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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley

Title: Photoshoot Fantasies Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!

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“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.

Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.

Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.

After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.

“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.

George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.

Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.

“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”

Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.

To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,

Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.

I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.

I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.

Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N

“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”

Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”

As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”

“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”

Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.

Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.

“Merlin,” he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with. Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.

He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.

Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.

Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.

“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.

Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.

Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.

When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.

“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.

Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.

To my dearest Y/N,

I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.

Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.

Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti

Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.

I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.

Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.

Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”

George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”

“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.

Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.

“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.

Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.

“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.

Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”

Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.

Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.

“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.

Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”

Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”

Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.

“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”

“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.

Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”

Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.

Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.

“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”

Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.

“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.

“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”

Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.

By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.

“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”

Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.

Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”

Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”

Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.

Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.

“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.

Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”

Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.

“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.

“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”

Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.

“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”

Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.

“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.

Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”

Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.

Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.

“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.

Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.

“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.

Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.

“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”

Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.

Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.

With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.

Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”

Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.

“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”

Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”

Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”

“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley smut #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n #fw #golden

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lillupon · 3 years ago

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AEV Deleted scene(s) immediately following the events of chapter 21 + commentary

I fiddled with the idea of giving AEV minwon a long talk followed by a smutty ending, but I ultimately decided to scrap it. Their relationship is too complex to neatly tie up all the loose ends within a chapter, or even two. Attempting to do so would just needlessly drag out the fic; it’s really material for a sequel. Mingyu and Wonwoo have been apart for many years. During their separation, they’ve grown and changed as individuals, and they will need time to re-learn each other. There are many insecurities regarding age and experience to address, and they will have to reconcile who they were with who they have become. There’s a lot they need to unpack before they get back together and I don’t want to write that lmao (ah… the real reason appears… it’s too much work and I’m tired ;w; writing longfic is hard). Anyway, I think the end of chapter 21 was an appropriate place to close.

In the bonus below, they fall quickly in to bed together because I was being self-indulgent. But I’m not really sure if it makes sense for them to pick up right where they left off and bang in the car. At the same time, they’ve never been able to keep their hands off each other, so… I dunno! If you like the idea of them fucking, you can accept it as canon. If you like the idea of them taking their time, talking things through, that works too.

I will leave it up to your imagination <:

What happens next...

They kiss! Right there, in public, where anyone could walk by and see them. Because it doesn't matter now—they're both adults. Mingyu is no longer his student, hasn’t been for five years.

The kiss starts chaste at first: two people who have been separated for years, unsure of how they will fit together. Their mouths meet, Wonwoo's lower lip slotting between Mingyu's. For a brief moment, they part. And then they're kissing again, and each time, their kisses grow longer and deeper. Mingyu cups Wonwoo's neck in his palms, hands sliding back to tangle into short locks. A firm yet gentle grip tilts Wonwoo's head. Wonwoo moans, and it flips the switch on everything.

Mingyu's tongue delves into his mouth. His body awakens under Mingyu's touch, fire surging in his veins and arousal roiling between his legs. They're in public, but Wonwoo can't help himself: the first dribble of slick leaks free. He can tell the exact moment Mingyu catches scent of it. A growl rips through Mingyu's chest; Wonwoo can feel the vibrations of it.

They don't even make it as far as his apartment. Mingyu slides into the backseat of his car, Wonwoo slipping in after him. It's reminiscent of all those years they had sex in a Walmart parking lot. Except this time, Wonwoo is the one who initiates. He's the one who presses Mingyu against the angle of the seat and door. He makes himself at home between Mingyu's legs and kisses him with all the hunger and passion that he has tamped down for years.

Meanwhile, he's fumbling with Mingyu's belt. The heel of his palm bumps against Mingyu's straining erection. Finally, he works the belt free. Pops open the button. Yanks down the zipper. He jams his hand down the front of Mingyu's pants, both of them breaking the kiss to moan. The burning hot and solid heft of Mingyu's cock feels so good in his hands. It's even better in his mouth.

Wonwoo wastes no time closing his lips around the head of Mingyu's cock, moaning as the salty taste of precum bursts across his palate. He kisses and licks and slurps, drinking up the ambrosial liquid bubbling up at the slit. And then he swallows as much of Mingyu's cock as he can down his throat. Above him, Mingyu groans, hands flying to Wonwoo's hair and hips jerking. There's a thunk as his head falls back against the window. What Wonwoo can't fit into his mouth, he curls his fingers around. Sheathing his teeth, Wonwoo begins to bob his head up and down. Every time he rises, he swirls his tongue around the head of Mingyu's cock.

Mingyu is barely restrained energy beneath him: his stomach is taut as a drum. The muscles of his thighs flex and release and shake with tension. Mingyu plays with the short hairs at the nape of Wonwoo's neck, low murmurs of praise punctuated by groans when Wonwoo sucks and licks him just right.

Wonwoo is high with the knowledge that he is bringing his alpha this much pleasure. His head is blissfully empty of everything except for the sound of Mingyu's moans and the stretch of his mouth around Mingyu's cock.

"Fuck, I'm close," Mingyu grits out. Wonwoo responds by stuffing Mingyu's cock down his throat. Mingyu's hand on his hair tightens, keeping him in place. Tears spring to Wonwoo's eyes. Mingyu's shaft goes rigid on his tongue and then begins to pulse hot and thick spurts of come down his throat.

Wonwoo, moaning, swallows and swallows. There's so much of it. It spills out the corners of his mouth. Under his hands, Mingyu's hips spasm, and all of it is so hot that Wonwoo can't help himself. Without a single touch to his cock or hole, he begins to come, making a mess of his briefs. Wonwoo pulls off Mingyu's cock with a wet pop, cleans it up with laps of his tongue. Doesn't let a drop of come go to waste.

Mingyu groans. “God, how are you this fucking per—" He cuts himself off and hauls Wonwoo up by the collar and kisses him, hard.

They make it back to Wonwoo's apartment, the edge of their hunger slaked just enough to make the commute. Mingyu can't keep his hands off him. Kissing and mouthing at Wonwoo's neck and jawline and generally being very distracting, as Wonwoo fumbles for his keys. He's not in heat, but it sure as hell feels like it. At this point, his hole is so ready to be filled that it hurts. Slick drips down his inner thighs. Wonwoo wants to cry, he's so frustrated by his stupid door. Mingyu's making the task even harder by setting a proprietary on his ass, finger slipping between his asscheeks to rub at his clothed hole. Mingyu's grinding softly on him; Wonwoo can feel the hard ridge of Mingyu's erection on his hip.

Mingyu lays him down on bed and undresses him. Tugs down his trousers and finds out that Wonwoo has soiled his pants. "When did this happen, hm?"

Wonwoo, embarrassed, throws a forearm across his eyes. “While I was sucking you," he mumbles.

It isn’t long before Mingyu is pumping three fingers in and out of Wonwoo's ass. His other hand plays carelessly with Wonwoo's cock.

Mingyu still knows exactly how to touch him, how to make him squirm. His hips swivel of their own accord, bearing down on the fingers inside him.

Wonwoo is lying on his stomach, a pillow beneath his hips, when Mingyu slides into him. Wonwoo reaches behind him to grab Mingyu’s ass, forcing him closer, urging him to go deeper.

"So good," Wonwoo moans, voice thick with pleasure. He needs to know: "Is it good for you too?" The words are stuttered, punched out of him with each thrust.

Mingyu drapes himself over Wonwoo's back, planting a forearm by his head so he doesn't completely smother Wonwoo beneath his weight, but Wonwoo wants to be smothered. Mingyu drops a kiss on his shoulder. "Yeah," Mingyu breathes. "S'good for me too. You feel so good."

Their first fuck is hard and fast and exactly what Wonwoo needs. Mingyu ends up hauling Wonwoo up onto his hands and knees to better pound him. He digs his fingers into Wonwoo’s waist, pulling Wonwoo onto his cock every time he plunges inside.

It isn’t until their next round that they slow down. Mingyu lies atop him like a heavy blanket, his groans and ragged breathing hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He fucks Wonwoo with slow and deep rolls of the hips. Under him, Wonwoo has fallen apart into a moaning mess.

His whole world narrows down to the place where they are connected. He swears he can feel it, the pounding of Mingyu’s heart against his back, the way his own heart beats in resonance. He can’t believe how good it feels to have Mingyu inside him, around him. It’s overwhelming. Wonwoo’s eyes go hot with tears. He buries his face into the sheets below. The next moan that leaves him almost sounds like a sob.

Mingyu stops moving. Nuzzles against the nape of Wonwoo’s neck. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wonwoo nods. Doesn’t trust his voice.

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu tries again.

Wonwoo exhales shakily. “I’m okay. It’s just a lot. But in a good way.”

Mingyu hums an unconvinced noise.

“It’s good, I promise. Oh, god—please don’t stop…”

Afterwards, they lie curled on their sides, pressed chest-to-back. Mingyu’s knot is lodged inside him.

“I swear,” Mingyu says, nuzzling his neck, “I just wanted to talk to you, but you are irresistible.”

Everyone can smell it on Wonwoo when he goes to work the next day: an alpha's claim. No one mentions it because as teachers, they are nothing if not tactful. But Wonwoo catches the subtle flaring of their nostrils as they detect a new scent on him. Some of the nosier teachers even watch him as he limps down the hallways, wrecked by Mingyu's knot.

They get their honeymoon. Mingyu fucks him over every available surface in his apartment: in the shower, over kitchen counters, up against a wall, over the back of a couch. Mingyu even holds Wonwoo suspended in the air as he fucks him, Wonwoo's legs wrapped around his waist. The position has Mingyu's cock reaching deep, and the display of alpha strength has an orgasm shaking out of Wonwoo within minutes.

But as amazing as the sex is, what Wonwoo loves the most is the aftermath: Mingyu holding him and kissing him softly. Wiping him down with a washcloth and then carrying him to the bathroom. Mingyu prepares for them a post-sex meal. Even feeds him.

They spend a lazy Sunday afternoon together. Wonwoo's belly is pleasantly full from the lunch Mingyu had made: soy-glazed pork belly and stir-fried vegetables on rice.

They're lounging on the couch, Wonwoo curled up against the arm of the sofa with a book in hand. Mingyu has fallen into a food coma and is using Wonwoo's lap as a pillow. Mingyu isn't even doing anything—blissfully asleep—and he is still distracting. Wonwoo has read the same sentence in his novel twenty times.

With a sigh, he tucks a bookmark between the pages and lightly tosses the book onto the coffee table. He gazes at Mingyu, eyes following the straight slope of Mingyu's nose down to his lips. The years have been kind to Mingyu, turning him from a boyishly charming kid to a devastatingly handsome man. He is truly the alpha of Wonwoo's dreams, and Wonwoo thinks, with a thrill of excitement-fear-anticipation, that he might be able to fall in love with Mingyu, if he hasn't already.

#aev bonus

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

if it's genuinely ok to ask for more, akaza anon would really, really love to see a part 2 of the fic you wrote last time!! like, after he escorts the reader home and she has more time to admire him, maybe she could fawn over how pretty he is and end up downright desperate to please him in any way possible? .. my thirst is showing, lmao... but i feel like demons need more appreciation for their 'demonic' aspects like fangs/markings/etc-- things the average person would likely be put off by. ;v;

sexy basketball

‘the taste of marechi pt. 2′ / Akaza x Reader

warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood, you know the drill

words: 1,624

There’s something about playing with fire that pulls you in; the mere danger of it all is enticing, the idea of getting hurt too risky, but it’s worth it.

Clutching onto Akaza’s bare shoulders, you muffle your squeals in his shoulder as he jumps from roof to roof. Air whistles in your ears, carries the loose strands of your hair. You’re flying, for gods’ sakes, and yet you’re spending every moment with your eyes shut. Just then, Akaza comes to an abrupt stop, his whole body relaxing.

“We’re here,” he mutters. Dropping to the ground, dust clouds around his feet and he gently sets you down.

Opening your eyes, you realize that he’s right; you gawk up at your home, the lights already burned out. It seems like no one else is awake.

“This place smells like you, so I just…” Akaza trails off awkwardly. It’s kind of funny, especially after he was fucking you so roughly merely minutes ago.

“You should come inside,” you murmur. Reaching towards him, your fingers interlace with his. In the moonlight, you can clearly seeing the dark blue markings covering his entire body, how they travel down his muscular arms and leave his fingers entirely blue. “I promised I had more to show you, didn’t I?”

“You’re awfully giving,” Akaza grunts, but he lets you pull him towards your home.

With careful movements, you unlock the doors and slip inside, kicking your geta off as Akaza slowly closes the door behind you. The air is thick with tension as you sneak towards your room, taking extra caution as to not awaken your parents. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, the idea of getting caught heavy on your mind.

Even after you slide the shoji screen leading to your room closed, unease still lays on your shoulders. The fact that a man is in your room has your mind spinning; this is inappropriate in society’s eyes, but you’re way past that at this point. You’ve already let Akaza defile you, and in the most delicious way possible. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want more.

Already, Akaza’s stirring behind you, his chest meeting your back as he drapes his arms around you. His hand caresses your inner thigh through your yukata, tauntingly close to where the searing ache is starting to grow once more. His lips skim over the bitemark he’s left, his claim of possession.

“I want to see you,” you breathe, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. You’re still somewhat dizzy from the passionate encounter earlier, your bottom lip swollen from his ruthless attack.

“Eager now, aren’t you?” Akaza mutters. He nips at your neck, drawing out a sharp breath from you. “And at first you were terrified to see me.”

“Please, Akaza,” you urge. You manage to spin around his grasp, your hands landing on his pectorals. Pushing him backwards, you guide him to your bed; the back of his knees catch on the edge of the mattress and down he goes, a slight laugh slipping from his lips as you straddle him.

You kiss him slowly, taking the time to savor his taste, the heat of his mouth. Your bitten lip aches, begs for a chance to take some time and heal, but you ignore it. Akaza grows more and more handsy, his large palms squeezing on the plush mounds of your ass. He relishes in your quiet groan, his tongue easily finding passage into your mouth. His cock stirs underneath you, prods at your pubic bone; it’s with great reluctance you pull away, a string of saliva sticking from your lip as you detach yourself fully from the demon.

Akaza groans impatiently, though he gets comfy on your bed and chucks off his clothes. He watches on as you light the few lamps in your bedroom; your hands shake from anticipation, and it’s almost impossible to strike the match. Glancing back over to him, you nearly choke on your own spit. He’s sitting up against the headboard, pink lashes cast low over his eyes, his fingers wrapped around his cock. The image itself is so sinful, and it makes the slick gathering between your legs spill onto your thighs.

You were a fool before. Seeing him like this, in actual light instead of under the moon, he’s ethereal. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, your mouth hanging open in awe. Akaza merely looks at you in amusement, an eyebrow quirking itself on his forehead.

Dropping to your hands and knees on the bed, you crawl over to him. What once was scary, inhuman… it’s beautiful. You know he’s a demon, but he looks more like a god. His breath hitches as your hands run over his meaty thighs, run up his defined abs. The blue and gold of his eyes are precious gemstones, so deep and vibrant in color that you’re desperate to commit them to memory. You don’t want this to be the only night you spend with him, but an inkling the back of your head says otherwise.

Akaza stops all movements, his breath going completely still as you run your fingers over his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the swell of his bottom lip. What you really want to see, though, are his teeth.

“Open up,” you murmur.

As if falling under your spell, Akaza opens his mouth. You stare at the dazzling canines, the tips sharper than any blade out there. It was those teeth that bit into you, that tongue the beckoned your blood to spill. Pleasure makes your entire body thrum as you slowly poke at his sharp teeth. You jolt in surprise when Akaza’s lips abruptly close around your finger; keeping his eyes focused on yours, he suckles on your fingers, his tongue lathering over the digit. His teeth scrape against your knuckle, just barely breaking the surface. He moans throatily as the tiniest droplets of your delicious blood land on his tongue.

You can’t stop staring at him. You press your finger further into his mouth, push down on his tongue and urge him to bite you some more. Your other hand joins the one he has wrapped around his cock; he groans at the touch, his eyes fluttering enticingly.

“How are you so pretty?” you breathe. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you run them down his body, follow the lines of his dark blue markings. The colors of his skin, his hair, his eyes… You’ve never seen anything like it before.

“(y/n), fuck,” Akaza grits. He chokes on a moan as you gently squeeze his cock. “Take off your clothes…”

“Yes, my lord,” you say automatically. Akaza’s cock kicks in your hand at the title, a fat drop of precum swelling from the cockhead and slipping down the side.

He hisses as you pull away; you make hasty work of stripping down, your nipples standing to attention, the slick between your legs feeling cool against your heated skin. Akaza moans at the sight, his hands reaching out and eagerly grasping onto your breasts.

“Akaza,” you purr, “I want to pleasure you. My lord, please.”

The moan bubbling from Akaza’s chest is muffled as he stuffs his face between your breasts, his hands dropping down to your ass instead. He mouths at the swell of flesh, his tongue dragging a hot trail up your sternum.

“Bite me,” you plead. “Drink from me. Ruin me.”

“Shit, shit, shit – fuck!”

Yanking you closer, Akaza lifts your hips, snaps you down on his aching cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sudden intrusion, but by the gods does he feel wonderful. Sparks of pain and heat erupt in your chest; his teeth retract from the side of your breast, his hot tongue quickly replacing it as he sucks at the rich blood pouring from the wound. He continuously fondles your breasts, rolling and pinching at your hardened nipples with his fingers.

You take it upon yourself to fuck him. Setting a frenzied pace, your thighs burn with the movements, your velvety walls clenching around his cock with each smooth stroke. Akaza growls against your skin, his hands finding purchase on your ass once more as he helps guide you through the moves. Wet sounds echo throughout the room, along with the sound of skin hitting skin and heavy panting.

Fingers clenched around the strands of his hair, you cry out his name, your voice impossibly hoarse. You want to scream, let the whole world know who’s fucking you so damn good, but you can’t. Not if you want your parents to find out you’re sleeping with a man-eating beast.

“Delicious,” Akaza husks. “I wanna suck you until you’re dry.” He bounces you even quicker on his cock, his hips rocking up into you at the same time. You have no choice but to take it, allow yourself to become his plaything while he fucks you into oblivion. “How is your pussy still so tight?” he pants. “Let me fuck you all night.”

Without even realizing it, you nod frantically at his words. You wish he’d fuck you forever, drink your blood to the very last drop. Even as Akaza rapidly brings you to your orgasm, he bites at your chest over and over, leaving deep marks and drinking as much as he wishes. You cream around his cock, your hand slapping over your mouth as your orgasm rips through you; Akaza merely growls and flips you over, your back digging into the mattress as he sets on a conquest to make you cum all night long.

Because you’re delicious and you’re his, whether you like it or not.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny akaza #akaza #akaza x reader #request

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maria-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

loyalty’s all i got | part two

three years ago, you had it all: great friends, good grades, and an almost perfect relationship with your boyfriend, jj. it all came crashing down when your mom relocated your family to california for work and you were forced to trade the outer banks for malibu, leaving your broken heart behind in the place you were just starting to think of as home. now you're back in town for college and to pick up the pieces, hoping to make things right again with your friends and the boy you never stopped loving.

word count: 8.6k+

ship: jj maybank x female!reader, pogue friendship

warnings n stuff: angst angst angst all around (with a happy ending tho!!), the reader being a v. sad girl, mentions of anxiety/depression, failed long distance relationship, drifting apart, self-inflicted loneliness/isolation, the classic trope of 'they broke up but they're still in love with each other' that gives me feels, swearing (it's not my writing unless someone says 'fuck' at least once), reconciliation/mended relationships, traditional cheesy rom-com rain scene 'cause i'm a Dramatic Hoe™

a/n: and here's the second and final part of this looooong two-shot! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the finale even though i low key kind of hate it 🙃. fun fact: surfrider beach is a real place in malibu known for its great waves :) also i apologize for how long this took to post, i dropped my laptop and the screen broke so i had to wait for it to get fixed lmao. unbetaed as usual, any mistakes are my b.

~masterlist~

part two: like a ghost that no one knew

When you said goodbye to your friends three years ago, you should've known things would never be the same again. You were sixteen, still so young and naïve and full of an almost childlike hope that kept you from seeing the obvious: life wasn't fair. Sometimes, you could be holding all the right cards and still lose the game.

It should've been easy. You had a video chat schedule already figured out, promises of daily texts and Snapchats, a boyfriend willing -enthusiastically willing, in fact- to go long distance and make it work no matter what 'cause you both agreed that what you had was something worth fighting for. You and your friends had weathered many storms together, what was one more? It could've been easy but you underestimated just how cruel California would be.

You traded one coast for the other and watched the sun set over the Pacific alone when you would've given anything to watch it rise over the Atlantic with your friends. It hurt to surf solo but you did it anyway, even though it felt like a damn sucker punch each time you caught yourself scanning the sand for JJ and his proud smile when you successfully caught bigger and bigger waves at Surfrider Beach.

Long distance was hard. You had days where all you wanted to do was lay on your bed for hours, safely curled up in his arms as he ran his fingers through your hair but you had to settle for his voice over the phone and one of his shirts from your closet instead. You missed everything about him: his pretty eyes that looked like the clearest ocean, the cheeky grin he'd send your way after making a stupid joke that had you affectionately rolling your eyes in exasperation, that adorable flush that spread across his face without fail each and every time you said you loved him. You longed for his constant affection; the way he always wanted to keep you close somehow, his arm around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers entwined with yours; how he could never go a day without kissing you. Being apart was nothing short of torture.

"I fucking miss you." He said late one night during a rare FaceTime session -his phone was a piece of shit so he had to 'borrow' John B's whenever he could- and you smiled despite the knife twisting itself deeper and deeper into your heart as you played with the fraying sleeve of his old sweatshirt you wore.

"I fucking miss you more, J." You whispered back, giggling quietly when he scrunched up his nose in playful skepticism.

"Yeah, I don't think so, babe. There's no way."

"Yes, way!"

Although it hurt like hell, you imagined being tangled up with him in the hammock hanging in the Chateau's yard under the North Carolina sky -the light from the moon would turn his blond hair a pale silver as he grinned down at you and cupped your cheek in his hand, closing that final distance between you for a kiss that'd fuel the fire racing through your veins- and you let that fleeting happiness carry you through the night, long after you said goodbye. You fell asleep with your phone in your hand, unaware that your mother had been listening from the other side of your closed door.

You'd been distant from her and your dad in the months since the move, obviously going out of your way to avoid them both by spending all your spare time surfing at the beach, coming home well past sunset and heading straight to your room without a word. They'd taught you forgiveness wasn't something to be given willingly -it had to be earned- and since neither of them had done anything worthy to deserve an absolution, you simply pretended they didn't exist and let yourself stew in your justified anger.

Until the morning after your video date with JJ, they'd wisely given you your space so you were pretty blind sighted to find them both waiting for you at the dining room table, one of your dad's famous cinnamon rolls on a plate set in front of your usual chair. You paused in the middle of tying one of your boyfriend's worn bandanas in your hair before abruptly continuing toward the front door, acting like you didn't see the hopeful looks on their faces that made guilt slowly start to burrow its way into your chest.

"Y/N, wait," Your dad sprung from his seat and reached his hand out toward your elbow, his face falling when you instantly pulled back and crossed your arms. "Please, let's just talk for a second."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," You lied and tried for the door again, sighing in frustration when he blocked your path and ushered you toward the table where your mom was sitting, biting her thumbnail. The guilt burrowed deeper: you thought she kicked that habit years ago but there she was, chewing her nail to shreds and it was all because of you (the empty satisfaction you felt knowing you were the cause of her stress made you hate yourself just a little more.).

"Jellybean, don't worry about that. I'll drive you."

You bristled at the old nickname but sat in the chair your dad pulled out for you anyway. The smell of the cinnamon roll he pushed your way made your mouth water but you refused to eat and kept your eyes down as you played with the stack of bracelets adorning your wrist. "You wanted to talk?" You asked, deciding to just rip the band-aid off all at once 'cause knowing your mom when she was anxious and your dad being allergic to any type of confrontation, you'd have sat there all day until one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Talk, right." Bill said with a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he took a seat and swiped his own cinnamon roll from the pan in the middle of the table. "Uh, how are you?"

"Are you serious right now?" You asked incredulously, looking up from your lap with a raised eyebrow. "All this for 'how are you?'"

"How would we know?" Your mom finally spoke up as she pulled her ruined nail from her mouth, only to start instantly drumming her fingers on the table. "You're always holed up in your room or at the beach, Y/N. You never talk to us anymore."

You rolled your eyes before fixing her with a deadpan stare. "Hmm, I wonder why."

"Honey, you know I'm sorry-"

"Don't, okay? Just don't." You swallowed thickly and dumped the cinnamon roll back into the pan, blinking away the awful burning pressure building behind your eyes. "I can't listen to some half-assed apology that you don't mean!"

"Y/N, we are sorry. Everything's gonna get better, just give it time." Your dad's reply was muffled by a mouthful of pastry and any other time, you'd usually be laughing at his chipmunk cheeks but instead you just stared back down at your hands again, lip quivering as you tried and failed to hold yourself together. You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not-

"Please, honey." Your mom tentatively reached out one hand like she was approaching a wounded animal, her voice so soft you could barely hear it above the rush of blood in your ears. "It hurts us to see you like this-"

Oh, fuck this shit.

"You're hurt?! Are you kidding me?" Your chair scraped along the tile as you rocketed to your feet, vision blurring when the dam finally broke. "You promised we wouldn't move again until after I graduated and you broke that promise. I let myself make friends for once in my goddamn life -I fucking fell in love, Mom! I fell in love with the most amazing boy who, by some miracle loves me, too despite me being a...a complete loser!" You were rambling now but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about or stop the words flying from your mouth.

"God, I was happy -so, so disgustingly happy it kind of scared me, okay?" You laughed bitterly and roughly wiped the tears from your cheeks, only to have more immediately take their place. "And you didn't even stop to think before you took it all away from me! So don't even talk to me about being hurt 'cause you have no fucking idea!"

