from Diavolo. 

His mattress is extra firm.

Mammon 

Back and side sleeper. He has a bed- but he uses it mostly as an extension to his wardrobe. Let's be real. He’s a messy guy. He normally crashes on his couch after a wild weekend bender.

He moves a lot in his sleep, kicking, tossing and turning. An absolute tangle of limbs and clothes. Like Lucifer he has a few scars and old injuries that twinge and hurt when he lays on them. Not that it stops him. 

He sleeps like the dead, tossing and turning and all. Short of someone dragging him off his couch or touching goldie he doesn’t wake up. 

Snores and drools-will not admit it but when he stumbles out of his room looking like a hot mess, crusty eyes and bedraggled hair you know he had a great sleep. 

He doesn’t have a set sleeping schedule. He goes until he crashes- like the energizer bunny. 

Sleeps with one body pillow. Likes the feel of having something draping or touching him in his sleep. Reminds him of when he would fall asleep with his brothers after a long day of training and studying in the celestial realm. 

Runs hot so he likes to sleep in his boxers and a tank top.

His mattress is medium firm

Leviathan 

Does he sleep? The world may never know. 

Between the energy drinks he practically IV drips into his veins and he determination to power though another level he doesn’t remember when he sleeps.

He just blacks out. A blink turns into a twelve hour coma. 

His tub is comfy as hell and everybody knows it. It cradles him when he sleeps, blankets and pillows are now molded to his shape. 

He washes his tub lining often. He really likes the smell of citrus and musk. Whenever the smell begins to dissipate he’ll toss it all in the wash. Minus his novelty pillows. Those get dry cleaned or spot cleaned. 

He’s a side sleeper. Once he’s settled he ain’t moving. 

Though since he doesn’t plan to sleep 80% of the time he passes out at his desk. But can you blame him? I bet he has a super cozy gaming chair and pillow.

Runs cold. Cocoons himself in mounds of blankets. Snake burrito. 

He doesn’t have a mattress but the mound of pillows and blankets is the equivalent of a medium soft mattress 

Satan

Probably has the most normal sleep schedule. He has a set wind down time and lights out time too.

Does he keep to it? I mean- it’s the thought that counts. If he is wrapped up in a good book or research time just gets the better of him. 

He has his bed nestled up against the one window of his room that isn’t covered in books or shelves 

Uses the eternal moonlight to read. Drifts off most evenings with a book slipping down his chest.

Sleeps propped up on a poof or reading pillow. Doesn’t like things covering him. He runs hot so his pajamas are enough for him. 

Needs the least amount of sleep out of all the brothers. He loves that. Means he can read and do more without it hampering his mood.

Very light sleeper any shift he does in his sleep wakes him up. But he normally falls right back to sleep. 

His mattress is firm 

Asmodeus

Scheduled down to the minute. If he doesn’t get his nine hours of sleep be prepared for a scene. 

Starts getting ready for bed about two hours before he actually falls asleep. Hot bath, oils, new face mask to try, the works. School can be stressful you know? And six brothers? It’s a miracle he doesn’t have wrinkles yet.   

He keeps his bedroom tidy and always smelling good. Needless clutter messes with him and makes it hard for him to fall asleep. 

Has a noise machine and an oil diffuser on when he sleeps. Even if he's in bed he knows his brothers aren't so it helps mute them so he can sleep.

Sleeps in the nude. He doesn't run hot or cold but he likes to sleep in a cooler room. Helps shrink the pores or something like that. 

His bed is large but sparse. He really only needs his silk sheets and a thin cover. He has a few bolster pillows and poofs on the bed but really he doesn't sleep with pillows. 

Is a back sleeper and- no one will tell him this on fear of death but he is an ugly sleeper. 

Mouth open, limbs akimbo, soft little snores and snorts. It’s cute, whether or not he thinks so. 

His mattress is soft

Beelzebub

Tries to have a good sleep schedule. It’s imperative to keeping up a healthy body after all.

But he gets so hungry. He gorges himself when he starts to feel tired in hopes that he can sleep a few hours before getting up for a midnight (or anytime snack) 

He drinks a lot of tea actually right before bed. It makes him sleepy and fills up his stomach. 

He sleeps on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow. Another one that sleeps in the buff too. He is a night sweater too. 

He only started covering himself for bed when you started living with them. It’s only polite. 

Gets about 2 to 3 hours at a time with a snack break in between. 

He doesn’t have a lot of pillows mostly because he has eaten them while dreaming. Constantly buying new pillows adds up ya know?

He doesn’t toss and turn but he does roll over once or twice in the night.

Dead silent when he sleeps. He just emits a deep rumble when he snoozes. From his chest or his stomach. It’s a 50/50 split. 

His mattress is medium firm 

Belphegor 

Ha.

The king of sleep. The lord of stealth sleeping. It’s become a sport to him now. How many sleeping nooks can he find around R.A.D so Lucifer’s blood pressure spikes looking for him. His highest score is 37. 

If he could sleep with his eyes open he would. But he can’t and he hates it.

He likes to sleep during the school day. It’s a mix of protesting this dumb idea and so that he can stay up at night when everything is nice and quiet. 

It doesn’t  matter to him where or how he sleeps. As long as he can curl up around something soft he is happy. 

Likes it dark and very snug when he’s sleeping. A very still sleeper. Once he’s comfy he locks in place. 

Murmurs in his sleep. Little disjointed things. You can have a full fledged conversation with him. He’ll give you little grunts and sighs in response. 

If he does get to his room before falling asleep he buries himself in blankets to the point where you can't figure out if he is in there or not. (Kinda like those lizards that bury themselves in sand, same motion and everything.) 

Again doesn’t care where he sleeps but his mattress is soft. 

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

So like. Time fugitive young avengers

TRYING to find the only time traveler they know and the one who prolly sorta likes them???

So like eli and Billy and teddy appear during Sylvie and Loki's sword fight to yoink Kang

Which is the real reason he disappears

Kang legit crying because??? His friends??? Who he had to keep pruning from the timeline???

ABOUT THAT.

So none of them are the same ages because it's funny

I want Billy and teddy to be a middle aged married couple who are just SO DONE and Kate's like I was literally JUST at your wedding, WHY DOES THIS SHIT KEEP HAPPENING TO ME AT WEDDINGS????

Kate refers to kang as "my good bitch" and nothing else

They have nate which allows them to grab loki. The post saakar killed by thanos but not quite Loki

Also. This is a verse where when loki fell off the bifrost he got younger and then wound up with the YA. Endverse!kid!loki is a variant of that time

Kang also cries when he sees Cassie

They expect kang to be this hardass and really hes just SO TIRED, YOU GUYS, and he's so glad to have help

Which is not what they were expecting

Tommy keeps holding up rope all "so no tying him to a chair?"

He gets berated for trying to bring bondage into everything

thATS NOT WHAT THIS IS

At some point they're like you let steve do WHAT. the home of phobia.

Also theres a variant peggy that shows up. Kate and America keep ooo.ooo ing at her

The gay vibes are impeccable

Nate calls Kate "my solid ho"

I kind if want Kate to be the "youngest". Like she's the first one they nabbed but they got her earlier in her timeline than the rest of the team. Shes still like mid late 20s and everyone is weeping emoji at her shes such a BABY and Kate growling no goddamnit I'm a small business owner I pay taxes I am NOT baby

But ONLY if it's funny if Kate being the youngest for once isn't funny then no go hoes

Kate, Nate, and Loki doing obnoxious sprawling all over each other as the youngest oldests

Why is Kang unhinged? That is why. "The floor is lava and the only safe place is UR LAP"

Also have I mentioned agent mobius is noh? I have? Great. Because he is.

And that Casey is Jonas?

Awesome.

So that vibe the gotg had in their first movie..."them?" and "those dipshits?" that's the vibe of this young avengers. With the bonus that they were once competent and organized etc etc but not with these versions of each other

At some point "shhh come on this is Kate's funeral be quiet."

"Yeah don't turn it into a roast this time."

"Shut up ur dead u dont get a say."

but also like. maybe.

so when the timeline exploded all of those timelines existed fully at that moment

which is how they can pluck people at different ages etc.

so Nate Knows about the Young Avengers and a Good Nate comes and Grabs Loki, and they “go to the leader of the young avengers”

which to nate either means another him, or maybe jonas, or eli?

and it’s KATE. who he, like, sort of knows? but why is she the one they got taken to--

“I’m the leader of the young avengers, that’s why, jerk. Also hi Loki.”

“I’m sorry who are you?”

Kate is OFFEND.

Nate is just confused as to HOW. She wasn’t even??? On the roster???

“Yeah well i guess you’re just lucky.”

the fact that loki gets the team together the second time but he doesn’t even know her is irritating, meanwhile loki is making fun of “young avengers” what was there a BABY THOR, a MINI HULK

Nate has to implement a “no stabby no shooty” rule after he’s done laughing

Loki is CONSTANTLY unnerved by how much Kate seems to know about him

some things he didn’t even know about himself? like a breakfast obsession???

Kate being with them helps the other grabs go easier

at some point they’re talking about the TVA and they have pictures for some reason. 

“wait wait go back”

“yeah ok we need to grab those two”

she’s only KIND of offended when Noh has no idea who she is but seems to have a crush on Loki. Rude, but ok. 

Jonas is all “took you long enough, hang on let me grab some infinity stones”

“fucking WHAT.”

for some reason they wind up at the End, surrounded by Lokis.

and then it’s an argument about which Loki is better for the team. Which variant!loki is VERY offended by

this is just a group of people who MUST offend one another

Kate is. um. VERY adamant about the Loki she wants. 

“My vote is for the lizard.”

cue kid!loki peering from behind something: “Kate?”

“LOKI??”

“CHCANGED MY MIND We’re taking the Kid.”

“no, we’re not, I vote for me” variant!loki says this and gets blasted by vote loki loki

Kate nixes vote loki loki because she ALREADY DEALT WITH THAT. vote loki loki is trying SO HARD. c’mon kate. i know you LOVED trolling me on twitter. pick me!

“No, we’re taking the Kid.”

Nate tries to argue this point.

“We’re. Taking. The. KID.”

no one agrees with her

“Saying it slower doesn’t make it a reason.”

“Oh you want reasons? Reason one: i know this lil shit.” a secret handshake of sorts ensues.

“Reason two: I can manhandle him” Loki gets tossed over her shoulder. he is very unimpressed

(”he is easier to punt that way,” America points out. She currently has another Loki in a headlock.)

“Reason three: i know how he lies.”

“Reason four: we’re bros.”

These reasons impress NO ONE. 

but it is how they wind up with a gaggle of lokis.

Kate and Kid!Loki are very mean to each other. i just want to point that out. but like a dipshit mean sibling energy. they make fun of each other’s ages all the time.  

the vibe of the young avengers is “we WILL save the multiverse but we’re going to be as chaotic as possible while doing it”

[enigma-im]

Sixth day of Christmas...

Trope: Sex Pollen (NSFW) Relationship: Alien x Human Word Count: 4,639

Living in a science station on a barely explored planet may sound like the start of a horror story. For me, it's a dream come true. To study life on a dwarf planet with a single colleague is the total isolation I crave. It's a real perk that my coworker is such a sweetheart. I've spent countless trips trying to keep my cool around cocky narcissistic scientists whose only goal is to make some profound breakthrough. My coworker this time isn't even remotely like that.

Aziraphale is a Silphurs, a cold-blooded species that has nearly a reptilian look to them. With their horn-like spikes that protrude from the back of their head and long smooth tails, most people quickly label them as lizards. Though they lack scales, to my surprise. When Aziraphel first began working beside me I was fascinated by his smooth dark leathery skin. I promptly weirded him out the first week as I appraised him like a prized pig. It was a habit I slowly grew out of.

Together we work in isolation upon dwarf planet Xena, studying the flora and fauna of this little island in space.

Today we are looking at a new flower that's been popping up around the lakes. It's a small pink crocus looking flower, fit with a thick stem. The wildlife has been swarming these little buds and it's stirred up quite the mystery for Aziraphel and I. with the coming of 'spring' the flowers have sprouted very quickly.

"So you say the mammals have been eating them," I ask, looking at the potted plant.

"Birds too. Though the insects have kept their distance," Aziraphel explains.

I hum in thought," the first plant we found that insects aren't fond of."

