#too lazy to draw myself today so here it is

[ladyelainehilfur]

For anyone wondering what I look like:

Link for picrews I used here

[sugurouge]

— yes, my lady : sebastian michaelis x f!reader

content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness

summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"

wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist

It’s not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfilment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer “corporate,” as you once called it.

Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.

For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice that welcomes you home. “My Lady,” the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added décor.

“I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian.” Yes, you’re a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, or so he proclaimed. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family’s antiques.

But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. “You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?” Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vervour as his hands return to rest behind his back.

He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-pretends to be something you cannot wrap your head around. “And what could you do for me?” you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the tip of your nose lifts a little higher to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Anything you wish,” replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. “I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—” he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.

The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren’t feeling too lazy to run a bath for yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. “And what? Speak, Sebastian.” The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.

The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. “A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady.” He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can’t resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian’s while you speak: “Carry me, Sebastian.”

Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn’t felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.

He knows tonight won’t be easy on him. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight you appear different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous once your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.

“Sebastian?” How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. “The water is already set and at the perfect temperature for the female body.” Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: “Undress me.”

You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter with a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn’t suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. “Your wish is my command,” he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian’s gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin.

Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.

The clothing item is pushed off your shoulders before his touch ghosts along your waist. “May I continue?” The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?

To nobody’s surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian’s eyes. You eyes meet through the mirror and you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.

It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. “I will prepare your tea now,” he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.

A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. That was when he entered the picture.

Upon Sebastian’s return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You’ve made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to challenge his. If only you had acted a second quicker, you would have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.

“Is there anything else you may need?” Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word “You” could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: “Massage me, my butler.”

You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.

To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. “Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully.” Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of “Yes, my lady,” echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian’s touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.

The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian’s thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. The sound snaps Sebastian’s attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are indeed beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn’t surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian’s attention and lust.

You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. “Naughty butler…” you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. “If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me.” The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn’t wait to devour many years ago. But what else could he do but make himself useful for now?

In a swift move, Sebastian shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his buttoned shirt before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.

Until you’ve had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian’s wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. “Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth.” You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, to witness your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.

You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian’s fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.

There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand, panic ever so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features. "My dear, don’t tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"

The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler’s dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."

However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you’ve ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.

And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don’t stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.

"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit.

Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.

"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole giving way slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he’s doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.

“Oh dear,” he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"

The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian’s eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn’t seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.

“Darling, tell me,” Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. “N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—” you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. “Think, speak, quickly, little Lady,” he further pressures you. What he wouldn’t give to do with your body whatever he wants. “Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—” the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. “Look after me, tonight,” you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. “Make me feel good,” your final demand.

But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. “You can ask more nicely than that, my dear.” There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. “I will look after you until the day you die,” he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren’t so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.

You notice that Sebastian’s form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. “Kiss me, please.”

He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. “More…” you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. “What’s wrong?” The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.

“Want to be ruined by you.” The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. “Please, make me feel good, Sebastian.” You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. “Taint me,” you shamelessly sigh against his ear, “Let me feel you.”

“Taint you…” he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you’re now fully pressed against his chest. “How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?” His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. Your little cries are music to Sebastian’s ears. It’s so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. “Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?” His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you’re trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. “I wish for that, Sebastian.”

No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining with another until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don’t you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you’re trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn’t offer you a much better alternative.

“Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me.” Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you’re able to take. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. “Very good, my darling, just like that.” Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.

But much to Sebastian's surprise, and despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. “My Lady,” he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. “Shouldn’t we proceed to your chambers? I don’t wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me.” At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian’s lips. If only you wouldn’t look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.

So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. “Bring me to my bed,” you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows.

Yet it catches you by surprise once you’re simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.

You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against you until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.

You shake your head at the stretch of his girth welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips without much thought. “‘S too much, Sebastian… can’t…” you admit. The chuckle that follows is devious, before a soft sigh in satisfaction follows as tender lips place an adoring kiss to your cheek. “You will,” Sebastian whispers, followed by the command “Now just surrender to me.” His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red streaks that run deep. You can’t look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, no hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you until your best years are over. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?

“Please, please, please,” you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You’re quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.

“Give yourself to me,” you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. “Stay with me, be mine…”

You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you up until you’re on all fours, ass perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. “I am yours if you are mine, my darling.” The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian’s tongue as he breaks the skin, engraving himself on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze.

Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your ass with unforeseen fervour. His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but you’ve never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts.

The husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow down. You feel yourself being further pushed against the mattress, to spread your legs wider and arch deeper, for his penetration to slowly steal your sanity. Who would have expected the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it’s too… “Too good, Sebastian, I’m—”

His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity. “Yes, fall apart. Let go for me,” Sebastian’s eyes roam over your smaller body beneath him—a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your ass almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.

The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian’s relentless thrusts. “Make me proud, little Lady...” his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.

You’re fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to be lost in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression while the cutest smile illuminates your features.

His lips caress your neck as he whispers, “Do you feel better now?” You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired “I do. Thank you, Sebastian” exchanged from your mouth to his ear.

Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. “How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

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Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

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Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[demiromanticmickey]

On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

[rubberbutton]

I am refusing to say anything disparaging about my efforts here, but it is taking all my willpower. Pls clap. Anyway, this is an illustration for the fic below. Javert had the SLP (slutty lil ponytail) for 95% of the drawing process, but I decided to please myself and did the curly hair at the last minute. Also, the fic was originally set at night in the bedroom so the state of dishabille made sense, but less so when I moved it to midafternoon. I was too lazy to add more clothes tho.

Ut Ameris Amabilis Esto - Valvert, rated teen for old man snugglin', no warnings

It was the habit of the old bachelors at Rue de l'Homme Armé, No. 7 to eat the day’s largest meal in the early afternoon.

They’d then take a cold supper at whatever time suited them. Most days, it was their custom to dismiss Mère Chenault, who came in to do the cooking and housework, after she’d prepared lunch. She’d initially resisted this arrangement until it was made clear to her that she’d receive the full day’s wages for a half day’s work. 

She was a proud woman, who’d fallen into bitter poverty after the early death of her husband.With an invalid daughter and six dependent grandchildren to support, she’d been grateful to have found her current place. Her employers were peculiar men who kept themselves to themself, but it was less work for more money than her last position. 

“I may not be a rich woman, but I pride myself on making my own way—I’ve never once had to accept charity,” she said upon meeting Monsieur Fauchelevent. “Save once when the littlest was ill and the doctor wouldn’t see him without upfront payment.”

Mère Chenault didn’t mind the pair’s strange ways. She knew that many men become eccentric in their old age, and bachelors in particular become set in their ways. It was to this tendency that she attributed Monsieur Fauchelevent’s insistence on managing the accounts with the green grocer and the butcher himself. The poor man managed it badly, as often as not ordering quantities which far exceeded the pair’s meager needs. When pressed, he equivocated: he felt terribly hungry when he placed the order only to find his appetite quite deserted him when the meal was before him. The resulting surplus was sent home with Mère Chenault as it would go to waste otherwise, and Monsieur Fauchelevent considered waste a grave sin. 

The second bachelor under her supervision, a Monsieur Javert, was likewise odd. Though a robust man who appeared to her eyes hale and healthy, he claimed to have a delicate and changeable constitution—a dish which agreed with him last week would turn on him this week and he could no longer abide it. Again, Mère Chenault was obliged to take the excess to prevent it being wasted. 

She gently chided Monsieur Fauchelevent for his excess and made a consommé for Monsieur Javert’s weak stomach. 

— 

“That woman is an idiot,” Javert said, looking out the window onto the street below, where Mère Chenault had just stepped out. Today she had such a bounty a boy had been hired to help her carry it home. “No, don’t chide me. Your expression is rebuke enough.” 

“Mère Chenault is a good and honest woman,” Valjean replied, then allowed, “It is to our advantage if she does not possess an inquiring mind.” 

Jean Valjean was seated at the escritoire, a stack of letters, mostly charitable solicitations, beside him. It was late afternoon in early summer before the heat had settled over the city, and the breeze coming in through the window was exceedingly pleasant.

Javert took a seat in his usual armchair, opening a book of poetry. He despised poetry. He felt it was a discipline without purpose and poets were notorious for their dissipation, besides—but the book had been a gift for his edification. He read silently, occasionally grimacing or snorting to telegraph his contempt. If he found a line particularly execrable, he read it aloud. Very, very occasionally he read a line or two which he found almost tolerable. In these instances, Valjean hummed and asked him what he thought about it.  

After some moments since Javert’s last recitation, Valjean said, “I had a letter from Cosette today.”

Javert made a noncommittal noise and turned a page. He was a picture of complete disinterest, but perhaps his fingers had tightened on the pages when the name Cosette was mentioned. 

“They’ve had an easy journey. They mean to return in a fortnight,” Valjean offered. Javert didn’t acknowledge this intelligence at all. “She asked after your health.”

“Did she?” Javert drawled, finally looking up. “She’ll be disappointed to hear that I am quite well.” 

“Cosette doesn’t wish you ill,” Valjean said and frowned.

Javert set his book aside. “Perhaps not, but I doubt hearing news I’ve taken terribly ill and am not expected to live out the night would grieve her.” Javert waved his hand to forestall further protest from Valjean. “I don’t begrudge her. She has every right to hate me.”

It was an old argument. 

Valjean held up the letter. “She cannot hate you too much. She’s invited you to dinner.”

“Unlikely,” Javert replied, sourly.

“She has—come and read it for yourself.”

Javert rose and came to lean over Valjean’s shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he pored over the missive. “What date does she propose?”

“Well, she hasn’t given a date quite yet,” Valjean hedged. “But it says right here: I trust Monsieur Javert is well. I hope that he will be available to join us for dinner once we’re back in the city.” 