Your dad was frozen, eyes the same color as your own blown impossibly wide in the middle of another bite of cinnamon roll while your mom, two tears streaking perfect twin tracks down her cheeks, looked at you like you'd just told her the world was ending -to her, it just might've been but to you, it already had. Neither of them said another word as you snatched your backpack off the couch and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind you.

Halfway to the bus stop, you decided school just wasn't in the cards that day and doubled back, hiding behind the shed in your backyard until your tears had run dry and both of your parents left -Rebekah to the hospital, Bill to wherever he went while you were in class- before heading inside to change into your rash vest and grab your board. Despite it being early Friday morning, Surfrider Beach was full of life and you welcomed the hustle and bustle as you turned off your phone and buried it at the bottom of your bag, leaving your problems behind on the sand.

You spent the whole day at the beach, blissfully alone and free to do what you wanted, until the sun dipped low in the sky and you were too exhausted to even think about anything but dragging yourself home so you could pass the fuck out. You caught one final wave before heading back to shore, waving goodbye to the group of other kids you'd surfed with all day (the one thing you loved about California: everyone was so chill) and trudged through the sand toward your things where, just as you expected, your sister sat on your towel, clad in a baggy UCLA long-sleeve with her phone in hand.

"Bitch, you killed it out there!" She looked up as you dropped your board to the ground and sat down heavily beside her, slipping an old Kildare County High School sweatshirt -the first one you ever 'borrowed' from your boyfriend, much to his delight- over your head. "I mean, look at you go!"

You leaned closer to watch the video she took, the barest hint of a smile on your face when you watched yourself perform a near perfect cutback on the screen. "That's 'cause I had the best teacher."

Daisy tagged you and posted it to Instagram before you could protest, then tossed the phone back into her bag and turned to you with a forced cheerfulness that kind of made you want to smack her. "So..."

"Mom and Dad sent you to clean up their mess." You finished quietly, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as your sister sighed dramatically and offered a sympathetic wince.

"As always." She copied your position and you both stared out at the sun sinking over the water, its fading rays turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was typical of your parents to send Daisy after you when you were upset -after all, you'd both been each other's only friend for over half your lives- and normally, you'd be glad to see your sister's friendly face instead of your mom's or dad's. That evening, though? All you felt was...disappointment.

"Guess they really don't give a shit about me." You mumbled under your breath, half-hoping Daisy didn't hear you but from the way she snapped her head in your direction, you didn't get your wish.

"Y/N, that's not it. They're just..."

"Just what? Pretending that they didn't stab me in the back? Acting like everything's all hunky-dory and they actually cared about my feelings?"

You hastily wiped at your face when your sister silently looped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you against her side, her fingers running soothingly through the ends of your damp hair as you vented all of your frustrations -everything you'd kept locked deep inside your heart- until your voice was hoarse and the sun had long disappeared from the horizon and you had no tears left to cry.

"You have no idea what it's like, being so lonely it hurts to breathe. It hurts knowing Mom and Dad have each other and you have Daniel and I'm alone all the time." You lifted your head from her shoulder and rubbed your red eyes with your sleeve. "Worst part is, they just keep acting like I'll wake up one day and magically be okay and everything'll be all sunshine and rainbows again."

"First off, I wanna say that I'm sorry for not making more time for you. I knew you were struggling and I'm a terrible big sister for not being here for you like I should have," You squeezed Daisy's other hand in thanks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her voice soft and steady like the waves crashing against the shore. "Second, I definitely don't think Mom and Dad are handling this the way they should, but I think they're trying in the only way they know how. That should count for something, right?"

You sighed and tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. "I guess, but they haven't even tried to see where I'm coming from and they don't get that I'm not the only one they hurt. If I have to hear one more half-assed apology, I'm gonna lose my shit. Again."

"I'm not saying you have to forgive them right away 'cause I sure as hell wouldn't until they say they're sorry and mean it. But..." She said, pulling you to your feet and shaking the sand from the towel you were sitting on, "you shouldn't keep shutting them out, okay? It's not healthy."

You tucked your board under your arm as Daisy grabbed your bag and swung it onto her shoulder before you both started walking toward the parking lot. "What if I'm never ready to forgive them?"

"That's a question I don't have the answer to." She said with a shrug. "You've gotta figure that one out for yourself."

So you followed your sister's advice. You were civil and gradually, your relationship with your parents improved until you could stand to be in the same room as them and even carry on a short conversation, even though you knew you'd probably never be able to fully trust them again. You caught them exchanging glances you could only describe as wounded when you often turned down their invitations to go to the movies or get ice cream or other things you used to love doing when you were younger but for the most part, they took it in stride and you were grateful for their little efforts. Forgiveness wasn't in the cards quite yet but with each passing day, you felt the icy wall around your heart slowly start to melt away.

But every time you thought you were taking one step forward, life pushed you two steps back. Just when you were getting things back on track with your family, the train went flying off the rails when it came to your friends and it was all your fault.

It wasn't like you didn't try -God, did you try- to keep yourself from falling back into old habits but Malibu just had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in you. Your old self, the girl who kept to herself and pushed everyone away, someone you thought you buried in the deepest grave, slowly came back from the dead with a vengeance little by little, so subtly you didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

One missed phone call turned into two, texts went unanswered for days or not at all, FaceTime sessions happened less and less. The last video chat had been with Kiara and it ended terribly, after you blew up at her for mending her friendship with Sarah Cameron in the near two years since you'd been gone, spitting words you couldn't quite remember -something along the lines of 'didn't take you too long to replace me, huh' and calling the blonde girl a 'heinous bitch'- but knew you regretted with everything you had and hanging up before she had a chance to explain. You couldn't even recall the last time you talked to Pope or John B aside from the occasional Snapchat and your daily calls with JJ had turned to once a week, if you were lucky.

He was trying, you could tell, and so were you but the deck was stacked against you and you were never very good at cards, anyway. It hurt to try, it hurt not to try, everything just hurt. Nearly two years apart had done their damage and coupled with your debilitating fear of being forgotten that clawed at your chest like a rabid dog, your relationship was on unstable ground and for the first time in almost four years, you were thinking about the end. It wasn't like you didn't love him anymore (holy shit, were you still completely head over heels in love). In fact, you loved him so much you realized that he could do so, so much better than you and the thought rested heavy and bittersweet on your mind, lurking in the shadows until you were ready to bring it to light.

It happened on New Year's Eve. Alone in your room, your hands shook as you answered JJ's call at midnight, his voice tired and a little hoarse from celebrating the new year three hours earlier on the opposite coast and you nearly started crying right then and there when you replied with a shaky "I think we need to talk."

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and said quietly, "Everything."

"Talk to me." The pure concern in those three words nearly convinced you to call it off, to tell him to forget you said anything and that you were fine, everything was just fine but deep down, you knew you couldn't.

"I've been thinking about us and I...I just think that you deserve better than me. Someone who can actually be there for you when you need her and hold you when your dad's an asshole and see you every day. Someone who can laugh at your silly jokes and share a joint with you and clean you up when you get into fights defending your friends-"

"Babe, what are you talking about? That girl is you."

"Maybe I was but I'm not anymore and I don't think I have been since I left. I just can't be the girl you want, I can't be the girl you deserve, J -I'm a total fucking mess and you can do so, so much better than me."

"Y/N."

You didn't know you were crying until you heard the broken way he breathed your name and salt water dripped from your chin onto the bracelet around your wrist.

"...are you breaking up with me?" His voice was impossibly small, the quietest you'd ever heard it and the exact moment your battered heart shattered into pieces was when you realized he didn't even put up a fight.

"I think so." The words tore through you like a gunshot as you cried, curling into yourself on the bed in an effort to ward off the worst pain you'd ever felt in your life and you wondered if it was possible to die from a wound that wasn't even physical.

He was quiet for a long time, so long you thought he hung up without you noticing through your tears, until he sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Guess we had a pretty good run, huh?" He asked with a watery chuckle and you found yourself giving a tiny, shuddering giggle in response -God, even when you were breaking his heart he still managed to make you laugh.

"The best, baby." The pet name slipped out like second nature and you winced, hastily trying to cover your mistake with an awkward cough but from the sharp breath you heard him take, he'd heard it anyway.

("I'm sorry," you said, and it stood as an apology for more than just your slip-up.)

"I love you, Y/N. Probably always will."

"I'll never stop loving you, JJ. That's a promise."

You let yourself believe him as you laid there bleeding from a gash you couldn't see, a wound you knew would never heal, and you hoped he let himself believe you, too, even when you ended the call without another word and threw your phone away from you, not bothering to see where it landed. The sound of your heavy, broken sobs filled the room and you didn't even mind when your mom, who you knew had been listening from the other side of your closed door like always, barged in and took you into her arms, stroking your hair as you cried into her lap.

If you were supposed to avoid getting hurt by leaving first, why did it feel like everything in you was broken? If you were making the right choice, why did it feel so wrong? You didn't have the answers and no matter how hard you searched, you knew you'd ever find them.

So you tried to stay busy. You joined the surf club at school, got a part-time job at the local aquarium, did anything you could to distract yourself from the hurt and the guilt and the way getting out of bed every morning was the hardest thing to do. Surf club introduced you to Mackenzie, the one girl who was more ostracized at school -an even richer version of the kook academy you hated -than you, her for being freakishly tall and you for your East Coast attitude, and the two of you became fast, if reluctant friends. Mack didn't try to stitch the gaping hole in your heart caused by your absent friends but she numbed the pain just enough to make it bearable and you were grateful for her calm, steady presence at your side, even as you both tried to keep each other at arm's length.

Later, you found out she was just like you, friendless and awkward with no self-esteem and a tendency to push people away, and that just cemented your friendship through the summer and your final year of high school.

Mack told you all about her life, growing up with no siblings, having height that she never learned to deal with, and a debilitating social anxiety that made making friends near impossible, and in turn you told her about how you hopped from town to town on your mother's whims, the wonderful friends you let slip away, and the beautiful boyfriend you loved enough to let go, and you both cried together for the lives you could've led.

"You two looked so happy," She said during the first sleepover you hosted as she held one of the many picture frames littering your dresser, her lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You gently took the frame from her hands and ran your fingers over the grinning face of your ex-boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your painted lips planted a deep red kiss on his cheek, and the wave of longing washing over you was almost strong enough to bring you to your knees. "It was the happiest I've ever been."

"Do you miss him?"

"So much it hurts."

i miss you.

i'm so sorry.

i still love you.

You'd typed and erased those texts every day but never mustered the courage to hit send and you couldn't decide if that was a blessing in disguise or the worst possible curse. Of course you still loved JJ: you promised you would and even if you didn't, you couldn't stop if you tried. He was your first love, the boy you so willingly gave your whole heart and then some; you still kept his ring on your thumb -the one he gave you at the airport the day you left- and his bracelet around your wrist, his bandanas in your hair and his face in your dreams and you knew you always would.

Before you could blink, your eighteenth birthday flew by and graduation was upon you.

You thought the second you were done with high school you'd be gone, heading straight back to the Outer Banks and the life you left behind but you found yourself stalling on sending in an application to UNC -Chapel Hill until you missed the deadline for the fall semester. On the outside, you made up a semi-legit excuse about getting your basic courses done at a community college to save money but deep down you really knew why you procrastinated: you were terrified to go back. Ever since your break up with JJ, you hadn't spoken to him or any of your old friends other than the obligatory birthday wishes on Facebook and you wondered if the damage you'd done over the years was too much to come back from, even as you tried to work up the courage to find out for sure.

Another year passed: in between earning college credits, you and Daisy took a sister's trip to Disneyland, Mack asked you to tag along on a jaunt up the coast to San Francisco to see Alcatraz, your parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary (your gift was long-overdue forgiveness and they said it was the greatest thing you possibly could've given them). When the time came, you and Mack both sent out your applications to UNC -you for biology, her for chemistry- and the myriad of emotions you felt when you got in was nothing short of dizzying. The old you was terrified, screaming at you to rip up the letter and join your sister at UCLA instead of opening old wounds but the hopeful you, the girl who lived without fear, the girl who fell in love and let herself be loved, screamed louder.

And so you killed the old you once again, burying her even deeper than the last time in a locked chest and throwing the key as far as you could out into the Pacific where you knew you'd never find it. You clutched your acceptance letter close to your chest and took a step east, away from California and toward the place where your broken heart still rested, scattered in pieces across the sand.

Settling in at UNC was surprisingly easy. You and Mack already clicked pretty well as friends so making the transition to roommates was natural and, dare you say it, even a little fun and the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable routine in your tiny apartment off campus in Chapel Hill. Comfortable and yet...that happiness you once felt all those years ago was missing from your life and you found yourself just as restless as you were in Malibu. While you knew exactly what you needed to do, that fear kept rearing its ugly head in the back of your mind, poisoning your thoughts: what if they wouldn't be happy to see you, what if they forgot about you, what if they hated you? What if he hated you?

It was terrifying, picturing yourself turning up at the Chateau with a hopeful smile only to have the door slammed right in your face. Deep down, you knew they'd never do that to you no matter how badly you'd hurt them but when you'd spent your whole life expecting the worst, taking a leap of faith wasn't an easy feat -something Mack just couldn't wrap her head around.

"I don't get it."

You glanced up from where you were lounging on your bed, flipping through your biology notes in preparation for your lab exam the next morning and shot your roommate a confused look. "Get what?”

Mack sat at your desk, her own notebooks lying ignored as she spun the chair around to face you, arms crossed. "Why you haven't hopped on that ferry to go get your man yet!"

You froze for a moment too long before offering a half-hearted shrug as you fiddled with the beads at the end of your bracelet. "It's not that easy. He probably wants nothing to do with me and I don't blame him."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to JJ in over a year, right?" At your tight nod, she continued, "What if he's just like you-"

"Depressed?"

Mack fixed you with a flat, unamused look. "Still in love, dumbass."

You scoffed and propped your chin in your hand as you glanced back down at your study guide, trying not to latch onto that little thought -hope and pain all rolled into one- that sparked to life at her words. He'd said he would probably always love you that New Year's Eve and back then you'd let yourself believe him but now, you weren't so sure. "Yeah, right. No way he's still...still in love with me after I broke his heart."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Your roommate said with a shrug, spinning around on the chair to grab her things. "You'll never know if you don't get over there, track his fine ass down, and talk to him."

You stared down at your notes without actually seeing anything, the slanted letters of your handwriting blurring before your eyes as the other girl flipped her chemistry book closed and stood, shooting you an warm smile that you didn't see.

"Listen, Y/N, you're my best friend and I want to see you happy more than anything but I can't take that jump for you. Yeah, it's scary and nerve wracking and you might end up hurt worse than before, so what? That's just...life."

Mack left after that, crossing the apartment to her room so she could get ready for a date with a girl from her psych class, leaving you alone with tears on your face and a million thoughts in your head, all of them terrifying and exciting and oh so loud.

She was right, of course -Mack always knew the right thing to say- and as you stared down at the bracelets on your wrists and the ring on your thumb, the pictures on your phone and the too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder, you realized sitting around moping wasn't gonna solve anything; if you wanted your happiness, your friends, the love of your life back, you needed to step up and fight for them with everything you had. And so you wiped the tears from your cheeks and walked to the cliff's edge with your head held high, ready for the fall and whatever came with it. You were ready to fix your mistakes, no matter how badly it might hurt.

Still, you couldn't do it all on your own. You needed some help to make things right again and while you knew just who to ask, you weren't quite sure if they'd be willing to lend a hand. Desperate times called for desperate measures though and you penned a good old-fashioned letter, feeling like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel as you poured all your thoughts -your dreams, wishes, hopes- onto a piece of paper in bold blue ink and sent it off to its destination on Figure 8, your Hail Mary for a happy ending sealed up neatly in a single envelope.

Mack, bless her heart, did her best to keep your spirits up as you waited on a response but even her ever reassuring presence couldn't keep you from worrying as one week passed by, then two. Halfway through the third you'd almost given up, already wracking your brain for another way to make your plan work when your phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.

i'll help you

And just like that, the moment you'd been waiting for was finally within your reach; you told your parents not to expect you for Thanksgiving break, called your sister for a much needed pep talk, and started counting down the days until you'd see your friends again, for better or worse.

When you left the Outer Banks three years ago, it was sunny. You were sixteen, young and in love and scared about the future.

When you returned, it was in the middle of a storm. You were nineteen, a little bit older but no less in love and definitely still scared about what was waiting for you at the end of the road.

Rain pounded against the roof of Sarah Cameron's SUV as she drove away from the docks and toward the Chateau, her fingers tapping along to the music playing quietly through the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked to the bone from your ferry ride from the mainland and shaking like a leaf despite the towel wrapped around your shoulders and the warm air flowing from the car's vents.

"Thanks for coming to get me," You said, wincing at the awkward lilt of your voice echoing in the small space as you spun JJ's ring around your thumb and stared out the windshield at the familiar sights streaking by in blurred shades of green and brown. Being back opened a Pandora's box of emotions in your head, both good and bad, and instead of trying to sort them out, you let them bounce around in your brain like a pinball machine and concentrated on methodically twirling the warm metal ring in circles on your finger.

Sarah briefly glanced away from the road to shoot you a small smile, her kind eyes softening at your visible nervousness. "Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure you hated me so when I got your letter it kinda...threw me for a loop. Sorry it took me so long to reply."

You wished the heated leather seat would swallow you whole as you winced again and wrapped the towel tighter around your shoulders. "For the longest time, I thought I did hate you but I realized I was just...scared of losing my friends and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve to be labeled the villain in my story when I was the one, um, sabotaging myself, I guess." You took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread tickling your arm. "And I'm really, really grateful for your help."

It was more than you wanted to admit out loud -nearly the same words were written in the letter peeking out from the center console of the car- but at the same time, you knew it was what needed to be said and from the way the blonde girl's fingers stopped tapping against the steering wheel, she knew she needed to hear it. At a red light, she quickly tapped out a text on her phone before tossing in back into her bag with another tiny grin in your direction.

"Happy to help. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you were being replaced, I never intended to hurt you or steal your friends or...or, I don't know, usurp-"

"Sarah, stop. Please," You held up a hand to cut off her apology and offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the one who's sorry. I let my...jealousy get the best of me and I feel so bad about all the shit I said 'cause that wasn't fair to you at all and I hope you can forgive me-"

"Y/N, there's nothing to forgive! We all say stupid shit when we're mad -trust me, I know." She interrupted with a bubbly, contagious giggle that seemed to scare away the gloomy storm clouds gathered over your head for a moment in time. "But I was never pissed at you, ever. I just want you to know that."

Stunned, you settled deeper into the seat and started playing with your ring again as she kept driving on, unbothered by your lack of response. You felt like you were thirteen again, back when Sarah and Kiara were your only friends, before the birthday disaster and the whole pogue versus kook feud that got completely out of hand; it felt...nice and you found yourself hoping that the blonde girl would still want to be your friend again, no matter what the others thought about your sudden return.

"Thank you."

Sarah gave no indication she heard your quiet confession of gratitude but from the way you watched her smile grow out of the corner of your eye, you knew she did. The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence as you retreated into your own thoughts, your nerves getting worse and worse the closer you got to your destination.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose, feeling like your heart was trying to beat its way through your rib cage. You hadn't been this anxious in a long, long time, so long you almost forgot how much you hated the tightness in your chest, how your palms would start to sweat, the way you'd chew the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood on your tongue. By the time Sarah pulled into an open spot beside the achingly familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the Chateau, you were surprised you were still able to breathe.

The sight of the tiny house, one you spent so many carefree days and beautiful nights in alongside your friends, standing virtually unchanged in front of you was like a shot to the heart and your hands, curled into fists on your lap, began to shake without warning. Shit, you were a godforsaken mess; how the hell were you supposed to do this without having a mental breakdown?

"I'm so scared."

The whispered words, barely audible over the torrential rain against the roof, slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Sarah slowly reached one hand over to give your trembling wrist a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a slight smile.

"Don't be. They're gonna be so happy to see you!"

You turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "How are you so sure they still care about me?"

"I'm sure 'cause I've seen it. My God, if only you could've heard all the times they talked about you -'I wish Y/N was here,' 'remember that time with Y/N,' hell, just straight 'I miss Y/N so fucking much,'" She said bluntly and shifted in the driver's seat to face you head on, smiling wider at the thunderstruck look on your face. "Pretty sure I haven't gone a week without JJ saying that last one at least once."

"I thought..." You paused, tongue darting out to run over your dry lips as you tried to put your jumbled feelings into words, "I thought he'd hate me -I mean, after all I've done, you think he still..."

"Loves you? Are you kidding?" Her reply was so enthusiastic it was hard not to believe her as she went on, her words like sunshine brightening the darkest corners of your mind. "He's still head over heels, I've never seen him even look at another girl in three damn years. You know he still wears your necklace, the one with the silver star? Kie told me all about it."

"I-I didn't." You remembered giving it to him the day you left, managing a shaky smile through your tears as you carefully clasped it around his neck, your fingers running over his skin as you settled the charm perfectly alongside that little shark tooth you'd grown to love.

('Be careful with this, baby. It's my favorite.' You had said, crying harder when he'd taken off one of his rings and slipped it onto your thumb.

'Well, this one's my favorite so take good care of it, okay?' His voice had been light but his eyes were heavy with unspoken words that you'd heard loud and clear because you knew your gaze said the exact same things.

don't let me go

don't break my heart

don't stop loving me)

You coughed to disguise the fat tears that started rolling down your face, quickly wiping them away with your sleeve but the blonde girl wasn't fooled as she gave your hand another friendly squeeze.

"Come on, they're probably wondering what's taking me so long," She sent a conspiratorial wink your way and grabbed her bag from the center console. "I told them I was picking up some pizzas but I have a funny feeling they won't be too pissed that I lied."

With a desperate grip on the strap of your backpack and your heart racing, you trailed behind Sarah through the rain to the front porch.

"Ready?" She glanced back where you lingered at the top of the stairs, anxiously shuffling from foot to foot, and shot you a smile that did little to calm your nerves. "Just wait here!"

She knocked on the door before you could reply and yelled loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain, "Hey, it's me! Can somebody get the door? My hands are kinda full."

"Got it!"

Your bag slipped from your fingers and fell onto the porch with a loud thump at the sound of the voice floating through the open windows, a voice you heard nearly every night as you slept, in your dreams of a future you wanted with everything you had. You knew it better than your knew your own, knew every pitch and tone and lilt; quiet and raspy in the mornings when you woke up in each other's arms, loud and carefree during long days spent under the golden sun with the rest of your friends, soft and warm and laid bare at night when he showed how much he loved you with more than just words.

Sarah gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping to the side just as the door opened and you suddenly found yourself struggling to breathe as you stared into the wide blue eyes of your ex-boyfriend. JJ stared right back, one of the hands you used to hold clenched so tight around the doorknob his knuckles were white, the lips you used to kiss parted in surprise, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through falling onto his forehead like always and the familiar, beautiful sight of him standing close enough to touch made your knees weak.

"You're not pizza."

It was such a JJ thing to say and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry as you swallowed thickly and shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Hope flared white hot in your chest at his words but it quickly started to fade, replaced by fear when he made no move toward you, his fingers still gripping tight to the door, and you felt your face start to heat in embarrassment as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match.

God, you were so stupid. What did you expect would happen, showing up out of the blue after over a year of no contact? Everything would fall into place again with just one long, heavy look? Believing it could be that easy turned you into a complete and total fool, tongue-tied and insecure and weak.

"Yo, what's the hold up?" John B's voice asked from inside the house and Sarah leaned down to call through the open window, "Come out here and find out!"

A wave of dizziness hit you like a truck and you took a sudden step back toward the stairs, arms wrapping around your stomach as it twisted itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." You didn't notice the stricken look that crossed JJ's face or the three familiar, stunned expressions that appeared behind him in the darkened doorway before turning away and stumbling off the porch toward the road, leaving your bag behind and you definitely didn't notice how you barely made it off the bottom stair before a set of footsteps hastily gave chase.

"It wasn't a mistake, Y/N!" JJ's desperate voice stopped you in your tracks, halfway across the yard with more than just rain running down your face. "Not to me, never to me."

His soft touch on your wrist sent shockwaves through your body and you instantly became putty in his hands, letting him turn you around without a fight to face him, watching in fascination as the downpour started to darken his gray shirt and flatten his hair against his forehead. Three years hadn't changed much about him -he was a little taller, hair a little longer, the muscles in his arms a little more defined- and when you met his wide-eyed gaze, beads of rain dripping from his long eyelashes like diamonds, you wondered if he was thinking about the differences time created between the younger you of the past and the you of the right now, too.

"Oh." You repeated dumbly, struggling for something, anything to say that didn't make you sound like an illiterate fool. Even at nineteen, words still weren't your strong suit so you let your actions speak for you as your hand reached out on its own accord to caress the silver star still clasped around his neck, the thumb still wearing his ring brushing slowly against the dip between his collarbones; he shivered, and you weren't really sure if it was from your touch or the cold.

"Y/N." JJ said your name like a prayer, like he couldn't believe you were there in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when both of his hands slowly, carefully moved to cup your face, his calloused thumbs habitually wiping the tears from your cheeks over and over, even as more instantly replaced the ones he swept away. "I fucking missed you."

You stood there, looking like a damned drowned rat with your hair dripping into your eyes, shivering in your soaked jeans and Kildare County High School sweatshirt, the love of your life cradling your face so gently in his hands, and so many things you wanted to say flooding your brain but only the one that mattered the most managed to get by your trembling lips.

"I'm still in love with you."

You noticed a lot when you put your heart on the line: the steady, soothing sound of water falling through the trees, the bright, clean taste of rain on your tongue, how the sun was just barely starting to peek out from behind the stormy clouds, but they all paled in comparison to the little things you noticed about the boy in front of you; blue irises made even brighter by the red rimming his eyes, how he stepped closer on the wet grass until the tips of his scuffed boots touched your worn gray high tops, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly against your flushed face.