Aziraphale plucks a petal off the flower, taking it over to his station. I continue to exam the bud, looking at the roots through the container. All week we have been watching this plant in the wild, utterly fascinated by its attractive properties.

"Could it be the nectar? It may be a tasty treat for the animals," Aziraphel asks offhandedly. I shrug, stepping over the bin holding the plant. Leaning over I give the flower a sniff, admiring its sweet scent.

"Smells like the honey candies my mother use to give me," I say.

"really? I thought it smelled rather musky," he says over his shoulder," I can smell it from here."

I take another whiff, doubling down on my honey candy choice.

"Olfactory senses are a bit different between you and me, it seems," I joke," yours being about a hundred times better than mine."

He scoffs, picking off pieces of the petal," it's a miracle your people survived this long with clearly insufficient senses."

I snort, walking over towards him," bold coming from someone who can't hear when the microwave goes off." he throws a glare my way, his smile ruining its seriousness. I snicker, walking around to begin looking at the cells of this attractive plant.

Staring down in the microscope I take not of the plant cell, watching the cell wall break from the solution I added. The proteins break apart, spilling out the cytoplasm. The organelles follow, breaking at they come in contact with the solution. As I watch, a bead of sweat rolls into my eyes. I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my coat, groaning at the heat.

"Hey, I know you're cold-blooded and all but I'm dying over here," I call out. I hear him swivel out of his chair and walk over to the thermostat.

"it's only 70 in here, I thought you agreed that was the optimal temperature," he passes me a teasing smile. I swipe at my head again, reaching back and pulling my hair up. Fanning myself with my hand I look to him.

"Well, I'm sweating up a storm over here," I answer.

"don't think you're getting sick, do you?" he walks over. He presses his palm to my head, I relish in the cold. "You're burning up," he reaches down to my cheeks," you're all red." I can't help but turn in his palm, stealing his cold for my own. He doesn't let go, pressing his palms flush to my skin.

"Only this one time will I admit that being cold-blooded has benefits," I press his hand against my forehead.

"fine by me, I get to steal your warmth," he smiles," but I can't stand here all day, I'll get you a cold rag."

I watch him walk away, uncomfortably warm immediately. He grabs and wets a rag, looking strangely appealing as he does. His clothes hug is slim frame well, his pants framing his legs nicely. As he catches me staring I turn away embarrassed. He walks over and places the cold rag on my head. The instant relief nearly makes me groan.

"thank you," I hold the rag for him.

"No problem. Do you want to go back to you're room," he asks, pressing his palm to my cheek again.

"no, no," I shake my head," I'm just a little warm, I think I'll make it." he hums, not really agreeing.

"if you say so, but if you feel worse I'm forcing you to go to your room," he scolds. I roll my eyes, swatting his hand away.

"Ok, mom," I joke," I promise I'll stop working if I get worse."

We get back to work, standing on different ends of the room. I put up my hair and keep the rag on the back of my neck. Sweat soaks through my shirt after a bit, dampening my hair. It's hard to focus on work, losing my breath once in a while. My heart feels like it's racing and I'm prone to dizzy spells when I walk too far. I try to power through.

I sit at my desk, dropping my head to the back of my chair. I try to use the rag to cool my face but it has begun to warm up. Frustrated I toss the useless towel to the table. My heart bangs against my chest and I can't seem to catch my breath. I feel wrong, dizzy, and incomplete. A dull ache begins in my lower stomach, migrating further south till I feel like I'm throbbing. I don't understand this new need, an empty feeling that's starting to make me panic.

Aziraphale walks over to check on me, already concerned as he spots me.

"Are you alright, you do- whooaa," he recoils from my desk, covering his nose. I watch him fidget by the door, looking lost between running and staying put. It's kind of cute.

"What's wrong," I lull my head to the side. He startles, snapping his eyes to me.

"Uh, it just smells rather musky in here," he answers, selecting his words carefully," I think you're sick."

I try to sit up, groaning as I do," yea, I don't feel too well. I should probably go lay down."

"g-great idea," he fidgets," do you, uh, need some help?" I try to wave him off, leaning forward out of the chair. As I stand I sway. I catch myself on the desk the same time Aziraphel grabs at my hips. His cold hands burn through my clothes like a block of ice. It's sharp and intoxicating. I groan, dropping forward against his chest. His body is freezing against my scorching skin, I can't help but run my hands over his neck, cuddling my cheek against him. I feel him gulp.

"Terri," he squeaks," w-what are you doing?" I can't pay attention, too focused on touching every visible bit of him. He is all I can think about, all I need. A small part of me is dying of embarrassment but the comfort is all I can think about.

"Cold," I purr under his jaw. My hands reach up under his shirt, touching his flat stomach. My insides throb as I feel him up, wanting more from him than just his cold skin.

"Terri," he yelps," t-this is- I can't-" he whimpers at the end. His hands grab at my shoulders, not really pushing or pulling. I continue, lifting his shirt to his chest. Pressing my forehead to his sternum I begin pressing soft kisses to his pecs. His leathery skin is so divine, soothing me like nothing else. I crave more, demand more.

Aziraphale is flustered at all the attention, bumbling like a fool as he tries to figure out what to do. He finally tugs me away, taking a step back with a deep breath.

"Terri, what is going on with you," he pants," this isn't like you."

I actively try to fight back the urge to jump him, focusing on staying put. Looking at him becomes too hard that I have to turn away.

"I-I don't know," I say between breaths," I'm so hot and bothered that I can't think straight."

"are you, uh," he hesitates," aroused?"

I snap to attention," excuse me?"

"Sorry," he jumps," it's just you smell…so good." his voice drops at the end, a rumbling purr. The sound shocks straight to my clit, nearly bringing me to my knees. I whimper, fisting the fabric of my pants.

"D-don't do that," I whine," you'll kill me if you do that."

"Sorry," he rubs at his face," let's just get you to your room and you can take a cold bath."

I weakly nod.

He helps me to my room, keeping a distance until I sway. Every time his hands touch me I'm nearly undone, falling into his arms and fighting back the urge to kiss him. It's a long walk to my room.

We make it to my room where we stand around awkwardly. He stays by the door but he doesn't look like he wants to leave. His fingers fidget with his shirt, picking at the ends. I'm hyper-focused on every move he makes, my muscles thrumming with energy.

"Well, I'll leave you to it and try to find out what's wrong," he shifts back and forth on each leg," yes, g-goodbye"

Seeing his back sends a wave of panic over me, forcing me into action. I jump for him, snatching him by the shirt and tugging him towards me. In a haze, I grab his face and force his mouth against mine. It's forceful and harsh, his teeth nick at my bottom lip. At this moment…it's intoxicating.

I pull back, looking at his wide-eyed face. He looks at me, scared and excited. I huff.

"Don't go," I beg. He nods," will you help me?" he nods again.

I tug him into the room, him closing the door behind himself. We stare at one another, the calm before the storm. Quickly I jump on him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body. I pull him into another kiss, grabbing at the spikes on the back of his head. His hands hold the back of my thighs, eagerly trying to kiss me back. It's clear he has no experience with this, just following my lead the best he can. Either way, it's making my lower stomach ache.

He fumbles his way to the bedroom, bumping into the bed with a grunt. I'm dropped onto my back, him crawling on over me. I tear at his clothes, petting at every newly revealed inch. He tries to get my shirt off but he's just getting in the way. Frustrated, I push him off and onto his back. I straddle his hips, throwing his shirt off in a rushed frenzy. He sits back and lets me work.

I crave to lick every bit of his chest, nibbling and sucking the cold leathery skin. My hips grind against him, feeling a hard protrusion poking at me. There's so much I want, I need, to do to him. I kiss up his body before slanting my lips against his. My tongue peaks between his lips, startling him. He timidly presses his against mine, groaning as I twirl mine with his.

I don't notice one of his hands sneaking between us. Only when he slides his fingers into my pants do I whimper in his mouth. He palms at my crotch, getting his bearings before he slides between my lips. The curious prod to my engorged clit makes my back arch. His gentle poke is nearly enough to break me apart. He slides the pad of his finger over me, I tear myself off his lips and bury my head against his neck.

"P-please," I huff and puff. He pets me, paying attention to my little nub with laser focus. I writhe and wiggle, whimpering and whining near his ear. My body feels on fire, ready to burst with minimal attention. A few more swipes and I'm crying out his name. I'm grinding hard into his hand, forcing his touch till I get my fill.

As my bucking slows Aziraphel tries to take his hand back. I flatten my body against him, trapping him with a growl.

"Do you feel better," he whispers, his trapped hand petting at my stomach.

" a-a little," I trace my nose under his jaw," it's still too hot." he hums in thought.

Before I know it I'm twisted on my back, Aziraphel between my legs. His eyes are focused, calculating, as he reaches for my pants and tugs them down my legs. Tossing the clothing aside he lays on his stomach between my legs, staring at my soaked cunt. I flush at his attention, aroused and nervous at the same time.

"What a-are you doing," my stomach twitches as the urge to buck towards him is strong. He grabs my hips, holding me still as he studies me.

"I have an idea," he mumbles. I whimper as I take in the whole sight, Aziraphel laying between my legs without his shirt. He tears his eyes from my pussy to me, softening slightly at my debauched face. His thumb pets at my hips as he gives me a sweet smile. I whine again.

Aziraphale looks back to my cunt, lowering his head and taking a tentative lick up my seam. My back arches as a moan tears up my throat. He takes another more confident lick, touching at my entrance and clit. I feel dizzy. More certain he presses his lips to mine and laps at my cunt. I wriggle and buck in his hold, clenching my eyes shut against the pleasure. It's hot and lava-like. His tongue is warmer than his body but cold to me. It's erotic and holy to my needy cunt.

I peek down at him, watching him eat me out. His thumb still pets at my hips, adding a small bit of appeal alongside his mouth. His eyes are closed, pleased hum vibrating into his tongue. He seems to enjoy this as much as me, his tail lazily swinging back and forth down the bed. Watching him is enough to push me over the edge, reaching down and grinding his head against my crotch. He groans with me, nearly purring as I shout out my pleasure.

He stops as I fall back into the bed, releasing his head in favor of fisting my hair. I take a moment to catch my breath, watching the lovely sight of him crawling back over me. He pets at my thigh, rubbing soothing circles against my skin.

"You feeling better," he asks. I shrug, getting distracted by the throbbing tent in his pants. The thing moves with every breath, begging me to grab him with a single-minded focus. I reach for his belt, trying to tug him forward. He swipes my hand away.

"No, we aren't doing that," he scolds," I got to let myself have some morals here. I'm already taking advantage of you." I pout, ready to try to persuade him. He distracts me with a finger between my legs, prodding at my entrance before sinking in. I grunt, damn near purring as he adds another.

The day is spent in utter bliss. He takes good care of me, not leaving me wanting for too long. He keeps his pace till I'm passed out in the sheets, feeling cooler than I did earlier. It seems all it took was some beautiful orgasms to soothe this beast.

I wake up the next morning alone, feeling sore but sated. I don't know if the fact that I'm alone should be good or bad. Heading off to the bathroom I try to convince myself that's it's for the best. I don't even know how I'll face him today, remembering how I jumped him like some uncontrollable whore.

The morning in the lab is…tense. He tiptoes around me and I can't help but do the same. The conversation is kept so single sentence answers. We both try to stay out of the other's way, even making up excuses to be on the opposite side of the room.

I sit in my little cubicle with my desk, trying hard not to look out to the lab and watch Aziraphel. It's a losing battle. I watch him walk by the crocus flower, pausing for a moment. He leans over the bin and takes a tentative sniff. He chuffs, scratching at his nose.

"Terri," he calls out," I think I figured something out."

A bit too eager I hop out of my chair and head over to him. My body thrums slightly the closer I get. Before I can stop next to him he grabs me by the shoulders and guides me away from the bin. I allow him, confused all the while.

"We should put the flower in a contained area," he suggests, meeting my eyes for the first time today. My thoughts come back to now, caught off guard by his suggestion. d "What," I ask. He flusters a bit, looking over to the flower then back at me.

"Well, you see," he stumbles, petting at the back of his neck," I think.. Perhaps the…" his shoulders sag. "The flower kind of smells like how you did yesterday and I'm almost convinced it's what made you sick," he finally spits out. I gawk at him, thinking back on yesterday's events. That morning I took a whiff of the flower, not thinking much of it, and shortly after started getting symptoms. It's a fair guess, perhaps even the correct answer.