“Bah.” Javert’s lip curled. “It’s not an invitation if it doesn’t include a date.”

“It’s reasonable for her to wait until they’re settled after their travels,” Valjean said, brow furrowed. “Cosette is always sincere. See, she continues, if Monsieur Javert has any particular tastes or appetites—”

“—If she only knew—” Javert interjected with a hint of tooth. 

Valjean hushed him, though the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “—Be sure to share them and I will make sure to consider them in planning the menu.” He set the letter down. “It’s not in her nature to hold a grudge. She’ll warm to you.” 

“How could she not? Everyone adores my amiable nature and good humor.”

 “You are quite capable of being amiable. You have even, on occasion, been good humored.” Valjean put his hand on Javert’s where it lay on the table. “Perhaps this might be an opportunity to demonstrate it.” 

Javert hesitated. “If I fail, the stakes are high.”

“God gives second chances.” 

“Yes, but does your daughter?” 

“Of course—you’re already on your third or fourth.” 

Javert did not smile at the joke and pulled his hand out from under Valjean’s. He straightened and gave Valjean his back, which he tended to do when he felt harassed. He took his seat again and buried his large nose in the book of poetry. Uncertain, Valjean laid out a new piece of paper and picked up up his pen. He made it no further than the salutation and a few initial pleasantries, however, before he set the pen back down.  

“I don’t have to answer her at the present moment.”

“She’ll worry if you don’t answer soon.”

“I don’t have to indicate that you’d accept an invitation.”

“She’d understand from the omission that I am rebuffing her overture.” 

Valjean arranged the ink pot and pouncet-box on the desk, then straightened the piles of waiting letters so their edges were all aligned. “Are you?”

There was a long silence. “I find myself between the praecipitium and the lupi.”

“Ah,” Valjean said. He wanted to sigh but fought the impulse. 

“If I decline, you’re disappointed. If I accept, I’ll surely blunder or offer your daughter some insult. You hope that your daughter and I will come to some mutual understanding or, more foolishly still, affection. She’s right to be wary of me. For what I was, for what I have done, and for the blight in my soul. You are are closer to saint than any other man living and are thus able to endure my person, but you go too far in expecting your daughter to do the same. Even if she were to entirely forgive the harm I did her mother, that I have done to you, she would be right to abhor me. Men may endure me but no one has ever liked me.” He pronounced all this with a cold and brittle certitude. It was not self-pity—or not primarily self-pity—but a judgement handed down by God. 

 Valjean indulged himself and sighed heavily. “So you decline the invitation?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you accept the invitation?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“There’s no hurry. Think about it and let me know once you’ve made a decision?” 

Javert held the book of poetry, but it could not be said that he was reading it, as his gaze did not travel along each line but remained fixed and unchanging. Valjean addressed the most pressing of the other correspondence: orphans, widows, homeless veterans. There were still more waiting for his attention, but he hesitated and glanced at Javert, who could have been made of stone for all that he moved. 

“I’ll leave the rest of these for the morning, I think,” Valjean said and set his pen down. Javert didn’t mark him. Valjean rose and walked to stand before him, still Javert refused to meet his eyes. Valjean plucked the book from Javert’s hands, ignoring the noise of protest. 

“If you mean to further belabor the issue—” Javert started coldly.

“I don’t intend to talk.” Valjean caught Javert’s wrists and pulled him to his feet. Javert tried to free himself but was no more able to resist than a mouse in the cat’s claws. Valjean bent over, set his shoulder to Javert’s middle and hoisted him up like a sack of flour. 

“Damn you,” Javert said, as he was born out of the study, down the hall and into the bedroom. Valjean tossed him onto the bed, which creaked like a ship in a storm as it shuddered under Javert’s sudden weight. He started to rise, but Valjean held up his hand, palm out to halt him. 

“You stay,” he said, his voice was low, calm, almost pleasant. 

Javert stayed, though whether it was capitulation or merely the knowledge that he would only embarrass himself in a physical contest was uncertain. 

“Have you lost your mind, old man?” he said, eyes narrow and intense. 

“Goad me as much as you like,” Valjean said, mildly. “Does it help?”

“A little,” Javert allowed. Valjean climbed onto the bed, Javert watching with both deep suspicion and an avid interest. 

“Roll over,” Valjean said. 

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,” Javert said, scandalized, even as he complied. 

Valjean laughed. “Save your blushes. That’s not what I’m after.” He sidled up to Javert and lay down next to him, propping himself up on an elbow. He lay a hand on the back of Javert’s neck, petting the curls that lay along his nape,, then began to stroke lightly to the base of his spine and back again. Valjean pillowed his head on Javert’s shoulder. He was tall and broad man and well muscled. Still he maintained his sharp edges and the shoulder blade under Valjean’s cheek was boney. 

Javert sighed the large intake of breath lifting Valjean like a bellows. The small of Javert’s back was damp with sweat. Valjean plucked at the linen to pull it away from the skin, then kept tugging, pulling the shirttails from the waist of his trousers. Javert shivered as Valjean’s hand slipped under the shirt’s hem and found skin. Valjean let his hand wander, though no lower than Javert’s waist band, though the temptation was strong. He could hear Javert’s heartbeat under his ear. It had been clamorous and rapid, but now slowed, grew calmer. 

He waited until it had slowed further still and stayed that way to say, “When she was little, Cosette loved me as a child loves a parent. It does not matter whether the parent is worthy of that love, the child cannot help but feel the attachment strongly. Now she is a woman grown and she retains love for me still. It does not burn as brightly as once it did. And why should it? It is right that her greatest affection is for her husband.” Javert didn’t respond; his heartbeat remained steady. “I have no other family. I have no friends. I’ve had no lovers, save you.” 

“Let me roll over—my neck is complaining,” Javert grumbled.“I suppose you mean now to draw some parallel between our situations.”

“Something of that nature.” Valjean sat up enough for Javert to roll onto his back and waited until he was settled. “I don’t have prepared remarks.”

“You are genial, kind and good natured. But you have kept any who would seek a greater connection with you at arm’s length. I have seen how you turn aside every invitation with polite demurral. Perhaps a necessity given your circumstances, but certainly your choice.”

“I have not always been genial, as you well remember,” Valjean said wryly. “You have also made the choice to keep others from extending the offer of friendship. You have a ferocious scowl—yes, that’s the one—and harsh words for nearly everyone. Perhaps if you’d like to be liked, you might consider being, well,  likable.”

Javert growled low in his chest. 

“Or not,” Valjean said. “As you prefer.”

Javert rolled to his side, pressing against Valjean, and buried his face in Valjean’s neck. Valjean cradled the back of his head with a hand. 

“I’ll go,” Javert said into the tender skin below Valjean’s ear. “I do my utmost to be, ugh, amiable.” The words sounded as though they’d been extracted from him under great duress. 

“Thank you,” Valjean said. “I’m sure you’ll succeed. After all, I find you amiable.” He shifted  enough to capture Javert’s mouth with his own. “Very amiable indeed.”

Fin. 

[sentientfunfetti]

What if reader gave dollhouse!Wally a cute little box with a clay heart inside it? Like, "here's my heart, for you" kinda thing.

“giving you my heart” a dollhouse! wally/reader drabble

(dollhouse!wally and his au belongs to @/itskorrychang on twitter! go support them!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

-

-

it had been a few weeks since you and wally had been seeing each other. time seemed to move a bit slower in the neighborhood, but you associated that with the bliss of being utterly comfortable where you were. when you had moved to the neighborhood, you were off-put by how quiet it was. from what you were told it was a bustling community full of games, jokes being told, pies and other baked good being baked and other types of fun…

but, when you arrived it was quiet. too quiet. it was unnerving say the least.

then you met the only resident. wally darling. as eerie as he was there was always a level of endearment to it. wally seemed harmless, just a tad socially inept. on your first day he invited you over for tea in his home, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the rows after rows of dolls he had.

“oh…those? i made them myself…”

he said it as if it wasn’t a big deal. his level of craftsmanship wasn’t lost on even you, who had no idea how to make anything like that. they were so pretty…and he seemed to appreciate your enthusiasm and compliments, even going as far as to make one of you. most people would have found that creepy…especially with how many details of you he had captures on such a small base, even going as far as to point out his favorite ones.

least to say, you were swooned. head over heels for him, and you wanted to show your appreciation for both his hospitality and for you to express you feelings for him. your crafting skills were…limited least to say. the only thing you could wrap your head around besides from drawing was clay, and so you spent all night making a heart shaped…object…for wally, even going out to find a cute box to paint over for the heart shaped ‘thing’ to be held in.

looking down at the box in your hands as you make your trek to wally’s house, you couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about how he’d feel about it. there was no doubt about it; wally’s skill level was leaps and bounds above your’s, so that left one question: would he even accept your gift? you could only hope not.

…you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off of it like most people are able to.

pushing all of that aside, you were already at his doorstep seemingly within a blink of an eye, and now all there was to do was knock. you lifted your arm up stiffly and knocked.

“coming.” he announced through the door, and you heard his footsteps approaching. you jumped when he opened the door, his usual lax smile on his face. you quickly hid his present behind your back without thinking. “ah, neighbor. you’re a bit early today…” you smile the best smile you could muster and giggled. “well, i wanted to come and see you early this time! i hope that’s okay…” you watch his lazy grin grow and your face warms. despite you at first being apprehensive to him, you quickly found out that he was just as kind as any other person.

