#which were red high tops to replace my old ones which were falling apart. so she was like do u want platform ones still

[lesbianlenas]

which converse do u like better i need opinions

[agrossofworms]

on sentimentality — a ramble about a beloved pair of shoes.

today i got a new pair of shoes. now, this is not to say i don’t own many pairs of shoes, all equally loved and worn. the doc martens, one black and one white. the converse, one black and one red. the vans, one orange, one brown, one blue, and one white.

this white pair of vans is special. i got them in the early months of 2019, so they’re nearly 5 years old. they’re discontinued, and the only other pair i ever found was a size too small. cream suede sk8-hi with white and black checkered flames on the sides. ive never seen anyone else wearing them. they’re my shoe and always have been since i got them.

when i got them, they were brand new, because the friend i saved the shoes from hadn’t once worn them. i hate tying shoes over and over, so i tied them both loosely, once, and double knotted them. they haven’t come untied once in all five years. since then, the shoes practically molded to my feet.

the problem with this uniqueness is that i can’t replace them. so i wore them to the bone. i still am, i just can’t let go of them. im hoping that this will help me retire these poor shoes. i never cleaned them, i think it’s the purpose of a daily shoe to be worn in until they have to be replaced. the right shoe has been falling apart since fall of 2021, when i went back to school. when i say these shoes have seen it all, i mean it.

i wore these vans to my high school graduation. when i got my first car, which i still drive. i wore them when i met my long-distance partners for the first time. when i went back to school. i brought them with me when my great grandmother died. theyve seen the rise and fall of at least six relationships. they came to my cousin’s bar mitzvah. these shoes were part of one of my first cosplays. theyve seen every fight with my parents in the last five years. i wore those shoes when my “best friend” sat me in the park and told me how much she hated me as a cover for her real feelings. i wore these shoes to see my favorite band in concert. i wore those shoes when i saw my long-distance best friends for the first time. i wore those shoes to meet parents, grandparents, cousins. i wore those shoes through many mistakes and many bad choices. i wore them every day through a move that took me 400 miles further from the people holding hostage my racing heart. i transitioned in these shoes. i’ve spilled bong water on them, i’ve spilled cocktails and dropped lit joints on them. i learned how to skateboard in these shoes. i picked up my first prescription of hormones in these shoes. i finished and presented my high school portfolio in those shoes. i went camping, hiking, running with those shoes because no matter what, they never failed me.

these shoes are part of my soul. i’ll keep them , and probably still wear them. the laces are frayed at the ends to the point that i cant lace them through the top two holes — which remain empty on all my high-top shoes. i need the ankle movement. the left one has a bloodstain on the laces from where i got a nosebleed. i walk heavier on my right foot, and it shows with how torn up the heel is on that shoe. its about to wear all the way through. the red bumper is completely gone. they were once a cream-white, now theyre nearly parchment paper brown— ive traipsed through the rain, mud, sand, dirt, dust and snow in them. the white soles are grey from wear. the sizing label on the tongue is practically gone, similar to the logo on the sole of the shoe. worn smooth by the rigor of daily use.

i like having unique shoes, which is why i got another sort of odd pair. im trying to wear less white shoes, so i got a blue-grey pair.

i hope these ones last me another five years.

[restapesta]

If somebody had ever told Mickey that, one day, he'd be chilling at the beach with two girls, one a whiny toddler, the other one a whiny tween, he wouldn't have believed them.

Especially if one happened to be his daughter and the other one his niece.

Franny was sitting cross-legged on one of the towels, earbuds stuck deep into her ears, some heavy-metal shit busting through her skull, loud enough for the entire beach to hear.

She was being prissy the whole day, the puberty thing hitting her like a truck, destroying the sweet, innocent Franny and leaving a monster in its wake.

A very temperamental monster that Mickey had offered to take off of Debbie's hands as a favor to Sandy who was planning on using up the day for sex Mickey did not need to know about. She had spewed some shit about her and Debbie not spending enough time together due to the—as she so nicely put it—needy brat, and, Franny actually likes you Mickey, please!.

And well, he actually liked Franny too, so he said yes.

It would've been a great day at the beach, it really would have, had Franny not said upon seeing Ian getting ready to go with them, "Uh, no, just me and uncle Mick."

Ian had given Franny the most surprised/slightly-wounded look and simply nodded.

But then he turned to Mickey and thrust the sleepy baby he had been holding into his hands, saying, with a slightly indigent look, "Father-daughter day too, yeah? Wanna grab some beers with my brothers."