"Well, it's your lucky day 'cause I'm still in love with you, too."

All of the breath left your lungs in one big rush when JJ smiled hopefully -oh, how you loved everything about that smile: his slightly crooked teeth, that dimple in his cheek, the endearing pink blush swept across his nose- and you felt yourself return it without a second thought, your own hope once again burning bright in your chest.

"Even after...everything?" Your voice shook like the fingers you slid into the hair at his nape and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, close enough you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

"I told you I'd always love you, didn't I?"

You nodded, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he tilted his head just so and gently bumped your nose with his. You remembered all the times he did that through the years, a dizzying slideshow of memories that flashed through your mind like lightning, and your fingers wove themselves deeper in his hair.

"I have so many things to apologize for," You said with a tiny, quiet shake of your head, tearing your eyes away from his in shame and staring over his shoulder toward where the rest of your friends watched from the porch, all crowded together at the top of the stairs with identical enthralled expressions on their faces. "There are so many mistakes I've made and people I've hurt and I have no idea how to even start saying sorry for it all."

"Babe."

The sound of your old pet name caused your gaze to snap right back to his and your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest when one of his hands trailed down the sensitive skin of your neck and then lower until it traced along the curve of your hip and left a line of fire in its wake.

"We'll figure that out later, okay?" JJ said as his fingers tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind your ear, a coy, ardent grin on his face. "'Cause I've been waiting three years to kiss you again and if I don't get to do it soon, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind."

You smiled -a wide, joyful, elated smile- and rose up on your tiptoes in anticipation. "Then kiss me."

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips pressed against yours desperately, like he needed you to breathe, like you were the very air in his lungs, religiously, like your mouth was the altar and he was there to worship as he pulled you close, the fingers of one hand tangling in your hair while the others dug into your hip. You kissed him back just as hard and the familiar taste of him on your tongue -mint, smoke, salt- sent that dearly missed spark racing through your veins like wildfire.

It was a little cliché, having your long-awaited reunion kiss in the rain but it was honest and candid and real and so much better than anything you could've dreamed. You lost yourself in his touch like you used to, clinging to him like a lifeline and pouring your whole heart into every fierce brush of your lips against his, both of you pulling away for a moment only to dive right back in each time. It was addictive, intoxicating, and you could've spent the rest of your life standing there in the middle of the yard and kissing like there was no tomorrow if a loud, ear-piercing wolf whistle hadn't come from the direction of the porch.

The two of you broke apart just barely, with foreheads still pressed together and swollen lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling when JJ blindly flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling you back in for another eager kiss that filled your whole body with an exhilarating, heavenly heat that never faded, even after four enthusiastic voices suddenly surrounded you like an excited swarm of nosy, buzzing bees.

"You aren't the only one who missed her, J." Kiara said, smiling widely as you reached out to grab her hand and pull her into a powerful one-armed hug, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, stop hogging all the love!" John B added, throwing himself into the pile along with Pope, who slung an arm around your shoulders as he said, "Great to have you back, Y/N."

Sarah was the last to join and she quietly tucked herself under John B's arm with a pleased grin on her face, nodding when you mouthed 'thank you' in her direction. The six of you stood there in the rain, smiling like fools, and as the sun started to scare away the dark clouds overhead and in your heart, a weight you didn't even realize had been crushing your chest slowly began to lift away with each freeing breath.

You still had a lot of work to do: wrongs to be righted, apologies to be made, explanations -not excuses- to be given for every shitty thing you did in your past. But as happy tears started streaming down your face once again and you felt the arms of the friends you’d thought were lost to you forever tighten around you at the sight, you knew in your bones all would be forgiven. You knew that after three long years, you'd finally come home.

let me know what you think! i read each and every one of your comments and cry because they mean so much to me! ❤

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @bibliophilewednesday @k-n-e @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @heypearce @sexualparkour (send me an ask if you’d like to be added or removed!)

#outer banks #obx fic #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #obx imagine #obx netflix #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x you #kiara carrera #john b #john b routledge #pope heyward #sarah cameron

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blahkugo · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats for the 1k!! Wdyt ab hawks in an underground scenario?

thanks anon baby!! i love writing for hawks in general and this au was soooooo much fun to explore!! ♡ i honestly went a little crazy with it & added too much rumi in there lmao

-ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TAKAMI KEIGO / HAWKS」

— underground! au (feat. rumi)

— warnings: 18+, smut, drugs / alcohol mention, kind of scumbag hawks

⤏ keigo’s very devious, in the sense that he can be both the star of everyone’s show and a sneaky bastard. he’s a double agent in the truest definition of the word, and it’s no different in an underground au

⤏ ‘heaven’ is the place to get into; no, no, not god’s pearly white gates, but rather the giant underground nightclub teeming with bar hoppers and thrill seekers on a saturday night.

⤏ the highly illegal establishment is run by none other than keigo takami himself, the eccentric club owner that people only know by name

⤏ no one’s ever actually seen keigo at his own club, nobody even knows what he looks like

⤏ so, rumors fly amongst the regular patrons; some say he’s a cartel boss, others a crooked cop

⤏ a choice few believe that he’s the devil himself. and in his jealousy of god’s perfect eden, he crafted his own slice of heaven, where restraint and inhibition are words with absolutely no meaning

⤏ the reality isn’t far off, if we’re being honest

⤏ ‘heaven’ is keigo’s personal playground, a place where he can be anybody he wants to

⤏ typically, that anybody is pulling pretty little whores into the giant vip room, and pumping them chock full of his favorite pills: angel dust

⤏ when his own high kicks in, the fun begins. and at that point, even keigo thinks he may be the devil incarnate

“Tsk, tsk,” Keigo wags a slender finger in front of your face, snatching the pretty little capsule from your hand.

Quick, pounding percussion still pulses at your ears, though the VIP room is much quieter than the club floor— cooler as well. Without the mass of compressed, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding, you feel a bit over exposed in your two piece set. For a second, you have the urge to cover your midriff, but the angel in front of you sweeps your attention yet again.

“How do good girls ask for pills?” He’s teasing you, has been since the moment he approached you spouting some nonsense about being the club owner. While you were initially adamant in your disbelief, only agreeing to follow him for his tempting promise of ‘proper drugs,’ the extravagance of the VIP room sways your opinion now.

Also, the man swims in luxury, seems to be bathed in an ethereal glow that screams money from the tips of his perfectly tousled hair down to the Givenchy trainers on his feet. The richest men always dress in subtleties; you just have to know where to look.��

Your assumptions were confirmed when he ordered top shelf booze. They were absolutely set in stone when Rumi, the Playboy Bunny turned supermodel, settled into the booth next to him and plopped a kiss on his cheek.

“The sick bastard will really only give it to you if you say pretty please,” the gorgeous woman chuckles, looking every bit as intimidating as she does on the runways. “Like this,” she clasps her hands together— fingernails sporting a fierce, red manicure— and turns towards the smug blonde. “Please Keigo, a pill.”

It’s unclear whether her tone is sincere, sickly sweet words dripping with mockery and faux praise. Either way, you refuse to be the butt of their jokes. Begging for drugs? Over your dead body.

Keigo must feel your hesitation, must sense the subtle shift in your body language, because his eyebrows narrow for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining their place far atop his forehead— practiced nonchalance, seemingly perfected over years.

He hands the pill to Rumi, and then another, pushing his slender fingers into hers without breaking your mutual gaze.

“Oops,” he feigns apology, “looks like I gave two pills to Rumi.” He slants a quick look at the platinum blonde. “You can just take one from her, sweetheart.”

When you break your glare to peek at the beautiful woman next to him, she’s giggling. The sound is practically silent, a twinkly little thing that barely reaches your ears and doesn’t rumble through her entirety like laughter truly should.

“Silly me,” she smirks, piercing eyes scanning over you now, “I didn’t realize.” Though you’re sure the night can’t get any stranger, she lets her tongue loll from between supple lips, painted bright red to match her nails. Low and behold, there are two pills, both dangling enticingly on her curved tongue.

“Aw,” Keigo coos, pout brimming with ridicule. Though you attempt to speak up, entirely fed up with this humiliating charade, he doesn’t miss a beat. “She can still have one though, can’t she Rumi?”

She simply nods, swaying her tongue once more before curling it back into her mouth. He can’t mean— no, he wouldn’t. But the pair simply stares at you, famishment gleaming in their eyes like a pair of ravenous wolves.

He wants you to kiss her.

Every one of your nerves stands on end, willing you with a passion to reject his slimy offer. You’re not a Barbie doll for him to play with, to dress and undress and buy off with a bright pink mansion to boot.

But then again, the pros do vastly outweigh the cons. When’s the next time you’re going to have the chance to kiss a supermodel? And with someone as beautiful as Keigo watching? You take a deep breath, standing up and bracing your arms against the table to lean over.

And then, you are kissing her.

Rumi’s lips taste like whiskey sour and a spice that you can’t quite place. She’s quick to take control, cupping your jaw with slender fingers and nipping at your lip. There’s a slight twinge of pain before each swipe of her tongue across your lip, and it’s a miracle that she keeps the pills nestled under her tongue; she kisses you with such passion, such dizzying ferocity, that you feel your head spin. It’s definitely not the alcohol.

When her lips bite again, more aggressive this time, you part your own in a low, teasing groan. She swings a knee over the table— pushes closer, pulls you further into her. You’re losing your breath, unable to keep up, but she simply continues her onslaught, as though you’ve stolen her last breath and she’s aching to get it back.

Only when her tongue slinks across the back of your teeth and makes its home between them, does she offer up the pill from under the wet muscle.

With a parting smile against your mouth, she pulls away.

“Hope you like that pill as much as you did the kiss,” she speaks, lips, puffy but still perfectly painted, inches from your own. She stays put, watching the strand of drool still connecting the two of you.

You wish you could say something, anything, to the goddess of a woman, but you’re left in a haze. If it isn’t for the subtle tap against your throat, you’d forget to swallow the pill you worked so diligently for. As she finally recedes, you make a mental note for later: world-renowned supermodel Rumi smells like cinnamon.

“Bunny got your tongue?” Keigo chuckles, now standing next to your side of the booth, and slithering a lithe hand across your lower back. You’d almost forgotten the smug bastard was there, but one glance his way and you remember where you are: a public space.

Sure, the VIP lounge is practically empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but those people are presumably A-listers. And they just watched you make out with a woman all for drugs and the entertainment of a very wealthy man.

Still, it probably isn’t the worst image they’ve ever seen.

Rumi gives you another once over, baring sharp canines that seem to sparkle beneath the low, purple lights. Even after your intimate moment, she somehow seems more intimidating— or perhaps, more ravenous. She makes some comment to Keigo about giving you her number, throws a wink your way, and ends the encounter with another quick peck on his cheek.

Then, with hips swaying seductively to the beat, she makes her descent down the stairs to join the thrall of bodies as her high hits, leaving you and the blonde alone. Chancing a glance his way, you decide that’s not a terrible thing.

That same pompous smirk is plastered across his face, that same insatiable look in his eyes. His blonde locks remain in a state of perfect dishevelment, and when he runs a hand through it, his jewelry— rings upon rings and a watch that probably costs more than your rent— catches the light, shimmering wildly.

“We’re going to peak soon.”

It’s all he says, before leading you towards the stairs and down, down, down— straight into Heaven.

Wisps of baby pink, streams of bright blue— cotton candy fills the air and washes the man in front of you in a delectable light. It begs you to take a bite, to do more than press your warm, wanton body against him.

“How do you feel?” Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the side of your face. With his arms wrapped around your waist, he envelops you fully, allowing you to grind and move as you please. The heat radiating off your bodies could rival the sun.

“Like I’m flying,” you throw your hands into the air; he grazes them with his own. Every touch sends a cacophony of sparks across your flesh, every murmur of praise a chilling tingle down your spine. And when he strains his hips against yours, it heats you further, all throughout your core. You need him— right here, right now, bathed in candied pinks and sugar-filled blues.

As though he can hear your thoughts, or perhaps you’ve said them aloud, his slender fingers slither further down your body. Down, down, down— dashing under your tight skirt to rub across your soaked slit. When you cry out, a symphony of desire, he simply presses harder, rubs faster.

Just as you’re about to see stars, to grab at the spun sugar surrounding you and take an overwhelming chomp, he removes his magic fingers. You’re aware you’re crying out, feel as though the entire world’s been ripped away from you, but he simply shushes you with a slick digit against your lips.

“Let’s take this back upstairs, yeah?” The devil pokes at your side.

You’re already being whisked away, deeper into paradise.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

#blah blah blah 1k #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bird boi #keigo takami #1k.event

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gh0stiegirlie · 4 years ago

Text

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends Skylar and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

a/n: lmao hey im not dead whats gud

word count: 2.8k

<- pt. 2 pt.4 (expect monday, sept 7th) ->

Moments later, the sound Bakugous boots stomping across the linoleum floor echos throughout the hall. He remains quiet as he follows you, not risking the punishment of disturbing other hero classes by spewing his typical demeaning insults or using his quirk But a glance behind your shoulder reveals how threatening he is, even in silence. His grin is sadistic, and there’s fierce passion in his eyes.

The passion to rip your fucking guts out, that is.

Bakugou's animalistic instincts kick in the longer the chase persists, his mind dismissing everything but you, his prey.

A few twists and turns later, you Bakugous fingers grasp the back of your shirt collar. You gasp as he violently pulls you back into his chest, only letting go once he's thrown you on the ground. He looms over you with a crazed look on his face, his smile crooked and his eyes ablaze. He looks batshit crazy, yet you think it’s insanely attractive.

“You’re going to pay for that, you cowardly bastard,” he growls, his vermillion eyes pouring liquid rage into yours.

Perfect.

You hold his gaze and activate your quirk.

Suddenly, wordless cries reverberate throughout the chasms of his mind. Wails and shrieks pound against his head, desperate to escape. He cowers into a fetal position with his hands covering his ears, a fruitless attempt to keep the howls out. All Bakugou can see before the world goes dark is the glow of your e/c eyes.

You push yourself off the floor as Bakugou begins to rub his eyes, a feeble attempt to regain sight. Your attack will keep him at bay for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to escape to the training grounds.

At the time you arrive on the grounds, Bakugou wearily rises to his feet. The world spins around him while three words spin around his mind.

What the fuck?!

Granted, Bakugou knew you were powerful.

Well, the better word is he was aware you were powerful.

He considered you were a slimy wannabe hero when he caught you knocking out other contestants to steal their wins during the entrance exam, but decided you were just another extra when you practically failed Aizawa’s physical tests on the first day. His feelings only changed when you almost fought in him at the sports festival. He heard your battle was intense, but half ‘n half managed to blow you off the court before you could incapacitate him. Even though you lost that third round, you made it pretty damn far.

But, he didn’t know you were capable of disabling him with a single glance.

You’ve impressed him.

But the cost of impressing and temporarily impairing Bakugou is your strength. Using your special move always takes a physical toll on you. Bakugous throbbing brain keeps him grounded in reality, while your piercing pain keeps you awake enough to make it to the training grounds.

When Bakugou arrives you’ve collected your bearings, your headache subdued by a few Advils.

“Took you long enough,” you jeer, crossing your arms and standing your ground.

Bakugou is heaving, his vermillion eyes communicating what his mouth can’t.

And they say he’s going to fry you like dead meat.

A low, guttural noise builds up in Bakugous chest. It builds and rises in his body like hot air, until finally he releases it with a battle cry, “I’m going to kill you!”

He charges at you with explosions from both hands, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

The rapid firing of his explosions leave you no time to think of a strategy, so you focus on dodging while getting in close. From this length, you can momentarily harvest some of his thoughts. But honestly, it seems like he’s blind with rage and firing recklessly.

You should know Bakugou better than that.

He’s aware that after the stunt you pulled earlier, your quirk works best at a short distance. The fact you need direct eye contact to activate your quirk effectively is a clear sign proximity is a limitation of yours. He also knows that powerful move must have exhausted you. Not only will his long-range blasts and constant movement make it nearly impossible for you to make eye contact with him, but your attempts to dodge them and get closer will wear you out even more. Then, depending on if you make an attack from this long-distance and how strong that attack is, he’ll know more about the restrictions of your quirk. He grins to himself, thinking how he’s too amazing for his own good.

You also take a moment to smile to yourself. Little does he know you have the ability to briefly manifest the thoughts of others, and heard his entire plan. You have to admit, that clever strategy would’ve totally defeated you.

Too bad it’s completely useless.

If he plans to keep you at a distance until you're worn out, that means you have to get in close as soon as possible. Meaning you have to rush in and run the risk of being hit with one of his blasts.

You know Bakugou isn’t dumb. You notice he never fires from the same position or with the same type of explosion. He’s always moving, constantly searching for your blind spot, and changing how he attacks. One second he’s on your left, using both hands to shoot you with one ginormous fire-ball. The next, he’s behind you and sending a million tiny blasts your way. Finding a way to slip past his advanced combat skills is nearly impossible.

Nearly.

You’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for a few minutes now. You’re falling into a rhythm; he shoots, you dodge, and he shoots again. He’s falling into a pattern; shoot, move, shoot again, move again. Knowing where he’ll land next is a matter of understanding the when and where of his reactions. When you dodge an attack, when does he decide to change up his behavior, and where does he go to deliver the next blast?

Bakugou is convinced that your sluggish reaction times are proof of his oncoming victory. While, yes, the heaviness of physical exhaustion is starting to weigh you down, the real reason is focusing on formulating a plan. And for someone with a mental quirk like you, thinking is the most dangerous thing you can do.

When it appears that your body is about to give up, Bakugou runs and aims an explosion in the exact place you expected. You manage to meet his eyes and send hundreds of whispered messages into his brain. He falters on his shot, dazed and confused. You surprise him by sprinting straight to his strategically plotted spot, and therefore, face-planting into his chest. The sudden force of his chest mixed with your momentum sends you both flying back.

You planned to land on top of Bakugou, which would not only pin him to the ground and secure your victory, but also gave you an excuse to straddle his hips in the way you’ve spent so many math classes dreaming about. But instead, you both end up rolling across the ground. You land on your stomach, and after taking a few moments to recover, you catch Bakugou sprawled out on his back.

This is my chance.

You clumsily push yourself off the ground and stumble over to Bakugou. You practically fall on top of him, and the sudden weight ontop of his sore core forces a groan to escape his lips. He weakly tries to push you off him, but his failed attempts leave him flailing his arms and legs to try and squirm out from under you. He’s acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"How does it feel to lose, Bakugou?" you smirk. “It’s embarrassing enough that you always lose to Deku, and now you’re losing to his girlfriend too! It’s so pathetic I almost feel bad for you!”

A moment ago, every limb in Bakugous body was screaming at him to sleep. Now, his it burns alive with rage. He uses the rage surging through his veins to generate one last explosion that shoots you into the sky. After a few seconds of soaring upwards, Bakugou launches himself in your direction with the last explosions his tired body can summon. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you into his chest, one of his hands holding your head in the nape of his neck for extra protection. The two of you spiral in the air like a torpedo.

The sky expels you into the ground like a bullet, and the concrete cracking beneath you.

When you open your eyes, Bakugou is swaying above you. His eyes are half-lided, and blood drips from his nose onto your face.

“Lets… Call it even…” you mumble as he collapses beside you.

You both spend a few minutes slipping in and out of consciousness, desperately searching at the barriers of your mind for an escape through. Eventually, Bakugou gains enough strength to slip his way through a crack. He picks you up bridle style and carries you to the outskirts of U.A. High. Unable to go any further, he slides against one of the buildings walls into a sitting position, resting your head on the side of his thigh once he’s comfortable.

Only now does he see how beautiful you are.

Your resting face is so peaceful, his racing heart calms the longer he stares. Your skin glistens underneath the sun, every bead of sweat rolling down your cheeks looking like a shooting star gliding across the beautiful night sky. Your e/c hair wreathes around Bakugou’s legs like a corkscrew, and he delicately untangles your soft locks. Sometimes your nose twitches as he pulls at your hair, but only when he brushes a stray flyaway out of your face do your eyes finally flutter open.

Your body is bruised and bloodied, and the worst of your injuries are the concrete chunks penetrating deep cuts in your back. Although Bakugou finds every girl looks beautiful after a fight. And you, even with your injuries, are no exception.

It’s not because he’s some kinky pervert, but he sees these injuries as markings of a true hero. A true hero is someone who endures pain but always keeps fighting. He thought since you were dating that nerd you were a pussy, but you’ve proven to him you’re a total badass.

Bakugou’s eyes are inches away from yours. You immediately notice his glare isn’t as… Spiteful, as usual. It’s serene. And it’s making you blush.

“How long have you been staring at me like that for, perv?” You yawn with a stretch. Your forearms rub against Bakugous thighs as you pop your elbows. His face turns a shade of pink, not the angry intense red he’s is accustomed to.

“Hey! I saved your life, idiot. You should be thanking me!” Bakugou fumes, the color of his face slowly deepening to his typical red.

“Yeah, and you’re also the person who tried to fucking explode me! So it cancels out, you asshole!” You yell as you dart up, only to fall back down. You struggle once more to your feet only to collapse in a heap. “Fuck, I can’t---” you mumble, the world around you fading to black. You scream for your mouth to move and demand your legs to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Eventually, you succumb to the darkness.

Bakugou’s battered body is only capable of shuffling with you in his arms to Recovery Girls’ office before he passes out too.

You wake up hours later to the feeling of a cold, wet kiss on your back. You “eugh!” in disgust as you flinch away from Recovery Girl’s lips.

“Ah, glad to see you’re finally awake,” she chirps before turning to treat Bakugou. “You two had quite the battle! Hurt eachother pretty bad for a couple of first years.” She fiercely spins around to wag her wrinkly finger in your face. “Mr. Aizawa will be sure to hear about this!”

“No!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat to lower your voice. “Please don’t tell him Recovery Girl!” you plead more rationally, “Bakugou and I were just having a... tactical battle to find out more about eachothers quirks for an assignment, that’s all! I think we just both got a little carried away…” You rub your injured arm awkwardly.

“Get off me, you old hag!” A now conscious Bakugou commands Recovery Girl. She backs away to her desk to take some notes, but not before calling him an “ungrateful and rude young man”. Bakugou turns to face you, and scans his handiwork (aka, your injuries). “You really got your ass handed to you, huh?” he congratulates himself. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget, Recovery Girl is smoochin’ you too. Meaning I did some serious damage.” you point out, fighting a smile. You want to keep your face as smug as Bakugou’s.

“Whatever, loser. We’ll call it a tie,” he smirks at you. “Until I get the chance to beat the shit out of you.”

“Trust me. Next time we fight, there won’t be a tie. Only me standing victorious over your dumb corpse.” you challenge with crossed arms. You can’t help but notice the excitement in Bakugous eyes, and how a genuine grin paves its way across his face. Though when there’s a knock at the door, his smile falls so fast you question if you imagined it.

“Oh! Looks you two have some visitors,” Recovery Girl announces, wobbling towards the door.

Neither you nor Bakugou are in the mood to deal with your significant others. You shake your head and cry, “Please don’t let them in!” But Izuku Texas smashes the door wide open and runs to you, Uraraka following close behind.

“Y/n! Are you okay?!” he cups your cheeks, and you nod. He ignores your affirmation and scans your entire body for any sign of harm. “O-oh, you have scratches everywhere!” He gingerly pokes a healing cut on your knee, causing a hiss of pain to escape you.

“Bakugou, where are you hurt?” Uraraka runs her hands down Bakugous biceps, feeling for any bumps or bruises.

“Get off of me,” he growls under his breath, not wanting to draw your attention to them. “I said, get your hands off of me!” Bakugou raises his voice when Uraraka doesn’t listen to him.

“You,” Izuku glowers at Bakugou, “You did this to her,”

“Izuku, leave him alone,” you plea. He ignores you.

“You hurt her again.” Izuku mumbles, Bakugou quirking his head at the word “again”.

“Zuzu, Bakugou didn’t do shit.” you grab Izukus shoulder to spin him towards you, but he uses his quirk to brush you off. But Izuku ‘brushing you off’ with his quirk means with a single finger flick, he propels you into the wall at the other side of the room.

“Oh dear,” Recovery Girl gasps through a hand over her mouth

“What the hell?!” Bakugou barks, darting over to you. Uraraka catches his arm and holds him back.

You struggle to rise. Your legs shake under your weight, but you force them to support you. You glare at the ground, absolutely mortified. Even though you’re disgusted with Midorya, you manage to look him in his eyes.

“We’re done,” you mumble. At this point your whole body trembles, but you can’t tell if it’s from rage or exhaustion.

“Wuh-what?” Izuku’s puppy dog eyes pout in disbelief. He takes a step towards you but you step away.

“Sorry, was I not loud enough? Allow me to be more clear,”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, they’re neon e/c.

You’re using your second, and final special move to announce to the whole school Izuku can go to hell.

Your sonic blast.

“Izuku Midoriya, you and I are done!” You scream into the minds of the hundreds of students attending U.A. You specifically aim your eyes at Izuku, so he receives the worst of it.

Izuku falls to his knees, his green eyes welling up with tears. You might’ve burst his eardrums with that emission. Good.

With that, you run out of Recovery Girls' office and straight to the gym.

All the emotions you've kept bottled up for this entire year suddenly spill out of you. With every punch, your forbidden feelings for Bakugou wiggle back into your heart. Your pent-up rage for Izuku turns into a feeling you've repressed ever since you started dating.

Regret.

You regret twisting your frustration with Bakugou's and Urarakas relationship into feelings for your best friend.

You slam your fists against the bag, more hot tears streaming down your face with every punch.

You regret ever kissing him that night.

You wish you would've stayed just friends.

omg i have taglist now🥺: @soa1eater

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

Promised

Chapter 8

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.8!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Word Count: 1863

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, OCF Uncle David x Read, OCF Uncle David x Jensen, Jensen x Siser, Jensen x other unnamed/mentioned FC.