“oh, neighbor. you know that my doors are always open. all you need to do is call or knock and if i’m able, and available, then you’re always welcome…” he responded lowly, standing in his doorway. his words were sweet, but they did nothing to soothe your already growing anxiety. it bubbled up in you just like before. “…thank you, wally…i really appreciate that.”

he responded with a nod, before stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “anything for you, lovely.”

the pet name made your heart swell, as you stepped inside, making sure to angle yourself so that he wouldn’t be able to see the box you had in your hands. you hear the door click closed, the lock following. he turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “…neighbor…” he put a hand on his face, amused with the fact you were so obviously hiding something behind your back. “what’s that you’ve got there…?” he inquired, pointing, and you felt yourself shrink, your eyes shifting to the floor.

“o-oh…well…uhm…” his gaze was intense now. he was looking for your answer in your body language due to the now lack of eye contact between the both of you. “yes, precious?” he urged you to continue, leaning down a tad to be eye level with you. your eyes were glued to the floor, however. after a bit of silence, you suck in a breath and tap your foot on the floorboards underneath your feet. you stay silent for a moment, the only thing filling the silence is the sound of wally’s large grandfather clock ticking away every second you weren’t speaking. “i…i uhm…made you something…” you finally mumbled under your breath, your eyes flicking up to him for a moment.

“what was that, dear? i couldn’t quite hear you. you were mumbling.” you couldn’t tell if wally was teasing you or being serious. he did have a tendency to do that accidentally…only occasionally doing it on purpose when he realized what he said had affected you. he stood back to his original height and waited for your response, his intense gaze still on you, making you feel just a bit smaller than usual. you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i made you something, wally.”

“is that so?” his smile widened, and he outstretched his arms. “can i see what you’ve made me? if you made it i’m sure it’s lovely.” you shake your head, and take a step back, chewing on your bottom lip. eyes back on the floor. “it’s not that good, really. it’s really not as good as the stuff you make so…”

“…so…what, precious…?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place a finger on. you knew he probably didn’t mean for it to startle you, but you felt yourself shrink into yourself just a bit more at it. wally seemed to notice, and you watched his shoulders lax. he quickly corrects. you forget that he had an edge to him at times. that’s what being alone for so long will do to people, you think.

“it’s alright. really. i’m sure whatever you’ve made me is just as nice as you are. as nice as you have been.”

you look up and into at his red orbs and let out a bitter chuckle. “you’re only saying that because you’re curious.” you respond, raising an eyebrow at him. he shrugs off your accusation with the same smile as before. “can you blame me? my favorite neighbor—“ only neighbor. you don’t correct. you don’t dare. “— visits me with a gift, and now doesn’t want me to see it? who wouldn’t be curious?” dammit. he had a good point. you were stumped, and running out of energy to fight, so with a sigh you revealed the small box from behind your back. your face burned as soon as you saw wally’s eyes train on the small box in your hands. he hummed, before taking it away from you, your arms falling limply to your sides as you counted away the seconds until doomsday.

…okay…maybe doomsday was a bit overdramatic…but if he didn’t like it you would most definitely be thinking about that for the next few weeks. definitely. you mentally crossed your fingers, and let out a weak ‘surprise’ as you watched him open the box, his intense gaze fixing onto the smaller object inside.

he was silent. dead silent. so silent in fact that you were sure you didn’t even see him take another breath in. his chest stopped rising and falling as his intense gaze softened for a moment. “…see? i told you it wasn’t as good as the stuff you make—“ your hand clamps around your forearm for comfort as your shift.

“gods, i’m sorry wally—“

“…oh…neighbor it’s…this is…!” he looked up at you from the box in his hands with glazed over eyes. tears threatening to spill. he looked back down and plucked the small heart shaped clay piece out of the confines of the box and let out a shaky breath. “…it’s…it’s perfect…” he moved over to the table next to the front door and deposited the box in order to hold the heart in the palms of his hands, as if it was the most precious gem. as if it was made of glass and one drop would threaten to break it. you stood there…confused…almost shocked.

“…it is…? i mean i just like—“ you immediately begin to backpedal. you had never seen wally so passionate before except a few times, so this was almost scary. you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off the damn thing, much less make the shape look uniform.

“yes. yes. it’s…it’s so cute…and…you made it for me? did you really, neighbor…?” wally asked, looking at you with a warm smile. “it’s wonderful. thank you. you even put my initials on it…” he outstretched a palm and pointed to the small detail, utterly infatuated. sometimes you forgot his eye for small details. you felt like a ant under a magnifying glass. studied.

you laugh and blush, rubbing the back of your neck. “oh…well. ya know…didn’t want it to get lost…!” at that, wally let out a warm chuckle, and a sniffle, regaining his composure as he continued on. “well, i assure you neighbor, the detail is appreciated…and i won’t be losing this anytime soon.” he took a step closer.

“…no…in fact…i’ll be keeping it close. as close as i can…” his voice was hushed, his grin wide and his eyes narrowing with it. you swallow thickly, face red. was he talking about you…or the gift? stars, which one was less likely to make you explode? “i’m…i’m glad.” was all you were able to muster out. wally didn’t miss a beat, however, leaning a bit again to catch your gaze, gift still in his hands. his hand went to cup your cheek, and you swore you could see a glint in his eye. “why are you so red, precious? aren’t i supposed to be the flustered one here?” his thumb stroked your cheek. yep. he was definitely doing it on purpose this time. you huff and put your hands on your hips. “listen here, if this is how you’re gonna react every time i give you a gift, this may be your last one, buster.” you turn your back to him and begin to walk towards the dining room to have a seat, pulling away from his touch, but the ghost of it was still there.

“precious.”

he called out, and you turned to see him now holding the heart in-between his thumb and forefinger to where you could see it; a mischievous glint in his red eyes. you shuddered and narrowed your eyes at him. “…what…?” you spat playfully.

“…was this you giving me your heart?”

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

thank you for the request, neighbor! it was such a sweet one. i really enjoyed writing this one.

i also have a few things to go over, actually:

firstly, i’d like to thank you all for the requests and the likes and the follows! i’m really surprised i’ve been getting the attention i’ve been getting. thank you all for that.

secondly, i’d like to ask for a few things if that’s alright.

1) reblogs. self explanatory. likes don’t really do anything for me traction-wise as you may or may not know and i’d like for more people to be able to see my things!

2) can you all pretty please be more specific with the things you’d like for me to write? if you just send me a prompt and not specifically state that you’d like headcanons, or a drabble then i have no idea what you’d like.

3) more feedback. i want to grow as an author so criticism is of course encouraged and welcomed.

besides from that, ill be working on my reboot wally fanfiction over on ao3 and the requests i have lined up for me at the moment. thank you guys for the support. it means a bunch./gen

[stargazing15]

Dad's shirt

Jake x wife reader & daughter

Summary: it was Jake's third father's day and your daughter really loves the gift.

A/N: For those who voted for dad Jake, here you go! I didn't give the reader and Jake's daughter a name, I couldn't decide on a good one

Enjoy!

***

"Daddy is going to be home soon, you know what to say to daddy, sweetheart?" You asked you daughter.

"Yes mommy, how long? Not wait!" She still tried to use as less words as possible, a little stubbornness or laziness -you still hadn't figured out which one it was- but most certainly inherent from her father.

"It is I cannot wait, sweetie. I don't know, depends on daddy's boss and if daddy's plane has been nice today. Less than an hour. Okay?" Jake had texted you he was on way right before he left.

"Befo sleep?"

"Before. Of course, he will be here before sleeptime." The moment you said your last words, keys opened the front door.

"DADDY!" And off she was to the hallway.

"Hello little munchkin. You have been good to mommy?"

"The best!" You heard her say proudly.

"Come, come, come." Jake got pulled inside by your much smaller daughter, but with a big and excited smile on her face. Not matter how bad Jake's day might have been, she made sure it was always ending good. Younger Jake never thought he wanted this, but coming home to his loved ones was all he needed to be happy, the medals or mission successes weren't the peak of his happiness anymore.

"Hi baby." Jake gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"Hi sweetest daddy of our wonderful princess."

"Daddy, no looking, I have surprise. And mommy too! Come mommy. No cheating daddy!" Jake had closed his eyes and placed his hand in front of them.

"Look no cheating little munchkin, my eyes are closed. But I can't wait to see your surprise." He encouraged him/her.

"Come mommy." The two of you grabbed the neatly wrapped gift and made your way back to Jake to deliver the gift.

"Okay babe, keep your eyes closed and place your hands in front of you. And you here, stop jumping around for a second, you are going to trip over your own feet."

"No babe, DADDY." You and Jake giggled at her comment while you were laying the gift in his hands.

"Yes yes sweetie, daddy open up your eyes." Jake opened up his eyes and tried his best for the three year old to look as surprised as possible.

"HAPPY DADDY DAY!" She screamed as loud as she possibly could, poor neighbors, and started to jump up and down again. "Open, open!"

"I think you are the one who is most excited, will you help daddy?"

"Yes." Not even a second after Jake's answer she dragged his arm down to her level so she could help. Jake carefully removed the ribbon so your little girl could start destroying the wrapping paper.

Once the paper was removed the excited little one became even more excited, yes that was possible.

"DADDY DADDY LOOK!" Jake got a drawing smacked in his face by a very proud toddler. This made Jake burst out in laughing. The little ball of joy always managed to do something that put a smile on your faces.

"Wow little munchkin, did you make this?"

"YES, by myself!"

"It is really beautiful, I guess this here is mommy and there are you and this is me with my plane?"

"Yes!"

Jake now took the gift in his hand and unfolded it. It was a white t-shirt with the black text 'I'm the coolest dad' on it. In the O's were replaced by emoji's with aviators on. "I'll wear this proudly, who made the choice?"

"Me!" Your daughter said while raising her hand up.

"She has good taste. Clearly from me."

"Dork." You whispered with a smirk.

And then instead of trying it on himself, Jake took the shirt and put it over your daughter's head and lowered it down her little body, until it hit the ground. "It fits you perfectly little munchkin." Loving the the compliment, she kissed her daddy on the cheek and gave him a big hug.