"I think you might be right," I huff in amusement," it explains why the animals have been eating it. Spring is mating season."

"I feel rather silly now having to lock away a plant," he laughs," a rather potent aphrodisiac to mammals and birds. Makes sense why it didn't work for me." I chuckle along with him, it dying off back into an uncomfortable silence. It's clear he's uncomfortable with what happened yesterday. Hell, I am too. But there is no reason we can't be adults about this.

As we awkwardly shuffle in place, I speak up," hey, about last night. I'm sorry I came onto you like that, I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"No, no," he waves his hands," don't need to apologize, you couldn't help it. I know that wasn't really you and I won't hold that against you."

"yea," I fiddle with my hands," we can just pretend it didn't happen, and go on like before." he nods, looking to the floor in thought. With the situation settled I'm left a bit lost for what to do.

"yea," he still nods," I don't think I can do that." I startle at his words, a cold feeling sinking into my gut.

"W-what," I stutter. He looks up from the floor, seeming rather serious.

"I want to pretend that what happened didn't happen, more for my sake than yours. I'd like to be able to look at you and not see your face twisted up in pleasure as you cum on my tongue. It would be easier if I didn't, but at the same time…I really want to see that face again, " he takes a step forward," Terri, I liked what happened yesterday. I liked doing that thing with our mouths, I liked touching you and holding you. I hated how it came to be and I hated how you didn't have a choice, but I loved doing those things to you. I would give anything to do it all again, with actual consent and want from you instead of that drugged up lust. I want you, Terri, I really want you."

His confession feels like being punched in the gut. It's not what I could ever expect from him. We've worked together for nearly a year now and not once did he hint at wanting to be more than friends. We have a good relationship working together and I'd dare say I enjoyed his company. Now…now everything is different. I can't look at him as a coworker or even a friend. Even now all I can see when I look at him is his face buried between my legs, eyes closed and humming in bliss.

"I don't know," he takes a step back," a lot happened yesterday and you may honestly want to pretend it didn't happen. I can respect that and go on if it bothers you. I didn't want to agree if there was a chance to…never mind, I'm sorry." I watch him turn around to retreat, fidgeting and scolding himself. The sight plucks at my heart.

Taking a few rushes stepped forward I grab him and tug him around. I cup his cold cheek and drag him into a sweeter kiss than our first. He's still untrained and uncertain but he gives it his all as he wraps his arms around me. His attempt is cute, pulling a smile up to my cheeks till I have to part.

I pet at his cheek," it's called a kiss and I would love to do more of those with you."

His sharp teeth peak through his lips," a kiss. I'm a fan."

He tugs my against him again, twisting us and lifting me onto the table. I'm didn't expect to consummate our choice now but I'm not going to argue. He smirks up at me, fitting himself between my legs. Before he can go in for another kiss he glances off to his left. I follow his gaze to the flower.

"Nope," he picks me up off the table, taking me to another end of the lab," I'm not doing that again." I bark out a laugh, teasing the edges of his spikes as he sets me down on another table. He quickly pulls me back into another kiss.

Our rush is exciting, though less frantic than yesterday. He discards my shirt, not paying any mind to my breast as he pets down my stomach and licks at my shoulder. His fingers pluck at my pants buttons, tearing them down to my ankles as I frustratedly tug at his shirt.

With him distracted with my cunt I finally get to grab at his crotch. He throbs in my hand, his cock mysteriously wiggling. Curious, I pull him out of his pants. I'm excited but confused with what I see.

His bright red cock is writhing in my palm, the tip twirling around my fingers. It looks like it came from a slit, emerging from his body eagerly. I squeeze him, fascinated by the pre leaking out his pores. He shutters, slapping his hands on either side of me.

"Please," he whimpers," I couldn't relieve myself last night and I may go mad if you try to tease me now."

I snicker at him, tugging him gently forward and nudging him against me. Letting him go and wrapping my arms around his shoulders I leave him to lead. He takes a breath, reaching down and grabbing himself. We both watch as his tip pokes and prods till it finds my entrance. His cock makes me shiver as it begins to wiggle frantically inside me. He pushes on, seething as he bottoms out. He shutters, letting out a shaky breath as our hips touch.

"what blessed torture is this," he pants, almost wheezing. I bite back a snicker, petting at his head in support. He shutters again.

His hips begin to buck, moving in short little bursts before growing in length. The feel of his cock is blessed, something I've craved since yesterday. He begins to plow into me, a wet slap sounding from where we meet. My thighs feel sticky, the thought of it not being only my slick passes by. An odd little tingle starts deep inside me, growing the more he slams into me. I gasp, tugging him close as a sudden burst of pleasure shocks up my spine.

Aziraphale licks up my neck, rumbling with a growl as he clenches my hips. He ups his tempo, shocking my body to attention. I cry out into the lab, nearing my end with the sudden fire growing because of him. My stomach clenches, sitting at the blissful peak for almost too long. It almost hurts when I cum, clenching around his still pumping cock.

"Shit," he digs his nails into my hips. He bucks into my fluttering heat, milking me for all I'm worth till he barks out a cry. His face buries against my neck as he cums, fluids puddling on the table. He pumps a few times before stilling inside me, his cock pulsing with his release. I pet at his back and kissing him on the cheek. He shutters more, taking a bite of my neck. His hips buck some more, surprising me with his movement. He continues to pulse, more fluids showering my insides.

"Are you still cumming," I ask in awe. He doesn't answer. His teeth dig into my skin along with his nails.

I sit back and let him take his fill, a little glad when he finishes. He releases my neck, giving it a lick before leaning back. Our eyes meet and I can see the content in his smile. He looks happy, sated, and cute. I pet at his cheek.

"You didn't warn me about the mess," I joke. He scoffs, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of me.

"It didn't occur to me," he answers. Reaching forward he thumbs at our mixed fluids, grabbing a bit and bringing it to his mouth. Licking the drop off he hums. "delicious," he smirks. I push at his shoulder, chuckling as I hop off the counter. He helps, keeping me steady.

I look back at the counter, wincing at the cum dripping off the edge. "Little glad it's just the two of us here," I half-joke.

"I might be glad too," he wraps his arms around my waist," could work with fewer clothes now."

I shake my head, amused with his suggestion. There's no way I'll be doing that but it's a little flattering that he would want to see me naked again. I grab his spikes and tug him down for a kiss. He growls, tugging me closer, and palming my rear. His tongue laps at my lips, delving into my mouth with the smallest bit of acceptance.

"You wanna go again," he mumbles against my lips. I hum, petting up his chest.

"I think we should move the flower before we try anything else," I answer. He pouts, looking behind himself to glare at the cursed plant.

"Yea, probably have to deal with that," he grumbles.

"yea, I'm not allowed near it," I shrug. He twists back around, grinning down at me.

"I prefer you not drugged, thank you very much," he kisses my forehead," this is way better than yesterday anyway."

I hum with a big goofy grin on my face.

Yea, I liked this way better.

[goddamnitdazai]

Little Promises {S&S} | Chuuya

Part of the Salt & Sugar Series | N.SFW | 5K words [9:30] Chuu <3: I’m going to be a little late baby. Order that bottle of wine for us? Rarely did a date start off without one of those texts from Chuuya. He made reservations in the ‘earlier’ (according to mafia time) hours of the night to avoid a situation like this. In what he called the ‘perfect sweet spot’ between him getting off normal work hours and before having to deal with anything that would come up later in the evening as most of the real mafia business did. Lately, more attacks have been occurring directly against the Port Mafia rather than an assault against Yokohama. Nothing that the Black Lizard couldn't handle but Chuuya wasn’t one to sit out of a good fight. He’d gone with Hirotsu to go handle..something, someone most likely, but assured you he’d be finished in time for dinner.