Missed it so far? Catch up!!

**********MASTERLIST***********

Nervous was NOT an adequate word to describe what you were right now. Terrified was more appropriate. You felt like your heart was literally going to beat out of your chest, you had a knot in your stomach that made you feel like you wanted to vomit. You were shaking as you tried to apply your makeup standing in the Dallas hotel room that Jensen had rented so that you both could get ready for the ceremony. It also helped in prolonging your arrival time to get to the Ackles Estate.

Jensen wasn't in much better shape. You took Jared's private jet from Austin to Dallas so that you could fly home directly from the ceremony tonight. Jensen was in pre-rut. He had to knot you twice once you got to the hotel room before you could even get up and get ready for tonight. His anxiety was high. You could feel it. He was being way overprotective and couldn't turn it off.

After showering, you stood on one side of the mirror putting the finishing touches on your makeup, and Jensen was leaning against the counter watching your every move like some imminent danger was going to come through the door at any moment and try and hurt you if he got too far away for too long.

The box that he hated more than you thought hating something was even possible, containing your matting collar, sat on the counter between the two of you waiting for your Alpha to put it on you like it was his right to.

When you zipped the bag and put it away, you turned to look at your Alpha. The lines were showing around his eyes a little more tonight than you ever saw them. His shoulders were stiff, and he looked every bit of on edge as you felt.

Taking your finger you slide the box toward him, and his green eyes drift down to look at it before running his fingers over the outside of the box.

You knew he hated this. You knew that he wanted nothing more than to run back to the plane, get on it, and never look back; but alas you knew, just like he knew, this appearance was mandatory, and if you didn't show your faces the 'civil war' as he called it would break out with vengeance.

Yes, this ceremony was about the transfer of responsibility from Jensen to Josh, but it was also so the families could see that you were indeed mated and that Jensen had claimed you, and there was no denying it.

Opening the box without a word, Jensen pulled out the collar and turned your back to him so that he could slip it around your neck. You felt him hesitate before he finally slipped it around your neck, closing the clasp as you dropped your hair, as you turned to face him again.

"I hate this, Y/N. I hate this thing, I hate this ceremony, I hate these stupid packs, I hate everything about this," Jensen said, his voice deep and low as he pulled you close to him as possible.

"One night Alpha, just a few hours, and then we're flying home. It will be over before we know it, just go through the motions. Keep the peace for the last time. Then for us, it's all over. We can go home."

Jensen took a deep breath like he was trying to pull you scent into his very soul.

"I'll keep you safe tonight Omega, you don't have anything to worry about. If your father tries anything stupid I'm going to rip his throat out with my teeth."

You could feel the growl building in his chest before the sound made its way to his lips.

"Promised?" you asked him, fear settled deep in you as you heard Jensen's phone buzz in his pocket, letting you know that Clif was there to give you a ride to the Ackles Estate.

"Promised," he said, crashing your lips to his in a bruising kiss. Stealing your breath away from you, and making your heart momentarily still in your chest. You never seemed to get used to the way he could make you weak with just a kiss.

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An hour later you found yourself sitting at a table with a bunch of Alpha men, all you assumed were part of the Ackles pack and their Omegas. All adorned collars that were very similar to yours.

At the small podium that almost looked like a preacher's pulpit, Mr. Ackles had given a speech explaining the change in headship of your father's pack, who you had yet to see; but you assumed that he was around there somewhere, angry and avoiding you, and the change in his pack as well.

Everyone seemed to expect the information with grace. The other Alpha's at the table kept the conversation lite as the dinner was served, brought out on plates, and sat in front of everyone while they ate.

Josh and his Omega, the new airs to the Ackles Estate, sat at the same table as Jensen and yourself. His Omega seemed nice, they seemed to be genuinely happy together, they were true mates though, and you were starting to think that made all the difference in the world. Josh was a lot like Jensen in a lot of ways, quiet, mild-mannered for an Alpha. He treated his Omega with a lot of respect compared to some of the other Alphas, who you could tell were highly mistreating their Omega's; but what could you do? It wasn't your place to say anything. Your mate forfeited his position in the pack as a pack leader. So you no longer had a say.

So you did the only thing you could, sat quietly next to your Alpha, waiting for the chance to get the hell away from this place, and these packs, and their strange rules, and oppressive lifestyles.

Jensen never took his hand off of you in one way or another. He either had a death grip on your hand, or he had his hand on your thigh. Either way, he never was not touching you. Possession reeking off of him in waves. His scent letting every Alpha around him know not to get to close to his mate. Which you didn't mind at all. It honestly made you feel better knowing that they all kept their distance.

Just when dinner was winding down, things were starting to wrap up. Alan had come to chat and left. Wishing you and Jensen well, Josh and his Omega had a line of people running at them, everyone wanting to get their name in good with the someday to be Alpha in charge.

You heard someone calling your name. Turning around like someone might attack you, you looked and saw your Uncle David standing there, a few feet away. His eyes locked on you.

Jensen saw him, his shoulders stiffened, a growl low in his throat.

"Jensen? Is it okay if I at least tell my niece goodbye before I go?" he approached with his head down, and his hands raised like Jensen had a loaded gun on him or something. Jensen nodded tightly, but never let go of your hand. Your Uncle came up to you, wrapping you up in a hug the best that he could.

"You know I was worried about you kiddo, but you look good, you really do."

"Thanks," was all you could manage to get out. Your nerves all the sudden on high alert again.

"Where's my father?" you asked, your voice low, afraid of what the answer might be.

"Opped not to come. I think he's still ashamed that he was demoted, but honestly, I'm glad you got out kiddo. You got a good man here, he's going to take good care of you. You deserve better than the life these packs have to offer, and he can give you that. Don't worry about your dad. He will survive."

You nod your head and hug your Uncle one more time. Relaxing a little when you found out that your dad wasn't at the ceremony tonight. You felt a little safer. Jensen seemed to relax some too.

"You know this is virtually over. Let's go home. I think we can slip out now without being seen, or questioned too much."

You nodded your head in agreement, giving your Alpha a peck on the lips as you leaned in.

"That sounds good to me. Let me just run to the little girl's room before we take off, and we can head to the airport. I'm ready to get out of here too."

Jensen nodded his head tightly. He knew he couldn't follow you into the bathroom without people talking, but he also knew that he didn't like you leaving his sight.

"Okay, but hurry please," he whispered as a man you didn't know came up and got his attention, asking him about some project that Jensen was rumored to be working on while you made your way down the busy hallway toward the women's room.

You thought you saw one of your dad's old bodyguards hanging out by the door, but assumed that he was here with your uncles and you brushed it off.

Walking into the bathroom you stood at the sink and started to check your makeup, Freshen up before you were stuck on a plane for an hour, you knew your Alpha would be ready for you again when the plane landed, just since arriving at the ceremony his sent was even stronger, and you knew he'd be in full blow rut before long.

You thought you heard the bathroom door open. Before you could turn to see who it was entering the bathroom there was a sharp sting in the back of your neck, right at your hairline. You felt the room spin around you. The edges of your vision are getting darker. The last thing you remember seeing as you hit the cold bathroom floor was a pair of nice black ack dress shoes and slacks that did not belong to your Alpha, then it all went black...

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Jensen's POV:

Where is she? What the hell is taking so long? She should have been out of the bathroom by now? What's taking her so long?

A high pitched whine fell from the back of his throat as he waited at the end of the hallway for his Omega to emerge from the bathroom. Some idiot fanboy wanted to talk about shit that was just rumor, and now he didn't know where you were. He was about ready to pull his hair out. Frustration from his rut, plus the panic that was starting to settle in was more than he could handle.

He saw an Omega emerge from the women's room. One that he knew. Thank God. Reaching out he grabbed his sister by the arm. Stopping her in her tracks.

"Hey! Was y/n still in there? I can't find her!"

Mackenzie stopped in her tracks. Looking at her brother like he was crazy.

"No Jay. I was the only one in there."

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0

Series Tag List:

@spnfamily-j2

@stoneyggirl

@onethirstyunicorn

@bloo-moon-freak

@musiclovinchic93

@perpetualabsurdity

@theoneandonlymelol

@xhannahbananax03

@xcastielbabyangelface

@leahnicole1219

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deathbydarkelves · 4 years ago

Text

Decided to answer a few off a list of OC relationship questions for Tarinne and Cathala in Discord to cheer myself up. And I have to say it worked lol

I'll copy and paste for screen readers:

6.) Any tasks that are always left to one person? Food was always a big part of the culture on Pandaria, so Cathala is the designated cook out of the two lol. Tarinne's like... passable at cooking, but Cathala absolutely kills it with basically everything she makes. On the flip side, Tarinne is always the one to repair and maintain their clothes and gear, or make replacements. She's a leatherworker in-game so I figured it makes sense :P

13.) What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up? Cathala's got a dragon and Tarinne's got a hippogryph (decided I actually didn't like the idea of her also having a dragon), so as per Dreamworks movie logic they both love going flying just to pass the time :) which I really oughta draw... Anyway, they also love visiting libraries and those kinds of places whenever they go to a new region. Bars/taverns too, Cathala loves trying new drinks. She's still convinced nothing will match a good Pandaren ale, and Tarinne is determined to prove her wrong lmao

36.) What's their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness? Well, my first thought regarding greatest strength was of course their skills in combat and how they play off each other, but that feels like kind of low-hanging fruit so I'll also add how they're kind of a self-sustaining system. They can go for days and weeks traveling just with each other, maybe seeing like three other people total and they'll still be in nearly tip-top shape morale-wise because they complement and support each other so well sdcjnkjs. Weaknesses.... sometimes they can definitely struggle with accepting outside assistance for like missions and stuff. They're definitely very capable in lots of situations, but sometimes you need a little more than two lesbians and a dream to solve a problem lmao. Additionally, out of the two, Cathala is definitely more prone to anxiety when separated from Tarinne cause ✨trauma✨ (though Tarinne gets the same way, just to a lesser extent) but it's not like... a severe, unhealthy clinginess. It's just more that they're each reassured and comforted when the other's there, and when that source of comfort isn't there anymore it definitely throws them off. And I don't really know if I'd call it a weakness, but if hypothetically Cathala were captured in a battle but Tarinne had to kill the enemy general to like... win. she'd completely forget about the general and just focus on freeing Cathala, and vice versa, y'know. That sort of thing.

45.) Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets? Well, right now their main goal is to horrifically murderize Sylvanas KSDXANSDJN but other than that... I guess they just both want the world to be a safer place to exist in? As much as they both enjoy adventuring (and as much as it's been ingrained in their lives/minds to constantly be in some kind of danger rip), it would be nice some day to be able to just sit back and relax for a year or ten. As for heartbreaks, uhhhhhh I mean there was that whole thing about most of their civilization getting control+Z'd in a night so like. does that count sdknxmd. Regarding regrets, hm........ I mean, Tarinne regrets not being with Cathala when that whole previously mentioned incident happened. Cathala's of course incredibly thankful she wasn't. And they both regret not spending more time on Teldrassil in the first place, on their own ancestral lands and with their own people. Erm... That's really all I can come up with for that.

#cathala & tarinne

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kayliemusing · 4 years ago

Text

1: Name - Kaylie

2: Age - 23

3: 3 Fears - Spiders, failure, loss

4: 3 things I love - Reading, writing, Taylor Swift

5: 4 turns on - Kindness, nice hands, humor, someone who has a really warm heart.

6: 4 turns off - Arrogance, moustaches lmao, narcissism, basket ball shorts *shudders*

7: My best friend - Her name is Megan (but also my mom lmao)

8: Sexual orientation - Heterosexual

9: My best first date - I have never been on a date.

10: How tall am I - 5'2

11: What do I miss - My childhood mostly

12: What time were I born - 2:45 pm

13: Favorite color - Red, but sometimes a nice summery, pastel yellow

14: Do I have a crush - no

15: Favorite quote - I have so many that I can't say my utmost favourite, but one that I always think about is from Richard Siken "He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand." I'm not even sure how this is supposed to be interpreted, but I just love the detail of this. Of someone looking at the moon and pointing at it, but you're looking at their hand because you're that consumed by them and also they're like your moon. anyway-

16: Favorite place - My house lol

17: Favorite food - Cheesecake

18: Do I use sarcasm - Yes, but very dryly

19: What am I listening to right now - Nothing actually. I'm just sitting in the quiet.

20: First thing I notice in new person - I used to think it was physical, like eyes or their smile, but I think it's actually their demeanor. i.e., confidence, if they're laid back, talkative or quiet, etc. Or even just how they handle things. Like when I'm at work and I meet a new co-worker I'm always noticing how they are with people.

21: Shoe size - 6.5 US but I can manage a 7 US too.

22: Eye color - Grey

23: Hair color - Ashy blonde, but I usually get it highlighted to be a brighter blonde

24: Favorite style of clothing - I'm super into the French girl vibe right now (elegany, classy, ribbed sweaters tucked into high waisted jeans or dress pants, a blazer thrown over and a nice gold necklace) but I'm also really into a summery boho look (flowy maxi dresses and skirts)

25: Ever done a prank call? No

27: Meaning behind my URL - On this account, it's just my name and then 'muses' because this account is just me talking to myself tbh. My main account is called autumnsletters which is just a combo of my fav things: autumn and handwritten love letters, and finally, my embarrassing taylor swift account is called sixteenavenue which is a lyric from her song I Think He Knows where she mentions her heart skipping down sixteenth avenue.

28: Favorite movie - I feel like i don't have one answer bc I always have a different answer to this question lmao. I think it's called A Christmas Carol (the 2009 version w/ Jim Carrey). It just makes me feel cozy and warm inside. Also: Clueless.

29: Favorite song - All Too Well by Taylor Swift I think.

30: Favorite band - Of Monsters and Men

31: How I feel right now - I actually feel really happy today, which is a change lol. I had an awful week last week, but over the last couple of days I've just felt more creative and happier.

32: Someone I love - My mom

33: My current relationship status - Single

34: My relationship with my parents - Excellent.

35: Favorite holiday - Christmas

36: Tattoos and piercing i have -0 :'(

37: Tattoos and piercing i want - I want to get my ears pierced again bc the holes grew over. Low key want a nose piericing and low key want a tattoo on my collarbone (or somewhere around there)

38: The reason I joined Tumblr - Because everyone else had it and I felt left out LOL

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? - I don't have an ex

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? - No

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? - No i've never been kissed rip

42: When did I last hold hands? - never but it's ok bc i can hold my own hand

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? - Depending on what I'm doing. If I showered the night before and I'm just doing a very low-maintenance look, roughly 15-20 mins. On a normal day in which I shower in the morning and am trying to actually be presentable, roughly an hour.

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days? - Have YOU shaved MY legs? No. Have I shaved my own? Yes

45: Where am I right now? - My room

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? - Most likely I'm not drunk, but IF I WAS, it would be my friend, my mom, or my sister (my sister would probs make fun of me and film me tho tbh)

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? - Loud if I'm jamming with nothing else to do but sing along. If I'm trying to do something, I'll turn it down bc I can't focus with loud music (especially if I'm trying to write something/talk to someone/text someone)

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? - My mom bc my dads dead

49: Am I excited for anything? - My sister and I are going to Banff in about three weeks so I'm excited for a getaway.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? - No

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? - I work in retail so

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? - I don't know. I think I hugged my mom at some point this week lol

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? - Bye bye babyyyy

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? - my cat

55: What is something I disliked about today? - I had to go to work

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? - Taylor Alison Swift baby

57: What do I think about most? - Probably Taylor Swift.

58: What’s my strangest talent? - I can make stomach gurgling noises with my mouth closed.

59: Do I have any strange phobias? - Nah, pretty generic ones

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? - Behind the camera

61: What was the last lie I told? - Some lady asked if a product was good and I said yes so I wouldn't have to help her find another one

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? - Neither what the hell

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? - Neither

64: Do I believe in magic? - No

65: Do I believe in luck? - No

66: What's the weather like right now? - It's calm, but a little cloudy. It was really warm and sunny earlier, but it's gotten a little grey.

67: What was the last book I've read? - I just finished this series called The Winner's Curse by Marie Rutkoski and it was so good but so stressful omg. Still 5/5 stars.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? - Yes

69: Do I have any nicknames? - Not really, but sometimes my coworkers call my Kayls

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had? - Oh my god when I was like 10 I fell during grounders and the bar hit me right on the cooch. Most painful event of my entire life.

71: Do I spend money or save it? - Spend it bitch

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? - No

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? - yes!! my blanket!!

74: Favorite animal? - I love hippos and I don't know why.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? - Reading on my phone to avoid sleeping so I could prolong not going to work

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? - Devil. Kind of like Satan The Devil is his full name

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? - Shake It Off

78: How can you win my heart? - Learning Taylor Swift's entire discography for my sake

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? - tbh I really don't know

80: What is my favorite word? - Wonderstruck

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr - n/a

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? - stream fearless taylor's version

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? - no

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? - Healing

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? - N/A

86: What is my current desktop picture? - it's a misty forest

87: Had sex? - no

88: Bought condoms? - no

89: Gotten pregnant? - no

90: Failed a class? - yes

91: Kissed a boy? - no

92: Kissed a girl? - no

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? - no but it's a dream

94: Had a job? - I've had two so far

95: Left the house without my wallet? - Yes, sometimes I do it on purpose so I can make my mom pay for something lmao (chill i'm talking something small like candy)

96: Bullied someone on the internet? - no

97: Had sex in public? - no

98: Played on a sports team? - no

99: Smoked weed? - no

100: Did drugs? - no

101: Smoked cigarettes? - no

102: Drank alcohol? - yes

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? - no

104: Been overweight? - I feel overweight, but technically no

105: Been underweight? - No

106: Been to a wedding? - Yes

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? - Yes, but not since I was younger. I'm mostly on my phone now.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? - Oh yeah lmao

109: Been outside my home country? - No

110: Gotten my heart broken? - Yes

111: Been to a professional sports game? - No

112: Broken a bone? - No

113: Cut myself? - Yes

114: Been to prom? - Sort of. I'm Canadian so I had grad.

115: Been in airplane? - No

116: Fly by helicopter? - No

117: What concerts have I been to? - Jonas Brothers when I was about 10 lmao and Marianas Trench when I was 15

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? - No

119: Learned another language? - Tried to

120: Wore make up? - Yes. I do work at a makeup store.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? - no

122: Had oral sex? - no

123: Dyed my hair? - not a funky color, no

124: Voted in a presidential election? - Sort of; I voted for a prime minister

125: Rode in an ambulance? - Yes

126: Had a surgery? - No

127: Met someone famous? - No

128: Stalked someone on a social network? - No

129: Peed outside? - No

130: Been fishing? - No

131: Helped with charity? - Yes

132: Been rejected by a crush? - No bc I never fessed up to any crush lol

133: Broken a mirror? - No

134: What do I want for birthday? - A jewelry box

#survey

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koalaaquabear · 5 years ago

Text

The 5 hour finale live stream just concluded and y’all, it was crazy. It has been a wonderful several months with all you guys and I am so excited for April 8th and Junior Year.

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE FOLD IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE STREAM YET. Here is my clusterfuck of a commentary. Enjoy!