"Mommy, LOOK!"

"Wow sweetie, is that a dress?"

"Noooo, daddy's shirt!" She mocked you, like you just asked her the dumbest question ever. Being miss smarty-pants, was definitely one of the other things she inherited from Jake.

"Come on you two, photoshoot. Let's go outside, the sun is shining. Mom and dad will be there in a second. Can you search for a nice spot?" She immediately ran off to search the sport in the garden.

"Well, beautiful mommy, thank you for the wonderful gift, although I think she might wear it more often than me." Jake said to you while wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I missed you today, I always miss you."

"Missed you too." Jake pulled you in for a kiss and deepened the kiss immediately. God you missed this one-on-one time.

"EEEWWWW, gross!" Your princess stood in the door with her small hands on her hips, being a little toddler-boss. "Photo!"

"Okay, okay, we're coming."

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @angelbabyange @jstarr86 @dempy

[ryuichirou]

Replies

One reply + suddenly a hc list today! About the animals.

Anonymous asked:

Normally I rather dislike ace and duece as a couple but something about your art makes it ok... or at least more so than normal

lol thank you Anon!

I’m glad the way I draw them makes it more appealing to you.

thestarlightfae asked:

If the twst cast were animals, which animals do you think they would be?

Hehe, I’m coming back to your last question!

I feel like we talked about similar topics every now and then, so for this post to not sound very repetitive I thought that I’m going to make it more difficult for myself and actually give everyone a couple of animals. I also tried not to be too obvious, but I’m not going to not call the Leeches eels…

Also there is no equality there, some guys have more animals than others :( Sorry!!

Riddle –  a hedgehog, a mouse, a house finch… he just feels like a loud little bird sometimes lol He’s small but he could bite or prick or peck you. Of course, he is also a goldfishie..!

Ace – a fox, a red panda, a red cat. Always getting in trouble, but still pretty independent and sly, but also ekekek’ing happily when fed and spoiled. Capricious but also an idiot.

Deuce – a jack rabbit, a dog (a mutt), a rat… I don’t know he just feels like someone who could be a great and dear friend if you let him into your life <3 He is a little bit wild, but also easily tamable.

Cater – a ferret, a parrot (not sure which one), a husky-golden retriever mix. Kind of obnoxious and loud at times, but so incredibly magicammable! At the first glance at least, but he really needs an owner that understands him.

Trey – a bear, a badger, a turtle. Once again, Floyd’s nickname feels like it works perfectly for how chill he is… but he could still somewhat dangerous, even if he looks cute and cuddly.

Leona – a lion (shocking), a maine coon (is this cheating?), a panda. I don’t know man, he’s just here to relax, even if it bites him in the ass sometimes… but maine coons are supposed to be good hunters, so!

Ruggie – a hyena, a magpie, a raccoon. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure – he is excellent at finding stuff that he wants and taking it without anyone noticing.

Jack – a wolf, a kangaroo, an irbis.  Sorry, he is such a pup it’s very difficult to think about anything else, but… don’t provoke this guy!! He’ll fuck you up!

Azul – an octopus, a Turkish angora cat, a ram. Very careful and anxious, but also gracious and smart… and super stubborn and scary when angry!!! Also, angoras love to swim! And have the most gorgeous blue eyes.

Jade – an eel, a scorpion... But I also want to acknowledge dolphins because of…certain shenanigans that they do… anyways, this one is a huge DANGER sign. Anything venomous feels pretty much like him.

Floyd – an eel, a shark, a husky-wolf mix. Once again, the first two are pretty obvious, but he is also a wild fluffy beast running around and yelling… when he feels like it. When he doesn’t, he is super lazy and gets very angry when bothered.

Kalim – a mongoose, a puppy (can’t even give you a breed, just a puppy, something super expensive though), a parakeet parrot. A mongoose is just too ironic not to pick, but he is also super friendly, excited and sociable! And colourful, of course. Always the center of all the attention.

Jamil – a snake (viper/cobra), a chameleon and a caracal cat. Once again, cautious, independent, ready to attack but very sneaky about it. Also very gorgeous looking, it’s difficult to look away even if you know it’s dangerous…

Vil – a peacock, a show dog with tons of medals and awards, a horse. Speaking of gorgeous… Truly a magnificent creature that knows his own worth. Perfectly fit, perfectly pampered and groomed, but also has quite the temper.

Rook – an eagle, a fox, a hound. I feel like it describes Rook pretty much perfectly… An excellent hunter, but also there is something so sneaky about him. But then you look at him and see someone who is very friendly and open-minded, just like a dog! Weirdo…

Epel – a bunny, a chinchilla, a Pomeranian. He would be so mad, but let’s be honest, am I wrong? The last one especially feels like a no-brainer to me: so small and oh so fierce.

Idia – a skittish cat, an anxious borzoi dog, a fallow deer. Somehow both a loner and enjoyer of good company… he is cute and long and kind of both gracious and clumsy at the same time.

Ortho – a dog (Cerberus!), a clione (sorry it’s too cute Floyd is right again), a tiger cub. The last one is probably kind of sudden, maybe I should’ve went with something flying instead, but he does feel like a little pouncing hunter sometimes…

Lilia – a bat, a sugar glider, a shrike. Small, adorable, but oh god how fucking deadly. The more I think about it, the more I think of how much of a shrike he is…

Silver – a jackalope, a unicorn, a hippogriff. All fictional animals because he is just that otherworldly lol Probably isn’t fair to everyone else, so I’ll make it even more unfair and give him three normal animals: a swan, a hare, a deer.

Sebek – a crocodile, a bull, a dog (Doberman or Rottweiler?). He is a such well-disciplined dog, but also stubborn and kind of easy to provoke. Still, he is such a pup sometimes.

Malleus – a monitor lizard, a crow, a panther. The first two are pretty explanatory, but I just couldn’t resist the last one – had to give him a big gorgeous black kitty.

[justalonelyslytherin]

Happy Father's Day - Lloyd Hansen

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female Reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, gun handling and shooting, death, blood, insinuation/mention of hurting and/or killing a child

Wordcount: 3.9k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: Another one of the longer ones in this series. Writing Lloyd was so much fun. And I really enjoyed this scenario and the open end, if Reader and Lloyd will get along or not. Part of the ‘Happy Father’s Day��� series. Dividers by the fantastic @/firefly-graphics

Footsteps echoed through the empty hall, drawing nearer until the door swung open. A figure walked into the office.

“You are late.” 

Carmichael, who had been sitting in his chair and watching the arriving car through the dimmed window, turned around.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be here.”

“It’ll be worth your expenditure.”

“You better be paying me good for this. Summoning me here, you are becoming flamboyant. I could be otherwise entertained.”

“As always. You should know better of me.” Carmichael pursed his lips, glancing at the other man over his glasses. “This one is a special mission.”

“Are you finally getting rid of Susan, that frigid bitch?”

“No. But similar. I wanted to see your reaction myself.”

“And once you're finished we’ll have a drink together. Like the good old times.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow as Carmichael opened a drawer. Withdrawing the file in an exaggerated motion, he held it in the air. It was inconspicuous. Like any other file the CIA used on their targets.

With a heavy thud it landed on the dark wooden desk, the noise reverberated through the dim office. Licking his lips and cocking his hip out, Lloyd took a lazy step forward. He swiped the file up in one smooth motion. Opening it, he was greeted with a picture. 

Lloyd’s grip tightened around the file, the etches crinkling. His jaw ticked, square, and ready to snap as he eyed the contents.

“Her?” He asked after a tense, long silence. 

“Her,” Carmichael confirmed. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows placed on the edge of the desk, “I want her disposed of.”

“Any particular reason?” Lloyd lilted lazily, eyes dragging over the file towards the other man. He didn’t need to read the print, he had committed it to memory a long time ago.

“None that should matter to you. I thought you might like to do it yourself. Since you two have…history.”

Huffing he let the file drop onto the desk, the smack reverberated through the office. A devilish, hungry grin spread over Lloyd’s lips. 

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

Today had felt like an ordinary day to her, but if she knew one thing it was that there were no ordinary days. 

There were quiet days and then there were hectic days. There were days when everything went according to plan and days when everything went wrong. There were days in which she’d been safe and days in which she’d nearly died.

The latter ones were now few and far between. Once it was her day-to-day, her nine-to-five. It was behind her now for most of it.

But as a seasoned agent, she should have known nothing ever truly stayed gone and that especially as someone in the intelligence industry there was no such simple thing as retirement. 

Dying was your retirement.

The house was quiet when she arrived home. Something wasn’t right. It felt deadly quiet, not even the usual noise from the neighbors or cars passing over the street was there. It was too quiet. 

Her days in the field might have laid behind her but her instincts were still as sharp. And so was her habit of still carrying a weapon with her at all times. As silently as she could, she put her purse beside the front door, moving slowly and carefully. Squatting, she drew her gun from inside the bag.

The entryway was clear and so was the office she never used. When she walked through the living room, clearing it as well, gaze moving into the adjacent, open kitchen she froze. Halfway hidden behind the kitchen counter lay a body on the floor. Rosa. Her household help. Face down, in a puddle of her own blood, unmoving. 

Rushing over, there was nothing she still could have done for the nice lady she’d become friends with. She wasn’t long dead, body and blood felt warm.

Then she heard it. A creek. Snapping her head towards the ceiling she listened. When another creek sounded, she bounded to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time she rushed up. 

On the second level, she ignored most of the doors, bypassing clearing each room in favor of getting to the most important of it all. At the far end of the hallway was a cream-colored door, opened just a slit. A soft melody played, faintly echoing through the hallway. She’d closed that door just before she left the house.