Five or ten minutes wasn’t a big deal. Annoying, yes. But you knew what you signed up for. Being with Chuuya made the irritation worthwhile. Just his smile was enough to erode any negative feelings weighing on you from the day. Sighing quietly you order a bottle of his favorite wine and watch the stars twinkle through the glass. The restaurant itself was gorgeous. Brand new on the eightieth floor with a deck spread out around the entire outside. Chuuya was able to get a table in a heartbeat. The best one in the restaurant. Secluded right next to an expansive window showcasing Yokohama’s glittering amber skyline. Your reflection stares back at you in the window, restless fingers tapping on the newly filled glass of wine. Waiting. [9:45] Chuu <3: On my way back to the office, Boss needs something. Wait for me at the bar? We can sit outside instead. For a man who couldn’t hold that much liquor the wine Chuuya liked was strong. Your head was already buzzing even with the bits of spicy edamame you’d popped in your mouth as a distraction. Your posture deflates further when you read the text flashing on your screen. Deep scarlet liquid sloshes in the glass before passing through your lips to etch a burning pathway down your throat. The dress Chuuya had bought you fit perfectly against your curves. Silk. Red--his color.  A sign you were his. The diamond choker he bought for your birthday suddenly feels too tight around your neck. You hated eating alone. [10:15] Chuu <3: Shit, I’m sorry baby Boss needs me to go take care of something. I’m really sorry, I’ll try to make it quick. Half the bottle churns with a sickly heat in the base of your belly. His chair was still empty. You whip your phone from it’s idled place on the table and tap out a response. [10:17] Chuuya? It’s been over an hour. Where are you? [10:45] You’re not coming are you? [10:50] I charged a bottle of wine to your card. I’m going home. Your shoes land somewhere in your apartment with a loud thump. Keys are next missing the wooden end table meant for them and your purse. Fuck, you were slightly more drunk than you realized. Overpowering vehemention towards the man supposed to be treating you to a nice dinner was the only reason you hadn’t stumbled out of the cab. If you had any type of superhuman strength your heels would have stomped four inch holes into the pavement. Your hand clumsily fumbles for the light switch as you make your way into your apartment muttering curses on Chuuya’s name the entire walk from your door to the kitchen. Compared to Chuuya’s two story penthouse your place was small but cozy. More decorated and homey-- Chuuya liked that about it, he said. Most of his walls were barren except a few pieces of expensive art he purchased on a whim. Chuuya preferred sleeping here over going home when he was out working late and you were already beneath the covers. Coming home to his lover was a treat sweeter than wine according to him. Your shoulders slump. It had been a few weeks since Chuuya had taken you on an actual date. Executives didn’t exactly have frequent pockets of unoccupied time. Leisure was more of a luxury to Chuuya than the most expensive wine in his collection. But, at least in the past few months, he’d been trying to spend more time with you the way a normal couple would. However his promises were falling shorter than you anticipated and at a much higher frequency than expected. There was nothing normal about your situation.. but god damn having a nice dinner with your boyfriend maybe once a month didn’t sound unreasonable. You drag your hand down your face and trudge to the fridge flinging the door open unceremoniously. There wasn’t much in here other than the few healthy snacks Chuuya left.  Your diet mainly consisted of take out or to-go meals from the convenient store down the street. Chuuya hated it and usually preferred places that offered healthy meals, but the man rarely got home before ten at night and was exhausted the moment he crossed the threshold. Hence the dinner date. Your frown deepens. At some point you’d grabbed a water bottle but you weren’t even in the mood to open it. The fridge shuts with a harsh echoing click as you spin on your heel and head towards your bedroom. Between steps your bra ends up on the standing lamp and the matching panties get lost in the shadows. It took an hour to pick out that lingerie. Chuuya tore everything in his haste unless it was something he wanted to see you in more than once--he would have loved that little set. “Fucking asshole.” You snap to the empty bedroom, falling face first into the mess of pillows and blankets. It smelled like him. Unintentionally you inhale deeply cherishing the familiar scent of his shampoo and cologne mingling together. His lingering warmth contrasted the cold emptiness of the bedroom for a few moments bringing a comforting elation, and then the realization that you were in fact without him knocked you right back down. Chuuya was a workaholic. You knew that from the beginning. Working parallel with him exposed his dedication within the first week. A tiny bit of you (that was beginning to grow larger) had begun to truly resent Chuuya’s workaholic tendencies. The Port Mafia was important to him, you got that, but..weren’t you important too? You flip on your side to stop your head from spinning in rapid circles. The wine wasn’t sitting well on an empty stomach but at this point you were too tired and upset to get up and eat. Nothing sounded good anyway. Chuuya’s shirt you often slept in felt like a weight in your hand. “Fucker.” You hiss, throwing it onto the small chair in the corner of your bedroom. Fine. If you weren’t important enough to have fucking dinner with then you wouldn’t bother texting him again. This was pathetic. You try to focus on the wobbling lights of the city through your bedroom window. Gold and neon flecks blur like water droplets against a deep navy sky. A heavy melancholic silence fills up the apartment. Between the wine sloshing in your stomach and the pounding of your head sleep would most likely evade you tonight. Welled up vexation had suddenly melted to pure sorrow, choking you quietly as you lay curled up in the blankets. Finally, little sobs part your lips bringing a few tears in tow. This was stupid, it was just dinner. Chuuya didn’t do it on purpose but why the hell did it feel like a knife twisting in your heart? “Fucker..” you repeat, squeezing your eyes shut forcefully. You’d deal with it tomorrow. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ At some point you’d passed out holding Chuuya’s pillow tightly in your arms. Unfortunately the thing to awaken you wasn’t the gentle kiss of sunrise or your lover’s tight embrace. The wine you’d downed had resurrected with a vengeance that had you sprinting to the bathroom. From the darkness still drenching the apartment morning hadn’t come quite yet. Your stomach heaves all the contents in a burning violent wrench that barely makes it into the toilet bowl. There���d be bruises from how hard your knees hit the tile but at least it caught all the mess. “Sh-shit..ow.” You mutter, spitting the rest out before wiping your mouth with a piece of toilet paper. “______?” Chuuya’s voice resonates from the living room. “_____? I’m really sorry. Baby...I’ll make it up to you..” Chuuya speaks softly, almost deflated. His voice hits you like a ton of bricks. A miniscule burst of energy helps you stand with aid from the sink at your side. The sudden rush of blood sends your head sloshing in a circle again nearly pushing you back down to the floor. With a deep inhale you force yourself to stand straight again and splash water on your face before looking up at the mirror. Make-up, it had smeared all down your cheeks and beneath your eyes from crying and rubbing against the pillow. You groan at your appearance and grab the mouth wash. Chuuya’s ears perk. “Baby? You okay?” His footsteps are light and quick until they reach the bathroom. “Baby! Are you alright!?” He’s at your side in an instant wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you to face him. “Don’t---” You press your hand to your forehead, “dizzy. Wine.” You mumble leaning back against the sink. Chuuya’s expression changes from worry to soft concern melded with guilt. His hands steady you with a gentle grip, coaxing you forward with unnecessary slowness (though it was appreciated by your stomach and head). All the crying had caused your eyes to swell enough that the details of the apartment, especially in the dark, were hard to see. If Chuuya hadn’t been guiding you back to your bedroom there’s a good chance you would have ended up face first on the floor. “____…” the guilt in his voice just made you feel worse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, gentle ungloved fingers reaching for a tissue from the box on your night stand. Your vision was, at the least, bleary but the striking sunset tendrils framing his face stood out beautifully against the low light coming from the bathroom. “Hold on..” Chuuya murmurs, rising to his feet in quick steps. You sit in silence sniffling a bit and trying to keep the bile in your throat. Your eyes flutter shut to keep the light out. The blankets beneath you had bunched uncomfortably at the edge of the bed leaving you lopsided from sitting in the center of the mattress. Any attempt to shift could send whatever was left in your stomach flying, so you wait. Something creaks. Floorboards, then the mattress. Chuuya’s touches are two steps above gentle. Whatever it is, it’s cold. Something soft and cold in his hand over your eyes. It takes a few seconds for it to register. He’s cleaning the smudged make up off your face. Acts like this were the reason it was so hard to stay mad at the man. His gestures were sweet and honest. Showing you love in the only ways he really knew how to. Physical touch, gifts and sweet words after being gone for too long or bailing last minute. Your throat clenches as your fingers grip the loose sheets by your thighs. “Baby, I’m sorry.” Chuuya says it again. Your teeth cinch the inside of your lip. “You promised.” Chuuya’s shoulders sag but his hands keep working the smudged mascara off your face. His other hand nimbly massages the back of your neck finding the pressure point to relieve your headache. “I know.” What else could he say? “I don’t have a different excuse. Boss needed me. It was important. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. We can have dinner tomorrow or another night. I swear.” Chuuya tries to coax your eyes open with a soft rub of his thumb on your cheekbone. He knew all your spots and that’s what made it hurt the most. “But you promised.” You repeat, almost childlike in the inflection of your voice, but your eyes open. Immediately you’re mesmerized by the expression change on his features. Chuuya, when overcome with too much, tended to drop his head in defeat allowing his bangs to hide him from the shame he felt. Your fingers on his chin keep him from succeeding. “It’s…” you swallow the dry lump in your throat, “I need to be as important too. I’m not asking you to drop whatever Boss has you do when I want attention and I know you’re going to have to leave sometimes when shit comes up unexpectedly... but fuck...you need to give me something.  Anything.” You set your hand timidly on his. “Unless the fucking world is collapsing...I need a promise I know you’re going to keep, Chuuya.” His eyes widen a bit, soft blue glimmering and reflecting bits of your distorted face in their tides. Chuuya stays silent for a moment but moves closer on the bed shifting you carefully until you’re on his lap, legs draped over either side of his thighs. His arms come around your waist (where they belong) to pull your torso flush with his. The hum of his ability tickles your skin as he leans himself back until his head hits the pillow. “Give me a little time to come up with something?” He finally breaks the silence. Hope diminishes and the swelling in your chest grows into a thick knot. “Okay.” You reply against his neck. There wasn’t a chance in hell Chuuya didn’t catch the desolation in your tone, but he says nothing. His fingers begin to detangle your messy hair in feather-soft strokes. Chuuya tended to melt into you without trying. Curl up around you keeping you comfortable enough to fall asleep in any environment. This position draws your face to the crook of his neck magnetically. A place molded to fit your head perfectly. Often, it was the only place that properly hid you from your thoughts and exhaustion when the world became too much at once. You inhale; his skin pebbles. He always smelled like sea salt and vanilla. He swears he puts cologne on but after working so much his natural scent clings to his skin and it’s much more intoxicating. His left hand slithers up and down your back drawing nonsensical patterns in your skin. Down your shoulder to the valley both blades create, following your spine lazily, methodically.  His dexterous fingers spread open to reach the skin that encases your rib cage touching light enough it’s almost a tease. Chuuya’s gestures come from the depths of his emotions that so often tumble beneath the surface. Trained in the art of persuasion and deception he’s better at hiding what he’s thinking than he lets on. It’s all a matter of if he cares enough to do so or not. You tangle your legs together with his, thankful you’d forgone wearing anything to bed. Summer heat tended to creep into your bedroom despite the air conditioning, and the man beside you could melt chocolate with his touch. With Chuuya's skin constantly overheating (Arahabaki in the shadows) it was surprising his layers didn’t bother him. On cold winter mornings it was magnificent against your chilled face. In the summer he’d laze about in only his underwear with the air conditioning blowing, keeping you just cold enough to need the warmth from his skin. (He claims it’s not on purpose but you like to think it is).  Heat had begun to spread the moment he pressed you up against him and held you like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip. Right now the little crook beneath his ear that curved down his neck forming a broad muscular shoulder happened to be the perfect temperature to soothe your headache. Chuuya cuddles you closer when he notices the tension dissipating. His head turns slightly to rest against your forehead, the soft ghost of his breath trails over the shell of your ear each time he exhales.  Whatever alcohol remained in your system had slowly begun to recede with Chuuya’s presence. Falling asleep rather than passing out cold seemed to aid in the depletion of your headache, and truthfully, being with him cured every part of you. Scientifically correct or not--it always worked even when you were pissed at him. Chuuya’s chest softly begins to vibrate as your eyes flutter shut. A gentle tempo that remains tranquil but familiar.. Chuuya’s humming finally settles the ball of nerves tied up in your stomach. The last remaining irritation of the night quietly begins to melt away at the edges leaving your heart frayed and tender. Pure exhaustion was overpowering your will to stay awake and wait for Chuuya’s answer. Against your own command your eyelids droop and soak your environment in black. ++++++++++++++ Fuck that wine. From the moment you peeled your eyes open it felt like someone nestled their way into your skull to continuously pound it with a ball peen hammer. Your legs twist in the sheets as you try to get comfortable again and turn away from the sunlight sneaking through the window. Your arm smacks against the mattress, it felt strikingly cold. “Chuuya?”. The only response you receive is a small rustling from outside the bedroom door. A soft hum. Music? Something. You flop onto your back and force your eyes open. Thankfully the dizziness subsided permanently, unfortunately it’s counterpart (a killer migraine) still throbbed to the point that you were halfway convinced your eyeballs were physically pounding. “Chuu?” You call again, twisting on the bed until your bare feet hit the hardwood.  Chuuya’s shirt fits comfortably over your head. Instinctively you inhale sharply holding the collar close to your nose before it settles and the smell of eggs draws you out of the bedroom. Normally you’d walk out completely naked but you felt beyond shitty. Lazily you tug up a pair of sweatpants and meander out into the kitchen in search of your boyfriend. Chuuya turns over a shoulder and gives you a soft smile. His back muscles were getting bigger, or perhaps the way he was holding the pan made them bulge. Regardless he looked damn good cooking you breakfast in a tight shirt bathed in morning light. “Good morning baby. Hungry?” Your stomach growls loud enough to echo down the street. Chuuya laughs and sets two plates down at your small table. Omurice, toast, and a few strips of bacon he’d picked up from some fancy market in Tokyo the last time he went. “Good. You need the protein after throwing everything up last night.” Chuuya pads over to you arms immediately wrapping around your waist snuggling you close against his bare chest. “I’m sorry baby.” He says for at least the fifth time. Two soft kisses to your forehead, one on your nose and a final on your lips. You slump against him letting your arms remain limp at your sides. “I figured out what I can do for you though. What you deserve.” “Oh?” Your arms find themselves around his waist, fingers spreading out to feel the rigid muscles in his lower back flex beneath your touch. Chuuya nods forehead now resting against yours. Sunlight funnels through the window scattering amber over the floor. Cresting Chuuya’s right side and across to the middle of his throat bathing him in light. The man truly emulated warmth and fuck he was more gorgeous than the sunrise itself. “Breakfast together. Every morning. Some days I’ll cook for you. Some days we’ll go out before work, and some days…” Chuuya begins to trail soft kisses down the side of your throat. Catching your breath suddenly becomes much harder with his mouth tasting your skin, “we’ll have breakfast in bed. I’ll eat you...and then we can eat together.” He chuckles darkly, waiting for the words to unfold in your head. “How can I turn that offer down?” Your fingers glide up the back of his neck carding through his hair. Chuuya sighs into your touch but continues the lazy, deliberately gentle line of kisses over the curve of your shoulder then backwards until he reaches your collarbone. “My place---” you gasp sharply, Chuuya loved to bite that spot on your neck, “or yours?”. Chuuya hums in thought hands now trailing down your curves around to the swell of your ass. “Whoever gets off work last goes to the other’s place. So, probably here a lot.” Chuuya squeezes, low growls emitting from his throat when you jolt into him. “Means you gotta actually buy food for me to cook.” You rise up on your toes moving closer and away from his grip on your ass. You couldn’t give in easy just yet, where was the fun in that? “Mmmm..but what if I like starting off the day with your cock?” You muse, teasingly dragging the sharp edges of your nails down his shoulder blades. Even through his shirt Chuuya’s shoulders were overly sensitive. Another set of animalistic growls erupts from him. He squeezes harder and nips at the center of your throat. “Guess I’ll have to give you what you want then, won’t I?” He smirks crookedly. You yelp when his hands dip between your thighs splitting them open to lift you up and onto the counter. “But first,” he murmurs, thumbs digging circles against your inner thighs, “I get my breakfast.” Chuuya leans into you, hips slotted between your trembling thighs so he can kiss you until you’re dizzy. Your hands wind up back in his hair holding him close. You inhale him greedily, savoring the taste of him in your mouth. Your sweatpants join Chuuya’s shirt on the floor in a puddle of fabric. The heat from his body sweeps you up into the clouds. You weren’t sure if it was the hangover, the speed in which Chuuya had you spread open on the kitchen counter or a combination of them both but your head was already fogged. Chuuya’s breath along your thigh keeps you lucid enough to feel every movement he makes. The tickle of his hair on your leg, the gentle prodding of his thumb spreading open your wet lip and the oh so lewd sweep of his tongue up your pussy. “Fuck!” You gasp, hair tugging roughly at the bundle of red hair between your fingers. Chuuya’s chuckle vibrates up your core. His tongue expertly flattens against your pussy, long strokes beginning at your entrance ensuring to taste every inch of your folds all the way up to your clit. The edge of his tongue flicks over the swelling bud once or twice before descending through your lips again. Chuuya moans into you, muttering praises of your taste between licks and prods of his tongue deep inside you. “Ch-Chuu!” The knot in your stomach was near ready to snap. “Do it baby. Right on my fucking tongue.” Chuuya commands, looking up at you from between your legs momentarily before returning to his work. Chuuya’s two fingers hold your pussy open for his tongue to explore. Dipping in and out, traveling up to tease and suck on your clit until stars burst behind your eyes and you’re moaning incoherently. Chuuya doesn’t waste a drop. “So good..” his praises are saturated with lust, “fuck you taste so good.” Arousal smears across his cheeks and lips as he cleans the mess between your legs. Gentle licks and motions, just enough to begin overstimulation to carry over into what would come next. You curl over him trying not to fall off the counter. Chuuya gets to his feet, hands remaining on your shoulders to give you leverage as he discards his sweatpants revealing his fat hard cock red and dripping pre-cum. You lick your lips and reach for him, pumping it a few times in an off-beat rhythm. “Already fucked out baby?” He taunts playfully, lips still glistening with your cum. You pout at him and jerk him forward by the hair. Chuuya laughs, using the motion to line his cock up with your weeping entrance. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” Your hips jerk forward when the head rubs up against your clit. “Chuuya!” You huff, switching tactics. His eyes widen to saucers moan loud and deep enough it rattles in your chest. Your fingers tweak and tug at his pebbled nipples egging him on to submit. Or piss him off. Regardless, the outcome would be the same. “Do you want it that bad? Just one touch..” you mimic his teasing tone. Chuuya’s eyes narrow, chest still puffed out towards your hands. “I always want you.” He replies, punctuating the last word with a jerk of his hips. Your head lolls back in surprise, the burn of his cock stretching you out to the hilt makes your toes curl. “Ohfuck!” You choke on air; Chuuya is quick to grip your hips and bite down on your throat. His pace is relentless. Needy. Sticky, hot and slick. You keep one arm wrapped around his neck the other slanted back on the counter for balance. Chuuya buries his face in the crook of your neck as he fucks your hard and deep. Your knees end up by his ribs allowing you to cross your ankles behind him. The angle change makes Chuuya moan deep against your skin. Somehow, his speed picks up sending you bouncing up and down on his cock. Every stroke inside you hits that sweet bundle of nerves that keeps you moaning his praises. “Fuck--” he grits his teeth and slides one hand down to hold you up by your ass lifting you off the counter. He grunts again, moving in just a few steps into the center of the kitchen. Chuuya drops to his knees with the aid of his ability and places you on your back, hips following the natural path of gravity to push his cock deeper inside you. “Fuck..there..” he murmurs, shifting his hands to your thighs pressing them back until your knees reach your shoulders. “Just like that baby..fuck you’re so god damn beautiful..” His eyes glisten, gemstone blue clouded in the haze of arousal and pleasure. This position was so lewd and fuck it turned you on knowing Chuuya was watching you like this. Vulnerable and split open by his throbbing cock. Chuuya tilts his chin down mesmerized by the view of his cock pistoning in and out of your wet pussy. Cum and slick squirting against him with every harsh thrust forward. Your back arcs off the floor; the head of his cock relentlessly slams into your g spot until you’re cumming again. “G-goodgirl!” Chuuya sputters out, pounding into you three more times before he’s spilling inside of you gasping your name in a sultry, silky voice only you get to hear. Chuuya rolls his hips a few more times in rhythmless sputters before collapsing (gently) on top of you. Sweat matting his bangs left and right, skin a rosy pink and body taut. You wrap a shaky arm around his back, eyes fluttering closed. “Mm..you doin’ okay?” He asks, pushing himself up with one elbow to look at you. “Yeah…fuck..” you couldn’t even think straight let alone articulate just how good you were feeling now. Chuuya smiles--the rest of the world doesn’t compare to the brightness of it, you think. “You’re forgiven.” You finally say, long exhale following. Chuuya beams and kisses your nose. “I am sorry baby. And I promise we’re going to eat breakfast together every morning.” Chuuya rolls to his side bringing you with him. Your leg ends up thrown over his hip and his arm pulls you flush to his chest. “I love you ______. I love you so fuckin’ much.” Chuuya drops kisses along your cheek as he speaks. “I love you too, Chuu.”