And with a begrudging glare sent towards Ian, followed by the same Ian smiling and pressing a kiss to both Mickey's and their daughter's head, Mickey was off with two girls to the loud, obnoxious beach where he would be playing caretaker all day.

Mickey also didn't miss the daggers Franny was shooting towards them all, a scowl etched on her face.

Alas, they were at the fucking beach.

His little girl was bouncing on his knee as he shook the car keys in front of her, tiny hands reaching out to grasp them like a kitten. Mickey was smiling softly as he watched his daughter purse her tiny lips in concentration and try and catch the jingling metal that Mickey was pulling out of her reach each time she got too close.

A small red baseball hat was perched up on her head, and they were in the shade, making sure the one-year-old wasn't in the Sun's way at any given moment.

"Come on, baby," Mickey cooed in a voice he had never, in his life, imagined he would use. "You're a Milkovich, you can do it."

The little girl giggled and then with a newfound determination, lunged for the keys, tearing them out of her dad's grip.

She looked up at him expectantly.

Mickey raised his hand in a high-five and bounced their hands softly together, noting how tiny hers looked compared to his. "Good job girl, making dad proud."

He sported a wide smile on his face as he watched his daughter play with the keys, seemingly forgetting about him altogether.

Mickey was, in fact, so lost in thought of how fucking lucky he was—with Ian, his kid, his family—that he didn't even notice Franny huffing, tearing the earbuds out of her ears violently, getting up from where she was sitting, and stomping away.

When he did though, he was not too happy about having to get up and chase a hormonal teenager down the beach with a baby in his hands.

But, alas, he did.

"Franny!" He said once he was close enough, the toddler in his hands making whimpering sounds as she chewed on the keys.

He moved them away from her mouth once he noticed, sending her a warning glare, muttering slowly so she would understand, "Eating keys is a no-no."

She simply blinked.

She was so fucking cute.

"Ugh!" Mickey snapped his head towards Franny who was grasping strands of her long, red hair in her hands, tugging at them in exasperation. "This is what I'm talking about! This!"

Mickey had no fucking clue what was going on. In fact, all he wanted was for Ian to be there alongside him, guiding Mickey through this like he did through a lot of things. He would know what the fuck was going on in the first place.

He wondered if his own little girl would end up blowing up on him some day over something on a public beach with a bunch of people staring.

He hoped so—it'd make him proud.

He turned his attention back to his niece.

"Franny, look, I have no clue what you're so pissy about."

She snorted, eyes rolling. "Of course you don't. If you weren't staring at that goddamn baby every two seconds maybe you would notice!"

Staring at that goddamn baby? He shot Franny a look. "You mean my kid?"

She screamed, making Mickey cringe, "Ugh!"—right before stomping away back to their towels.

Mickey watched his niece go, lips parted.

What the fuck just happened?

---

The car ride back home was spent in silence.

In fact, the entire day had been spent in silence, the only thing filling the void being the chatter from the beach and the toddler's giggles.

When Mickey dropped Franny off back at the Gallagher house, she shut the door with all the strength Mickey didn't know she possessed, making the car shudder, and subsequently making the little girl in the back whimper in what was the beginning of a cry.

Needless to say, the day had gone to shit.

He drove back home in what should have been silence, but was instead the wailing of a Milkovich baby.

She calmed down by the time they were at the door to their home.

Fuck, Mickey was fucking exhausted.

As soon as the two came into Ian's view—the same Ian who was sipping on a lemonade with a gay-ass straw—his face split into a wide grin. He grabbed their daughter from Mickey's arms, hugging her close.

"Hello my little tomato." He kissed the top of her tiny head, making her smile and laugh.

He then glanced at Mickey, a sly smirk replacing the sweet smile.

"Hello my big tomato."

Mickey rolled his eyes, but let himself be pulled in towards his husband, careful not to squish their child. They kissed slowly, Mickey forgetting the turmoils of the day and Franny's outburst.

Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, Mickey felt tiny arms pushing his face, making him pull away from Ian.

He glanced down at the pouting, angry child. Her cheeks were chubbier than usual, eyes squinting as she tried to pry her dads apart.

Mickey stared. "What's she doing?"

In response, Ian chuckled and replied, again kissing her cheeks, "Somebody's jealous, aren't you, little one?"

And that was when it clicked.

Franny. Her outburst. The way she glared at Ian. The way she glared at their baby girl.

Franny was jealous.

She was fucking jealous.

"Hey man, you alright?"

Mickey sighed, meeting Ian's eyes. The baby was falling asleep in his arms.

"I gotta go do something real quick, I'll be back."

Ian's brows furrowed. "What is that something, exactly?"