The door swung open, barely stopping before it hit the wall as she barged in, gun drawn high. She pointed the barrel at the figure standing on the other side of the room, looming above a baby bed.

“Hands up where I can see them and step the fuck away from the cradle!” Her voice was firm but there was the hint of a shake looming close. 

The figure stayed relaxed, slowly raising his hands. There was a big gun in his right hand, making her grit her teeth as her heart dropped. Hopefully, she wasn’t too late already. Please, don’t let her be too late. Her grip around her gun tightened as the person turned around. 

Shock coursed through her, almost making her forget what was going on. Almost.

“Lloyd.” 

He grinned at her, “Hello Sunshine.”

The pet name rolled off his tongue so smoothly as if not a single day had gone by. It didn’t trick her, it was a farce and so she kept her guard up and the gun centered on his chest. Not that Lloyd could have cared for any of it. That grin, that split his lips and pulled at his mustache mocked her together with the glint in his eyes. The amusement was highly evident on his face.

“You sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” He made a show of trailing his gaze through the room before he continued, “A safe house – that’s not so safe anymore – and a baby?” 

His laugh made her skin crawl. 

“I didn’t peg you for the chick that would let herself get stuck with a brat,” he taunted and she rolled her eyes. “Although I would have enjoyed being the one to fuck one into you.”

“Step away from her,” she demanded, unreactive to his jabs. He wanted to provoke her but she wouldn’t grant him that pleasure. 

Lloyd looked behind him toward the crib in which her baby was peacefully sleeping. “And what if I don’t? You shoot me? Shoot in the direction of your darling?” Her eyes flickered to the crib behind him, just for a moment. Enough to confirm he was right. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“As I thought,” he hummed, slowly putting his hands down. 

She’d just lost her advantage, her threat. The gun in her hands was useless if she couldn’t – wouldn’t – use it to actually shoot him. It was just a show and he could do and please how he wanted without her being able to prevent it.

“I have to give you that: She is cute as a bug.” Her heart nearly gave out as Lloyd turned around again and leaned over the crib. He was reaching down, his fingers running over the baby's smooth dark hair and soft cheek. As his pinky ring graced her cheek, the cold sensation of the metal on her skin made her frown. It caused his lip to quip upward. 

With his other hand – the one holding the large gun – he leaned down too. The nose of the gun softly traced along her little tummy. 

It made her breath hitch, instinctively she took a step forward. A mistake as Lloyd’s head cocked back at her. There was enjoyment glinting in his eyes. He loved games like this, toying with people’s emotions, but most of all with their fear.

“Oh look at you, all momma-bear. Am I driving you crazy with concern huh?” He was having the time of his life.

“What will you do?” he wanted to know, taunting once more, “I could shoot her right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” 

He was right. She wouldn’t be able to cross the room fast enough to prevent him from pulling the trigger or ripping the gun up and away from her child.

“Step away from her,” she demanded, voice shaking with equal amounts of rage and concern. It was an empty demand. What threat did she have against him? What options to stop him? Her words made him laugh.

“Give me one good reason why I should do that instead of pulling my trigger right now?”

“Because she is yours.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, beneath his long lashes his eyes dilated in surprise but also in glee. Once more he started laughing. A full belly laugh this time. So much he had to wipe away tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s a good one, sunshine.” But she stayed unwaveringly serious. Lloyd eyed that as well. Straightening up he took in the sleeping baby closely.

“Oh, are you serious?” The amusement was still there but now there was a hint of seriousness in his tone as well. 

“Her?” He pointed towards the cradle. “Mine?”

Reluctantly she nodded. There was a brief moment in which Lloyd turned solemnly serious, a moment in which he seemed to contemplate it all. Then his face twisted in rage. In a split second, he lunged at her.

She was slammed to the floor, him above her as her gun skidded over the ground, out of her reach. His hands wrapped around her throat, strong hands unrelenting. The air was pushed out of her lungs as he choked her. Wrapping her hands around his forearms, she tried to stop him but there was no point. He was too strong.

“You little bitch.” Lloyd was seething. Spitting as he looked at her like an animal gone wild. “You are enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Greedy little slut, took everything you could get your hands on, didn’t you? Even a baby!” Her mind was reeling, both from the lack of oxygen and his words. They didn’t make sense. She hadn’t taken anything from him. It wasn’t like she had tried to get him to knock her up and then vanish.

Even with the blood rushing in her ears and the black rims growing at the edges of her vision she couldn’t get his hands off her. But maybe getting his hands off her neck wasn’t what she should focus on. With what quickly draining strength she had still left in her, she started squirming under him. 

She couldn’t die right now. Not like this. There was no way in hell she would leave her daughter to Lloyd’s mercy. 

“You are a twisted, backstabbing–” Mustering enough strength she managed to kick him in the balls, hard enough to sway him for a moment. It was only a short moment but it was enough to kick him off her and send him to the side.

She coughed and wheezed, greedily sucking in as much air as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him sit up, brushing a hand over his mouth. It came away with a streak of blood.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She wheezed, turning to her side, all the while her eyes roamed through the room, looking for her gun. 

“You were the reason the CIA kicked me out! Not that I would have enjoyed being in that constringent shithole with their stupid rules. I’m much freer where I am now but that doesn’t change the fact you betrayed me!” 

What?

“I didn’t!” She watched him try to stand up and so she swiped her leg out, ripping his feet out from underneath him. He smacked against the floor as she continued, “I didn’t even know you were kicked out! No one would tell me anything about what happened. You were simply gone!”

“Liar,” he roared, looking at her with rage. Seeing his rage was nothing new, but this was the first time it was focused on her.

“I thought you were dead!”, she roared back, “It took me weeks with no success until I found out– … until I found out I was pregnant. Only when I went to Fitzroy did he tell me you got kicked out.”

“Bullshit! Someone ratted me out! Who was it then?”

“Who? I'll tell you who! Your buddy, fucking, Carmichael!” 

There was a fire burning in Lloyds eyes and with newfound vigor, he pushed to his feet. Scrambling, she looked around the room, frantically trying to find her gun. She needed to reach her gun before Lloyd could reach his. 

“He never liked me, Lloyd. He always hated that I was by your side. That ass was always jealous of what we – you – had since college! He couldn’t stand that I was taking you away from him, don’t you understand?!” 

Lloyd had never seen the clear disdain with which Carmichael had regarded her. The poorly hidden hatred and animosity.

She’d stalled him long enough to locate her gun in the room, just as Lloyd had risen to his feet and centered his attention on his gun – much closer than hers. Their eyes crossed as a mutual realization set in. They had the same plan and they both needed to stop the other. There was a second in which neither one of them moved. Then, jumping around she scrambled for her gun. Nearly there, only millimeters from grasping it in her hand, her fingers brushing the cool plastic, a hand wrapped around her ankle. With a violent jerk, she was yanked back. Not without a fight. Her kicking was fruitless, Lloyd’s hand stayed around her foot like a vice. It was to no avail.

He was pulling her back until she lay under him and Lloyd pinned her to the ground with his knees and hands. His gun was pointed at her. The click of the bullet slipping into the barrel had her deflate. 

All the fight rapidly left as she realized: she’d lost.

“Don’t kill her,” she whispered, eyes dimmed in grief. She pleaded with him, “Don’t punish her for what you believe me to have done.” In a violent lurch her face whipped to the side, the sound of his backhanded slap echoing in her ears. The metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth. 

It didn’t stop her from continuing, “Look after her.

At least find her a safe place with a new family if you don’t want her.”

This raging fire kept burning in his eyes as Lloyd centered the barrel of his gun to her forehead. Cold metal touched her skin, creating a burning halo. She wouldn’t close her eyes. No, she chose to keep looking into his, waiting for her inevitable end.

When the trigger got pulled, the shot rang out loudly above her but the bullet never hit. 

No longer was the gun pointed at her but at the door, she’d burst through not long ago. Ripping her eyes away from the gun, she focused back on Lloyd. He was already looking down at her, his jaw clenched and lips pursed.

Behind them – in the cradle – their baby started to wail.

In his hands, Carmichael held a couple of pictures. A drone shot from a burned-down house. Multiple from the burned-down interior of said house. And one of a corpse burned so badly she was unrecognizable.

The door to his office opened up without premonition.

“Well done.” Putting the pictures down the man with the glasses looked up.

“How did it feel?” “Satisfying,” Lloyd mused, hands loosely clasped behind his back as he whipped on his feet. 

“So the bitch got what she deserved.” Carmichael looked pleased, a sly grin formed on his usually composed and unhappy-looking face. “You know I never trusted her. Always knew there was something off with her.”

“She was a rotten apple from the beginning.” “Was she?” Lloyd asked with ease. “Why’d you never say something then?”

“I wanted you to have your fun with her. I thought that’s all she was to you anyway.” 

Nodding Lloyd hummed, “She was a pretty good fuck.” 

In the end, Carmichael stood up, walking towards a sideboard with glasses and a bottle of expensive alcohol. “Let’s drink to that.” He poured some into the two glasses, the trickle of the liquid sloshing the only sound.

“A toast,” he said, turning around with the two glasses in his hand. One held out towards Lloyd, the other comfortably nestled in his own. “To the two of us. That no woman will ever be worthy to come between us.” 

Lloyd was now directly in front of him. Before he could register the thing shoved against his chest, the muffled sound of a shot rang out. The glasses toppled from his hands, their golden liquid soaked the carpet beneath his feet. He could only glance at the gun between them in shock. The gun Lloyd had aimed and fired at his chest. 

“The bitch is indeed getting what he deserves.”

Lloyd’s mustache quirked up, revealing the grin on his lips as Carmichael stumbled and slid down the sideboard. Sitting before him, the man's blood mixed with the carpet.

“You should have never come between me and her.” It was the last thing Lloyd whispered, watching as the light left the man's eyes.