Fantasy High: Sophomore Year Live Reaction -HOOT GROWL BABY it's time. I didn't react to part one but wOW that one was crazy. Get ready for EMOTIONS :'(( -SIG FIG RESCUE MISSION lol #ontour -well ok brennan that canopy shit is scary as fuck -murph is still looking like riz -Zaphriel and Ayda!!!!!!! -"HOLD ME BACK GORGUG" i love u emily -Brennan I stg -Ayda is Gorgug's dad lol -oh shIT they're totally in the cottage -heLL YEAH AYDA!! -oh GOD figayda kiss? exceptional. -if ayda dies i WILL throw dice at Brennan -ok brennan make me cry then -GET THE VAN GORGUG -gorgug truly is the greatest wizard of this age -#hugeblueguy -aww zac oyama i love you -"semi-fallen" oH dEar -gorgug texts zelda IMMEDIATELY i love him -amaZING thank you zelda -"ew, creepy, hate that" -zaphriel is the best character you guys, what a homie -i keep forgetting ayda can fly. like she has wings. i know that. -AELWYN! -nOPE someone is coming through the forest and if it's arianwen i will kill cry -HANGMAN???? -HANGMAN!!!! HIS DOG!!!!! -HANGMAN NO I LOVE YOU YOU'RE THE CUTEST DOGGY -adaine i love you baby -"the weak yogurt man" -what high ranking devil??? -fabian you're adorable -aww fabian has a puppy!! (i get that the hangman is eight feet long don't @ me) -that's the first "the ball" -lou can never have the highest roll -BARDY BOYS -oop kristen and riz time -tracker? i barely even know her -chills, brennan. chills -someone in the chat just said "so did skrank fuck zelda?" -intense muSIC -nononononononono -ragh, tracker, and sandralynn better be all right -ooo a sTICK -HELL YEAH RETURN OF THE RIBBON DANCE -"riz weeps" holy shit i love him -"something bad always happens when we go off together" -#RIZTEN -awwoOOOOOOO -ayda can fly too! -absolutely FUCK this bridge ABOUT 30 MINUTES -poor ayda -please say they're ok brennan -"put your tongue baCK in your mouth" -sANDRA LYNN NO -"what kind of arrows" "you know what kind" fuCK OFF BRENNAN -if baxter dies i will cry -wait faerie fire is a cleric spell..? absolutely fuck me -ok aelwyn let's fuck shit up -calling the bank in the middle of this nightmare forest lol -heLL YEAH ZAPHRIEL -luck check luck check luck check -"y'all are going to turn into dragons" -fabian straight up cries? what a fucking rich kid -NO WAY HE HAD T H E COIN??? -REMOVE CURSE BABY -"nnOOO!" lmao -ally and brennan are in the chat -kristen's religion is REALLY coming in handy -the name was turned into the night yorb lol -"how's that axe feeling?" "..pretty light ;)" i love him -ayda can lift the axe??? exceptional -FIG IS KALINA? ABSOLUTELY RAD -brennan has created a place where illusions are real and emily is holding him TO IT -"do you have a dongle?" incredible -EMILY I LOVE YOU! KALINA IS A YOUTUBER BABY -wretchrot is baCK baby -aelwyn i love that -"i am a low quality child" "yeah ayda you're a bad kid" -"hey bitch" emily axford is a goddess -im sorry cOURT OF ELDERS? -NO I WILL CRY -ROLL INITIATIVE TIME -go OFF hangman -ooo some high initiatives babyyy -zac oyama is my favorite ever -"trackerrr" -brian as soon as emily was threatened said "how dare you" -brennan you FUCK "i'm awake for all of this" FUCK YOU -fig and her mommy issues: an album -absolutely FUCK THE TREE GUY -kick that wood elf BITCH ABOUT ONE HOUR -fuck him UP fabian, shit in his gODDAMN mOUTh -"SPRING BREAK YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER" -pleASE BRENNAN LET HIM SHOOT HER WITH THE TINCTURE -spRING break this is for the corn god -okay nevermind riz is holding his action -i love the intrepid heroes they're adorable -"ice feast" fucking love them so much -yES the ball thank GOD -brennan..? -"her rage ends" tracker = barbarian -FIRST NAT 20 BABY -"IT 100% WORKS BUT IT 50% WORKED" -that's the second "the ball" -bOOOOOOO BRENNAN -mad plans for the tree guy -sorry, is his name crAFTME ROOTDRINKER? -oh ok it's aelwyn we're fine -cone of cOLD baby i love aelwyn what a babe -you absolutely hate to see it -ragh my baby i love you -SPRING BREAK -tracker nO PLEASE -TRACKER JUST CRIT OH NO -brennan is really good at acting this btw -wait 14 on a crit??? i mean oH NO kRISTEN, bOO -disPEL MAGIC BABY -ALLY BEARDSLEY YOU ABSOLUTE GOD -aww kristennn is babyyy -tracker nooo don't cryyyy -you've sAVED your GIRLFRIEND -"some of us have already done that today" fig the sHADE -ally simply musT get new dex -absolutely fuck that brennan i don't need that vampire pixie -FUCK IT UP AYDA -FIGHT ME IN THE SKY! -"does a 29 hit?" daMN zac that absolute SHADE -53 DAMAGE?? CHEJ IS SO FUCKING STRONG -"goddamn paper lantern" -absolutely fuck you brennan -nevermind gorgug and adaine both passed the con saving throw -"i don't like you" lou really gets personally upset about this and i love that -nO NO NONONONO aelwyn and tracker are down -FUCK IT UP ADAINE -gdi brennan don't do this to us -ABSOLUTELY FUCK THE TREE -fig is straight up gonna kill her mom -this is scary as fuck -HANGMAN HAS A BREATH WEAPON AND YOU DIDN'T SAY SHIT??? CHOKE ON GRAPES BRENNAN -FUCK EM UP HANGMAN ABOUT 1 HOUR AND A HALF -wood elf is DOWN baby hoot growl -kristen thinks the elf is gak lol -23 DAMAGE??? AC OF 25??? ABSOLUTELY FUCK IT UP FABIAN -SHENANIGANS TIME FOR MURPH -HELL SECRET AGENT TIME -27??? RIZ YOU'RE THE HOTTEST -third the ball -imagine the ball is secretly SO HOT without the hat -YES BRENNAN GOT A NAT 1 EAT YOUR GODDAMN DICE -sweEET -fourth the ball (they've all been Lou cuz of course) -incredible turn murph -kalina is SO GOOD at skateboarding -#bloodphoto -KALINA HAS 23 WISDOM? absolutely fuck me -oh hELL YEAH FIG COUNTER THE COUNTER -emily is doing some SHIT right now you guys (fear spell) -DAMMIT that high as fuck wisdom -sorry WHAT she rips open sPACE??? -BABY BETTER SAVE THE GODDAMN DAY -let's go BABY -"mMMHHHHnnN leET ME tOUCh ItT" baby is fucking weird -"baby vs mommy" i love you siobhan -aelwyn better not DIE brennan -riz baby let's get it -trACKEr -nAT 1??? kristen is unCONSCIOUS?? -HUMAN DETERMINATION!!! THE GRIT BABY] -wait aura of life is badass!! they can't lose damage?? -okay scrap that we're gonna TURN UNDEAD and then MASS HEALING WORD? absolutely incredible -gorgug has so much goddamn health -FUCK THIS TREE DUDE -KILL IT AYDA LET'S GO -"her girl's side" *in lou voice* okAY bRENNNAn -second nat 1 but both of them re-rolled -GEM!!!! -LET'S GET GORTHALAX BABYYYY -"BIG DADDY" -ayda is so turned on lol -KILL IT CHEJ OKAYYYY -fuck this centaur -i'm so nervous -puT THOSE DICE DOWN BRENNAN -"you're gonna drop." shuT UP -riz is fULLY DEAD???? -i hate this. i hate this. i hate this. i hate this. i hate this. i hate this. -sHUT UP BRENNAN -baby is DEAD oh my GOD you absolutely hate to see it ABOUT 2 HOURS -nO NO NO NO NO NO NO PUT THAT CROWN AWAY BITCH -absolutely fuck me, the nightmare king is totally fucking back i hate myself -aww fabian is baby -hELL YEAH FABIAN SPRING BREAK -"i've lost one friend, that's too many" fabian is adorable -"that's a full ass miss, my guy" -sandra lynn just crit on chej :(((((( -14 damage is not very spring break of her (she did 28 but it was halved because gorgug is such a strong boyyy) -LET'S GO LOU -almost all of them are spellcasters wtf (only one who isn't is riz but he has a daily misty step) -fuck em up hangman -fUCK EM UP HANGMAN! d8 + 2d6 +8 i think -figaroth the unfaethable baby -THOSE ARE SOME SHENANIGANS FIG I LOVE IT (she's shattering the rubies to get a revivify diamond) -casts teleport??? aelwyn came here to FUCK -"i would love to teach you this spell" aww the abernant sisters liking each other is my new aesthetic -fuck em up adaine -you can hit the tree on a 12 babyyyyy -heLL YEAH 44 DAMAGE ADAINE IS STRONG NOW -kalina is not even that cool she just said "that's enough of that" in the most uncool way -2 down 3 to go! -omg wait it would be so badass if they could just remove curse on kalina -"Mr. The Insatiable" -ayda is such a sweetheart "i don't care if you want me to date your daughter but i do hope you love me" -"I LOVE THIS SONG" yes siobhan me too -on a DC 20 she got a 31!!!! consider my jeans creamed -SHRED BABY GIRL!!! -KILLIAN IS DEAD! RIZ IS ALIVE! -ayda is so turned on AHHH -I LOVE RIZ SO MUCH "am i interrupting something???" -fuck him UP chej! 3 hits, no crits -hell yeah mr. march!! oh sorry wrong series -a gROUP PROJECT i'm DEAD -someone in the chat called him "snac oyama" and you're rigHT -siobhan's straight fucking this tree UP -the spellcasters are like all out of spells at this point -fuck OFF arianwen. KILL YOUR MOM -"where's your father, aelwyn?" "last i saw, adaine killed him so *shrug*" i lOVE HER -FUCK THEM UP GORTHALAX -abolutely fuck the nightmare king -waIT GORTHALAX IS GONNA KILL THE NIGHTMARE KING -sidenote: fig calls gorthalax pops -dO IT BRENNAN kILL YOUR OWN BIG BAD -this treeant has GOT to be dead -NAT 1 on that attack?? SPRING BREAK BABY -no we haven't seen kalina in action brennan, and we do not want to -OH SHIT THE TIE! YOu just got FUCKed bRENnan eaT youR DICE -yeS AYDA ROAST HER -"GOTTEM!" -i'm sorry i just hallucinated, did you say 6 ATTACKS? -time to go VIRAL BABY -19 intelligence, 23 wisdom, 20 charisma for kalina? absolutely fuck me -riz just got kICKed! you absolutely hate to see it -GODDAMMIT -KALINA IS HOMOPHOBIC CONFIRMED ABOUT 2 AND A HALF HOURS -brennan be like "im about to kill this bird" -absolutely fuck me i hate this -let's go FIG -time to caTCH the bALL -murph has the same thinking face as riz and it's adorable -this is not very spring break brennan -DC 25 acrobatics check? c'mon faBIAN -29????? -fifth the ball (from the hangman) -"there's just something endearing about him" fabian loving his friends is adorable -absolutely fuck me that fire elemental is adorable -absolutely swaddle the ball -well hot take but fuck the nightmare king you guys -absolutely NOT brennan do NOT kill adaine you PSYCHO BITCH -PLEASE ADAINE LIVE -STRAIGHT DEAD? FULLY DEAD? FUCK OFF WITH THIS INSTAKILL SHIT BRENNAN -hell yeah ayda is back and kristen has the revivify diamond -aelwyn FULLY banished that unicorn -it's good to know ragh really doesn't want them to die -YES RAGH IS BACK BABY -fuck em up kristen -s/o to DND Beyond btw absolutely banger website -hell yeah mass healing word is awesome -clerics are GOOD you guys i should play more clerics -FUCK IT UP AYDA -SANDRA LYNN IS BACK BABY -skater chej is my favorite thing -aBSOLUTEly fuck the tree -i have no idea wHAT is happening ABOUT 3 HOURS -fuCK YOU nightmare king -i absolutely hate this battle but at least gorthalax is still standing -gorgug better split this gd tree -"what if we just kill kalina?" yeah zac it's that goddamn easy -brennan almost just fucked everyone -"does she want to borrow my teddy bear?" the SHADE -"MAKEOVERRR" i love you siobhan -this tree SUCKS -battlemaster is cool as fUCK SPRING BREAK -BARDY BOYS also i think that was a nat 20 -i can't imagine the thistlesprings watching the battle livestream and like worrying if gorgug is going to die -FUCK HER UP THE BALL -ABSOLUTE SHENANIGANS FROM MURPH! -with ADVANTAGE BABY -"has anyone seen my hat!?" keep it off baby you're HOT now -"mirrors negate mirrors" "i think oscar wilde said that" i love them -#hotrizweek? -holy shit fig is FUCKING THIS BATTLE UP -HELL YEAH KALINA ROLLS A NATURAL 2!!!! -hell yeah adaine is back and SO MUCH is happening that i'm like forgetting to write down my reactions -kill this woody motherfucker baby -the music is too lOUD -ok it's normal now -fuck em up gorgug -i'm sorry the chat is saying he did 90 DAMAGE?!?!?!? -KILL IT CHEJ ILY -fuck off brennan, absolutely fuck off -ABSOLUTELY FUCK OFF BRENNAN -gorthalax is FULLY DEAD? absolUTELY FUCK YOU -SAINT KRISTEN APPLEBEES -adaine has SOLVED THIS SHIT -god all the abernant names are confusing -fuck you kalina ABOUT 3 AND A HALF HOURS -BRENNAN I STG IF RAGH ENDS UP DEAD -hellish rebuke that bitch -c'MON faBIAN HIT that BITCH -wait is kalina a rogue and a druid? absolutely incredible -FUCK IT UP FABIAN -OMG THE HANGMAN BETTER FUCK THIS UP -YES THE BALL 31 DAMAGE -so the stream just ended. i'll say it again: absolutely fuck me -ok so we're back and kalina got fucked up -WHAT THE FUCK A NAT 20???????? YOU ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO SEE IT -ALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THIS -I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS AND NEITHER CAN BRENNAN -MAGIC IS REAL AND SO IS MY ALLY -i can't believe this. eat your GOD damn DICE brennan! -OMG ARE THE NIGHTMARE KING AND THE GODDESS ONE AND THE SAME? -THEY ARE! THE NIGHTMARE KING IS THE NIGHTMARE QUEEN -brennan is CRAZY AHHHHH -brennan absolutely stop this tension -28 insight. brennan is fucked -GO TOWARDS HIM KRISTEN -YES!!!! PLEASE SAY THIS IS A GOOD THING -ALLY GOT A NAT 20 THEY BETTER BE RIGHT -fear. is. not. real. -this is just like the ending of moana -NO WAY BRENNAN I LOVE YOU (you wouldn't believe it from what i have said but it's true) -this is intense i'm about to cry -you're meeting god and you say "is it too early for this?" -LMAO 5'9" -Moral of the story: IDK and that's OK -ok ally make me cRy -HELL YEAH NEW SHIRT BABY -i'm so emotional -"well oBVIouslY cASsAndRa" i wish every deity had names as normal and human as cassandra -fuck them UP cassie -i love that tracker's just like "uh... babe?" -love having god in your corner -no more hangman puppy :((( -RIZTEN are the CUTEST i love them "i love all of them, riz the most, we know this" -"we still need the crown for our grade" FABIAN I LOVE YOU -"counselo- former counsel- i'm an assistant :(" why do y'all think this man is hot -KILL ARIANWEN -"she tried to hurt me in my shattered state?" "that's her MO" aww adaine my baby -HOLY SHIT PLEASE GIVE GILEAR ALL OF ARIANWEN'S MAGIC -GORGUG YOU SWEETHEART I LOVE YOU -cassandra throwing SHADE -ThE vANdS -aelwyn throwing SHADE -AWW RAGH I LOVE YOU BABY brennan lives another day -"a big bug gave me a riddle" that is NOT what happened -aww the hirelings are all crying and i DO NOT stan -hell YEAH cassandra OH I STOPPED KEEPING TRACK OF TIME IT'S BEEN OVER 4 HOURS -hELL YES HANGVAN -i love you fabian -nO IS CHUNGLE DOWN BIM REAL? -maybe the real chungle down bim is the friends we made along the way -GARTHY i love them -arthuR aGUEFORT - absolutely wild -ayda and arthur is crazy -"snOGGING THE HEADMASTER'S DAUGHTER ARE WE?" -awww that is so smooth fig "you don't need to make me the most magnificent creature because it seems you already have" -ARTHUR PULLS THROUGH -garthy is a cutie i love how they care so much for ayda -oH FUCK ME garthy is ayda's child from her previous life -"your girlfriend's daughter fucked your mom!" goddammit siobhan i can't handle this -if they fail i will cry -CHRONOMANCY!? absolutely fuck me -"professor principal headmaster aguefort" -hell yeah arthur you're killing it -faelwyn? absolutely can't handle it -aww kristen is baby -jawbone and sandra lynn are ok? amazing -jawbone is the best character -"our parents are great" kill me why don't you siobhan -AWWW FUCKING STOP BRENNAN WITH THESE GIFTS -i just cried he wants to adopt her -"you're easy to love" jawbone is fUCKING me up -LYDIA BARKROCK what a badass i love her already -"a pheonix whom everyone she touches is reborn better" fuck off emily -gorgug is a cutie <3 <3 -ABSOLUTELY KICK SKRANKS BIRD ASS -GORGUG CONFIRMED FUCKS -riz is a dork i love him -who knew "you're so much like your father" could make me feel like that -GILEAR IS MOVING THE FUCK IN BABY -GILEAR WITH SELF CONFIDENCE IS MY AESTHETIC -aww jawbone gave ayda autism books? jawbone is the sweetest to ayda cuz OF COURSE HE IS -AYDA GETS HER SPELL!!! -Ayda's Comprehend Subtext is the cutest spell ever -adaine and fig's friendship is too cute -craig has always been down for everything. i don't know craig but i love him -YES HOOT GROWL HOOT GROWL I'M SO PROUD OF RAGH -"BAD KIDS FOR LIFE" RAGH IS A CUTIE -NO FAELWYN IS REALLY HAPPENING I CAN'T -fabian's laugh is so cute -i love how nervous fabian is -WAIT FABIAN AND AELWYN ABSOLUTELY WILL FUCK? -fabian's gonna get his KISSES IN -aww i get how hyped figayda is but they are truly so adorable -weLL EMILY AXFORD I WILL LET YOU HURT ME LIKE THAT -they said i love you :((( -tracker only deserves the best -TRACKER'S GOING TO FALLINEL? I LOVE HER -ragh is going too? gay road trip! -that's adorable -ABSOLUTELY NOT BRENNAN FUCK OFF DO NOT SAY THE NIGHT YORB IS GONNA BE THE NEXT VILLAIN -BRENNAN NO YOU BITCH I HATE YOU THE NIGHT YORB IS THE VILLAIN OF JUNIOR YEAR? -that was crazy. i cried, i laughed. i am fuCKING HYPED FOR CROWN OF CANDY AND JUNIOR YEAR GANG!

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lowkey-lokis-bitch · 6 years ago

Text

my best girl - steve.rogers {smut}

pairing - steve rogers x reader

word count - 1705

a/n - hi! this is smut so go away children. okay, this is the first smut i think i’ve ever written so go easy on me lmao. i recommend reading this whilst listening to some 40′s/50′s music, and if you really want to break your heart, maybe “it’s been a long, long time” <3<3<3 also i’m starting a taglist! so if you wanna be on it or just for specific characters or whatever just send me a message!

warnings - oral (male & female receiving), sex, slight fingering, don’t read if ur a child pls

The soft sound of a vinyl record welcomed you into your apartment. The lights were off as you placed your keys on the table, trying to make the least noise possible. The only hint of life were the footsteps in the kitchen, stepping back and forth. Footsteps you would recognise anywhere. Your body began to shake as you stepped towards the ajar door, pushing it open to see a familiar silhouette facing away from you. A pale blue, checkered shirt and jeans framed his figure perfectly, and his dirty blonde hair sat atop his tired face.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took the sight of him in. He had been away for weeks on a mission, with no idea of when he would return. You had spoken to him briefly on the phone, but it couldn’t be the same as seeing him in person. You took a deep breath before walking towards him slowly, your footsteps almost silent. Upon reaching him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face in between his shoulder blades, just breathing in his scent. Feeling him sent you overboard, tears falling onto your cheeks as you smiled into his back, the world finally seeming at peace.

Steve placed his hands atop yours and waited for a moment, before turning to see your face. He looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling in the evening light streaming through the window. He tucked a finger underneath your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. Your eyelashes were wet as you peered up at him, his unshaven face smiling back down at you.

“Hey babe,” he spoke, his voice gravelly and intimate.

You smiled up at him, “You’re home.” The sentence was simple, but filled with love. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him and you slinked your arms around his neck. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him towards you. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips met, soft and familiar. You could feel Steve’s eyelashes against your face, and you were sure he could feel the tears which left your eyes. Your lips moved together gracefully, as though you had never been apart. Your hands slid from Steve’s neck across his shoulders and down his chest, as his stroked up and down your hips. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Steve walked you backwards to the island in the centre of the kitchen. When your butt touched it, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you to sit on it. He stood between your legs, still entirely lost in the passion you shared. You tightened your legs around his hips, your feet meeting in the middle as you drew him as close to you as physically possible. Your hands repositioned themselves on his chest before sliding down to the hem of his shirt. Steve pulled away for a second to whip off his shirt, allowing you to admire his chest before he placed his hands on your hips.

“I was away for far too long,” he whispered, groaning at the sight of you still fully clothed. He ran his fingers along the hem of your shirt, and it was gone within a second. You grabbed him by the belt loops and kissed him again, this time filled with lust. You felt his hips grind against yours as he moaned into the kiss, causing you to smirk. His hands trailed from your back to your thighs, his grip tightening as you felt him harder underneath you.

“Are we doing this here, Captain?” you asked, feigning innocence. You knew exactly how the final word would affect Steve, and it proved correct as his eyes just about rolled into the back of his head. Instead of giving you an answer, he reached his hands under your ass and lifted you, pressing kisses to your exposed collarbone. The skin-on-skin contact and the soft bites he left along your skin made your head fall back as you breathed a soft sigh. This. This was the difference between in person and over the phone. Not just the sex, but the connection.

You barely noticed as the record continued to play and transitioned into the next song. It was still an old song, likely from Steve’s original era, but had a much more sultry, sexy feel. Steve placed you down onto the bed, your legs still wrapped around his waist. You rolled your hips into his, eliciting a moan as Steve’s hands roamed to the waistband of your pants. You lifted your body, allowing him to remove your clothing, leaving you almost naked on the bed. Your hands trailed down Steve’s exposed chest, reaching his jeans and unbuttoning them. They slid to the floor with a thud, and Steve was left in only his boxers, which didn’t do a good job of hiding his arousal.

You reached into Steve’s boxers, wrapping your hand lightly around his length. He groaned at the touch before removing his boxers entirely. You began to move your hand, slowly but surely, and he shivered in anticipation. You flipped so that Steve was sat on the bed, with you on your hands and knees before him. You lowered your head to his member, still pumping with your hand. You left a sloppy trail of kisses down his shaft before kissing the tip, drawing out a moan from his lips. You licked up the underside of his cock before taking him in your mouth. You moved yourself along him, up and down, moaning and sending vibrations along his shaft, making him call out in pleasure.

As Steve could feel himself rising, he pulled away and spoke, “Your turn, baby.” He lifted you and lay you on the bed before trailing kisses down your chest, your stomach before reaching the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, checking if you were okay. You gave him a nod and he ripped off the layer of lace, admiring you with wide eyes. He had missed this. He kissed down your hips, landing between your thighs. He traced a finger along your folds, and you bit your lip at the familiar feeling. He flicked your clit, sending tremors up your body. You shivered from arousal, rolling your hips to show your weakness. Steve chuckled, a deep sound as you thrived underneath him. “Hold on baby, you know I’m gonna do it well.”

He slipped a single finger into you, drawing out a moan, low and guttural. He used his other hand to lift your leg over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of his eyes as he looked up at you. Maintaining eye contact, he bent his head down to lick at your clit. The sight was almost too much for you, making you arch your back and bite your lower lip. He added another finger, pulsing in and out of you, curling to hit the best spot. Moans and grunts slipped out from your lips, despite your best efforts to keep them quiet.

“No, darling, I want to hear you,” Steve grumbled, sending vibrations across your body and making your legs shake. You moaned loudly in response, causing Steve to smirk. He went back to work, his licks and nips becoming rougher as you reached your climax. You cried out his name when you came, and Steve rose back up to capture your lips as you rode out your high on his fingers. Your kisses were passionate, fiery.

“Please,” you whimpered, your body still trembling from your orgasm. “Please, fuck me.”

Steve moaned and attacked your neck, sucking and leaving bruises across your chest. You could feel his erection against your thigh, and reached down to stroke it. Steve groaned against your skin and pulled away, looking deep into your eyes.

“You sure you’re good with this?” he asked, and you could see the lust in his eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed, wanting nothing more in that moment than to have him.

Carefully, Steve grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and slipped it on. Aligning himself with you, Steve eased into you, allowing you time to adjust to his size. You reached up to his neck, pulling him down and crashing your lips together. The two of you moved in sync as he grinded further into you, until he bottomed out and pulled away to rock his hips back into you. You moved your hands up and down his back, leaving scratches as he grunted into the crook of your neck. One of his hands was in your hair, tangling and messing it as he lost himself in you entirely. You placed your hands on the small of his back, pressing him further into you. He lifted his head to kiss you, his kisses becoming sloppy as the two of you started to reach your high. He pulled out of you quickly, moving you so you were on top of him.

You angled yourself correctly, and eased yourself down onto him. Your head rolled back as Steve’s large hands were on your waist, gripping you tightly. You rocked your hips back and forward, Steve falling in sync with you. After a few moments, you could feel your orgasm building in your stomach.

“Steve, I-” you moaned, your hair flying around your face.

“I know babe, me too,” he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly.

Your stomach tightened as you let go, and your orgasm roared throughout your body. Steve thrusted one last time before falling back on the bed, sweat beading on his forehead. You rolled over, breathing heavy as you felt Steve’s breath hot on your shoulder. After a moment, you stood and padded to the bathroom. Upon returning, you dove under the covers, where Steve had his arms outstretched for you. He wrapped you in his tight embrace and pressed kisses to your face.

“I missed you Stevie,” you whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes.

“I missed you too, (Y/N). I love you so much,” Steve breathed, loud enough for only you to hear.

“I love you too.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #loki #bucky #bucky barnes #loki laufeyson #tony stark #iron man #avengers #avengers imagine

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tpwk-dolan · 6 years ago

Note

hi! you’re thinking of starting writing right? if so, could you do a small piece of harry maybe meeting a girl at the gym and maybe she’s a little too hot for him to handle at first? lmao

A/N: Sooooo, first, I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, I was really insecure and everything I wrote was way to bad for me, but, here it is, finally. And second, I get a little too excited and this has 1.7K words, I’m sorry but not really. Hope you guys enjoy it. Please if you have any suggestion or any tips for how not no suck writing, I’ll be glad to talk to you. Be nice, lots of love, xx.

Pants - Harry Styles x reader

Harry was very much used to pretty girls, after all, when you travel de world, you end up knowing a lot of different types of beauty. So his was cool when he sees a gorgeous woman walking around, or when a pretty girl comes to him and asks for a picture. It was alright.

But her, that girl at his gym, she was something else. Maybe it was the way she was always kind to others, she was always smiling and talking to everyone, or maybe it’s just because she was a little too hot.

Her body catches his attention at the moment she walked into the room, 3 weeks ago, in one of the boxing class. Her hair was in a ponytail, exposing all her neck and her nape; she was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts that should be considered a crime in a body like that.

After that day, everything he could think was her, the most part of the times included no clothes on. But despite all his naughty thoughts and wishes, he never makes a move on her. Not because he was afraid to get a no, but because she looked so tired of guys hitting on her, that he respects her space.

But the thoughts keep coming for him, in most of the time in the wrongness moments, one time, she decided to wear a legging to the class, and the only thing that could think off was how good it would be to rip off that pants and fuck her right there.

Today was a boxing class day, and Harry couldn’t be more excited. He always gets up a little happier everything he knows for sure that he is going to see her.

When he arrived, he sees her sitting on the first step of the building, she was wearing those damn pants.

-Hi there - he says, catching her attention

-Oh, Hi - she smiles a little - Apparently I wasn’t the only one that doesn’t get the note

-What do you mean? What note? - he almost never checks his emails, he was used to people doing that for him

-No boxing class today, Dylan is sick

-Oh man, hope he gets better

-Me too - the silence after that was a little embarrassing, she wasn’t looking at him, and he couldn’t stop looking at her. After cleaning his throat, he says:

-So, if there’s no class, what are you still doing here?

-I’m waiting for my bus, I still have 30 minutes to go - she says checking her phone

-You know, I could give you a ride home, if you want to - just be cool Harry, be cool

-It’s really kind of you, but we don’t know each other, you don’t have to

-Well, my name it’s Harry, I’m a singer - and I really want to take that pants off of you - and I’m originally from a little city in England

-Nice to meet you Harry - she smiles - I’m Y/N, I’m a designer and I’m from this big city

-Does that mean that you will accept my ride? - He reaches out his hand for her, after a minute of hesitant, she accepts and gets in her feet

-Why not?

____

When Harry parkers his car in front of her house, he had to admit that she wasn’t just hot, she was so smart and funny, and he wanted her so bad.

-Thanks for the ride, Harry - she said, but she didn’t leave the car, actually she looks a little hesitant - So, ah, if you want to, you can come inside, I have a lot of pizza from last night – she gives him a little smile

-That’s very kind of you - he smiles, turning off the car - I’m actually very hungry.

They got off the car and which out for the door, she missed the lock a couple of times, when they finally get inside her house, Harry was caught by surprise when her lips hit his.

But didn’t take much until Harry takes the control of the situation, his hands go to her waist, putting her more close to his body, her hands messed up his hair, not that he cares.

The temperature was getting a little warmer by the second, and Harry needs to get those stupid clothes off.

-Where is your bedroom? - he asks leaving her mouth and starting to kiss her jaw and neck, a small moan leaves her.

-Way too far, my sofa it’s over there - she says trying to take off his jacket.

Harry pick her up and gets closer to the sofa, with his jacket lost in the middle of the way, her attention goes to his t-shirt. Putting her down a little roughness, he gets in his knees and opens her legs.

-I have a question - he says - How much do you little those pants?

-I hate them - she gives him a smirk - But I noticed that you like them.

A low growl comes out of him while he captured her lips again, a kiss was way rough than before, the desperation was on both sides.

His hands quickly take off her top, she wasn’t wearing any bra, which makes his day so much happier. Leaving her lips, he started his work down, first her neck, leaving some bruises in the way, then her shoulders, and at last, her boobs.

When his hot mouth gets in touch with her cold skin, she lets out a loud moan, pulling his hair even harder.

-Harry… - her mouth wasn’t obeyed her brain anymore, so was kinda of hard form a phase.

-Talk to me, gorgeous – his gaze finds hers – Tell me what you want

-I want you further down – he smiles

-Where? – he says, kissing her lower belly – Here? – then he kisses her hip – Or here? – with a smirk, he kisses her inner thigh – Not here? Maybe a little left, uh?

-Harry, please – her eyes shut down when he finally kisses her in her center, even with her pants on, the touch makes her tremble, thanks God she was sitting because her legs were like jelly.

With a little urgency, Harry found the damn seam of those pants, and without hesitation, he did what he was wishing for the last 2 weeks, and ripped the thing off.

-You’re so wet baby – he says after putting her panties aside – Is this just because of me? – he starts teasing her folders, taking his time of licking and kissing. Then he started to tickle her clit with his tongue, enjoying the moans coming out of her. Finally, he puts a little more pressure on her, using his mouth and genteelly rubbing his thumb on her entrance.

-Jesus Christ Harry! – her hands leave his hair and look for something to keep her in place, she honestly thinks that she was going to fly away – God, just like that.

When she tough that there was nothing he could do to make that moment better, he puts two of his fingers inside of her, all the way in, and all the way out. His fingers were fast in his movements, and his tongue follows the rhythm, getting faster until she hits the first orgasm of the night. Her legs were shaking, her eyes where shut and her breath was irregular.