Just as Mickey grabbed his keys again, pressing a kiss to Ian's cheek, he said, "I need to apologize to Franny," Then he headed back towards the Gallagher house where she was probably still seething.

---

When Franny saw Mickey at the door of her room, she shut the door in his face.

"Oh, come on, kid!" He knocked again, feeling slightly irritated. "Open the fuck up!"

The door shimmied open slowly, a frowning Franny appearing before him. As soon as she let go of the knob, she crossed her arms indignantly across her chest, staring Mickey down.

Mickey took notice of the RED-HEAD tattooed across her knuckles with a red sharpie, an imitation of Mickey's tats. He smiled at them, seeing how she must've done it as soon as she came back home.

"I like them," He pointed at her hands making her twist the hand with the HEAD on it, inspecting it.

She didn't reply.

Mickey sighed, crossing his own arms. And before he knew he was doing it, he said, "I'm sorry."

Franny raised an eyebrow.

"For not spending the day with you like you deserved." He continued.

Franny scoffed, the first animate thing she did since he arrived. "You mean for staring at that tiny monster the entire time?"

Yup, Mickey thought, jealous.

"Cute tiny monster," He corrected making her scowl deepen and fists visibly clench. Then he quickly added, "Yeah, I'm sorry."

Franny gnawed in her lip for a few moments before letting out a loud sigh. She eyed Mickey once, from head to toe, before relenting.

"Fine," The redhead huffed. "But you're taking me out tomorrow. No Ian, no baby, just you and me, uncle-niece bonding time."

Mickey smiled at the girl, so little, yet so grown up, and he wondered how he truly wanted his own daughter to grow up to be like Franny, taking nobody's shit.

"Deal," He extended his hand for her to shake, which she took. The girl had a firm grasp. "I'll take you on a proper date, my lady. Dinner at McDonald's and paintball so we can shoot some shit. That good?"

Franny smiled widely, remanding Mickey so much of Ian, running towards him swiftly, and wrapping her arms around his torso.

"I love you uncle Mickey," She murmured against his shirt, the sound muffled.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her orange head.

"Love you too, baby carrots."

He really did.

[sundaysundaes]

Thirst

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 3.8k | Vampire AU

Summary: You have walked the earth for more than a hundred years but your eternity finally means something the second you meet a human boy with smiles brighter than the sun.

Warnings: Vampire!Reader X Human!Hyuck, unprotected sex, blood sucking

“Wait, ah…” 

You pull back at the sound of his voice, fingers squeezing his upper arm. “Nervous?”

Donghyuck throws his head back and runs a hand over his face. He averts his gaze, slightly hiding behind his lean fingers. “Of course, I’m nervous,” he confesses, the tip of his ears turning scarlet. “I have a cute girl sitting on my lap, about to drink blood from my neck—how could I not be nervous?”

You reach out to him, gently running your fingertips at the side of his throat, and see him swallow hard at your touch. You can hear his heartbeat soaring, which only fuels your thirst for his blood. It has been days since you last drank from him and the flame in your throat is scorching. You know that if you don’t do something about it fast, you’ll lose what’s left of your humanity.

“Hyuck…” You plead, gripping against the collar of his black shirt. “I’m… I really need to drink…”

All the anxiety on his face is replaced instantly with concern. “Shit, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, unfastening two of his top buttons to reveal more of his collarbones. The previous bite marks have begun to fade on his skin, appearing almost as faint as the little mole he has on his Adam’s apple. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, that if your mind wasn’t too clouded with the thoughts of consuming human blood, you would praise and cherish every little detail of his features with your lips.

Donghyuck closes his eyes, eyebrows adjoined in the middle in anticipation of your bite. His hand is fisting his collar, slowly tugging it down to reveal more sun-kissed skin to your glowing eyes. “H-have it your way.”

The way he’s reacting like a child curling up in fear of a syringe being plunged into their skin, makes you feel contrite but there’s no other option but to consume what he offers. Otherwise, your thirst for blood will drive you to the brink of your sanity, forcing you to do something even more terrible to him.

You try your best to divert your attention and focus more on trying to comfort him, even when your entire body nearly blazes in flame. Softly, you brush your lips against the column of his throat.

Donghyuck shivers, his breathing tatters. “Don’t—“ He curls his fingers, nails sinking into his palms when he feels your mouth move to lay wet kisses down his chest. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I’m trying to calm you down.”