Picking up one of the two glasses, Lloyd eyed the remains of the liquid in the crystal clear cup. He downed it in one swift gulp. 

“Happy Father’s Day to me.”

Outside the office, Carmichael’s men lay slumped over. Dead too. Lloyd stepped over them, wasting no glance back as he walked on. 

Behind the corner at the end of the hallway, a figure awaited. Fitzroy. The older man had his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched him approach. Both men looked at one another, unable to stand their opposite but still working together. An Exception.

“You better treat her right,” Fitzroy was serious, looking down on him with disdain. “Or I’ll come to get her and my granddaughter and you’ll be dead.”

The words didn’t impress Lloyd. It was a real threat. Fitzroy still had his trumps and his ways to win over Lloyd. 

Yet he calmly and dryly answered, “She isn’t your granddaughter.”

“No, but she is as good as.

I was the only one there for them, during the pregnancy and when she gave birth to that sweet little angel.”

It was a carefully calculated attack, the words meant to cut deep. Lloyd didn’t say anything to that. He walked past the man without another word. Outside a car waited for him already, driving away the moment he sat inside.

High-pitched coos and unintelligible babbling littered the air as she held her daughter in her arms softly swaying her from side to side. Her heart fluttered as she took in the chubby cheeks and long lashes. 

“We still have to get used to our new home, don’t we?” She mumbled against the soft tuft of hair dusted along her daughter’s head. Her little head couldn’t stop turning around, not nearly fast enough to follow her curious eyes. 

“It’s so big.” Her little one cooed in agreement, even though she likely couldn’t understand her yet. Taking in the huge room they were in, big still felt like an understatement. The improvised baby room looked anything but suited for a baby. The luxurious theme felt overpowering, just like the rest of the castle did. Adjusting from a comfortable little two-story house to a castle with rooms in the hundreds would take time.

“Who would have thought your dad would show up to join your life.”

There was still a part of her that didn’t want to believe it and a part of her that mistrusted Lloyd. Her lip and back still ached from the fight, the memories of him pointing his gun not only at her but at the baby and threatening to shoot fresh in her mind. Too fresh perhaps.

Lloyd had changed from wanting to kill her to wanting to protect her and their daughter in less than a minute. A split-second decision that otherwise would have found her with a bullet in the head and her daughter orphaned.

A noise from the outside alerted her. It drew her to the big window so they could watch what was happening outside. Together they eyed the black SUV drive over the gravel of the huge driveway, fast approaching the house. When the car stopped just before the entrance and Lloyd stepped out of the car, she sighed.

“Speaking of the devil,” muttering to her daughter, she pressed a kiss against her head. The baby coed once more and babbled happily in her arms. Clumsy little fingers gripped her sleeve.

“Sunshine! I’m back!”

Not a moment later Lloyd’s loud voice boomed through the house. One might think that with its size his voice would get drowned out. It didn’t take him long to reach the room and push the door open. Once his eyes settled on the two of them, still close to the window a grin appeared on his face.

“There they are!” Striding over he stopped shortly in front of them as his eyes settled on the toddler. 

“Bug.” She rolled her eyes at his newly proclaimed nickname for his daughter. Her eyes followed his hands, reaching out and demanding to hold the baby. For a moment she hesitated to pass her over. Lloyd’s eyes jumped to her, narrowing slightly but ultimately he dropped his hands to his side.

Not for long. Just as quickly as he had folded his hands found her waist. Rather forcefully she was turned around, gazing back out of the window.

“You’ll start to trust me again.” His voice murmured into her ear as Lloyd settled behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Her back was pressed against his front. Resting his chin against her shoulder, he nosed along her neck, whispering more words into her ear.

“And maybe by the next Father’s Day, I’ve fucked another one into you already.”

She scoffed, lips twitching upward in a smile as she glanced back at him, “In your dreams. How about you learn to handle your existing daughter first. She’s already got your temper when she is tired and cranky, by that time next year she’ll likely have reached the terrible twos.”

BONUS:

“If I find out you lied to me,” Lloyd threatened as he stood up, still looking down at her. He nodded towards his gun.

“Why would I?” Scoffing, she too slowly sat up and wiped away the blood from her mouth. “I would have never betrayed you, I loved you.”

Something in the way he laughed so dryly deeply hurt her. Her eyes were turned downwards as she got up. When she stood in front of him, face to face, her expression remained unchanged and just as solemn.

“You are serious?”

“Is it so hard to believe? My future was yours.”

She was about to breeze past him and towards the cradle, towards her crying daughter when he stopped her. His hand wrapped around her biceps.

“Looks like you are getting what you wanted in the end,” he rumbled into her ear. Then he dropped his hand. “Calm her down, take whatever you need for her, and be done with it in five minutes.” 

He didn’t leave the room while she did so, hovering beside the door with his arms crossed, holding onto the gun as he watched.

[chaotictakea]

Fake emergency

characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself. characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi are two well-known volleyball players, they earn a lot of money each month.

With all that money that they own they want to spoil their s/o till death. Unfortunately for them they fell hard for a workaholic that rarely accepted unplanned or too expensive gifts and drowned himself into work.

Tonight Y/n normally should have come back home around midnight or even one in the morning, but he almost having an accident as he tried to go back home as soon as possible when it was only 8 pm. Only because of Kiyoomi's panicked voice on the phone just a few minutes ago.

. . .

" Guys I'm back home !" Y/n shouted as he entered in their shared house. He barely had the time to get rid of his shoes that he was already running towards the kitchen, the only place from where he could hear sounds.

He was already preparing himself for a disaster, or even worse, because of the panic he had distinguished in Kiyoomi's voice during their short call where Kiyoomi urged Taruo to come home earlier today.

What actually happened ? Atsumu had an accident again ? Someone set something on fire ? All these worries seemed to navigate through his brain for an endless time, when in reality only a couple of seconds separated his arrival at home and his presence in the kitchen.

A…perfectly normal kitchen, just like everyday. Y/n didn't have the time to react properly that Atsumu was already welcoming him with a sweet kiss and his hands wrapped around his waist.

He frowned in confusion, why was everything so normal ? With his brows furrowed he let Atsumu drag him to the sink so that he could wash his hands.

After his hands were clean Kiyoomi gave him a kiss on the cheek while he was cutting some fruits. No one was taking the time to explain to him what was happening right now as Atsumu happily made him sit on a nearby chair.

" So… there's no emergency ?" Y/n asked hesitantly as Atsumu was drawing small patterns on his hips with his fingers, he couldn't believe that his boyfriends made him quit his job earlier than he wanted for nothing.

" No emergency ? Of course there was an emergency. You weren't at home yet." Kiyoomi said a tad of condescendence which earned him a light punch from Y/n.

" It's not an emergency at all." The shorter man replied flabbergasted by his boyfriends trick as he was sandwiched between the taller men. But he didn't search to argue further about it. For a moment no one was talking everyone was enjoying eachother warmth, because even if Y/n was a tad upset beeing in his lovers arms was delightful.

" It's an emergency." Kiyoomi answered back as he sat in front of his boyfriends, Atsumu standing behing Y/n with his arms still wrapped around him.

" You don't have to work this much, we're here !" Atsumu complained hugging Y/n tighter in his arms. Which only made Y/n roll his eyes as he didn't want to acknowledge Atsumu's point.

Of course having two boyfriends that were successful in the world of sport didn't allow him to really worry about money. But, in his eyes, it wasn't a reason to get lazy with job, even when his relation with his work was all but healthy.

" I always worked like this." Y/n said, trying to justify his unhealthy amount of work time. " And no one is dead because of it."

Atsumu pinched him to make him shut up as his face was burried comfortably against Y/n's neck, spreading endless kisses on it. " Shh.. Don't try to find an excuse." the blond cooed as one of his hands was squeezing Y/n's left thigh.

Despite Atsumu's words Y/n was preparing himself to say something else, found himself silenced by Kiyoomi's kiss. " What about some vacations ?" the ravenette proposed as his fingers moved towards Y/n's face. The short boy shivered slightly as Kiyoomi's cold fingertips touched his face with an undeniable carefulness.

" Great idea !" Atsumu agreed as he finally stopped the kisses on Y/n's neck only to let Kiyoomi kiss his forehead. " Y/n where do you want to go right now ?" The blond asked with a sweet smile adorning his face.

Y/n raised his head for his eyes to meet the setter's one who still had his pretty smile on his face. He was surprised with the question before suspisciously asking: " When are we supposed to leave ?" He wanted to know that before answering Atsumu's question.

His sudden question made the two volleyball players think for a bit before they look at eachother in the eyes and nod simultaneously. " After tomorrow of course." They said together.

They didn't let Y/n the time to protest or even to be stunned by the upcoming travel that Atsumu felt the need to add something. " And you take your vacation right now." he ordered, silencing Y/n's protest with a kiss.

" If your boss tries to decline your vacations then just leave." Kiyoomi suggested while grabbing the bowl full of fruit he had cut beforehand. " He owes you too much vacations anyway." He added as his firm voice didn't let Y/n any other choice than to accept his suggestion.

They were right anyways. It has been a long time since Y/n actually took vacations. Some days of vacations with his two loving and caring boyfriends won't hurt him.

" And, of course, you'll leave your money at home." Atsumu cooed in Y/n's ear, he didn't want his stubborn boyfriend to pay for a single thing during his well-derserved vacation. But Y/n only snickered at Atsumu's proposition, who sounded more than ridiculous in his ears.

" In your dreams." He said while letting Kiyoomi feed him his fruit salad. Atsumu sighed, forgetting about his proposition as he understood it was pointless to try to convince him. He wanted to spoil his hard working boyfriend and he will.

He will just hide Y/n's wallet and black card.

But Y/n doesn't need to know about his plan.