[boymeetsweevil]

the most magical place in hell

Grouping: (For Science) Reader x JK

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings/Themes: implied sex, 5 is a crowd annoying friends since that’s the vibe these days, d*sn*y please don’t sue

Prompt: “For Science, I miss this couple sm. Any scenario would be fantastic! For inspo, did JK and OC get to go on a vacation, (jk expressed he wanted to in his journal) if so how did that go? Any fun new experiments?”

A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!

On the third day of the cruise, Jungkook rolls over in his sleep. His hand reaches for you. His palm meets the bare skin of your shoulder already moving despite how pale the morning light is under his lashes.

“What’s happening,” he mumbles before grabbing more greedily at you. There’s not too much resistance as you let yourself be dragged a few inches across the sheets.

“We have to get up. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes, remember?”

You lean down to press a peck just above his brow bone and he groans. As you pull away, there’s a sweet waft that hits him and lets him know you’ve already showered and gotten ready. Now it’s his turn.

He gives himself just until you gather your things and shut the door to the room. Then he’s pulling himself out of bed with every ounce of energy he has left. He brushes his teeth with his eyes closed, does a perfunctory shower with the lights off like it’ll give him some more sleep. But he’s still dead tired as he throws on an outfit and heads out the door.

The walk to the dining area was exciting 3 days ago. The decadent decor, the view from the high balcony separating his floor from the others, the grand 20’s style atrium with Mickey Mouse memorabilia incorporated throughout. Everything used to be exciting 3 days ago. Sadly, the first day passed and things quickly lost their charm.

As he scoops a smiley-face omelette onto his plate in the buffet line, he searches for your face in the crowd of families scarfing down their first meals of the day so they can take their kids to the waterfall pool on deck 6. By the time he reaches the end of the line, there’s still no sight of you among the tables. So he ventures outdoors where there’s less seating but considerably more sun. He thinks back to his quick routine in the room. Did he remember to put on sunscreen?

When he finds you, you’re stretched out on a beach chair and taking in some of the sun. His mood is partially lifted when he sees just how content you look getting warmed like a lizard on a rock in your tiny bikini. He stands over you deliberately just to see you pout and pull down your sunglasses with a huff.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Who’d you think it was?”

“I thought it was Hoseok about to ask me to take his profile pic again.”

Jungkook chuckles a little before sitting in the open seat next to you. “Couldn’t have been him. Too early.” “That’s true.” You sit up then, peering at his plate. “What’d you get us?”

“Us?” His smile is warm. “I thought you’d have eaten by now with the way you left the room.”

“I was looking for an empty spot for us. It was your job to find the actual food.”

“No one else would willingly wake up this early,” he cuts a fraction of the omelette before holding the bite up to you. “But I guess it’s only fair.”

You open your mouth happily.

“Permission to board the S.S. girlfriend?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m wasting fuel in the port,” he continues to hover the fork just outside your reach, even when you jump forward with a nip.

“Permission to board,” you grumble.

He laughs like you told a great joke and gently feeds you the bite. With soft eyes, he watches you point to different things on the plate and dutifully feeds you your fill. This might be the first time he’s been able to spend a few moments alone with you since the five of you got on the cruise. He finishes up the bit of toast you couldn’t finish and the few blueberries that didn’t interest you. He must be staring because you turn to him in your reclined position and return the favor.

“You’re looking a little red. Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I think I forgot. I was trying to get ready fast so you wouldn’t have to sit around alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” you reach into the bag you brought for sunscreen. “Yoori was with me. She left for the gym maybe 2 minutes before you came out here.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

Jungkook scowls a bit as you rub the lotion onto his face. That Yoori and Hoseok, and probably even Taehyung, might be spending more time with you on this trip than him is starting to be the horrible icing on this shitty vacation cake.

“Why don’t we take some time to—” He begins but a large shadow looming over the two of you makes him stop in his tracks.

“Hey,” a man with thick blond hair and even thicker muscles nods down at you. “You were at the adult lounge last night, right?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. Thor—or the actor who plays him during the Marvel day activities—has come up to your spot. He’s got the Ragnorok breastplate on with board shorts adorning his chiseled lower half. From the top up, he looks just like the real thing.

“Wow. Yeah I was, I’m surprised you remember,” you hold a hand over your eyes so you can look up at “Thor”.

“How could I forget. You and your beautiful friend were quite the sight yesterday.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

In all his excitement, he overlooks the flirting. Jungkook stands up from his seat then and sticks out his hand. “Thor” shakes it hesitantly.

“Hey. I know you’re not the real thing, but it’s great to see you. I wasn’t at the adult lounge last night, so we didn’t get to meet.”

Jungkook makes sure to puff out his chest so “Thor” will notice the print of his button down shirt. Tiny little hammers.

“Do you like the shirt?” He beams. 

“Thor” squints down at the animated hammers.

“I can’t say I really know what’s on it, but sure.” 

“They’re...they’re Mjölnirs.”

“Mole-whats?”

You gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth. 

Jungkook drops “Thor”’s hand at the same moment, disappointment turning down the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing. They’re just drawings. Have a good day, man.”

“Thor” chuckles before looking back down at you. “Cute kid,” he says before sending you a wink and making some comment about getting to rehearsal.

Yoori returns from the gym that moment, nearly running into “Thor”. He gives her an appreciative once over which she returns smugly. Her expression changes as she approaches you and Jungkook looking like you had both seen a car crash.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you respond quickly with a subtle look at the back of Jungkook’s head to tell her ‘not now’.

“Well,” she plops down on the end of Jungkook’s beach chair, “How was breakfast?”

“It was fine,” Jungkook sighs and scoots back so she’ll have some room. “We finished a little while ago. Now we’re just making plans for the rest of the morning.”

“Couple stuff...I’ll go get myself a plate, then.”

You wait until Yoori’s disappeared into the dining area to turn to Jungkook. He doesn’t look angry per se. Just resigned.

“What were you saying before?”

“Hmm,” his eyes are far away, “I was just saying we could take some time to ourselves.”

He wants to say he feels like he’s barely seen you since he stepped on the ship, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. The funny thing is that you weren’t even looking forward to the trip before the first day. The tickets for this Marvel cruise were a last minute gamble. You had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go somewhere a little less kid-friendly, but he’d waited until the last minute.

At first it seemed like the best possible last choice a person could have. You were all fans of the comics and movies with the exception of Taehyung and Yoori. Taehyung was more of a DC fan and Yoori just sort of let the movies wash over her. You’d been worried that the week would be torture for you with all the screaming kids around. But you were actually having the time of your life. Meanwhile Jungkook was having a less than ideal time.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Maybe we could relax? I’ve had research video meetings the last two nights, so I haven’t really been up for the late night stuff. And I’m just barely up for the morning stuff.”

“Hmm. What about the spa? I haven’t been there yet and it’s on my list.”

“The spa?” Yoori comes out with a mountain of waffles and rumpled-looking Taehyung and Hoseok behind her. “Yeah, let’s go to the spa!”

“Actually, I think Kook just wanted to—”

“I heard it’s actually pretty decent on this boat. They have a hot rock massage where all of the rocks look like the Tinman’s suit.”

“The Tinman,” Jungkook practically chokes.

“I think she means Iron Man,” Hoseok grins sleepily. “Anyway, I’m down for the spa thing too. Never too early to have a tiny lady go in on my thighs.”

“You’re literally so nasty,” Yoori glares back at him.

As your other friends bicker, you flash Jungkook an apologetic look. He shrugs because that’s easier than fighting it. He relishes the second plate of food you get for him and lets you feed him the bites in between kisses and mini-reapplications of sunscreen. It’s all the rest he gets that day. The spa is probably the least relaxing moment of his life.