“Well, you’re doing the opposite 'cause then I’ll be nervous for an entirely different reason.” Donghyuck brings the back of his hand to his mouth, murmuring the words against his skin. But despite the heat that warms his cheeks, he does seem a bit more relaxed, slightly smiling sheepishly at you over his flirtatious words. “I’m fine, just do it.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. Caught off guard, the blush blooms a little wider on his face but he tenderly strokes your cheek. “We’ll do that again after you’re finished,” he promises, “A lot of that.” His hooded eyes are captivated with the way your lips glisten under the slide of his thumb. “Right here.”  

You smile in return. Landing yet another soft kiss to his jaw this time, you extend your fangs and make your mark.

Donghyuck winces away from the pain of your cuspids puncturing the skin under his jaw, right between the earlobe and the collarbone. His hand immediately finds your shoulder, fingers twisting against the fabric of your dress. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes shut close as he endures the pain, but in the next few seconds, his breathing gradually becomes slower.

His head swirls as the rush of endorphin fills his system, elevating him with bliss. He slides his hand down from your shoulder to your arm, resting it on the dip of your waist. You can hear him curse under his breath but he slowly relaxes, his body reclining with you pressed tightly against his chest.

“You’re not so gentle today, are you?” He chuckles softly, slurring a little bit as his thoughts become hazy with ecstasy. “You don’t usually bite me like that.”

You can’t respond, too busy drowning in the pleasantness of his blood.

“So serious.” He quietly laughs. “Well, I guess, it has been a while since we did this so you must be very thirsty.” His free hand slips around your neck, tangling your locks around his fingers. He lets his lips brush against your strands as he murmurs, “I’m sorry… It must have been painful.”

It was painful. So painful that you were about to lose your mind, but with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around your body protectively, his warm skin under your fingertips, and his sweet, sweet blood on your tongue, every pain, every suffering, every torture you’ve experienced vanishes into a blur.

“Calm down,” he whispers, his honeyed voice soothes you more than anything else in the world. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as he relishes the feeling of your tongue on his skin, your teeth sinking to draw even more blood, he closes his eyes again, and witnesses a flashback behind his eyelids.

Eight years-old Lee Donghyuck stood on the frozen ground with his tiny gloves covering his trembling fingers. Smokes of warm breaths were clouding over his mouth. His teeth chattered from the cold; a weird, repetitive melody to his ears. And although his tears were no longer falling, his reddened cheeks were still lined with them. 

“Jaeminnie…” He sniffed, one arm hugging himself by the waist while the other one moved to rub his puffy eyes. “Jaeminnie, where are you…?”

His warm chocolate brown beanie was no longer covering his head—a small reminder of how he had previously tripped himself and scraped his knee on the way down. It hurt. His trousers were ripped open from the fall, enough to show the small bleeding wound on his right knee. Kissed by the cold, his ears were red to the tips, freezing. 

He was alone. And lost. And no matter how much he called out for Jaemin’s name over and over again, no one ever came to reply.

Losing strength, Donghyuck fell to his knees. His gloved covered fingers sank into the five centimeters deep white snow and he began to cry, as loudly as he could, just like how he usually did at nights when he was too scared of the monster lurking under his bed.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and then he stopped.

He was not alone.

Donghyuck had his gaze on you; his big, watery, round eyes blinking in surprise. Your dress was tainted with splotches of red, fresh liquid that dripped from your chin as you just feasted upon a human. Turning around to look at him, Donghyuck noticed something peculiar.

Your eyes were glowing, strikingly so. Even in the darkness, even when the moon didn’t set afoot to shine that night in the silenced forest, Donghyuck saw them shining like the stars. And they were brighter, much brighter than anything he had ever witnessed.

The little boy stopped crying and gazed back at you. But no matter how cold your eyes were as they raked in his features, Donghyuck was not as much afraid as he was curious of why you could stand in the middle of December, wearing nothing but a sleeveless knee-high summer dress. And he was still starstruck with your glowing topaz eyes.

When he reached out a hand, you took a step back by instinct. Humans made you nervous, especially after your last encounter with the hunters. The memory of one of them nearly driving a stake into your heart made you more cautious than ever, even when your opponent was only a child.

Donghyuck stood up and dared himself to take another step and this time you bared your teeth in response. Your natural human face suddenly dispersed into a form of fear the second Donghyuck saw your teeth.

They were fangs, small but sharp enough to tear skin apart. You snarled, like a beast in a corner, ready to pounce when threatened. 

But Donghyuck’s fear only lasted for a minute, while his curiosity and admiration lasted forever.

“You…” Donghyuck spoke, his voice quivered from the cold and perhaps, excitement. Blood was still dripping from the corner of your mouth and he saw a long cut, spreading from your right palm to her wrist. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding…”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, blinking twice before your shoulders began to loosen.