[mooechi]

..hey there y'all 😁

so it's been approx. a day since I found out exams have been moved to next week, and I may or may not have ended up dramatically sulking thus resulting in being inactive bcuz I prepared for nothing LMFAAOOOO

but then again, I couldn't find myself gathering the time to open tumblr at all tbh. this week's been a tough one, w all the bombarding of events and all

anyways, I fortunately had enough spare time today to add in a few drawings to make up for my loss (LOL) , and yes, that includes that lazy ass scrap above.

even though I'm most likely gonna be inactive for a little further while, I'd still like to thank my good ol' childhood bestie for taking me out of my whiny slacking shell even temporarily. that mfs definitely gonna reblog this again, so you'll know what I mean.

so first and foremost-- since I've gotten addicted to fbje all the more lately, I stumbled upon a very pretty artwork within the manga. it's official, and I wondered how it'd fare if I were to implement it in terms of demon slayer's gaiden artstyle.

here's how it turned out!

it's not the best, I think I ended up making her look fierce..I honestly wanted to give it komorebi--dappled sunlight, if you will--but my brush ended up not being as compatible with the chosen style of gaiden so...yeah, I ditched that and went for this idea instead!

moreover, I was pleasantly surprised to see the amount of notifs I've missed. I'm so sorry that I've just seen it, but I'm glad that I now did..@muitsuri , WHAT HAVE U BEEN UP TO⁉️⁉️..I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE ANTICS UVE DONE- FEEDING THE EVAKARI NATION⁉️⁉️ HELL YEA!!

I express my sincerest of gratitude's to all the appreciation too, thank you all so much! 💕

hence, I've done a lil smth...

I'm never designing wooden walls again cuz wtf did I do

remember that one idea where they snuggle (smth like that) back then? YEPPP finally got the motivation to bring that to life..somewhat.

you see, this was supposed to be in manga style..so imagine the truck that hit me when my dumbass finally noticed that I've been using THE WRONG BRUSH THIS WHOLE TIME

ofc, ended up questioning my life choices at that point. but hey, since it was late alr and I unfortunately couldn't afford to go back anymore, I forced through it 💪

well, that'd be all for now! I'm gonna go get some rest now--though not b4 I catch up to the updates 😘

i am not entirely satisfied yet displeased with the end product of all this..

I used fbje as reference, both anime and manga.

still, please refrain from stealing. you can take inspo tho!

[mochiimiiki]

| Butler’s Pet |

A/N: oh yandere barbie has my heart, pls whisk me away to the demon lord’s castle and keep me hostage, i’ll b good i promise

Warnings: Yandere! Barb

- - -

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t like you intended for your life to unfold as so. You hadn’t expected that on that day, as you tiptoed through the weaving streets of the Devildom, that you would fall prey to your beloved Butler’s charm. That with seductive phrases and whispers of wonder, you’d find yourself within his clasp. And by the time you came to your senses the ordeal had occurred and it was too far too late.

Your day had a routine. Far more structure in comparison to your previous life, which now felt like a fever dream of freedom. Barbatos would come to you in the morning, softly calling your name, and disturb your slumber. He’d pick out the outfit he expected suited you best, waiting for your hum of approval and he’d respectfully leave you to change. Instead, he’d busy himself with his duties. Upon his return he’d prepared only the finest dishes in the three realms, a range of choices that he always made sure sated your desires. You’d then be left for time of leisure, the time in which you hated the most as the separation from your dear demon was too much to bear. After he’d return with lunch, then to be followed by a visiting guest, to which they’d only be granted an hour, and he was to stay to observe. Afterwards the butler always made sure to set aside time in his day to spend one on one before he’d prepared dinner, in which Diavolo would dine with you two. During the night the butler would be by your side, drawing you a bath, trailing a lazy pattern into the skin of your back, reading to you, pleasing you in every thinkable way.

Today, you expected, would be no different. He returned from his duties with a smile curling on his lips, eyes slight in pleasure at merely being able to gaze at your face. “My dear.” He hummed, pushing in a cart of luxurious foods, he always made sure to be present for your meals. How else could he adequately ensure you had a balanced and proper diet? The last thing he’d ever want was for his pet to fall ill.

You lifted your head, nose buried in one of the many rare books he had acquired for you. “Oh! Barbatos, this book is simply fascinating. Is Satan coming over today? I’m certain he’d love to borrow this.”

Barbatos shook his head with a frown, softly clearing his throat. “My dear, please sit.” His gentle words were an undeniable command. Sliding off the silk sheets you tiptoed to his side, the stone floors of the ancient castle cool against your bare feet. “I have taken it upon myself to deem the brothers unfit to entertain you, it seems they pose a threat to you.” He gently strokes your head, brushing back the curls of your hair behind an ear. “It would not be right to put my lamb in such a perilous situation, do you not agree?”

Your face fell. You worried your lip between your teeth, if the brothers couldn’t see you how were you supposed to occupy your time? It was already unbearable having Barbatos away from your side too long, without the need for him to observe you you’d be left alone for an even longer period of time. “But Barbatos, you’re always here to oversee.” You whine out, slipping into the chair he so graciously pulled out for you.

Barbatos shakes his head, a deep sigh falling from his parted lips. “Whilst that may be true it is without a doubt that they are too unpredictable. A simple disagreement could put you in harms way.” He hums, leaning down to softly kiss your temple. A gentle reminder of your soft spots, you’re not a demon after all. With a sigh you had to agree; he was right. He was simply protecting you, so he insisted.

“Regardless, since that time was already designated towards your safety Lord Diavolo should have no issue with allowing me to remain by your side, as designated.” Your face immediately lit up. Being in a castle by yourself was lonely to say the least, there were only so many books you could consume before the feeling resettled in your heart. You were entirely dependent on the butler, he made sure of it. You craved his attention as much as he craved your being.

Your eyes drifted from his emerald ones down to his lips. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He softly chuckled, hooking a finger under your chin and directing your gaze to his once more. “Who are you talking to, my darling, me or my lips?” His laughter reverberated throughout the still room at your flustered exterior. Craning his neck downwards he met your lips with his own. They pressed against you, soft at first, luring you in for more. His free hand hooked the back of your head and his gloved fingers lightly tugged on your hair. At last he parted, granting you breath, as a string of saliva attached your mouths before he leant closer and chastely pressed his lips against you in order to break the string. He pulled back with an adoring smile.

He pulled his hand away from your hair and gently patted the top of your head. Adoring the way your flushed face lit up at the unspoken praise. “How about you eat something now, Okay pet?” He hummed, pulling his chair to sit beside you; his pet.

[hplonesomeart]

Hey hey! We are so back to posting random doodles!! But only temporarily, as I’ve still got an animation MAP to work out completing this week—and given how school is still simultaneously going on for me, I can’t afford to take many breaks from animating if I want it to be good quality & meet the deadline on time. And I refuse to be late!! I’ve made a vow and I tend to not break it even if it means subjecting myself to late nights and late meals!! (half joking here don’t worry about it). But today I decided to finally lay off the constant workload before getting right back to it all tomorrow, hence this sassy Puzzles! Say hello to sassy Puzzles guys don’t be shy about it! What a nice fella :)

Oh yea the random shirt photo was something I stumbled across on Instagram, and I wanted to draw Puzzles wearing it for the sillies…but he just gave me this side eye look of annoyance so I don’t think he’s willing to try it on. Was too drab for his fashion taste maybe. And I don’t think he likes being reminded of his smoking problem either…alas maybe some other time I’ll force him into it. Also don’t stare too hard at his non-existent arm placement I got lazy jskjsksp

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 7/8

Things are heating up😫

⚠️Warning ⚠️

Mentioning of violence

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

"So what are you gonna do?"

It was early, but not time to leave for the airport yet. You woke up to Ruben's warm chest against your cheek. He held you close, drawing lazy patterns on the hill of your shoulder.

"Face the music I guess."

"You're gonna confront your sister?"

"Yes and take responasbility for my life."

It felt like the most reasonable thing to do, however, the thought of facing your sister and Tyson again ached your stomach.

"Just know that whatever you choose to do, I'm here."

You tilted you head. Ruben was already looking at you, his eyes big and kind. You lay hand on his cheek, directing his face towards yours. You still had to get used to the feel of kissing another man. But compared to Tyson's, Ruben's kisses spread warmth throughout your chest.

Five hours later you left Brussels and returned home.

"You're early" Your sister said, as you and Ruben stepped through the door. Ironically she was seated on the couch, the same couch she and Tyson were getting freaky on whenever you weren't around.

"Where is Tyson?" You asked, as Ruben brought your bags upstairs.

"He's out. Left for a booking this morning."

"A modeling booking?"

"Exactly."

"Has he been getting alot of those whilst I was gone?"

"A few, why?" You sister mimicked the way you were looking at her with furrowed brows.

"Mom is not well." You muttered.

"Oh Y/N." Your sister stood, walking over to give you a hug. "I told you not to go over there. She never meant for us to see her like that."

Her hug was comforting, you gave in, forgetting the fact that you were supposed to be angry with her, then again, she had no clue that you knew about her and Tyson.

"She will always be our mother." She said, pulling you back to wipe your tears. And just like that you were eight years old again, needing your big sister to wipe your tears.

"I've had some trouble with my credit card." You said. "I should probably go to the bank for that, right?"

"Sure. We'll go tomorrow since I have some meetings tod..."

"There's a rehearsal today."

"For your tour?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, a dance rehearsal for all the back up dancers, why?"

"I should probably go to that shouldn't I. To share my opinions on things, right?"

"Um...sure, but like I said I have some meetings to attend today, so if you...."

"It's okay, I can go by myself."

"By yourself?" You sister frowned. You seldom did anything without checking with her first, perhaps that should stop now.

"Ruben will be with me of course."