He doesn’t even get to sit near you. Instead, he gets roped into the men’s section where Hoseok’s tiny lady goes too hard on his thighs and the resulting yelps make Jungkook’s ear drums pound. Taehyung falls asleep two minutes into the Iron Man hot rock massage and snores in a way that’s nearly identical to the 60 year old guests napping nearby.

You emerge from the women’s section with Yoori looking like you’d smell and feel like a rose petal. But Jungkook doesn’t ever find out if you do, because he’s being thrown right back into more “fun”. Somewhere in the back of his mind—between Black Widow meet and greet and the Ant-Man lunch show—he thinks that he would probably be having actual fun if he had some time to breathe. Although, he figures it’s enough to just breathe you in. He feels slightly less drained looking at your smiling face and wide eyes as a wild Hulk appears behind you at the pool after lunch, spraying you lighty with comically huge muscles and a comically tiny water gun.

“You’re not coming?”

Jungkook groans, partly out of guilt and partly out of exhaustion. It’s nearing 10:30 at night and you’re getting ready to go to the adult lounge again. This time it’s for all-things-Spiderman trivia and drinks. He wants to want to go. But he can’t find the strength. He figures too much sun and too much socialization is the answer.

“You’re not staying,” he counters as he does his best to sit up in bed. There’s a nice soft glow bleeding in from the giant picture window of the suite that looks onto the water and there’s some Loki pajamas calling his name. Your tight little dress is calling to him too. I’d look better on the floor, it says.

“I figured this would be a lot more lowkey than everything else we’ve done today. There’s no water and no noisy families. Or screaming Hoseoks.”

“You heard that earlier?”

“I did,” you grimace. “He must have really pissed off that masseuse.”

“I’m pretty sure he just talked with her like he talks normally.”

“Can’t fault her for that, then.”

There’s a beat of silence as you test the security of some strappy heels. Naturally your eyes wander from the shoes to your boyfriend. He’s tapping away at some emails on the ship’s slow wifi no doubt. If you couldn’t tell how tired he was from the slope of his shoulders and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the giant yawn he barely stifles is a giveaway.

“Maybe I could just—”

The door to your suite swings open, revealing Taehyung looking frightened in a silky peach button down as Yoori pinches Hoseok’s ear.

“You’re coming, right? Please tell me you’re coming.”

“She’s coming,” Jungkook pipes up from the bed. His eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he types away, but he blinks slow and long. Your heart aches a little.

Taehyung breathes out a sigh of relief and links arms with you. You get one last look at your exhausted boyfriend before you’re pulled out of the room entirely.

“Do you think they’ll even bother asking about the Garfield version?” Taehyung’s question shakes you out of your worry.

“Pfft, no.”

On the fourth day of the cruise, Jungkook is awakened earlier than he wants yet again. A large clap of thunder and the bolt of lightning flash from the other side of the window. He crawls quietly around your sleeping form and throws on his glasses. There’s heavy rain too—a sure sign that the pools and sundecks will be closed. Out of habit, he checks his email and sees a message from the ship coordinator.

Esteemed Guests,

As some of you may know, two performers at last night’s dinner show in House of Mouse theatre (Deck 5, room 6B) showed signs of a stomach bug during the performances. For the safety of the rest of the cast, staff, and guests, we will be postponing today’s shows to sanitize the performance rooms and allow the actors time to recover. Room service will still be available.

We know this is a large inconvenience, and to thank you for understanding, please check your trip accounts for a refund for today’s fares. Additionally...

Jungkook can’t help the fist pump and small hoot he lets out. The email gives him the same feeling he gets on those days when he wakes up hours before his alarm only to discover his professor had cancelled class for the day. With a skip in his step, he returns to bed.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s natural. You’re still spooned to him, still soft and warm and pliant in sleep. He runs the tip of his nose along your neck while the fog of sleep lifts. The smell of your soap and skin is warmed with sleep. The sniffing must tickle you, because you stir before arching against him in a morning stretch. He moves so he doesn’t get in the way of your swinging limbs and smiles to himself. It feels like it’s been forever since he last got to hold you like this without the threat of someone whisking you away.

“Morning,” your voice is gravelly from disuse. “What’s going on. What’s the plan?”

“There’s no plan.”

You’re still half asleep, but you have the social awareness to let your voice go high with incredulity. “No plan?”

“No plan. They sent an email.”

“Read it to me?”

He reads the formal apology while you turn in the covers so you can embrace him while you wake up. By the time he’s done reading, you’ve sat yourself up to look at his phone screen as well.

“Sounds good,” you chirp.

“Really? I would have thought you’d be disappointed about not having a packed day. You’ve been zooming around since we got on board.”

“Yeah, but this was supposed to be our time together. It’s only natural that your friends would tag along.”

“So they’re my friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Only when they’re annoying.”

As if on cue, the front door sounds with knocking. Taehyung is the one who calls out about breakfast plans, but you know all three of them are out there. It’s almost a menacing thought.

“Your friends are here,” he groans. His head falls back onto his pillow defeatedly. They’re likely to burst in any second.

“Don’t worry.”

The sound dies down momentarily when Yoori mentions the extra keycard you gave her for emergencies. Hoseok and Taehyung continue to jiggle the door for sport while chatting idly. Meanwhile, you crawl underneath the sheets and re-emerge on Jungkook’s side of the bed. You look him over, as if searching for something. He’s about to ask what you’re looking for when you reach out and pinch both his cheeks suddenly. While he’s mid-yelp, you swoop in and nip at his lips. It’s quick but it was just harsh enough that his face looks blotchy and his mouth starts to swell.

He whines. “Is this because I called them your friends?”

“Just trust me,” you hiss before your hands disappear further down the sheets to tug off your own underwear and throw it towards the door.

A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Yoori, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Their smiles are bright until they take in the scene. Jungkook’s hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth looks like it’s been lightly ravaged. Though you’re mostly covered with the sheets, the underwear that is very clearly not on your body and the way the sheets drape over your head as you lay between his knees tell a very convincing lie.

“I think I just caught that stomach bug.” Yoori says lightly, still smiling. Hoseok peers behind her, looking mildly interested.

“I hate it when I remember they have sex with eachother,” Taehyung buries his face in his friend’s shoulder looking mortified as Yoori slowly closes the door.

“Yeah, it’s kind of like walking in on your aunt and uncle doing it. But, like, 12 times worse.”

Jungkook basks in the new silence for a few moments before it’s replaced with the rustle of sheets.

“What are you doing” he trails off to a whisper as you tug the waistband of his underwear down. Your hands still.

“You don’t want to have boat sex?”

“No, no, I do. I wanna have boat sex.”

He nods intensely and you laugh at how earnest he still is. Jungkook’s cheeks flare up, now doubly red from quiet excitement.

“Guess I should have just proposed this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you hum thoughtfully while moving on your knees to straddle his hips. “I can't see how this would have ruined anyone’s fun.”

“I can think of a couple people’s fun we just ruined.”

“I really meant my fun. Speaking of which,” you settle onto his lap and begin to grind.

He shudders, head falling forward with a sigh. This, he thinks, is the real happiest place on earth.

[love-anddeepression]

You’re not him-Chapter 3

Walking into the library, you see Loki sit down with a bundle of files, going through one of them before exclaiming sarcastically,

"Oh my goodness! Don't tell me the variant ambushed another team of minutemen, wow! HUH and stole their reset charges as well!"

Giggling you walk over to him and stand opposite him. Looking up, he sees you and smiles.

"Hi" you say.

"Hello."

" So, I never took you for the reading type, whatcha reading?" you say, knowing full well how much he loved to read.

" Well, I love reading, but these are files about the variant, Mobius asked me to read them." he explains.

" Oh, well I have to read them too! Do you mind if join you?" you say, a tinge of hope in your voice.

" Oh sure, of course." he replies.

Getting up, he then pulls the chair out so you can sit in it.

" And he's a gentleman too!" you tease, making him blush lightly and chuckle.

Looking down to the table, the first document you see has, in big bright red lettering,

'Destruction of Asgard'

Ragnarok-Class 7 apocalypse.

Shit.

Loki sits down and spots the paper too, picking it up and going through it, you can see how he's trying to hide his emotions, but you can see his eyes tearing up, and his breath hitching.

"I'm sorry." you say quietly.

" It-It's fine, it happens." he says putting it off and handing it over to you.

Going through it, you see just how bad the damage was, and then something caught your eye.

'Zero Variance Energy detected'

"Loki, Loki look," you get his attention.

"What, what did you find?" he asks eager to get away from the topic of his home getting blown up.

"Look, it says there's no variant energy, what if the variant's hiding in apocalypses?" you ask.

" That, that's an amazing idea. Because he can do whatever he wants, and it won't make a difference-"

" -because the place is getting blown to bits and everyone dies." you finish excitedly.

" We-we have to tell Mobius this, oh darling you're a genius!" he says before gathering the files and walking towards the cafeteria, "Come on!" he calls you.

Darling.

He called you darling.

Just great.

~~

" Mobius! We found something!" Loki says and pulls you over and sits you down, before getting another chair for himself.

" What? What did you find?" he asks.

"The variant's hiding in apocalypses." you said.

"What? what do you mean?"

"Are you familiar with Ragnarok?" Loki asks Mobius.

"Yes, the destruction of Asgard and most of it's people I'm sorry about that."

" Yes, very sad, now-" Loki begins, taking Mobius's salad.

"What are you doing?" Mobius asks Loki.

" Let's just say, your salad is Asgard-"

"That's not Asgard, that's my lunch, I want that salad." Mobius whines.

" I could do anything here, I could-" Loki continues, picking up a salt shaker, " push Hulk of the rainbow bridge!" he shakes the salt shaker, adding salt and ruining the salad.

" So the salt's hulk?" you ask.

Ignoring you, he continues," Or, I could set fire to the palace." now he shakes in some pepper.

"No, don't set fire to the palace-" Mobius interrupted.

"-and it would never matter, because-" he pauses, reaching for the can of soda, only to find it empty.

You get up and go over to Casey and ask him if you can take his juice, he agrees. Walking back you hand the juice to Loki, who smiles in thanks.

" Thank you, now, because the apocalypse is coming, Surtur will destroy Asgard, no matter what." He continues, now pouring the juice into the salad.

" No, don't do that!" you and Mobius say together.

"That's the apocalypse, clumsy metaphor but you see what I mean. If everything, and everyone around you for imminent destruction, " he says picking up the shakers again. " nothing I say or do will matter, cause the timelines not gonna branch, cuz it get's destroyed. The variant could be hiding in the apocalypse and do whatever he wants, and we wouldn't know!" he finishes.

"Not bad, good job guys." Mobius says.

"Come on. I'll show you, take me to Ragnarok!"

"I'm not going to take you for a stroll across the promenade much less take you back to your home, I know what you're trying to do, lure me out into the field and then you stab me in the back!" Mobius argues.

Loki spreads his arms out, mouth open, a very offended expression on his face.

"I'd never stab anyone in the back! That's such a boring form of betrayal!"

"Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life, you've literally stabbed people in the back like fifty times!" Mobius says.

"You did try to stab me once." you say smirking.

" I-I what?!" he stares at you

"That's a story for another time, Lokes."

"Well, I'd never do it again!" he says, making you and Mobius laugh in amusement.

~~

"Loki! Get over here!" Mobius calls as you watch, laughing hysterically

Oh, were were you?

Pompeii, seconds before Mt.Vesuvius erupts and you were witnessing a God-child, rambling in Latin about how everyone was going to die and positively horrifying everyone present there.

Suddenly you were all interrupted by a blast from the volcano, Vesuvius was erupting.

" Woohoo! Here we go! Nothing matters! Nothing has any consequence!" he shouts, throwing handfuls of vegetables in the air.

Annoyed, Mobius checks the Tempad, before doing a double take and grinning.

"So how'd we do?" you ask eagerly.

" Zero variant energy, No branching in the timeline, this worked!" Mobius said.

Smiling widely, you shouted, " Hey Loki! It worked! We did it!"

Loki turns around and smiles, out of breath.

" If it were me, this is where I would hide."

~~

You were sipping your lemon iced tea in peace, listening to the men in front of you bicker like toddlers.

"So you're saying, Three Magic Lizards created the Tva and everyone in it?" Loki asked Mobius

" Yes."