“If you’re hurt, I have band-aids,” Donghyuck said, immediately shoving his small hand inside his pocket to grab two blue band-aids with soccer balls printed on them. He showed them to you, his teeth still chattering from the cold. “See?”

You examined him more, looking for any kind of sign that he might be a threat to your existence but it was no use. Donghyuck was as harmless as he was adorable. He didn’t even have the strength to keep his little, stubby fingers steady from the cold.

“Why are you crying?” You asked instead, standing a little better in a less offensive stance. 

Donghyuck finally remembered. “Nana… Jaeminnie’s gone… He fought with his brother so we went out here to have some time for ourselves but… But we got separated and now he’s gone...”

“In the woods like this?” You wiped the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand. “What, do you want to die? It’s not safe.”

“N-no—I don’t want to die… I didn’t mean it to be like this.” The little boy shook his head. “I was just trying to help… Jaeminnie looked sad and I wanted to help…”

You fell quiet for a moment, noticing how Donghyuck’s eyes had turned watery once again. You retracted your hands, no longer had your claws out to defend yourself. “Maybe your friend’s already gone home first.” 

“Y-you think?” Donghyuck’s eyes grew hopeful and that was when you realized that the boy was not crying because he was lost in the woods late at night, nor was he crying because he thought his friend abandoned him. Donghyuck was crying because he was worried sick about him. “W-well, if he’s home then that’s great… I really hope he’s with his family again… Fighting is bad…”

So frail, you thought, humans are so frail. Leave them and they cry. Break them and they die.

You sighed. You couldn’t find the heart to leave him alone.“Come with me,” you said, “I’ll help you find your way out of the woods. You can check whether he’s home or not after that.”

And Donghyuck was not one to think twice when people offered him help. With a bright smile, he let his little feet carry him closer to your spot. “I’m Donghyuck,” he said, smiling brightly as he stood beside you. “And you are?”

You glanced at him, noticing how his bangs were fluttering from the winter breeze. His nose was red and his skin, although it was slightly tanned, was thin and easy for you to sink your teeth into if you wanted to. 

You told him your name and you had to repeat it twice until he could pronounce it correctly. He smiled even warmer. “Your name is pretty. Just like you, Noona!”

Noona? You almost snorted. When was the last time someone ever called you that?

But you kept yourself in silence and although you appeared cold, Donghyuck managed to find your charm in his own way. 

“Can I hold your hand on the way out, Noona?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, brat.”

Twenty years-old Lee Donghyuck smiles at the memory, even when he’s somewhat dazed from the chemical of your saliva. He embraces you tighter, sighing close to your ear, “It took a while before you warmed up to me. I’m just so glad you accept me the way I am.”

That’s my line. You close your eyes, fingers curling against the back of his shirt. You can faintly hear his heartbeat growing slower and during the time you begin to worry, Donghyuck caresses your cheek.  

“Can we…” He breathes heavily. “Stop for a moment?” His head swirls, always an aftereffect from having his blood sucked more than he can contain. But even then, he still smiles like always.

“Oh…” Embarrassed and startled, you pull away, immediately wiping the trace of blood on the corner of your lips with the back of your hand. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Umm…” Donghyuck witnesses your fangs before they’re fully retracted, as you turn away, shy and ashamed, hiding the only thing that distinguishes you from a normal human. 

Donghyuck smiles wider, and wider, until he produces this little chuckle that always sends a trickle of warmth and desire through your soundless heart. “You’re adorable, come here,” he says, hugging you from behind and tugging you closer to his chest, your intertwined hands lying idly on your lap.

After years have passed by since your first encounter, Donghyuck has become stronger and taller, with broader shoulders and veiny muscles appearing along his wrists. You, in return, stay as young as always, never changing. But like this, sitting above his thighs and curling up to his chest, you look like a normal girl, perhaps even a few months younger than he is.

“Hyuck...” 

“Hmm?”

“Did it... hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

You don’t indulge him with his jokes. “When I bit you, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but I like it.” He grins, placing his chin on your shoulder. "Seems like I’ve developed a kink for it.” When you don’t mirror his laugh, he embraces you tighter. “I’m fine,” he whispers to your ear, tickling you with his warm breath. “Just a little low on blood, but come on, it’s nothing new.”

You don’t say anything but Donghyuck understands how guilt is gnawing at you from the inside. “Hey,” he gently turns your body around until he has his eyes peering into yours. You’re reluctant, not sure how to face him with the look of guilt on your face. “I said I’m fine. Can’t you see?” he coos, smiling with his chocolate brown eyes turning crescents. “Don’t look like that. You know I don’t like it when you’re blaming yourself for drinking my blood.”