When she was able to control herself, Harry speak:

-You’re ok? –sitting side to side with her, he also was breathless

-I’m great – she giggles, and then she puts herself up into his lap – Actually, I think I will show you how great I’m – with the best innocent look she could come up with, she gives him a small kiss on the lips, and work her way to his jaw, biting him the same way he did before. In the meanwhile, her hands start pulling his shirt off.

A little moan gets out of his throat, making her even more excited. With a final kiss, she puts her focus on taking his pants and underwear off. Harry was big, and this jus turn Y/N more on.

Taking his cock in her hand, she started slow, base to top, keeping her gaze on his face, watching every trait of pleasure, getting more faster by the minute, teasing him. Then, she started licking it, also slow, moving her hands to his ball, she takes him on her mouth, putting in as much as she can’t. This time, his moan is much louder.

His hands go to her hair, leading her.

-Good Lord Y/N – he says, under his breath – You look so good sucking my cock like that.

Pulling herself out to take a breath, she replaced her mouth with her hand, moving quicker. When she felt he was close, she takes one of his balls in her mouth, sucking a little hard. She watches when he reaches the orgasm, his leg muscles contracted, his head falling back, and her name leaving his mouth a couple times. She licked him up, swallowing every drop.

Harry didn’t waste too much time after, pulling her up, he lay her down on the sofa. Spread her legs and put himself inside of her, all the way in. Making both moan loud. Waiting a second until she adapted with his side, he started a slow rhythm, dropping his head on her shoulder, her hands hold strong on his shoulders, scratching a little bit.

-Faster – she said almost like a whisper

Doing as she says, he was getting faster, taking the care of not hurting her.

-Look at you, taking my cock so well – he whisper in her ear – Such a good girl

The moan she let it out probably was heard by the entire neighborhood, not that any of them care. The familiar pressure on the stomach started to make a presence in both of them, the sweat making both hairs wet.

-Harry, I’m going…

-I know babe, me too – reaching out for her clit, his finger put a little pressure there, setting her to the limit.

With a loud moan, the orgasm hit her, Harry didn’t take much longer too. Both of their bodies fell off in the couch. And they stay there, waiting for they breathe to go back to normal. After a couple of minutes, Harry takes himself out of her, adjusting his body in her side, making both feel more comfortable.

-This was amazing – she says, keeping her eyes closed, but smiling lazily – You must really like those pants, uh?

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #imagine #imagine smut

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swishandflickwit · 6 years ago

Text

Marichat/Adrinette — somehow i know (he's always with me) 1/1

Summary: Somehow, they always find their way back here.

Adrinette + piano + Identity Reveal

Sequel to anywhere you go (let me go too)

Words: 10.8k

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: Stormy Weather 2 spoilers!

AN: Me working on the sequel that no one really asked for instead of finishing the ones that were asked for lmao.

As the French would say, c'est la vie.

Also on ff.net | AO3

Other writing

"You snore in your sleep, you know.”

Marinette gapes.

“I do not!”

Beside her, Chat Noir giggles and though she feels heat creep up her face in whorls of blooming red—she cannot help but laugh along with him.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about!” he reassures with an innocent bat of his eyelashes.

(It should have been her first clue)

And because she is Marinette, she rolls her eyes but believes it to be the end of that particular line of conversation, anyway.

(She should have known better)

“Besides, it was a cute snore,” he continues boldly. “Like, really cute. Like—”

Chat proceeds to emit some rather inelegant snorts. Rumbling, gurgling, disjointed and completely over exaggerated growls which seem to stem deeply within his throat in harsh exhalations. She would have worried, had he not been expelling them at her expense.

(She really, really should have known)

“Get out,” she deadpans, or at least she tries to, amongst his obnoxious grunting and chortling.

“Like an adorable, black-haired, blue-eyed, baby pig,” he wheezes.

“I will push you off this this balcony.”

He halts his amusement in favor of flexing an arm in front of her.

“Not with these muscles, you couldn’t—Eep! ”

It is her turn to laugh something fierce and relentless as he squeals his surprise—a tinny, high-pitched and utterly girlish sound that tickles her to no end—and scrambles for the metal balustrade, though it remains stationary beneath him.

“You were saying?” she inquires sweetly, guilelessly, even as her hold on his bicep remains his only salvation from slipping off his precarious perch on her railing.

(As if he couldn’t catch himself! And not that she would let him fall, of course.

...maybe)

“Marinette,” he whines. She does not capitulate, seeking retribution for herself with another cackle.

“Say the words,” she coos. He narrows his eyes at her. “What words?”

She sticks out her tongue before huffing. “You know…”

Another mewl from Chat, before he sighs. Marinette crows her victory and delight.

“I’m sorry,” he yips through gritted teeth. She tuts.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” she comments, leaning into his space in feigned flirtation as she drops her voice and teases him airily. Something shifts just then. It drains the mirth from his face, slips the smile from his mouth—but not the light from his eyes. No, that is ever glowing… ever present. But there is something serious about the way he looks at her every time he does it, and he has done it more often than not in the past week since they played the piano together at midnight, her falling asleep on his shoulder, him taking her home and then tucking her in.

Internally, she groans as the memory of the morning after comes to her and she saw she was no longer in the school but in her room. In her bed. There was only one way she could have gotten there, considering her last recollection was of Chat Noir’s elegant fingers flying over the keys, the stark contrast of his ebony gloves against the white scales enticing her designer’s eye as remnants of the music he played swirled within her mind and lulled her to slumber.

Thinking about it still makes her blush like mad, though nothing salacious happened. Yet no one but her parents, Alya and Tikki had ever seen her asleep. So for Chat Noir to, it was a moment of vulnerability, and it was… private. It felt intensely intimate. It was sacred. She doesn’t know where they stand because of it, and now it's as though they are not in the same place in their companionship—is it a parallel plane or has it ascended? Or maybe they hadn’t moved at all and she was building it in her head? And it isn’t as if she’s uncomfortable with this new stance they are taking with each other. If anything, their friendship feels stronger than ever despite the masks they continue to wear, both the literal and figurative kind. But even that armor is slowly chipping away, chink by little chink, so that she has to be careful around him lest she give herself away. And she wants to. Bon dieu, does she ever want to.

(To the point that she begins to ask herself, in the nights when Tikki falls asleep before her and she has only her thoughts for company, so what am I waiting for? Why don’t I just tell him? )

(She knows why)

But she doesn’t tell him the truth of her identity, and here they are. And it��s moments like these, when he looks at her and it’s as if everything apart from the two of them fades, she just, she does. not. know. She does not know anything except everything is changed. Somewhere between him saving her and promise me and a forehead kiss. Between sunsets and macaron snacks and late night rooftop conversations. Between the smiles and the laughter and the music and his arms around her… things are different.

They are different.

“Marinette,” he murmurs, hands easing so that one finally grabs hold of the bannister while the other… the other one inches ever so gently up the length of her arm. She's never been more grateful for her blazer, as it conceals the goosebumps that trail in his wake, his fingers dancing up her porcelain skin so it feels more like the ivory of a piano than flesh.

“Marinette,” he trills once more, her gaze ripping from the path he makes so she meets his eyes. He bites his lip, as if to contain his smile. She pouts, and that's when his hand meets its journey's end at her chin, his thumb tracing the bow of her bottom lip.

“I am sorry, princess.”

She groans at the nickname he can't seem to let go of. He chuckles at her obvious ire, though it doesn't dim the sincerity from his apology.

“Ok, not a princess then,” he yields, albeit with a hint of that omnipresent mischief. “But do be an angel and save me from this perilous height.”

She rolls her eyes, all the while she ducks her head to hide her own grin.

Angel, he called her. She likes that.

She steps back so he has room to put his feet down but she doesn't stray far, not that she could even if she wanted to.

(She doesn’t want to)

The hand that had been holding the railing now nestles comfortably on the curve of her waist, as he lands on both feet in front of her. When he straightens, she finds their bodies have aligned in—what she is increasingly finding to be—addicting ways. He is pleasantly firm in all the places she finds herself to be doughy, and from all the times they’ve been tangled up in each other in their superhero personas, she is entirely too aware of how he is lean beneath the leather of his suit. He is grounded, stable, which her all too clumsy self finds reassurance in.

His hand moves lazily, sensually, from her waist to the dip of her spine, just shy of her derrière. The wind feels crisp despite the heat bearing down on them from the sun’s unhindered radiance and she feels taught with it, her muscles alternatively coiling and relaxing so that her hand twitches against his biceps. He lets out a soft breath as she (reflexively, she tells herself, it’s a reflex) cossets the leather where she holds him, wishing with all her might she was touching skin instead.

Yes, the shift in them from that fateful night is never more evident than it is now—the air around them filling with a strange yet not unwelcome charge that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end, her belly tingle with an inexplicable excitement and her heart cry out for more of his touch. It feels as if there is a thread around her that binds them and all it would take is a slight pull from him for her to unravel right before him.

There is a look in his eyes, hungry and desperate but oh so fragile too—as if he would just as easily come undone if she so much as tugged at that string. He hums Angel of Music under his breath when he takes a step closer, drawing her to him with the hand low at her back. Hope tinges his dark gaze when she doesn’t protest at his proximity.

Pull, pull, pull.

It makes her wonder if he would unwind if she plucked at that invisible connection, only to twine himself around her. She tilts her head upwards just as he cants his forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, his droning of Angel of Music fading into something unfamiliar yet calming all the same.

Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull—

“Marinette!”

She sucks in a sharp breath and reels back, opening eyes she hadn't realized had shut in the first place until they meet orbs shrouded in rueful, tourmaline hues.

The thread stiffens for another second, just as loathe as the two of them to let go, before finally falling limp and taking all the static electricity of the moment with it.

“I think,” he rasps, voice low and gravelly that he has to clear his throat twice before continuing. It flatters her, especially as she remains feeling weak at the knees. “I think,” he tries again, “that's my cue to leave.”

She knows this. Agrees, even.

If only her hand would cooperate and surrender him.

She curls her digits just a bit tighter, a shudder going through her when she feels his muscles bunching powerfully beneath the suit as he treads impossibly nearer, accommodating her clutch.

You could stay, she wants to utter.

“My dad baked macarons for dessert. It's his specialty…” she says in lieu of such ridiculous pronouncements or a more appropriate goodbye.

(And there goes her mouth too, oh will nothing of hers ever follow her command?)

He grins lopsidedly though his eyes insist on narrowing. “Oh, you don't fight fair,” he returns though she gleans that what he really means is, I wish I didn't have to leave.

Her name pierces the now stale air once more.

“Your mother calls,” he says, rather unnecessarily, a grimace set upon his mouth. That he didn’t want to go as much as she herself wished he wouldn’t gave her the strength to withdraw her hand.

“À bientôt, minou,” she bids in strained articulations, with an even more strained smile, before swiveling on her heel towards her trap door and trying in vain to disperse the bereavement she gains when his gloved hand slips from her back.

She has not taken two steps when she senses the touch of leather on her own hand. He drags her back into his atmosphere and she endeavors to tamper the flutter that arises in her stomach by pasting a faux frown upon her lips.

“Yes?”

His answer falls from his mouth, though not in words. He raises their clasped hands to his chin so that his every measured inhales, his slow exhales, bathe her skin. She expects a kiss upon her fingers, as he is so fond of them whether she is Ladybug or Marinette. And though he does this indeed, she is jolted when he retreats only to wrap warm lips around another knuckle, and the next, and the next, till the entirety of her is ablaze and his kisses seem scored into the very marrow of her bones.

“Till we meet again.”

With the sun sinking low in the horizon behind him, Chat Noir’s face is a study in shadows. But if his visage was the night sky then those eyes, oh always his eyes… they were the glistening diamond stars of the eventide.

“Mon ange.”

And then he is gone, taking all the oxygen with him.

She almost sinks to her knees, having not apprehended how much she was leaning on him till he had disappeared. She braces herself against her metal balustrade to catch her breath, the hand he had marked clutched close to her chest as it continues to buzz with the feel of him.

From her purse erupts a giggle, then Tikki is floating serenely in front of her.

“What was that about?”

Marinette huffs, albeit still in a bit of a daze.

“I hardly know anymore, Tikki.”

The Kwami, never missing a thing, narrows her gaze pointedly onto her hands—the same one still cradled delicately close to her chest while the other fans her overheated face. At her observation, she stills.

“Are you okay?” Tikki inquires, not bothering to hide the teasing glimmer to her tone.

Marinette bites her lip before she rolls her eyes.

“Shut up.”

Tikki's laugh is so hard Marinette is certain it echoes all the way up into the galaxy.

Her mother summons her for dinner one final time and with seemingly Herculean fortitude, she follows. But ensconced as she is within the comforts of her own home—her parents laughing jovially before her, her belly full with a hot and delicious meal prepared lovingly by her father—try as she might she cannot escape Chat Noir. How every time he looked at her his gaze crept along her skin like a living touch, how his actual touch felt branded onto her soul, the manner with which he kissed her or held her—as if she was invaluable treasure—and the effect with which he breathed her name, so softly but with so much gravity, like her name was both too precious to be uttered in anything but humble inflections yet it held so much power, too, because he believed her to be strong and fierce that to say her name any other way would be a fault (and it was only her name! Who knew one could divulge so much meaning onto a name? Of course, only Chat Noir could)—it all drove her wild with wanting.

Though she refuses to answer Tikki's question aloud, it is how she knows—without a shadow of a doubt—that no, she is not okay. So long as he is around her, stealing her breath and making her go weak in the knees, she would never be the same again.

Strangely enough, she is just fine with that.

And even stranger though, is Adrien.

He is different around her, a change she traces all the way back to Con Rubato as well. He is more engaging with her, more conscientious. He would stand when she entered a room then sit only once she had, like a modern day Mr. Darcy. He takes her words in with an air of devout seriousness, as if everything she says has the power to change the world, even if she were just rattling off the afternoon specials in her parents’ bakery. Not three years ago, she would have squealed then died at his attentions. But now it merely confuses her. It is as if she has entered an alternate dimension where Adrien is the one who scrambles for any excuse to talk to her only to stutter his way through their conversations, whether to borrow a pen or copy her notes or set up study groups that she finds herself declining more and more.

The part of her that is still 14-years old rejoices at every look he sends her way, every genuine praise or bolstering shoulder graze. But Marinette has always been an all or nothing sort of girl. No, as Alya would put it, she is a “Ride or Die, Bitch” which would appall her were it not so true. She doesn't know how to do lukewarm or in-betweens, and so the Marinette of now would merely receive such affections with a befuddled slant of her head and a small, appreciative smile. That being said, her head is entirely too filled with thoughts of an overgrown, leather-clad, ridiculous yet charming cat. She should be embarrassed, or she would have been, if said cat was not showing up on her rooftop on an almost nightly basis under the guise of her house being on his “patrol route” when they both recognize it for the lie it is, a rose in his hand and a Phantom of the Opera tune purring low in his throat. Though, more often than not these days, each time he is around her he hums that same indistinct harmony—one he resolutely refuses to name with such stubbornness that she doesn't know whether to hate it for the vagueness or love it for its soothing quality.

(Who is she kidding? It's the latter. Definitely the latter)

Still, it is refreshing, for once, to not be part of a story wherein her love is one-sided. Because though they skirt around the topic, both grown yet still too awkward and shy to broach their feelings, it is there. She feels it, that heady tension… that ever-present pull in her navel that magnetizes her to him. It conquers her so keenly it is nearly impossible now to concentrate when they don their superhero personas; when every part of her is abuzz with his nearness—always close enough to touch but never quite able to bridge that gap. Never the right time, never brave enough.

But she knows he feels it too, even if he does give her funny looks when she's Ladybug and she's a little too late to throw her yo-yo or too slow to move despite the tapering of his flirtations because she's too busy being distracted by his, um, assets (she has become that girl now, bon dieu), and that's all that matters.

At least… at least, for now.

Because it's unthinkable to be anything but deliriously content during periods like this, where he arrives onto her rooftop and settles onto the chaise—right across from her—as if there's nowhere he'd rather be, as if he belongs there. Him and the smell of clean boy sweat and leather and that mysterious melody spilling from his lips like chimes hung out on a beachfront porch, light but resonant too. It ripples down to her sinew, till she is teeming with quiet satisfaction and unexpected fondness for the song.

“What is that?”

“What is what?” he replies coyly, though he knows that she knows that he knows he is perfectly cognizant of exactly what it is she's asking for.

“Dumb is not a good look on you, Chat Noir,” she grumbles.

“Everything's a good look on me, Marinette.”

She blinks, deliberately. He, too, is stunned into silence—his mouth intermittently falling agape and clicking shut, as if wanting to take the words back for the unintentional self-degradation but perceiving the futility of it. Wisely, he swallows the protest that no doubt wants to extricate itself from his mouth, clearing his throat instead before continuing as if he never said the quip at all.

She wants to laugh but recognizes the fragility of the moment, and allows him this one free pass.

“Right,” he says, and she picks up where they left off.

“You were about to tell me what it is you're always singing underneath your breath?”

He smiles archly before tutting. “Not so fast.” He wags a finger right between her eyes.

“Such impatience.”

She swats his hand away.

“Hard not to be, when I don't know exactly what it is I'm impatient for?”

He sighs, as if the confession requires a gargantuan effort on his part.

“If you really want to know,” he straightens from the sprawl he has settled himself upon his arrival, repositioning his arms which had been behind his head so that they are folded between his criss-crossed legs. She mirrors his stance, figuring that she ought to put some seriousness into her mien for all the pomp and circumstance he is displaying for her.

“It's a song I'm composing. On the piano.”

She gasps.

“That's wonderful! What's it called?”

His eyes widen, as if it hadn't occurred to him to give it a name.

“You know… I'm not quite sure, yet.” He stares at her for a beat, and his voice is rough when he declares, “I do have an idea, though.”

For reasons unbeknownst to her, she blushes. To hide this, she stands then, her hand outstretched towards him. His brows are furrowed but he accepts it all the same and follows when she pulls him to his feet.

“Well?”

This time, his dumbfoundedness is sincere.

“Well, what?”

“Let's go!”

“Go where?”

She rolls her eyes heavenward and fixes him with a look of utmost disappointment.

“What?” he exclaims again, arms crossing defensively across his chest before muttering, “Sometimes, I don't understand you.”

“Believe me,” she retorts, haughtily. “I know. ”

But excitement colors her countenance once more, till she is bouncing on the tips of her toes.

“I don't have a piano but there's one in the school! Take me there so you can play me the rest of the song. I've only heard bits and pieces and, mon dieu, I've never had a friend who could compose before. I know an actual composer! Can you believe it?”

She'd been talking a mile a minute and would have gone on, but she really does want to hear his original and with the school closed for the day, it means they would have to sneak in (not that it would be their first time). She couldn't exactly transform in front of him so she would need him to break the both of them in. Except he hasn't moved from his place in front of her. There is only that enigmatic smile and his bright eyes, gazing upon her like she is made of moonshine and starlight.

The ardor of his stare has her feeling all the blood in her body has rushed to her cheeks.

“What?” she retorts. “Is there something on my face?”

“Besides your beauty?”

She groans. He is such a cheeseball but damn if it doesn't get her. It gets her so bad that her blood redoubles its efforts of turning her face into a permanent tomato.

He laughs at her obvious modesty, amusement making him bold when he frames her hips between careful claws and gathers her in his arms.

“It's not entirely finished, you know.”

She pouts. “Oh.”

He chuckles again, thumb tracing the plump camber of her bottom lip before resting it on her chin.

“But when it is, I promise you mon ange,” (cue her breath hitch. Blushing intensifies) “you will be the first to know.”

He lets go of her chin so his hand can join the vine the rest of his limbs have made around her waist. And because he is a good head taller than her now, she steeples her fingers on his chest so she can rest her chin upon it as she murmurs, “Deal.”

“Deal,” he parrots.

Then, he adds, “Besides,” he shrugs. “I don't think you're ready to hear it.”

She scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean!”

Rather than answer her, he giggles a final time then nuzzles his cheek atop her hair. She grunts but obliges him by tangling herself around him as well, partly because it's not as if she can force him to (nor does she want to!) speak. But mostly, she likes this—the unconscious ease with which they fall into each other's arms, the subliminal fashion that compels them to gravitate towards each other's orbits and just stay there, like it was always where they were meant to be.

She likes him.

She wants to smack herself when the thought hits her. She likes him, like, really likes him! She might go so far as to say she…

Well, ironies upon ironies that after years of rejection, she now finds herself in the unique placement of desiring to return his affections, granted under a different skin.

And as if somehow linked to her thoughts, he shatters the silence (and her world) when he finally answers her.

“It means,” he starts in a solemn and susurrous murmur, “that I like you, Marinette.”

Her heart beating a tango and a salsa in her throat that her voice comes out hoarse, she replies, “I like you too, Chat Noir.” And because she is an idiot and a fool and afraid, she remarks, “As a friend.”

For a brief moment, he tenses beneath her hands. Then, with a steady sigh, he loosens, his arms travelling from her waist to grasp her biceps.

“And that is exactly what I mean when I say you're not ready.”

There's something broken there, when he says the words and she meets his eyes. It is with growing horror that she realizes she is the one who put it there—that ache and the hurt and the unabashed longing and she wants to eat up her words or not have said anything at all, just held him, tighter and tighter instead, till she was losing herself in him. She wants to take the last 30 seconds back, just anything, anything to erase the sadness that paints his face in the kind of darkness that swallows you rather than emphasize the points of you that are filled with light.

“Chat,” she cries, but he is all ready turning away from her.

And she lets him, because she knows. She knows that even with her powers, even with all the knowledge she claims of the Miraculous and the magic of this world, she cannot turn back time.

“It's getting late.”

“Wait—” she tries a final time, pleading with an invisible force, yanking with all her might at their unspoken tie, to get him to stay.

Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull!

But all the warmth and color is leached from her universe—

He is gone.

Later, much, much later, after begging off dinner from her parents under the pretense of fatigue, when the house is quiet and the bustling sounds of the Parisian streets fade as slumber wraps its lethargic arms around the city, Tikki comes to her and asks, “Marinette…” in that sweet, tinkling tone of hers, so free of judgment and eyes wide with concern, “why did you say that?”

She cannot help but begin to cry.

“I—I don't know.”

How could it have gone so wrong, so quickly?

Tikki touches a paw to her cheek, halting one of the tracks of her tears.

“Try, dear heart.”

Suddenly angry, she turns from her Kwami in such brusque movements that Tikki is forced to float away from her to avoid being crushed. A pang of guilt goes through her. It isn't fair to lash out at Tikki when truly, she's mad at herself. But she holds on to her anger because it grounds her and it feels so much better than the cloud of despair that looms over her, threatening to engulf her and whisk her away to where she feels empty.

“What is the point, Tikki?” she bellows, a bundle of limbs and blankets as she moves from her chaise to stare out her round window.

Waiting, always waiting—for a shadow, a flash of flaxen locks or a pair of sparkling emerald orbs

“It's done. A week has gone and he hasn't visited, not once. There's no point going over what could have been. It's better to move on.” She scoffs. “What am I even saying? There's nothing to move on from, we hardly started. ”

“I wouldn't call a three-year partnership ‘nothing', Marinette,” Tikki reminds her gently.

“It's done,” she snaps again with watery convictions, refusing to hear her Kwami out. But her voice still breaks when she emphasizes, “We're done.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Does it matter what I want? It's over.”

“But don't you see? It doesn't have to be!”

She whirls towards her and snarls, “You're such a hypocrite, you know that?”

Tikki doesn't deign her with an equal accusation or denial. She does not speak at all. She just stares at her with that unwavering comfort and understanding. The quiet brims Marinette with blind justification and the fortitude to hurl more vitriol, because if she doesn't fill the silence with words then she would surely fill it with sobs and she is so tired of crying over nothing.

So tired.

“First you tell me we have to hide our identities from everyone, even each other, and now you want me to run into his arms, shouting to all and sundry who I am. Make up your goddamn mind Tikki!”

“I won’t deny that. Yes, it was necessary in the beginning,” Marinette grins, something sharp and sarcastic and devoid of all humor. Though she confesses, the ease with which Tikki accepts blame takes away most of the exhilaration of her supposed victory.

“But you have to remember, Marinette, I have been here before. I have seen countless Ladybugs and Chat Noir incarnates for more than a thousand years. While we and the Guardians always hope for the best, a peaceful partnership, that is not always the outcome.”

It is odd, she thinks. She has always known Tikki was as old as time itself. But when her Kwami moves and speaks and thinks and views the world with such childlike wonder, it is simply too easy to forget. Now though, it becomes difficult to deny, not when the adumbrations that obscure her expression add years to her countenance so that she lists to the side with the weight of her age, her all too palpable grief.

“For every harmonious union there has been an equal and terrible clash. Even with all this power, we are not perfect. Humans are such…” a struggle crosses her eyes then, “well. I suppose that's the beauty of your species, isn't it? That even with so many things binding you together, each one of you is still made so differently, so inimitable, that your actions can never be one hundred percent predicted. It's wonderful,” she smiles briefly, before her sadness ultimately wins out. “But it also makes our jobs difficult, and not all Ladybugs and Chat Noirs are what we desire them to be. Every contretemps has led to any human-mitigated disaster you know—famine, plague, conflict, war. ”

Tikki's eyes transform to a haunted, bottomless well that is awash with misfortunes and loss that Marinette will never fathom in her lifetime. It depletes the anger from her sinews till only the despondency she had been fighting unremittingly to avoid, is all that endures.

“Tikki,” she snivels, sinking to her knees in absolution. “Tikki, I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't know— ”

“It's alright, Marinette,” the Kwami coos, and it is with slack-jawed awe that Marinette regards Tikki's reformation from ancient, weary god to artless and optimistic Tikki, the Tikki she is more accustomed to. “You couldn’t have known.”

She drifts back to her cheek, pecking serenely at the curve before nestling there. “But what's not alright is this evident denial of your feelings.”

Marinette groans, bringing a hand to her face to swipe futilely at her tears.