"See, every time I start to admire you're intelligence, you say something like that!" Loki argues

"Ok, well who created you Loki?" Mobius asks

" A frost giant of Jotunheim." Loki said, making you almost choke on your drink.

" and who raised you?"

"Odin of Asgard."

"Asgard, Mystical realm, Frost giants- listen to yourself!"

"It's not the same! It's completely different!" he rambles

"A-actually it's exactly the same because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kind of ridiculous. Existence is chaos! Nothing makes any sense so we try to make some sense of it, and I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me this."

" Ok, what about Y/n?"

" I'm actually a special case, Ravonna allowed me to join the TVA, as long as I bide by the rules, and not be an idiot and possibly blow up the timeline. But the TVA is my life, and it's real, because I believe it's real." you explain.

"Fair enough , you believe it's real, so everything is written, the past, the present and the future"

You soon stop paying attention, and thought about the first time you and Loki said ' I love you'

You both were baking a cake to pass the time and somehow in the process, Loki found himself covered in frosting.

"I'll get you back for that darling!" he said grinning, before hugging you tightly, covering you in frosting too.

Laughing hysterically, you both started flinging frosting at each other.

Holding you close, you felt his breath fan your cheeks, as you lost yourselves in each other's eyes.

"I love you Loki." you blurted out, making him smile.

" Oh my darling, I love you too, so much." he replied before kissing you softly and passionately.

"Y/n! Focus! Come on! I found a lead! Follow me!"  Mobius said, calling you over.

"What were you thinking of?" Loki asked.

"Just thinking about a moment in my life, one I really treasure." you say smiling softly.

"Today Love birds!" Mobius called again.

"We're coming! Jerk." you say, while blushing,

You and Loki follow Mobius, before stopping at him looking at a packet of 'Kablooie" gum.

"This, I thought about  this."

[dabistodorokitouya]

Song: Kodaline - Brother

He has loved drugs, they numbed him and forget him the truth, pain for a long time. Only bad effect; his head was aching insanely and he also had to care with Shigaraki with that head. He looked at his phone, six hours had passed since he slept and Dabi's had to be a meeting two hours ago. At first, he thought to not go. He needn't have blabbered but when he read messages he gave up that. If he doesn't go, Shigaraki will be angrier. But he had to endure his creepy attitude. Also, he would have to look at the hand which addresses as his father. When he wanted Shigaraki could be terrible and Dabi loved his arms connected with hands.

He loved first five years in life, saw those memories gave him peace. But just that, five years. He hasn't seen old memories for a long time because of that he is surprised today. He wanted to remember his lovely mother; Watching tv with him and fondled his head. He threw away other memories to the background, he didn't need to them. He looked at the messages, except Shigaraki there was a message from a crazy girl. Although he found the girl's behavior silly, he couldn't say anything about her power. She had really useful quirk but although they met new she was sending messages to him about 'hang out together.' And that annoyed Dabi. But usually, everything would get on Dabi's nerves.

He had no problem about their personality as long as they didn't bother him. They could be as crazy as they wanted. Shigaraki Tomura, a madman who wore his family's hands on his face and body, was his boss, another was Twice, who acts an talks like a double person who couldn't recover from her trauma. The crazy girl Himiko Toga, on the other hand, was very fond of blood, the Spinner had nothing odd, but it was enough that is a lizard. He didn't know Compress that much but he and Kurogiri are among the most rational people in the group, he wouldn't deny that. They didn't seem like a very sane group, but to Dabi, whether their power was valuable was the only thing that mattered.

When he got to the bar he waited at its door for a minute or two. He took a deep breath and went in, he would need it. Shigaraki was waiting, leaning against the wall, his voice wasn't angry like it was in the messages. It was tired and boring. Himiko Toga was running around with a knife in his hand, Dabi wondered how long it would take him to stab one of the league members. Compress and Twice were sitting in the chair, drinking their drinks. Spinner was not around. Kurogiri, on the other hand, was as usual, ready for defense in case an incident broke out. Keeping them calm in a bar with a lot of villains was a real challenge, and Dabi and Shigaraki didn't help to this situation at all. After a few minutes of silence, Shigaraki was the first to speak, as always he was sarcastic.

"Do you know why the phone is used? For people can reach you. You're two hours late what is your excuse?"

Dabi shrugged his shoulders, his head ached too much to make fun of.

He responded with a reckless attitude.

"I fell asleep."

Shigaraki frowned but he kept silent. Apparently, he didn't have much energy either. The meeting must have continued a really long time, whereas he was pretty sure he was going to get a lot of death threats from Shigaraki right now. Shigaraki went upstairs without saying anything else. Kurogiri was defending Shigaraki as usual.

"Tomura's been sleepless for so long, he really wants this plan to work and I don't want a fight in my bar."

"What's that big plan you've decided on?"

Dabi's only wish now was to go back to bed just like Shigaraki, and he would exactly do that after learning the plans. He didn't want to listen to unnecessary things. Kurogiri had understood it easily, he sighed, Shigaraki and Dabi had some very similar habits. Of course, Dabi has always been more sarcastic than anyone else, nobody would be a patch on him on that matter.

"We learned that the 1 - A Hero class at UA would be training at summer camp, we're planning an attack, and Dabi your mission is very important at this point. You will lead the attack. Your mission is to bring Katsuki Bakugo and get him to join us."

Kurogiri gave him a picture of the child, the kid was standing angrily on a platform. He had a medal on his neck, Dabi now realized why the kid looked familiar. He was the winner of the sports festival, normally Dabi wouldn't care about the festival but he had watched as he was curious about his little brother Shoto. Shoto most likely didn't even remember Touya. Dabi wouldn't be surprised, that damn man would always separate him from everyone else. He couldn't stand his failures to be in his masterpieces way, it would be pretty normal for Shoto to not remember him, even if the two were so close. Shoto was six when he last saw his older brother, Touya.

Shoto was so strong, even when he was little it was obvious that he would become so strong in the future. Dabi admired Shoto for not using his fire, his left side. He was trying to teach that man a lesson by himself, Dabi appreciated his tenacity. But he started using his flames when he was fighting against a green-haired boy which made Dabi furious and suddenly lit the tv. He had to buy a new television. With that quirk of his, Dabi expected Shoto to be first, or so predicted. If the boy in the photo managed to defeat him, he had considerable power, which would explain why he got villains attention.

Also, the boy always seemed to be angry and angry at everyone, they even had to tie him up because he was causing a big problem. Even the boy's outfit was more like the villain than the hero, it was a disturbing move for heroes to silence him even though he won. Dabi was not surprised, he experienced firsthand how despicable heroes could be. Dabi's ultimate goal was to fulfill Stain's dream. He realized that Kurogiri was waiting for an answer from him, he put the picture back in place.

"It must have been difficult to learn this secret information, and the children would not be alone. How many professional heroes will there be? And who will be on the team?"

Out of the heroes, some of the children could have been a problem to them. They had to a plan carefully. The boy who were supposed to catch wasn't one to give up easily, he was going to force them and also they had to watch out two or three other students. After all, they were being trained for to be heroes of the future, it would be a wrong move to see them powerless. He didn't understand why they were in so much trouble just for a child, Dabi didn't have much hope that the child would join them and he didn't want to deal with an annoying brat. Toga was enough for him.

"Our research is saying Pussy Cats will be there. Eraser Head and Vlad King would definetly be there because they are teachers. Also Spinner, Muscular, Magne, Mustard, Moonfish, and a Nomu members of a Vanguard Action Squad. They will accompany to you. You're in charge of the team, and I believe you can handle the situation easily with your magnificent flames."

Dabi had not heard most of the names before. He would not care if they were captured, his mission was only to capture to child as a leader. If they were caught, it would show that they were incompetent and Dabi didn't need incompetents. He was intrigued by Nomu, it was valuable creature who pushed All Might hard but he was confused that he was going to lead the group, he was expecting Shigaraki to do it.

"I'm a leader, ha? Are you sure Shigaraki is happy with this situation?"

"Shigaraki won't be in that mission, so am I. But I'll be waiting to get you back here when your work will done."

Shigaraki's absence made him suspicious but he was happy, he didn't need him to be bossy. They had just an argument because Dabi didn't say his real name, he had too much headache to get into another one. He left the bar right after Kurogiri told them when they were going to attack, after leaving the bar his headache was lessened a little. After a long walk he returned to his apartment, immediately making his way to the bathroom. Some staples had to be replaced, he grimaced. He hated the process even though years had passed, fortunately there wasn't many staples to replace. After he is done with the process he cleaned up and went to bed. He hated being sober because he couldn't stand remembering his past all the time. Even after many years he couldn't forget what that man said to him.

You're worthless, Touya. You are not important.

He wasn't Touya anymore, he had rejected that name for the past eight years. Right now, he is Dabi. But Touya's past was still bothering him, he couldn't escape his past. No matter how hard he tried, those memories were always there. The drugs on his nightstand at the end of his bed were screaming at him. Dabi was an addict and he wouldn't deny it, he sighed. The following days would be busy with the mission, now was the time. Most likely the effects of the doses which he took today would last for days but Dabi was used to pain, Touya had learned the pain when he was five.

Touya was almost nine years old and he was still continuing to his training, but his father had a lot of work to do for Christmas, and he didn't come home very much these days. Natsuo's quirk had been revealed much earlier than expected, for their father now Natsuo had been declared an inadequate child. Natsuo had an ice quirk, just like Fuyumi and his mother, and Touya had begun to wish that nowadays.

He wasn't a person what his father's wanted, and he couldn't use his power long time. If he have had ice quirk, his father would have never dealt with his and he could have been with his siblings. He once remembered that he was happy to have the same quirk with his father, those memories seemed to stupid him now. Natsuo and Fuyumi looked just like their mother, Touya was very unhappy. Her turquoise eyes were no longer filled with joy as they used to be, they were hurt and sad. He hated the color of his hair. If he had looked like more like his mother, his quirk would have been like that. Fuyumi and Natsuo look like their mother. Touya look like their father, and he had taken his power.

Her mother was fading as the days passed, she lost her old shine. Since Touya's father started to get more tough in training, his mother was trying to block their father. His father was always angry with him and telling her to leave them alone but if she refused, his father would hit him. His mother couldn't take it any longer, she was leaving the room with crying. His father blaming their mother for the children's failure. When Touya wanted to give up in training, he always told him that he was weak like Rei. Touya wanted to yell at him and talked about their mother was how wonderful, strong, good but he just kept quiet. Maybe he was weak, like he said.

His mother had tried for him for months and now she had given up, she couldn't stop their father in any way. All she could do was care with Touya's injuries and that hurt her a lot. Since Endeavor wasn't home, Touya could do whatever he wanted all day, that was a luxury he wasn't used to. He clearly didn't know what would do, he had no idea what else to do as he had spent all his days with training. But then his mother came next to him and told him that his siblings were playing in the garden so he could join them. While his father was away, he liked his mother's behavior more, his mother was smiling like before and she was confident.

He couldn't believe Natsuo was three years old, he was huge. Touya was certainly aware that he didn't look like a nine-year-old, he looked like a six-year-old at most. He was weaker than before, as the doctor said his flames weren't good for his body. Although Natsuo was only three years old he was taller and larger than his, unlike Fuyumi and Touya, he had the body of their father. When he looked at Fuyumi a little more carefully, he realized that she was two or three inches taller than he was. It was unfair, Touya started sulking, he was the biggest but he looked like the smallest. His mother looked at him with laughing, like she knew what he was thinking.

Touya was very angry these days, often easily angry at everything, but then for a moment, he was acting as nothing had happened. Usually, his anger wasn't directed at her or his brothers, but Rei didn't understand why. Only sometimes she saw anger in Touya's eyes, that spark of anger was always there, even if he didn't reflect on them. Rei didn't like it, he was a kid, he shouldn't have had anger in his eyes. But sometimes Touya was so kind, Rei would have trouble believing that those angry eyes belonged to Touya.

Touya's feelings were becoming more deranged as the days pass. He was acting like a child when he was with his siblings and that was making Rei happy. She couldn't stop giggling when she saw Touya's jealousy and sulk on his face. Rei loved the winter, she loved the freshness and the breeze on her skin. Christmas was something she loved when she was little, but she loved it more than before because her husband wasn't in home and her children were so happy. Touya came down the stairs with timid steps. Touya was not close with Fuyumi for a long time and he hardly knew Natsuo. Fuyumi and Natsuo were playing ball together but they stopped when they saw Touya. Fuyumi was a very moving, cheerful girl. She immediately hugged Touya, or rather jumped on him.