“But it’s…” You nibble on your lower lip. “It’s not right.”

“You’re just filling your needs,” Donghyuck corrects you. “What’s wrong with it? I do it all the time. Think about this as your late-night snack.”

“Hyuck, I’m snacking on your blood.”

“And yet you’re the one who complains about it. You see how weird that is?” You shoot him a glare but Donghyuck counters back with a pout—a habit from his childhood days that somehow only occurs more often now that he’s an adult. “Look, I volunteered to do this. I want you to drink my blood.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, leaning close. “I’ll be pissed-off if you drink from someone else, actually. You’re supposed to be mine, just as much as I am yours.”

It’s funny how you’re superior than him in terms of experience, strength, and possibly anything else, but he shamelessly talks like he owns you. And you don’t mind, not at all, because after living behind the shadows for so long, it’s nice to have someone as bright as the sun holding you captive under his light.

You trail your fingers through the blood on his neck, painting his skin with crimson. “I’ve made a mess,” you mumble to yourself and Donghyuck stiffens, even stops breathing for a second. You dip your head into the crook of his neck, darting out your tongue to wipe the rest of his blood away, slowly and gently so you won’t scrape his skin with your fangs.

“Don’t hold back.” He holds you closer until your teeth are grazing against the supple skin. “It’s okay if you want to do it again.”

The temptation is too much, too strong, and you can’t find the will or strength to decline. “T-then... Just a little more.”

Donghyuck’s ragged breathing devolves into soft moans that ring in your ears, and you want him so desperately in every sense of the word. “Fuck, it’s so weird that it feels this good,” he sighs, the back of his head pressed against the wall behind him. “Do I taste this good to you too?”

You hum, squeezing his shoulder.

He smiles between deep sighs. “Then, I guess, we’re both each other’s drugs.”

You only take a sip of his blood and lick the rest until nothing seeps out from his wound. Donghyuck is in a haze, eyes nearly closed when he smiles softly. “Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your mouth clean. “Thank you.”

“You’re being too formal.” He titters. “But you’re welcome. Anytime you want.”

You don’t really blush, not when you’ve lived for more than a century, but Donghyuck has his way to break into your facade and knows when he’s succeeding. He says there’s just something in the way you avert your gaze, the way you lick your lips nervously, or the way you put a hand on his chest as if you were about to push him away, but at the same time, making sure that he stayed near.

Donghyuck understands all that. He knows you like the back of his hand. 

“Listen to me,” Donghyuck says, cupping your face with both hands so he can stare directly into your glowing eyes. “If you ever crave for blood, you come to me, okay? I won’t let you starve. I won’t let you die. You can drink from me, as much as you want. I want you to.”

You’re surprised at the sudden pressure on his words and Donghyuck’s hands are hot, nearly scorching compared to your icy cold skin but they’re comfortable. He reminds you of the sun, of its heat on your skin during the day, reminding you how good your life was as a human.

“But I’m not even alive, Hyuck,” you say, smiling weakly as you lean more into his touch.

“Scientifically, no.” He shifts closer to press his forehead against yours, his heat seeping through your skin. “But to me, you’re much more alive—and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You want to meet his eyes, but his stare is directed to your lips. “Is that a compliment or a white lie?” You whisper, and his eyes grow half-lidded when he sees you moving your lips to form a sentence.

“It’s the truth.” Donghyuck swallows the soft noise you make directly with his mouth, lips slanting against yours perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. He groans from the back of his throat when he tastes a hint of his blood on your tongue, kissing you deeper with more passion.

Being with Donghyuck is suffocating and it’s funny because you don’t even need to breathe to live. It’s suffocating in the sense of how desperate his kisses are, how there is only one innocent kiss at the beginning that only lasts for a few seconds and then vanishes entirely, changing into hard, bruising, deep ones that feel possessive and dominating.

But being with him is also comforting. He gives you solace you don’t know you need. His touch, a stark contrast to his kisses, is gentle, almost silky smooth whenever his hands glide on your skin. He’s the only one who knows how to make you laugh, even when you can hardly remember how or the sound that you make when you do. His laughter is contagious, his protested whines are both annoying and endearing. He’s the fire that keeps you alive.