“What are you afraid of? Don't you see how lucky you are, that Chat Noir has fallen in love with all sides of you?”

At the word love, her heart rattles beneath her ribcage.

“Is he though?”

“Is he what?”

“In love with me?”

Marinette detects a hint of mirth when Tikki replies with, “would that be a problem if he was?”

“Could I really be that lucky? For him to fall in love with me, twice over?”

Marinette yelps just then, when Tikki bites at her skin.

“Ow!”

“Only you could find some fault in a situation that would benefit both parties.”

Nursing her cheek, Marinette grumbles, “I just think it's too easy, is all. If something's too good to be true, it usually is.”

Tikki stares at her in horror. “Look at you, Marinette! Exactly what part of this has been ‘easy'? No,” she shakes her head. “You're afraid, and it's about high time you admit it to yourself!”

“Alright!” she bursts. “Maybe I am scared! But can you blame me? If we're to start a relationship, I want there to be no more lies. I want us to be together, like Alya and Nino are together or like my parents, properly together—not sneaking out, always waiting for the sun to set. That means no more lies, no more hiding, no more masks. It means, revealing our identities.”

Tikki's brows furrow in confusion.

“Well, we both know Chat Noir has no objections to that. And I've all ready said that I'm fine with that, too.”

“But I'm not!”

And there it is.

“Hawkmoth is still out there. If we know each other's identities and one of us gets Akumatized,” she shudders—real, quaking, anxious tremors rocking her body at just the idea, “I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, if it were me. And if it were him, Tikki, I don't think I would be strong enough to fight him. No, I know I couldn't fight him. And I can't let Paris suffer because of my emotions… because of my weakness.”

It is a long time before either of them speak. And when the pregnant pause is broken, it is Tikki who offers a final piece of advice.

“You are worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet.”

It is a reproach, but Tikki manages to deliver it with such gentle sibilance, it merely makes Marinette weep harder despite her want to protest.

“Say you don't confess or reveal your identities to each other, or he confesses before you and you reject him, again, ” (she winces) “because of your fear. Who's to say that won't be the act that tips him over the edge to being Akumatized? Don't you see, Marinette? Either way, confess or not, the misery would be inevitable.”

“There must be some way to stop it? To control it?” she wails, desperately.

Tikki sighs, lovingly ruffling her hair.

“That's the thing about life, isn't it? There can be no peace without chaos, no joy without anger… no love without suffering—for how can we know happiness, true happiness, if we don't first know what it feels to be dispossessed?

“When we open our hearts, Marinette, we expose it to everything. Yes there will be pain, but there will be such pleasure, too. Such merriment behind the agony, such sweetness alongside the sourness of humanity. Wouldn't you rather have someone experiencing it with you, always by your side, than carry it all on your own?”

Softer, Tikki adds, “And wouldn't you rather that someone be Chat Noir?”

Marinette remains silent for a couple more heartbeats, before she breathes, “Yes.”

Tikki smiles.

“It's okay to be afraid, Marinette,” she affirms. “Just don't let it hold you back. In fact, if you're going to be afraid,” she pats her head and presses on even as she darts to her bed.

“At least let him hold your hand. Then you can conquer your fears, together. ”

Marinette thinks that's the end of this emotionally draining conversation when Tikki dispenses a final valuation.

“And if I could just counter one more of your arguments?”

She cocks her head in acquiescence because why not? She has nothing to lose.

“You don't reach my age and not learn a thing or two about humankind, particularly when it comes to love. There is a great deal of things, too great a deal of stupid things even, that one does for love.” At this, she shoots Marinette a playfully insinuating look, having been witness to all her teenage antics over Adrien. She blushes, scarcely stifling an embarrassed squeak.

“But they are great. From sweeping, romantic gestures to a simple birthday card from one child to a parent—each act of love possesses their own power, from the ability to launch a thousand ships to war or the persistence to find one's way home when lost or merely putting a smile on a friend's face. I suppose what I'm trying to convey is, love isn't a weakness. It never has been. Love has always been magic. Dare I say, it's more than that, even.”

Tikki smiles.

“It's strength. ”

She mulls over her Kwami's words for two more days which turns to a week before she gathers any semblance of a backbone. But then an Akuma attacks and there he is.

How has she never noticed how handsome he is? How dashing and strong and courageous?

The Akuma, Bridezilla, as she aptly names herself, was jilted from the aisle (“thanks for the encouragement, Universe,” she mutters upon finding out). Though her real beef is with men in general, and her runner of a fiancé specifically, she aims her weapon—a bouquet that shoots wedding rings that cut off the victim's movements—at Ladybug, as they've reached the portion of the battle where the Akuma gets desperate for their Miraculous.

In her distraction, having not seen Chat Noir for so long and now getting a sensory overload of him, his touch and his voice and his scent, she hadn't seen Bridezilla till she was upon her. Lucky for her (and this she muses in barbed resonance), Chat Noir jumped to the line of fire so that he bore the brunt of the attack, which meant that he fell in a heap on the floor. He was bound in rings that tightened further the more he moved, ensuring he couldn't use his Cataclysm to free himself.

“Chat!” she bawls, dropping to her knees in front of him and trying in vain to free him. She gasps when an inadvertent squeeze from her efforts causes his leg to twitch and consequently, the metal to contract.

“Looks like she really wants to tie the knot with me, eh?”

She laughs, even as tears spring to her eyes.

“Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now.”

Floating above them, Bridezilla cackles.

“With her?" his frown deepens. "I can see why anyone would run.”

“Give up your Miraculous!” she snarls, having heard the tail end of their conversation.

“Mon dieu, shut up!”

Chat Noir spews a shocked chortle while Bridezilla flusters at the unexpected burst of her temper. Ladybug is known for her grace under pressure, after all, this is hardly becoming. But with Chat's oxygen depleting with every minute movement, her patience runs thin and her cool begins to simmer.

“I've just about had it with these putain de Akumas!”

Chat's eyes widen and she should be embarrassed but she is literally beyond caring at this point. She calls on her Lucky Charm in a most uncharming way that her ladybugs don't even bother to show up, the charm just lands in her hands. A stiletto. Personally, she would have poked the Akuma's eye and called it a day, but her Spots Vision urge her to use Chat's baton and a fire hydrant, from which she vaults herself and throws the heel like a boomerang, knocking it from the ex-bride's hands.

Ladybug extends her yo-yo to a lamp post and swings just in time to catch the Akuma victim before she falls hard on the ground. She lands them on her feet before sprinting for the bouquet, which she breaks to purify the butterfly, all in quick succession. Grabbing the shoe, she throws it in the air and cries out, almost hysterically when she sees Chat turning an alarming shade of white that is made even more deathly prominent against the blackness of his suit, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The moment her ladybugs clear Chat to his feet, she bypasses his outstretched fist and launches herself at him at such top speed, they fall back to the ground.

“I'm sorry!” she wails even as she doesn't let up.

“Err—Ladybug? I kinda just got free from one bind but I'm pretty sure you're cutting off my oxygen this time.”

She squeals, apologies spilling from her lips as she springs from him. She propels herself to her feet, holding a hand up to him. She has to refrain from crumpling her face when she discovers they had been in a similar position not two weeks ago, her helping him to his feet so that he might take her to the music room in their school and play her his composition.

(A composition which she has rewound what little of it she knows in a merciless loop in her head in his absence, just to feel close to him again)

“So, you're good? Nothing hurts?”

He bevels his head quizzically. “Your ladybugs took care of it, like they always do.” He gives her a searching look. “Are you? Okay, that is?”

“Yeah,” she gulps.

This is it, she thinks. This is my chance.

“Actually—” she starts lowly just as he asks, “Are we near the Dupain-Cheng Bakery?”

She blinks her surprise.

“Um… yes. Why?”

He startles, having been focused on the direction of her home, as if he had forgotten she was there despite asking her a question. As if he were all ready somewhere else.

“N-nothing. Listen, I gotta go. Unless there's something else you need me to do?”

Upon her transformation, Bridezilla's bridesmaids had taken care of her, so there truly was no need to linger. Seeing this, he doesn't wait for her instruction. He nods his goodbye and leaps off in the direction of her street.

Her Miraculous trills, and Marinette races to the back door of her building just as Tikki releases her glamour. Her footsteps thunder up the stairs, her clumsiness nowhere to be seen for once, as she zooms past her parents and straight to her room in record time.

“Marinette?” Tikki inquires bewilderingly.

“He's here, Tikki,” she whispers in breathless timbres. “He left me, Ladybug me, just as I was about to confess because he's coming here. To me, Marinette me!”

She can hardly hear Tikki's excited chirps over the roaring of her blood in her ears. He's come back. He's come back to her!

“Chat!” she shrills, as she opens her trapdoor.

But when she pops her head to the roof, he is not there.

She waits, thinking she might have arrived before him. She waits for the sun to set. She waits, even as the cold seeps to her bones with a piercing quiver. Still, he does not come.

No, he has not come back after all.

“Did you and Adrien have a fight?”

Only nibbling on her sandwich lunch and half paying attention to her surroundings, she absentmindedly replies to Alya, “What?”

“You—Adrien—fight?”

The sound of Adrien's name stirs something in her, like wading through really thick mud before reaching the safety of the bank.

“Adrien and I?” she frowns. “I've hardly spoken to him these past few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Alya mirrors her downtrodden mouth. “Maybe that's the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something's been up with the kid, but you know how Adrien is. You ask him if something's wrong, he'll just deny it with his stupid, phony smile. Although, Nino and I have caught him off guard a couple of times. It obviously has something to do with you though, because we ask him how he is and he'll say he's fine, it's just stuff with his dad or fencing or Chinese, blah blah blah. But,” she fixes Marinette with a suspicious glare over the rim of her glasses, “he thinks we don't see, but he gets this look in his eyes after, it's like, really sad—as if he's lost something? Then he stares at you.”

“Me?” she squawks.

“You really haven't noticed?” she returns, distrustful of her plain obliviousness.

“N-no,” she stutters.

“Hey,” Alya's attention becomes a blade, right through to her soul. It makes her sit up taller. “I know something's up with you, too, girl.”

“What?” she says, dragging the vowel out. “No way,” she denies, feebly. Alya does not buy it, it is written on her face, clear as day, just how much she doesn't believe her.

“Okay… then explain how you and Adrien just happen to get into this weird funk right around the same time. That's why I thought you might have had a row or something.”

Marinette shakes her head. Alya sighs.

“Be that as it may, Nino and I aren't making any headway. So,” she nudges her shoulder. “We were hoping you could talk to him. Now that you can speak more than two words to the guy without stammering up a storm,” she pouts at the reminder (will no one ever let her live that down?) “Who knows? He might actually open up to you.”

It is all too clear that her forlornness at, what she deems as, losing her chance with Chat Noir has made her selfish and blind to her other friend's apparent distress. She colors with contrition. So though she is hardly an authority in dealing with emotions healthily, she stows away her lunch and scrambles to her feet in a show of obedience. But a quick perusal of the courtyard shows no sign of Adrien, not even with Nino, who is conversing with Kim and Max.

“Where is he?”

“Nino says Adrien is practically glued to a piano, nowadays. You might wanna try the music room?”

Merde, she wants to shout. Of course, he is in the music room.

Her feet feels leaden but she forges on, walking an all too familiar path, all the while chanting, I am a good friend, I am a good friend, I am a good friend, in her head to bolster herself. She's operating under the adventitiousness that if she thinks it enough, she will become it. Power of attraction and all.

Besides, she does want to be a good friend, so there is that.

(But did it have to be the music room, bon sang! )

When she reaches the door of the place, she can hear All I Ask of You wafting through the wood. It steals her breath and seizes her limbs so that it takes her a better part of a minute to regain control of her faculties.

She will not cry. She will not be one of those girls who associates songs with people, thereby removing the joy from listening to said songs if the memories are not… optimal, when they hear it.

(Oh god, she has become that girl now, too)

He doesn't turn his head to her when she enters, doesn't acknowledge her when she sits beside him on the bench, doesn't even miss a beat when she joins him and plays the melody to his lower register.

When the final note is played to fruition, they sit there in silence—neither willing to break it, lost as they are in events brought on by the song.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too stifling, Marinette opens her mouth to say something reassuring except the connection between her brain and aforementioned body part seems to have fried somewhere along the way.

“He must have come to you, in your dreams.”

He startles, the movement oddly familiar, though she dispels the recognition that it pothers within her.

“Who?”

“You know,” she wiggles her eyebrows then abruptly stops. She wants to slap a hand to her forehead. How dare they! How dare her eyebrows betray her!

(Is she channeling Chat Noir now? Seriously? Is that where she is? Putain)

Adrien shakes his head, a perfect picture of puzzlement.

Shut up, Marinette, she implores herself. Don't say it.

But nope, her wires are still cut, as her lips form, no—it levels up and sings the words without her consent.

“The Phantom of the Opera!”

She cringes the moment she stops then pivots so that her back is to the keys of the piano, and Adrien is away from her line of sight. She is going to barf. She can string complete sentences around the guy now sure, but apparently she has traded the spluttering for... she shudders, singing. She crosses her arms, as if it could stop her from embarrassing herself further. She almost wishes for the stutter back.

What even is my life right now?

She expects him to leave, but Adrien has always been a kind soul. He chuckles, albeit a subdued sound, as if he's forgotten how, his sadness (so obvious, now that she is here and seeing, truly seeing, him) chasing any associations he might have had with happiness. When was the last time she had even seen him smile?

Too long, she concludes.

“Well, he is there,” he taps his temple then croons, in an exaggerated baritone, “inside my mind…”

It is her turn to be shocked and for a beat, they stare at each other, disbelief adorning the air between them at what they had each done.

And then, they are laughing.

They are laughing and it is as loud and as forthcoming and as fun as it had been that day in the rain, when he offered her an umbrella. For a moment, she allows herself to fall back into that girl. She dusts her old feelings off from the shelf she had placed them in and she allows them to come rushing back. She remembers then, why it is Adrien who occupied her thoughts for so long. She can see how easy it would be, too easy, to fall in love with him again.

But his blond hair and his green eyes invoke the wrong memories. She feels her heart whinge with longing for another man and she just can't. It wouldn't be fair to compare Adrien, to keep comparing anyone, to a shadow.

Drowning as she is in her thoughts, she doesn't notice Adrien has all ready turned away, fingers back to the piano as he plays Music of the Night, which then fades to Think of Me, till eventually he settles onto Angel of Music.

Mon ange.

She can hear Chat Noir’s voice forming the words, almost as if he were here in the room and she is taken back to that first night he played for her so that he is sitting beside her—his beautiful digits deftly serenading her, her head on his shoulder, their breathing syncopated.

She isn't aware she is crying till warm fingers touch the skin of her cheek.

Adrien has stopped playing.

“I didn't mean to make you cry.”

She didn't think it possible, but he looked even more upset than when she first entered.

So much for being a good friend.

“Ignore me,” she laughs awkwardly, his hand falling as she reaches into her bag, meeting Tikki's big, round eyes when she surreptitiously gives her a tissue. “Oh, I'm such a mess. I'm so sorry, Adrien. Ugh,” she sighs, wiping at her glistening cheeks. “This is not how this was supposed to go.”

“And how was this supposed to go?”

“Truthfully? I don't know. Alya and Nino were worried about you and honestly, I can see why. I came in here to try to cheer you up, which is stupid, I know now. I can hardly console myself. What can I possibly do for you?”

At that, she meets his eyes and all of a sudden, she understands what Alya means. There is something soft in his green gaze when he looks at her and something fond when he directs his endearingly crooked smile at her. It brightens his face and again, there is something so distinct about the twinkle in his orbs that it arrests her, stops the babble of her mouth and calms the restlessness of her wrung heart. A thought brews in her mind then, something big and something reckless and something dangerous, to be sure.

But the way her soul calls out to him, the thread of recognition in her belly going taut after so long without its other half, the look of him, his knowledge of Phantom of the Opera. It had taken her so long but now that it is here, it is like waking from a really deep sleep or rising from the pull of a frigid ocean tide—it is too difficult to ignore.

If she was right, bon dieu, if she was right...

“What troubles you, Marinette?”

Could it be this easy? she wonders, for the umpteenth time. If something's too good to be true, it usually is.

It's okay to be afraid, Tikki's sage voice floods her head then, overriding her doubts and lending her strength. Love is magic. Love is strength.

“What else?”

“I wonder if it might be the same thing that ails me.”

She gasps mockingly, “A boy?”

Marinette internally rejoices at the laugh she manages to wrangle from him. God, even his laugh!

Then, at the same time they utter, “Love?”

He nods, as if satisfied with their synchronization. She can hardly contain her beam. But the solemnity returns to his countenance and he asks her, “Are you in love, then?”

She nods, emphatically. “To the best guy I know. Next to you, of course.”

He looks so taken aback, she almost laughs. “Me?”

“Don't pretend you didn't know!” she points an accusing finger at him.

“Know? Know what? ”

“Oh my god,” it sinks in and she raises an incredulous brow. “You really didn't know?”

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“Adrien,” she starts slowly, as if he were a skittish animal she didn't want to scare into bolting from her. “Up until two years ago, I was madly in love with you.”

He blinks.

“What—what— ”

“I'm not anymore, obviously,” she continues flippantly, biting her lip to hide her amused grin. He is turning a peculiar shade of red, the hues of which had only ever been displayed by her before.

“I'm in love with this guy, but,” she sobers when she returns to the heart of the matter. “I don't know,” she sighs, jerking frustratedly at one end of her right pigtail. “I think I blew it.”

For a while, he doesn't answer. The silence becomes so oppressively awkward, she contemplates leaving when he, at long last, replies.

“What makes you say that?”

It is a quiet thing, the way he phrases the question. But it is made all the more compelling for its lambency, when there is an overabundance of hope lining every letter and syllable. She senses her own hope rocketing straight to the heavens.

“He told me his feelings, and instead of reciprocating I,” she gulps, the shame of her actions threatening to pull her down to her demons as she recalls that dreadful day. “I turned him away.”

He seems lost in his thoughts too, but rises just enough to mumble, “Why?”

She closes her eyes.

This is it, she psyches herself again. This is really it.

“Because I was afraid. I had loved you for so long, you see, that I had grown so comfortable with the thought that whatever love I gave could never be returned. But then he did, god, he did and suddenly I was afraid that I would mess things up so badly and then eventually, I just wouldn't be enough. There were… other factors, I was afraid of,” she glosses over this, just in case she is wrong. But if she is right, then it seemed prudent he be aware of it, too. “But it's not an excuse. The point is, I'm tired of being afraid, you know?”

She turns back so that she is facing the keys and then she is looking him in the eye, dauntless and ready.

“I'm tired of being afraid,” she reiterates, before altogether deflating. “I want to tell him, really, I do. But how?

“How do I tell someone that he is the first person I think about the moment I wake for the day and the one who fills my dreams at night? How do I tell him that his arms around me bring me the sort of warmth no blanket, jacket or heater could ever replicate? That for me the sun rises and sets in his eyes? That if I were a moon then he was the planet with which I choose to gravitate around? That my whole world is centered around him? That his soul seems bound to mine? His name scrawled across my heart because it belongs to him?

“How do you tell someone you love them? ”

The words had been building for so long, she gasps the moment they are out, like she had been holding her breath for just as long as she had been holding them in.

When she sneaks a glance at Adrien, there is an air of serenity about him that she hopes, hopes, hopes, is born from the baring of her mind, heart and soul. She feels naked, but invigorated too, a certain potency in the vulnerability—especially when he looks at her like this, with commensurate admiration, her words playing in his mind's eye to echo to his very actions.

“I imagine it goes something like this.”

His fingers poise gracefully over the keys, and then they are flying, singing, painting— a captivating scenery of a boy cloaked in shadows and a girl with midnight hair, the moonlight as their surface and the open air their dome and how they find sanctuary in each other. It pierces their heady atmosphere, that beautiful and mysterious tune that had kept her going on the days when loneliness comminated to cripple her.

—that same melody Chat Noir would hum to her, in the exposure of her rooftop and the moonshine pooling at their feet.

It starts soft, tinkling... excited, before climaxing to something sorrowful and dejected. But then, the tone shifts, and it is enchanting, bringing with it hope and passion and the happy chimes of church bells and an infant's laughter and above all else… love.

The last note fades from the room though it reverberates all throughout her body, leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake. She is crying again but she doesn't bother to hide it, doesn't bother to reach for a tissue. Not when he is there, cradling her cheeks like she is a most cherished gem, and catching her tears before they can journey the length of her face.

“Mon Ange,” he whispers, breath lingering like a zephyr on her lips as he answers a question asked long ago. “It's called Mon Ange. ”

Only one person in the entire world would know to call her that.

But she dare not let herself believe, not until she too is cupping his face, her fingers splitting into diamonds around the sides of his eyes in a facsimile of a mask.

Those eyes, oh always his eyes…

(It should have been her first clue)

She gasps.

(She should have known better)

“Chat… you… you— ”

His hands retreat from her face only to deluge her own, hold her to him.

“Yes,” he sighs. “Yes, it's me.”

(She really, really should have known)

He rests his forehead on hers, and then she is laughing as she is crying, gazing at him in uninhibited astonishment.

“It's you,” she breathes, “it's always been you.”

His smile stretches the breadth of his face, it's any wonder it doesn't hurt his cheeks or fly right off his visage. It is then she remembers, with another laugh.

“I suppose…” he pouts when she withdraws but she, too, cannot contain her smiles when she opens her bag and reveals, “now is as good a time as any to tell you.”

Tikki floats placidly up to Adrien's blatantly jarred exterior and touches his nose in greeting.

“Hello, Adrien. I'm Tikki,” she giggles, tipping his jaw up with a paw before resuming her introductions. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

But before he can formulate a reply, something or rather, someone, is shouting, “Sugarcube!” and whizzing between them to collide right into her Kwami.

Plagg.

Tikki squeals, waving apologetically as Plagg whisks her away to the vents without so much as a by your leave.

Adrien has yet to say anything, and she grows worried at his lack of response.

“Adrien?” she waves a hand across his face. He captures it and holds on, tight. And she has a sneaking suspicion he thinks what he says next might be unpleasant to her and his grip is so she won't float away in the aftermath.

(She harrumphs. This is three years in the making, nothing could possibly make her leave now)

“So close,” are his first words.

“Okay…?”

“So close, I could have figured it out and we might have been together sooner!”

His eyes are dilated with regret, bordering on hysteria.

“The Valentine's day card, the one shaped in a heart with a poem written inside.”

She blushes. “Oh yeah,” she coughs to hide her embarrassment. “That.”

“It wasn't signed but I knew, I knew it was from Ladybug because it directly answered my poem for her—word per word. Then you! You left me a note with that assignment and I thought your handwriting looked a lot like the one of the poem's but I brushed it off because I could hardly believe it. I couldn't possibly be that lucky? I'm so used to disappointment, otherwise, it just became easier to accept that I couldn't deserve you… both of you.”

He trails off.

“And are you?”

“What?”

He seems feverish now at all the little hints she might have left that spoke of her admiration for him. She remembers Papa Garou and feels a little bad.

“Disappointed?”

He hugs her then, his arms around her a habitual balm that feels like coming home.

He feels like home.

“I couldn't be farther, Marinette. I've fallen in love with you, twice now. Once is coincidence but twice?” He hums. “Twice is a pattern.” He runs his nose along the arch of her neck, before rubbing it against the bridge of her own. “One I hope to make again,” he kisses her forehead, “and again,” her eyelid, “and again,” one cheek, “and again, ” then the other.

Pull, pull, pull.

There is that force again, the one that links them together, in a nature so insistent, she is a slave to its command. She finds herself clambering to his lap and anchoring her hands in his golden tendrils. He receives her weight with nary a blink of an eye, like they have done this countless times before.

Pull, pull, pull.

Like it is right.

“Well then,” she says, her lips hovering exhilaratingly close to his. “What do you suppose happens now?”

With her towering over him, his answer comes in the form of the crane of his head as he gives chase to the succulent curve of her smiling mouth.

But the day has other plans when the alarm rings and an announcement blares from the school speakers.

“AKUMA ALERT, AKUMA ALERT!”

They simultaneously turn their heads to the windows and it is there Adrien walks, carrying her all the while as he surveys whatever damage the Akuma might have all ready caused. It's an inappropriate thought given the circumstances but the way he doesn't even think about letting her go, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he hauls her to him with ease—it makes her quite dizzy.

(She's in love, okay? Sue her)

“Duty calls?”

He sighs. “Duty calls.”

She gets down on her feet, her body sliding in delicious thrills along his on the way to the ground. They let go of each other at the same time, calling for their Kwamis, suddenly shy.

“I'm gonna—”

“I'll be—”

He waves to one corner of the room while she gestures to the other.

“Right,” they trill jointly before laughing.

They move to their respectfully claimed parts of the room, Tikki giving her a wink before she calls out her magic words and hearing the tail end of Adrien's too.

When the magic settles, she turns. Seeing Chat Noir standing before her and knowing it is Adrien beneath the mask makes all the air leave her body while also breathing so much energy into her core.

It's real, she says to herself. He's real.

It restores her confidence and she is leaping into his arms for a hug, one that takes no time at all for him to reciprocate so deeply, she is lifted onto the tips of her toes.

Pull.

“I've waited for you my whole life," he sighs. "It’s reassuring somehow, to know. You were always with me.” He cups her head. “My lady,” he whispers into the corner of her mouth. “Mon ange.”

“Mon minou,” she murmurs in kind before conceding, “I'm scared.” It's a hard thing to admit but with him, it is as effortless as a heartbeat.

Pull.

He holds out his hand.

“I won't let go if you won't.”

Pull.

She grasps his hand, before twining their fingers, loving the weight of him in her palm like that of a steady promise.

Pull.

“Never.”

Because it is one, she understand now. And like all promises made by lovers, they seal it in the only way they know how.

Pull.

With a kiss.

AN: Hope you had fun! Tell me what you think! :)

Also, come say hi to me!