"Hey Yumi, you're choking me."

"So you're our big brother, aren't you too skinny to be a big brother? Skinny brother, I like that."

Touya had seen Natsuo last year, and since then Natsuo had grown even bigger. Touya had begun to doubt that he was getting smaller and smaller. Natsuo went to Touya's next and hugged him and said to him he was really skinny, big brother.Then, he walked away from Touya and threw the ball at him with his foot. Touya was suddenly surprised as he tried to throw the ball he lost his balance and fell. Natsuo started to made fun of him over this incident. Touya also began laughing over the incident. Rei was watching these events happily from above.

Natsuo was curious about his brother's quirk, his mother told him he has a strong fire quirk. He wanted to see if they are strong enough as their father. He thought it would be better to show his quirk first and froze the ball. His sister suddenly yelled at him.

"Hey Natsu, that's not nice, you shouldn't freeze everything with your quirk. We can't change it to its former situation, thanks to you!"

Touya did not understand why he did these, may he had done it mistakenly. After all, Natsuo's quirk was just here for a few months. it was obvious that he was always freezing somethings from his words. Touya didn't want these moments to pass with controversy, he took the ball and let the fire blaze out on his hands. Fuyumi and Natsuo froze like a deer in the headlights, they both knew fire strength was strong but they would never think that the fire can be blue. The fire on Touya's hand was not strong enough but it was enough to melt some ice immediately. Both children reacted like "wow", it was fascinating to see the power of fire. Touya liked his siblings' reaction, they impressed to their big brother. All the kids stopped playing with the ball and started to freeze every corner of a freaking garden like Elsa from frozen. Touya kept returning everything back to normal without gave up and this game didn't stop until they got tired. He wasn't sure if he can have a good time with his siblings on future, Touya's wish never changed: his mother and his father be happy together, were spending time with his siblings all day... Shortly all his wish was a happy family but neither Touya nor Dabi wouldn't have this. That innocent, harmless, happy child's feelings just got destroyed and when he is eighteen, Dabi completely destroyed Touya. Touya was just a child that only saw on his dreams...

[pokenimagines]

:O ask box is open!!! Okay, so since you said aus are cool, do you think you could write thief!Reader who’s next target ended up being more than they bargained for? Mostly because they got distracted by how hot the mark ended up being and then found out they can also turn into a dragon at will. The dragon is Raihan

So I got two requests for a Shifter!Dragon!Raihan, and halfway through this one, I realized I had accidentally combined the two. So to the person wanting the injured raihan fic, it’s incorporated into this one! I hope you enjoy it because we all need a little bit to dragon love for this man.

Discord - Request Info

Dragon!Raihan x Reader: Injured Thieving

You were, for lack of better words, a thief. It ran in your blood, like your father before you, and his father before that, all had the same occupation. Which was stealing shit and making a run to the next town. It wasn’t the noblest thing to do, but in your defense, most of those people didn’t need five hundred gold bars just sitting in their house. They wouldn’t use it, and they sure as hell didn’t help anyone out with them. You were pretty sure they just kept it because they were shiny.

Still, despite being a thief, you did have standards. You didn’t steal from the poor, only take from the rich, share your spoils with those in need. Like a real-life robin hood…but not as kind because you definitely kept most of that shit to yourself.

You quickly did a check on your map, wondering if your next target was going to be worth it. You’d stolen from shifters in the past, but it was never easy. You had no idea what this person was capable of shifting into, but judging by the sheer size of the rooms and the size of the mansion…well, it was clear they were probably going to be big. You also noted you didn’t see any guards, …which meant they were pretty strong.

You calmed your nerves, reminding yourself that it was just a town rumor that this person was a shifter. Shifters were so damn rare, and townsfolk were fast to point fingers. Shifters were to be killed on the spot if possible, so poor people would usually accuse the rich of being them in hopes their wealth would be spread after death. Thankfully for this person, everyone lacked evidence, and therefore, authorities dismissed it as just the poor pointing fingers.

You slipped through one of the open windows of the mansion and peered into the darkroom. Your senses were pretty good after doing this your entire life, so you were satisfied when you didn’t hear anything going on. You slowly began creeping through the home, searching the rooms for any sign of riches. You knew he had to have something in here, as all rich people did, but the issues were finding out where it was.

As you passed by a room, you paused for a second, and your breath hitched. You could see the slight shimmer of something through the cracked door, but also the distance breathing of a living being. You took in a deep breath before backtracking and looking through the crack in the door. The shimmer of gold and some random gems scattered on the ground gave you the perfect sense that this was the vault.

It was unnerving that the door was a normal one, simply cracked open in the dead of the night with no guards in sight. You slowly opened it, thankful the door didn’t creak and took another look inside. You searched the corners to look for any traps that might be set off as you knew from experience that it was never this easy.

“You know, you’re not as sneaky as you think.” You covered your mouth to hide the scream as you could feel the warmth of a body behind you, and their breath on your neck. You quickly turned around, only to have the person pin you against the wall as he looked over you. You flushed at finally seeing who it was. You had seen a few drawings of him in town, but none of them did him justice.

This man currently had his hair down, covering the shaved sides of it slightly, while those tired looking aqua eyes bore into you. He was presently shirtless, only sporting some pants, and he looked exhausted with bags under his eyes. Despite that, he was still overly handsome, and your mouth went dry as you tried to figure out what to say. You were caught, that was for sure, and were probably going to be thrown into jail. You were never one to fight, and this man towered over you, and if his muscles were any indication, then it meant he could hold his own. He definitely wasn’t like any noble you had ever come across.

“I uh…I got lost?” You tried to squeak out, hoping that maybe your entire black attire, topped with a black cloak that hides your face and black back, wouldn’t be ant indicator. He actually laughed, his breath fanning over your face as you squirmed a bit to get away from him.

“Just like all the others got lost in here? People in this town really aren’t good with directions.” He said, despite his tired expression, he had enough energy to flash you a smirk, and one shocking fang made itself noticeable. Your eyes widened, knowing full well that the fang wasn’t normal. Some people had sharp canines, sure, but this was like looking into the mouth of a snake type of sharp.

“Yes…?” You muttered out before suddenly the man before you started falling to the side. You just stood there as his body crashed to the floor, and you slowly looked down. On his back was a large gash that was currently bleeding out, and it seemed like it finally got to him. He was definitely passed out on the ground now. You just stood there, in shock, thinking over your options. You could just grab the things and let this dude, probably shifter, die in his house. Still, the thought was…well, you weren’t a murderer. You stole, you didn’t kill people. Wouldn’t leaving a poor, injured man alone in his house be considered murder in some form?

You groaned while you bent over and poked his cheek. His face scrunched up a bit, but other than that, he didn’t respond. A whine came from your throat as you realized you’d be needing to do the right thing. You slowly began lifting the man up from under his arm and slinging it over your shoulder. His feet would be dragging behind, but that was the least of your worries.

Mentally, you thanked yourself for being strong enough to lift gold bars out of windows, or else you’d probably have left him due to the sheer weight. You quickly found one of the bedrooms you had discovered while looking around and laid the man down on his stomach. It took a solid half an hour of searching to find a medical kit of some kind, and when you came back, he seemed to be out cold still. You set a bucket of water down on the counter by the bed and lit a few candles before getting to work.

Stitches weren’t your specialty, but they were kind enough to make sure he wouldn’t completely bleed out. You weren’t a doctor and couldn’t do blood transfusions, so you hoped he didn’t lose too much blood. Once he was all wrapped up, you did a quick check to make sure that was the only area that had been injured. Once satisfied, you grabbed a chair and sat yourself down, staring at him.

You weren’t sure when the staring became sleeping, but the only thing that woke you up in the morning was a stream of light coming through the window, along with the groaning of pain from the man. You blinked a few times, not knowing what was going on before you noticed your ‘patient’ was now sitting up and staring at you.

His cheeks and shoulders were covered with these red scales with a small shimmer of teal bouncing off them. His eyes seemed to have a more slitted look to them while his hands now sported claws. You froze while looking at him, your suspicions of him being a shifter being correct.

“Did you patch me up?” Was the sudden question he asked, and you blinked a few times, wondering where you were before your eyes widened at his appearance.

“U…um Ya. You looked like…you could use some help…” You murmured, taking in his current appearance. This had been the first time you saw a reptilian type of shifter, as normally they’d shift into bears or wolves. Seeing the scales reflecting a teal color in the sunlight was almost captivating, if not for how he was looking at you.

“You’re kind of a dumb thief, you know that?” He commented, flashing you a smirk as you flushed. You realized you probably could’ve just patched the asshole up and made a run for it with some gold, but instead, you stayed the night. You didn’t know why (perhaps it was because he was hot and you didn’t want to leave until you knew the cutie was fine), but you stayed.

“You’re a dumb shifter…how did you even get injured? Also, why are you sitting up?” You said while standing up and walking over to him and gently touching his shoulder so he’d get the hint to move and show you his back. He rolled his eyes while turning a bit, and you noticed the witches were already coming out, but the injury looked like it was almost healed up.

“I heal a lot faster than humans; by tomorrow, it’ll be like it never happened.” He said as he went back to sitting. You still weren’t convinced, and he still hadn’t told you what exactly was going on.

“You didn’t answer my question as to how this happened to you.” You said, and he seemed to wince at the memory. He flashed you the toothy grin, though now he had more sharp teeth than before. You shivered at the sight, knowing he could probably tear into you if he wanted. Those were the teeth of a carnivore, and you knew a lot of shifters had no issues eating humans.

“Had some issues in a town nearby. It’s fine, it happens.” He explained, and you now looked curious while you sat at the edge of the bed. He shifted over a bit to make more room for you.

“So you were causing trouble? Were you shifted? What exactly do you turn into? A giant lizard?” You began teasing him almost, letting your childish side out. It wasn’t every day you got to speak with a shifter, so now was your opportunity to see what type of things they got into. Living a double life as both a human and creature seemed to be pretty exciting in your eyes.

“I was shifted, and I wasn’t trying to cause trouble.” He explained, and you made a motion with your hands for him to go on, “And if you can’t guess what I am, then, I’m not telling you.” He said, shooting you his own cocky glare, and you puffed out your cheeks.

“Fine, keep your secrets. I bet you're just some overgrown lizard, anyway.” You said, trailing off at the end before perking up, “Anyway, I should head out. Got more placed to steal from, since this was a bust.” You said, standing up. You suddenly felt a warm hand go over your wrist, though a bit rough form the scales over it.

“If you make me breakfast, I could give you a ruby as thanks.” He coaxed, and you actually laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“Excuse you, do I look like someone after an honest living? If anything, you owe me for stitching you back up. Even with your abnormal healing abilities, if you had bled out, there’d be little you could do about it.” You said, though, you didn’t make a move to remove his hand from your wrist. It was almost like a furnace, something you noticed last night. Even when he was bleeding out, he was still so warm. Like there was a fire always burning inside of him.

“Think of it as atonement for breaking in and trying to steal from me. I could’ve just reported you to authorities and had you thrown into a cell.” He reminded you, and you just shook your head at the thought. Saving a life definitely overshadows any witty thievery on your part.

“Well, I could’ve reported you as a shifter, but I didn’t.” You shot back, though he didn’t look like he was even remotely affected by this statement.

“Who do you think they’ll believe? A noble whose family has lived here for generations or the little rat who broke into his house to steal?” He made an excellent point. Suddenly, you heard your stomach growl a bit, and his eyes flickered with amusement while you snatched your wrist back.

“Fine, dragon boy, I’ll make some breakfast…but I want a ruby and gold bars as payment.” You huffed, spinning around to begin finding out where the hell the kitchen is.

“Congrats on guessing correctly.” He said, and you were only slightly shocked; your assumption was right, “Now come on, I’m expecting the best breakfast in the world for that price.” He got up, and you felt him slinging an arm over your shoulder. His sly smile was enough to let you know he wasn’t planning on letting you off the hook so quickly.

“Whatever…you never told me your name.” You said, and he sighed as he guided you through the halls.

“It’s Raihan.”