“Hyuck—” You circle your fingers around his wrist, feeling the heartbeat that faintly beats under the skin. “Wait, you’re losing a lot of blood—”

“I don’t care,” he gasps against your mouth, yanking his hand from your hold so he can cup your cheek. “I’m fine, so let’s just—“ You let him overpower you for once to do as he pleases and he pushes you down to the carpeted floor, crawling on top of your body. “I want you—for two weeks, I’ve been—I’ve missed you—”

Donghyuck is adorable when he wants something so desperately, like the way he furrows his eyebrows as he runs his fingers on his keyboards. The way he’s shouting a train of expletives at his computer screen before he leaps out of his chair, punching the air when he finally completes the mission. 

Donghyuck is captivating when he desires to achieve something in his life, like the way he practices dancing over and over again to earn a scholarship to college. Or the way he told you he loved you a few months ago, and no matter how many times you said no, telling how ridiculous of him to even think about being with a vampire, he never relented. 

And Donghyuck is beautiful—so out worldly beautiful—when he wants you.

It’s beautiful, the little moan that escapes his lips when you touch him back. Even the slightest touch at the right spot can make him shiver and he blushes when you notice him react that way, immediately saying, “It’s just cold here, okay? And your ice-cold skin isn’t helping.” 

It’s beautiful, the way a bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he’s sheathed deep inside you, not quite moving yet as he tries to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed. “You’re driving me insane,” he confesses, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, grazing his lips against your skin as he sighs. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s beautiful, the way he laughs when you answer him with, “Actually yes, we can, if you’re willing to be turned into a vampire.” The appalled look on his face only stays for a split second before he beams at you, his smile bright enough to replace the sun. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he giggles, taking your earlobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Any man would be happy to sacrifice their souls to be able to make love to you for eternity. Including me.” And as he moves back to your lips, he adds, “Especially me.”

It’s beautiful, the way he throws his head back in pleasure at the feeling of you clenching around him. The way he murmurs expletives while biting his lip as he brings his eyes down to you. His expression is erotic, his voice obscene, his lips are parted and bruised. His hands are on your knees as he spreads your legs apart, pushing himself deeper inside. “I can never get enough of you. I—“ He flinches when his thrust hits your sweet spot and you squeeze harder around him in response.

It’s beautiful, the way he rambles when the sensation becomes too much. “The way you feel around me—” He places open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hips moving frantically at a faster pace. “Y-your entire existence—” His hand heads over to your breast, his thumb sliding over your nub. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And it’s fucking beautiful, the way he says your name in a soft gasp as he comes inside you, his arms trembling when he places them on the floor on each side of your head to keep him from collapsing on top of you. His temple is pressed against your collarbone and he quivers when you kiss his hair. His lips immediately chase after yours when his name escapes your mouth, and he kisses you again, and again, as if he hasn’t been kissing you a thousand times already.

“Stay with me,” he begs, his hooded eyes nearly hidden behind the bangs that are damp from his sweat. “I’ll keep you alive—as alive as you make me feel so please just…”

Don’t leave me.

***

[swtki]

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment. 

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

[babyflossy]

long overdue | l.dh

pairing: haechan x reader

requested: yes! sorry this took so long :(

summary: when you move back home after a few years apart, haechan starts to see you in a different light, and eventually the tension between you overpowers your worries about ruining your friendship.

genre/warnings: bestfriend to lovers au, smut (dirty talk, slight overstim if you squint?), fluff

word count: 4k

since your first day of elementary school, donghyuck had been your best friend. on that very first day, he had shared his animal crackers with you on the playground bench when you'd dropped yours, and you'd been inseparable ever since. even when your parents moved you away for the majority of middle school, you talked over the phone, you'd even sent each other handwritten letters through the post until donghyuck got his first phone.

the summer before high school started, your parents decided it was best to move back, and suddenly things were different between you and donghyuck. for one, he'd adopted haechan as a nickname, which you couldn't deny suited him more than you'd ever admit, but those four years had seen a lot of changes in the both of you. changes you couldn't ignore.

that stupid smirk he was always wearing was one. the growth-spurt and the jawline and the attractive shape of his shoulders had just been the things you noticed first, let alone the flirty humour he was so comfortable with. nevertheless, the two of you fell back into your old best-friend ways since elementary school; ice cream on fridays, although now they were at two in the morning instead of the afternoon, burgers at the diner on wednesdays because wednesdays are the worst day of the week.

these thoughts cross your mind once again as the boy in question slides into the chair opposite you in the cafeteria, pushing a tray towards you. "they had fries," is the only thing he says to you before he turns to jaemin and starts talking quietly about how they're going to cheat on their chemistry test. you murmur a thank you, picking a few up and stuffing them into your mouth as you continue your conversation with mark, your replacement whilst you were gone, as hyuck had so elegantly put it.