"Ruben?" Your sister initially looked to want to protest, but change her mind as he came back down the stairs. "Of course." She nodded. "Ruben will go with you."

"I'll call you if I need anything."

"Yes, please do, call me."

You looked to Ruben. "I'll just hop in the shower then I'm ready to go."

He nodded. "I'll notify Taylor to bring the car around."

"Thanks." You smiled, as well as brush his arm with yours on your way up the stairs.

Rehearsal was great. You had never paid attention to the people working around you. It had always been your sister calling the shots,  giving everybody directions. But without her everyone was forced to listen to you and they really listened.

"So the laser will be pointing from that camera and that camera." Your stage director, Alejandro, said.

"That camera?" You turned in that direction, pretending to hold a microphone to your lips.

"Yes and then you'll turn to the other camera before the lasers shoot down from the sealing."

"Why the lasers?" You frowned.

"For the finally? Isn't that you wanted?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Your sister made it clear that its what you wanted." He shrugged. "We can remove them if you like?"

"Um...no it's okay. Keep them."

You left rehearsal not knowing how to feel. The start of your tour was so soon and you needed your sister by your side, but how could you ever trust her when she's been lying to your face for God knew how long.

"Shall we get somthing to eat?" Ruben held the door open for you to climb into the car.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Taylor your chauffeur greeted you with a smile through the rare view mirror. A smile which you returned. Ruben stepped in to sit next to him. His face expressed concern as he turned back to look at you.

"Y/N, you have to eat somthing."

"I will, I just need to go to the bank first."

"The bank?" He frowned.

"Yes the bank. Taylor will you take me there?"

You arrived within ten minutes.

"I won't be long." You said, hoping that Ruben would let you go alone.

He didn't.

He held the door open for you to step out and together you made your way into the bank.

After a short wait, a bank representative named Emily greeted you and led you and Ruben to a private office. "I understand your concern, Y/ N" she said, sympathetically. "Let me pull up your account information and see what might be causing this issue."

As you watched Emily's fingers dance across the keyboard, a knot formed in her stomach. The seconds felt like an eternity until Emily's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I... I think I've found the problem," Emily said, her voice filled with astonishment. "It appears that all your money was recently transferred to a foreign account."

Your heart sank, and you exchanged a worried glance with Ruben. "What? How is that possible? I certainly didn't authorize any transfers like that."

Emily nodded in understanding. "I believe you, Y/N. However a signature was authorized electronically. Do you have your phone with you today?"

"Well yes, but no."

"No?"

"No, my phone, old phone, was stolen a couple of weeks ago."

"Stolen?" Emily's lowered her gaze, her eyes looking at you over her glasses.

"Yes. Oh my god what am I gonna do? This can't be happening."

Ruben reached for your hand underneath the table.

"The best thing I can do is freeze you account and make sure no money gets in or out." Emily said. "But I'm afraid the police will have to help you retrieve the stolen money."

You rushed out of the bank, Ruben at your heels.

"Y/N, everything is gonna be alright, you'll get the money back."

How do you know that Ruben? Everything I've earned throughout my entire career, my savings, my savings that my parents put in there for me. Gone, it's all gone. So don't tell me that everything is going to be alright because it isn't."

He pulled you into his embrace right there in the middle of the street,  for everybody to see. If paparazzi showed up now your life would really be over.

"I have to tell my sister." You said, breaking up the hug. "She'd want to know about this."

Ruben nodded. "Of course,  do you need to come with you?"

You shook your head. "No, Taylor will take me back."

Ruben looked conflicted, not wanting to part from you, however you had sent him to replce your computer. With your phone gone and bank account hacked, everything old had to go and everything knew would have to be fire proof and Ruben assured you that he could fix that.

"You went to the bank without me?"

After telling your sister what the bank lady said, you were suprised that this was her first reaction.

"Yes, well it was urgent."

"Y/N,  I told you that I would have gone with you tomorrow. Why would you do this?"

"Are you serious right now? All of my money is gone and all you care about is the fact that I went to the bank without you?"

Your sister's expression mellowed. "You're right." She stepped forward, bringing you in for another hug. This hug wasn't like the one this morning. It was stiff and cold. "Everything is gonna be alright, you'll get your money back."

"That's what Ruben said." You muttered. Your sister grimaced at the mentioning of his name.

"What?"

"I don't trust him." She said.

You chuckled. "You, of all people don't trust Ruben? You're the one that hired him, rember?"

"I know I did, but..."

"But what?" You frowned, because your sister was really not the one to preach about trust.

"Tyson told me that Ruben keeps giving him these looks, looks as if all he wants to do is bash his face in."

"Right." You muttered. Hearing Tyson's name leave your sisters mouth simply made you nauseous.

"I've noticed it too. He cracks his knuckles every time he sees him, Y/N."

"It doesn't matter because Ruben is not the problem here." You said.

"No? Then who is?" Your sister looked terrified.

"Dickonataor 3000."

Her shoulders rose and fell with your answer. "Y/N, don't you think..."

"I know that nerd has got my phone. He's the one messing with my account. We need to find a way to track him somehow. Ruben will find a way."

Your sister stared at you blankly for a minute, like she couldn't recognize the person standing before her. "Maybe you should go to bed? Today must have really sucked for you."

You nodded. "Yes, yes it did."

You needed sleep. Sleep was your friend.

As the moon cast a soft glow upon your bedroom, you nestled comfortably beneath the covers. However you were abruptly awakened by a gentle touch.

"Ruben?" You groaned.

"No baby, it's me."

Your eyes flung open.

"Tyson?"

His lips were on yours. "I heard you had a bad day, let me make it better."

Confused and half-asleep, you pushed him away, struggling to fully grasp the situation.

"Y/N, relax." he whispered, lust lacing his voice.

Startled and groggy, your sleep-addled brain attempted to process his words. "Tyson stop, I'm not in the mood." You pleaded, never ever would you be in the mood for him. Yet, his eyes burned with an unsettling determination.

Pushing aside your obvious feelings of unease, he continued to make advances, his body betraying the desperation of his desires.

"Tyson, get off!"

He wrestled you against the matress, tracing unwanted kisses up your neck.

"Tyson,  I said stop!"

He chuckled.  "What, don't you want me to fuck you?"

No, now get the fuck off me!" You shouted. The last words to leave your mouth before Ruben barged into your bedroom, his face a mask of fury. His voice thundered through the room, "Get off her! Right now!"

Caught off guard and blinded by his own desires, Tyson froze momentarily. But it was the fierceness in Ruben's eyes that eventually jolted him back to reality. However it was too late Ruben was already pulling him off you, dropping Tyson on the floor.

"Ruben wait, stop!"

There was no stopping him. Ruben's eyes were dark, his expression emotionless whilst he pounded his fists against Tyson face, cracking his nose, breaking his jaw.

"Oh my god,  Tyson!" Your sister emerged in the doorway, dressed in her nightrobe. She saw the two men grappling on the floor beneath your bed and started screaming hysterically.

"Please stop it, you'll kill him! Y/N, do something!"

"Ruben please." You pleaded, however his hands just kept smashing into Tyson's bloody face. There was no stopping him. Never had you seen Ruben so angry, so out of control.

"Ruben, please stop it." You cried and that seemed to do it.

He looked to you and then to his bloody knuckles. A low grunt left Tyson limb body that lay beneath him.

"Y/N, I'm so..."

You shook you head. Not wanting Ruben to come any closer to you. He looked both terrified and hurt by this.

"That's it. I'm calling the fucking police!" You sister said, storming out of the room in a tearful rage.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 6.4.2024

Unfortunately, this week, I am stuck in Everything is Slow and Probably Isn't Even Worth It land.

I've been fighting this story for two weeks now, and it just doesn't want to...be a story. I have rewritten it from scratch at least twice now, including swapping perspectives, and I haven't even gotten to the fight scene parts yet. Furthermore, it's such an incredibly niche concept, like I am really down in the sauce on this one. On the other hand, it is my sauce, like this is of interest to me, so I don't want to give up on it. On the other hand, sometimes it's like--if I am the primary audience for this, and it's causing me a lot of grief, is it really worth it? I don't know.

I am also working on an art project that is, again, primarily of interest to me, which is to say, I am attempting to redraw this loving pan over a bunch of goony-ass lieutenants. I generally draw people pretty closely on model, and I'm attempting to do a lot more stylization. I've been working on it at roughly a-lieuentant-a-day, and I am currently 5 lieutenants in, 6 to go. I am...not good at this. I mean! I think this is a good exercise for my art brain, etc etc, but it's moderately painstaking and I also kinda suck at this and I'm not entirely sure I will want to show off my efforts when I'm done.

Anyway, everything is hard right now, and I am very tired. I think that I'm not sick anymore, but it lingered so long, it's really be hard to tell if it's fully gone or not. I have been reading a lot lately, too (in part because of being sick). I have been very lucky to have read, like, 3 very good books in a row, although the one after that, I did not care for. I have two library holds due to come in shortly, so I'm trying not to start a new one until they get here. Also, while reading is good for me and I am in favor of reading, reading is a lot easier than writing, so I'm trying to push myself thru this writing thing before I get into another book, as well.

I don't knooooooooooow. Maybe I should just put this story aside and if I pick it up again later, I'll have more energy for it. I'm afraid, though, that I've got it all loaded into my RAM at the moment and I don't want to lose that. I'm probably also fooling myself that trying to write something else would be easier or more fun--I think I might just be having a writing-is-hard time. School is going to be out shortly, and it's going to be even harder to do stuff, which makes me extra mad that I am too stupid and lazy to actually take advantage of the time that is available to me, but that's just how it is sometimes.

Oh, Damage History is over now. I should probably do some sort of wrap-up post and change my pinned. I was going to do that today, but I'm not sure I feel up to it. Later this week, hopefully!