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #marichat #adrinette #marichat ff #adrinette ff #fluff #angst #with a happy ending #listen to the music of the night series #swishandflickwit ff

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moriiyun · 3 years ago

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(sort of) first listen: day6's the book of us: negentropy - chaos swallowed up in love

i say sort of first listen because i've heard the first 3 songs on this album before, i just haven't heard the rest. and honestly, day6's music is so complex so this reaction definitely does not do it justice, so yea!!

also reminder these are just my opinions and takeaways pls don’t kill me thanks :D

everyday we fight

i heard this before but why am i noticing so many things now???? like the funky synth bit after the first chorus and the way the 2nd chorus transitions into the 1st part of the bridge wha,,,,,, and there are 2 sections of the bridge which are completely different and i was so baffled that i went backwards to hear it again because i couldn't believe it LMAO. only day6 things i guess. also dowoon is really doing the most on the drums because there is a lot of marching band snare stuff going on especially in the pre-chorus. that's interesting tho cos it's like a battle cry, the snare drum. plus at the end of the song there is a 'ding' which is like that sound when you win a boxing match and it's like 'everyday we fight' so day6 really said fight references this is genius i love this i think it's called wordsplaining?? idk

you make me

i've heard this so many times so now whatever is here is just me nitpicking LOL but seriously, there is so much detail in this there is so much to unpack geez. like first off structure wise there are so many music breaks it actually doesn't make sense but it does. idk. also the bridge literally goes straight from the 2nd chorus non stop and then we transition into a final chorus type thing (or is it a 2nd bridge?) and i have no idea what went on there but it is good. and the pre-chorus is like 2 lines long?? strange but it works so oh well who am i to complain. also on the instrumentation,,, there seems to be like 3 layers of drums, 1 is definitely an edm beat cos it's too fast to play so that's a synth thing, 1 is dowoon playing the legit actual drums during the chorus parts but the last one is strange. it's mostly used during the verses and pre-chorus, and in the background during the chorus. it sounds like a drum pad so not the actual drum kit but the black thing that works like a drum when u hit it, but during the chorus how do u play 2 drums??? like nani?? i suspect he plays drum pad during the verses and the chorus is just an edm synth track that they recorded before hand. either that or they used a loop machine thing for the drum pad sound. i really dunno cos there's no live stages so rip. if anyone asks why i pick up drums soundwise first when i learn guitar, i have no idea okay,, i just do lol. also can we give a shoutout for vocals for 5 seconds,, especially wonpil's falsetto-belt-falsetto in the bridge like damn. talent.

healer

okay i've heard this one before too and this song is. interesting. cos it made me realise that this album so far has basically been even of day's sound with fuller instrumentation. it's more synth than piano based and that's not bad, it's just new for day6 imo. this song is mostly interesting structure?? like the synth bit at the intro was funky and the verse dropping down into the pre-chorus before going up into the chorus just works?? idk. also i'm gonna take a moment to talk about the post-chorus because this is one of the most effective post-choruses i know. i'm not the biggest fan of post-chorus stuff cos it's kinda weird sometimes but this works idk. the synth melody that they play during that part is addicting and also for some reason very destabilising? like idk feels like i'm flying in the sky with peter pan or something. it works for me it sounds really nice. also once again the bridge is a strange one because it's basically a whole section of loud crowd-cheering type sounds and then 1 actual proper line and them BOOM chorus again. a bit like the bridge of shoot me except that bridge has 2 sections 1 cheering one actual singing. this doesn't really have that but somehow it works for the song. day6 are magic i don't make the rules. also can you imagine this in concert with an actual crowd T_T

only

what. WHAT. i haven't heard this one before and i kid you not my mouth was open for the whole song in SHOCK. remember when i said so far the album was very even of day style? well the intro of this song said SIKE and now i can't process SHIT. like what even happened???????? it all sounds good tho. this song is really calming and i will probably start registering it when i start listening to it more. but i'm just gonna talk about verse 2 for a second because ???????????????????????? im so shook someone sang in a low timbre and i was like ??? who this ?? and i was like oh maybe it's jae and i couldn't figure it out until the end of the verse TURNS OUT IT'S FREAKING BRIAN/YOUNG K WHAT EVEN THAT DOESN'T EVEN SOUND LIKE HIM ????????????? im so confused day6 vocal kings i guess. also the bridge...sungjin just kept climbing up and i was like wait his range isn't gonna make it to the end of the bridge but nO IT TRANSITIONS TO BRIAN SO SMOOTHLY AND ONCE AGAIN I AM BAFFLED HOW DO THEY DO THIS. many questions no answers. also outro bit was really nice and it led into a fadeout that i don't usually like but was expected for this song cos this song definitely needs a fadeout so yknow, it works. anywho good song still very baffled but good song. also last note i forgot about this but they were doing a lot of voice echoing like choir-esque bits and that was super cool.

above the clouds

first things first: the return of shaker, acoustic guitar and piano my beloved <3 like the sounds were so pretty and acoustic in the first verse i knew there was gonna be a drop somewhere but the drop came in a place i didn't expect and in a way i didn't anticipate - turns out it's the one melody i remember from the teasers and now it's gonna be stuck in my head forever because it's that good of a melody. i also didn't expect the drums to go that hard but they did and it works out so yknow what i can't complain. once again day6 are wordsmiths and musical geniuses because they started the song very softly with the sound of wind, as if you're flying in the sky cos 'above the clouds' but not only that they end with a similar windy sound and they also end similar to landed (by even of day) which is so poetic and ironic because landed = on the ground and this song is 'above the clouds' like seriously this is the biggest brain shit ever. the bridge has an ascending bit which is super cliche but idk this is one of those songs where you want them to follow the cliche melody??? idk but it worked for me and this might be one of my faves in the album so far.

one

this song ................... wack. it starts with an almost hip hop beat and i was like ??? but then it slowly layers more vocals and instrumentals and suddenly it sound like well, a day6 song. and i cannot explain how in love i am with the chorus, it feels like the rallying cry of the broken people, and it just reaches you in a very different way from the rest of the song and is completely different. also there is someone singing a lower harmony at certain parts of the verse and it is so LOW and i cannot figure out who sings it but it almost sounds like dowoon so like DOWOON MAYBE VOCALS???? idk but yea it is one interesting harmony because usually day6 layer upwards and not downwards, but this really adds depth, like so much of it and it works for that portion. also the bridge is super cool cos it starts right after the chorus but the drums cut out but then they come back in so you focus on that and then as it's building up it abruptly just stops. and the music cuts out for a good 3 counts and you're so confused and then suddenly mini drum solo !!!!!! and it makes you anticipate and look forward to the chorus that much more because it just stops and you're left wanting so much more, especially because it echoes off at the end and DOESN'T RESOLVE NICELY. it makes you feel like the song isn't done or is too short. overall it's an incredible song and it really is just that good aaaaaa

so let's love

woah. literally this song is so......idk anymore. it starts off super acoustic and just very mellow but it just suddenly cuts to what you think is the chorus but nO it's actually the pre-chorus so it feels like you false started and it's so mind boggling and suddenly instrument breaks everywhere and no proper second verse, we immediately get a pre-chorus and second chorus and then drum and electric guitar break ????? and then bridge which is CRAZY because we go from falsetto airy stuff to BELTING and suddenly it goes quiet and then INTENSIFIES WITH 2 LAYERS OF SINGING before quieting down and ending. and it really is such a fitting ending to the album because it encompasses the absolute chaos because there isn't a regular proper structure and yet it's beautiful and melodic and sings about soft things and it feels like a warm hug. basically 'chaos swallowed up in love' put into music. and it's so fitting and just works because this is just a day6 sound that is so. them. and it's what this album is all about, the strangeness of it all with something familiar, which is probably what makes it such a welcome listen.

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figured out why this song hits different: it’s desperate and sad as fk. hits you straight in the feels because it’s as if they’re yearning for something but it’s so out of reach that they just. stop. idk it really is just heart wrenching in every single way. someone compared it to ‘i need somebody’ but idk i feel like it’s same but different.

overall, day6 never disappoints and it's once again an epic album from them. this is my first ot5 comeback as a myday so this album is super special to me and to have such a beautiful tracklist is amazing. it's incredible what day6 do every single time, they are insanely good at what they do and i'm so glad that i have their music.

#the only disappointing thing is no dowoon vocals but it's okay we'll live #also yes i am reacting to music again!!#─ music #day6 #a: the book of us: negentropy - chaos swallowed up in love

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dickie-gayson · 7 years ago

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Me and the Devil

Jason Todd was tortured and killed by The Joker and Dick Grayson had disappeared; murdered by the Court of Owls.

But everyone knows a Robin Redbreast in a cage puts all of Heaven in a rage. And even dead birds can fly again when the Gods demand it.

So, when the Talon catches wind of a new crime lord gunning for the Bats, he goes to investigate. After all, birds of a feather flock together and nobody clips a Robin's wings and lives to laugh about.

Characters: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd, Talon!Dick Grayson

Warning: Violence

Pairing: None

Genre: Supernatural? Crime? Horror? idk lmao

Words: 3k+

Other Parts: --

Also: I take prompts/requests. Can be found on FF here and Ao3 here

Notes: Mori Shej is 100000% still being worked on, I promise! I'm halfway done with the next chapter, this has just been in my head. ngl this is a self-indulgent fic. There is basically zero canon-compliancy here. Just consider it a total AU. I've been wanting a fic where Talon!Dick and AK!Jason meet.

"If you could only see the beast you've made of me I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground"

In the belltower of the abandoned Saint Louise de Marillac Cathedral in Old Gotham perched an unholy, subhuman creature wearing the face of a hero. It was truly a nightmare to behold with it's garish blackened veins against lifeless chalky skin. The luminescent yellow eyes that lit up the shadows only added to the grotesque imagery. That it took the church as its temporary home was a travesty of the most profane form. The Talon had been quite handsome once upon a time and so good at heart. That was years ago, before The Court of Owls plucked Nightwing from the rooftops and brought him to their home in the sewers. The horrors that occurred behind those granite and lime walls were unimaginable. They twisted Dick, made him into a cold, cruel monster and they suffered dearly for it.

It was their fault, really. What did they expect, taking a highly trained hero and corrupting him down to the core through torture? Loyalty? No, Dick Grayson was far too stubborn and spiteful to bow his head to his captors. He could play the game though. He could play it with the best of them. For years he pretended to be their subservient little pet; their lethal weapon of mass destruction. When the time was right and they grew comfortable with the horror they created, he struck them down. It had been pure chaos. Only the other Talons posed a threat to him, and hardly so. Before he was given the serum, the Talons had been a challenge, but he could still hold his own. Now that he had their very same abilities? It was laughable how he tore through them. The utter fear in the Parliament members' eyes when they finally realized what Hell they unleashed on themselves was oh so delicious. Each and every one of them was hunted down and executed without exception. They paid for what they'd done in blood.

The last thing Talon remembered before the Court got to him was his frantic search for his missing little brother. Upon his escape and after the systematic capture and execution of the Court, he took to hunting his old family out of curiosity. Dick needed to know why he'd been left to the torture the Parliament put him through; why he was abandoned in the sewers of Gotham to become the monster he was now. What had been so important that nobody rescued him?

It hadn't been hard to get into the Cave and find what he needed. The memorial cases displaying his Nightwing and the Robin suits would have left an odd feeling in his chest, but emotions had all but been stripped from him. Now he was only hollow and so very, very cold inside. It was in his temporary 'roost' that he watched that video. The brutal torture and death of Jason Todd at the hands of The Joker played out on the dimmed screen of his tablet. The piercing 'bang' of the final gunshot may as well have been the sound of the last nail in the coffin for the clown. Talon knew exactly who was next on his list. Nobody clipped a Robin's wings and lived to laugh about.

The whispers of The Arkham Knight reached him in his hunt for the Joker. Word spread through the underground of a newcomer armed to the teeth with a getup like Batman and gunning for the Batfamily. It was more than enough to pique his interest. Curiosity was always a strong point with Dick and that was something no amount of torture could take from him. So, he waylaid his hunt for a brief period to figure out who was encroaching on his territory. After all, if anyone was going to do some bat-hunting, it was Talon.

That's where the stalking began. He dogged the armored man's every step. From his hideout near the Bowery district to the base of operations in an abandoned shipping facility between Otisburg and Burnley. He could go nowhere without Talon shadowing him. The man had damn good instincts. From the way he looked around, often in the direction of Talon, indicated that he could sense he was being followed. It was almost amusing how paranoid the man became. Cameras were set up all over the place, state-of-the-art security systems were installed, and extra guards were positioned. Not that it stopped the highly trained assassin from slipping through it all.

The new gang seemed to be laying low. If Talon had to guess, it was to avoid unwanted attention of the vigilante sort. His constant watching led him to learn the man was indeed planning a big move against the hero. Talon grew bolder in his movements as his curiosity rose. Soon, he was searching through the office and even rifling through the masked man's various hideouts. That was when he learned that it was not some new crimelord in the making, but rather his 'deceased' brother, Jason Todd, beneath that helmet. He wanted to rip the mask off and see for himself that the dead bird wasn't quite so dead. Talon grew nearly obsessive with his stalking. He felt a sort of kinship with the hero-turned-criminal. Both had been snatched from the Bat, both had been tortured, both had been presumed dead (though it was a little truer in Dick's case), and both had been forgotten by their so-called 'family'. All they were anymore were empty suits in display cases and cautionary tales of what happens when one flies too far from the nest.

Perhaps he grew a bit possessive of his brother and killed those that conspired against The Arkham Knight. Perhaps he grew a bit obsessive and watched the man at nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment. Why shouldn't he be? That was his brother, his successor. It was his responsibility to make sure Jason suffered no longer. He failed his brother once already and he'd make damn sure he didn't fail again.

For weeks now, The Arkham Knight had the eerie feeling of being watched. At first, he searched but found no one. Then, he thought it might be his rampant paranoia growing worse. After all, the time to attack Batman was growing near and it was setting his nerves on edge. However, he wasn't entirely convinced it was all in his head. So he decided to ramp up security discreetly. He had extra eyes around the facility, hidden cameras in every nook and cranny, security systems to rival the Cave's. Still, nothing came of it. That would have put his mind at ease, but the feeling only increased. It even followed him to his hideout. In an act of desperation to escape the eyes, he dropped everything and picked out a new hideout. Jason made sure to take obscure routes to throw off any stalkers upon entering and exiting his new place.

The feeling was gone, but only for a short period of maybe two days, before it resumed. It made the man want to tear his hair out. He didn't want to admit the rising fear he felt, but it was absolutely undeniable. The nightmares only worsened from there. There was a constant thickness in his throat and a buzzing beneath his skin. Jason felt on the edge of panic at almost every point. It was a good thing he had full-body armor to cover his discomfort from the world. Sometimes when the anxiety got to be too much and the walls felt like they were closing in, he would lock himself in his office or his room and try to calm himself down through meditative techniques. The fear was all the worse because he had no idea who was following him so closely. The possibilities nearly petrified him.

That fact brought the anger he was oh so familiar with. The heat of rage was almost comforting in these times. He could handle anger. Hell, it was one of his driving forces at this point, but fear? He had too much of that at this point. He was sick to death of being scared of painted freaks and crowbars. More than once he caught himself screaming at nothing to come out already. Jason was so on edge. He just wanted them to stop. But no one ever came forward and he felt slightly silly for shouting into the shadows. He just couldn't help it.

Once, he thought he saw glowing yellow eyes watching him in the hallway of his hideout. Jason immediately went on the offensive and tried to catch the stalker. However, when he got closer, the corridor was empty. He searched top to bottom, every last corner and hiding spot, but he was alone. An acrid taste had coated his tongue and he was afraid he really was losing his mind. Jason thought he escaped the madness of the Joker, but it seemed he was wrong. It only followed him home. He nearly vomited at the realization. It crushed him on a soul-deep level and left him trembling in despair.

Jason had screamed and screamed and beat his fists into the walls as if they were responsible for his state. There was a pounding in his head that wouldn't subside. Laughter shrieked in his skull, so real he couldn't help the tears that burned his eyes. His fists nearly broke from the force and abuse. That night, he didn't sleep a wink. The next night he abandoned that destroyed hideout. Oh, how he wanted to blow the building sky high as a catharsis, but he couldn't. It'd draw the wrong attention to him too soon.

Unknown to him, those luminous eyes were very real and watched his breakdown with rapture. Nightwing would have wanted to comfort the distraught man. But Talon was only interested in seeing the man come undone. The intense reaction was so interesting. The sheer volume of Jason's emotions was almost addictive to watch. Dick felt so incredibly empty inside, like his heart had been carved straight out. To see the fire of Jason's spirit left him hungering. He craved that heat; wanted to tear his brother's chest open, consume him whole, and fill the abyss left in place of his own lost soul. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so cold and hollow. If Dick had even the barest trace of his old self left in him, he'd be utterly horrified and downright sickened at the thoughts running back and forth through his mind. That man was long since dead.

Tonight, The Arkham Knight was running a deal between his own gang and the Falcone on a shipment of weapons. Talon slipped through the security as if it didn't exist and perched in the dark of the rafters. This deal was going to get very interesting. Carmine had no intention of playing fair with the newcomers. He wanted to 'show them their place'. It was going to get bloody, and that's why he sent a lieutenant in his place. Well, Talon was going to make sure 'The Roman' got his message loud and clear. No one was allowed to mess with what was his.

Jason had that feeling of being watched again. He tried to ignore it as he conducted the deal, but that was growing increasingly difficult. It was as if someone were trying to pick him apart through sight alone. Like a mantra, he reminded himself that it wasn't real. It was all in his head. That is, until smoke started forming around his business partners. It was a familiar sort of smoke screen, like that of a pellet he used to carry as Robin. He started to internally panic, thinking the Bat had found him out already. It was almost instinctive to draw his gun and hold it at the ready.

The frantic cocking of the others' guns had him yelling out for everyone to stand down in an effort to prevent friendly fire. His helmet allowed him to see thermal imaging through the thick cloud. It wasn't Batman that dropped into the smoke, however. The figure was far too sleek in build to be Bruce and moved like liquid. At first, he thought it was Nightwing, back from wherever he disappeared to. The fluid way he flipped around screamed of the hero. But then Jason noticed the knives. Bodies dropped like flies around the unknown intruder. Screams filled the air and before he could get a shot off, the group sent by Falcone were dead. All except one.

As the smoke cleared, he got a good look of the assassin. In Jason's opinion, the owl mask was fucking stupid looking, but the rest of the outfit screamed 'professional killer'. He had lethal looking clawed gauntlets with what looked like throwing knives poking up like feathers and a bandolier of more throwing knives strapped to his chest. There were even more knives on his belt and God knows where else. Jason knew those claws could rend flesh because he saw the man take out a few throats with what seemed like casual swipes.

The last of the guest entourage was held by force before the man. The way the assassin had him kneeling was very close to that of the execution position. One of his many sharp blades was pressed snugly against the mobster's throat in such a way that even a wrong flinch could prove fatal. Those hideous goggles were staring directly at Jason but the knife-happy killer made no move to end the man. Jason had his gun trained expertly on the other's head. After a brief staredown, Jason spoke up with anger.

"You have one chance to give me a good reason not to put a bullet through that fuck-ugly mask of yours."

What he got in response was a slow, almost avian-like tilt of the head. Truthfully, it was downright creepy and made him want to pull the trigger. Before he could, though, the man spoke. Jason had to listen closely as the mask distorted his quiet voice.

"Confess."

He was about to respond with a resounding 'what the fuck' when he realized the assassin wasn't talking to him, but to the man in his grasp.

"What the hell do you mean?! Carmine's gonna hear 'bout this!"

The masked killer leaned down slowly until he was nearly brushing against his captive's face. Talon knew the man was lying. They had all been in on the plan. He had already taken out the reinforcements on the way in.

"Confess."

The way his voice dropped, frigid and soft, was frightening on a primal level. The mobster's shaking was visible even to Jason. The sentiment of 'what the fuck' still applied pretty heavily to the situation at hand. It seemed that was all it took to break the man. He cried out with a voice pitched high in fear.

"Alright! Carmine was plannin' on clippin' some of ya 'n musclin' in on the rest! Just lemme go! I won't say nothin' to the boss, I swear!"

Jason's blood boiled at the scheme. He knew doing business with the Falcone was tricky at best, especially since they were new on the scene, but this? Oh, that Sicilian fuck was going to pay. He was brought out of his angered planning when his apparent ally spoke up.

"Omerta, Jimmy. Omerta."

At the word, the man struggled briefly before stopping once the blade began cutting into his neck. He was all but crying at this point. Jason would say he felt for him, but he was a little too pissed to sympathize with the little shit. 'Jimmy' broke the code of secrecy and was fucked no matter which way he looked. It was tempting to just put a bullet through his head right now, but Jason decided to wait and see what the assassin was planning on doing with the man. Then he'd cap this waste of space and ship his body back to Carmine. 'The Roman Empire' was going to come crumbling down after this, he'd make sure of it.

Talon had no more use for the man. Any other knowledge was above the low-level thug's paygrade. Dick had heard far more in his time spying on the gang than this man was granted access to. All he needed was a solid confession, which he just got. His attention drifted back to The Arkham Knight. The gun pointing at him was of no concern to Talon. Bullets, at best, only slowed him down anymore.

"It's your head they came for, Knight. How would you sentence him?"

His voice, just as before, was all but a whisper. Jason was thankful for the enhanced audio of his helmet, otherwise, he'd have trouble hearing the lilted voice. The masked man was poised as still as a statue, ready to execute Jimmy if he gave the word. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about the unknown assassin at this point, though he was relatively certain that this was the one who was stalking him. That would most definitely be addressed later. For now, he had a rat to deal with.

He walked around the table, gun still pointed at the knife-wielding man in case he tried anything funny. When he stopped in front of the two, Jimmy was basically hyperventilating and blood dripped from the worsening wound on his neck. Jason noticed the knife had been shifted to prevent accidental death. This guy was really serious about letting Jason decide his fate, it seemed. It might be flattering if the guy weren't so damn creepy. He still wanted to at least stab him a few times for stalking him.

"I got it from here."

That earned him another one of those odd, bird-like head tilts. Then, the thug was pushed toward Jason in a sort of sacrificial manner. Before he could try to flee, Jason grabbed his collar and lifted him up to eye level.

"You're gonna deliver a message to your boss for me, Jimmy."

The man shook like a leaf as Jason spoke. The fear was evident in the way his voice raised and stuttered over his words.

"S-sure thing, Mr. Arkham Knight sir. Whatever ya s-say."

Jason was smirking beneath the helmet. The deference given to him for his position in the underground crime scene took a bit of getting used to. It wasn't the same sort of respect and fear that Robin had gotten him. Robin scared criminals because that meant prison and The Bat. The Arkham Knight scared criminals because he was either their boss or their rival, and rivalries usually ended in death. They feared for their freedom with Robin. They feared for their life with Knight.

"Never said you needed to be alive to deliver the message."

Before the man could make another peep, Jason threw him to the ground and shot him through the head. He made an indistinct motion for this whole mess to be cleaned up. There was a whole lot of work to be done now that the Falcones pissed him off. But first, there was a certain bird-themed stalker he needed to take care of. He turned around, ready to start grilling the masked man, but was surprised to see the facility assassin-less. The fact that he just got Batman-ed by some guy in an Owl mask made his eye twitch.

"Where the fuck did he go?!"

A few of his men pointed upward. Jason followed the line and immediately picked out the sunroof he could have sworn he reinforced, welded shut, and set up with alarms to prevent just this. He wasted no time in grappling up to the spot and inspecting the window. If the killer had slipped through here, he took the time to rearm the alarms, much to Jason's frustration. The fact that he even knew how to deal with his security system made the situation significantly worse. This was Bat-level tech. Who in the hell knew how deal with Bat-level tech? It set his teeth on edge.

The guy was probably expecting Jason to disarm the alarms and slip out to find him. A diversion tactic to buy him more time to escape. Well, Jason said 'fuck that'. He slammed it open and let his men deal with the blaring sirens now. There were more important things he had to deal with. Like catching a homicidal stalker that liked to cosplay as a bird. The head start he got from slipping out when Jason was distracted made this all the trickier. But he was trained by the Bat, and if there's one thing Jason can do right, it's hunt someone down.

His hunt, however, was cut short when he swung over to the neighboring building and was met with a pile of dead bodies. Jason nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. There was at least twelve people stacked together and bleeding out over the rooftop. He needed to take a brief moment to recompose himself before assessing the situation. He recognized a few faces vaguely as belonging to a few ranking members of the Falcone. They were strapped with some heavy weapons. Jason had a growing feeling he knew exactly what happened and who did it. That's when the white sheet of paper caught his attention.

Someone, he was betting that black-clad assassin, pinned a note to one of the bodies with a fucking knife. He reached over and ripped the note off. It was a bit difficult to read the somewhat messy lettering when he opened it due to the blood smeared all over the paper, but he managed. The note was short, sweet, and to the point.

You're welcome, Baby Bird.

That was it, but it made his blood run cold. Nobody knew who he was before The Arkham Knight. Jason was really, really hoping it was just a stupid nickname the guy chose to keep on with the bird-theme and not a reference to his time as Robin. It couldn't be. Jason Peter Todd, the second Robin, was legally dead. He wasn't in the system any longer. It was just a name picked by an obsessive freak with a bird fetish. That didn't stop his gut from churning at the thought. He radioed to his men, informing them of the mess that needed to dealt with up here.

Just across the way and perched on a billboard sat the Talon. His enhanced vision allowed him to watch Jason quite clearly, even from this distance and darkness.

"Don't worry Little Wing, nobody will hurt you again. I'll kill them all first."

He watched until The Arkham Knight returned to the compound, out of his sight. Then, Talon turned and started making his way toward the high-end area of Gotham. There was a certain crime lord that made his list tonight.

#My Writing #Fic #Me and the Devil Verse #Talon!Dick #Arkham Knight!Jason #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd

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