"are you coming to lucas' party tonight?" he asks, stealing some of the fries in front of you before you can swat his hand away. opposite you, haechan has blocked jaemin's voice out of his head so he can hear your answer, hating the way his heart skips a beat in anticipation. these parties were nothing new, you went to almost every single one, but haechan never got used to the clothes you wore, so much more revealing than the ones you to school. it was undeniable in those moments the way his cheeks flushed at the sight of you.

when he had first noticed these thoughts about you, he had been terrified. you were his childhood friend, how could he think of you as anything more than that? surely it would break the two of you apart if he so much as mentioned it to you? over the years since you moved back, however, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable state of flirtatiousness. he would say something suggestive and you would simply laugh and retort with a quip equally as witty. it was second nature, now; the longing glances, the way your hands brushed together when you walked side by side, the way his heart fluttered whenever you stole his hoodies, but only the ones that still smelt of him. your voice brings him back to the present.

"as if i would miss a party," you laugh, and the sound seems brighter every time to haechan, "are you driving everyone?" when mark shakes his head you raise your eyebrows in question and he nods to jeno, the dedicated sober friend for this week. the one good thing about not having your driver's license is that you were never denoted to that role.

as the school day comes to a close you meet haechan outside the back entrance, ready to walk home. the proximity of your houses meant it was always convenient for you both to walk home together, and it made haechan feel better to see you get home safe, he would never tell you that, though. he stands to the side of the crowd streaming out the door and waves you over when he spots your head in the sea of pupils. you shoot him a sunny smile that has his heartbeat pumping in his eardrums.

"you ready, princess?" the familiar smirk is present and you roll your eyes at the nickname, not allowing him the satisfaction of knowing how much it affected you, "you going home after tonight?" he asks as you break out the school car park and onto the pavement, steps falling into rhythm.

"i'm not sure yet, i doubt i'll be able to sneak back in," you scrunch your nose in contemplation, weighing up your options, "i'll probably tell my parents i'm staying at yeri's or something."

you miss the frown that settles on his face, "and stay at lucas'? alone?" haechan tries not to show how much he doesn't like that idea. lucas was a good person, he knows, but he would worry about you no matter who's house you would stay at. it was just part of your relationship at this point.

"yeah?" you stare at him in confusion, oblivious to the way his eyes flicker away when you try to meet his gaze. "what, you want me to come and sleep with you?" as soon as the words left your mouth you realised the second meaning to them and tried to ignore how your face blazed. it was your turn to avoid his eyes as you tried to pretend you had meant that word choice.

"if that's what you want, babygirl," a wink punctuates his words and heat spreads through you. you roll your eyes at him again.

jeno had, as promised, come to collect you from your house, laughing as you ran through your garden to avoid being spotted by your parents. jeno's car is smaller than mark's, all the seats already taken, but before you can ask where you're supposed to sit he presses on the accelerator. hands come to brace you as you nearly fall and your placed onto someone's lap. you can tell it's haechan from the expensive cologne that overwhelms your senses, the warm hands on your waist maintaining their position even after jeno's driving at a normal speed again.

the drive to lucas' house is short but bumpy and you grasp the seat in front of you to stop the jostling. when the car speeds over a bump haechan's fingers dig into your sides, his forehead falling onto your shoulder. you try and turn around to face him but his hands dig in further, stopping you from moving anymore. just as you're about to ask him what's wrong you feel a hardness pressing against the inside of your thigh and your eyes widen.

the flirty jokes you always exchanged meant something, you knew, but the feeling of him underneath you makes you heat up. you're frozen for a moment before a wave of smugness washes through you. haechan was always the one to make you flustered, and to know you had the same effect on him was something you wouldn't forget.

when the car finally stops in front of lucas' house, the others pile out before you two and you face him, raising your eyebrows. you open your mouth to tease him but he beats you to it, "fuck off." is all he says before he stalks towards the front door. you have to jog to keep up with him.

"really? in the car?" haehan rolls his eyes but the blush on his cheeks and the darkness in his eyes is obvious.

"if you weren't wiggling your ass, this wouldn't have happened–"

"i was not wiggling my ass, it's not my fault you're just needy," he stops walking at your words and spins around to face you, eyes narrowed in a look you assume is supposed to be intimidating. it's kinda hot, though, you think.

"i am not needy!" the laugh you let out only seems to upset him further and he takes a step towards you, "i can show you what needy is–"

"are you guys coming or what?" jaemin shouts from the doorway and haechan’s eyes flicker away from you to glare at him. before you can get another word out he’s walking as fast as he can away from you, shoulders squared of defensively. you can hear the pounding music from the house and you decided to forget about his attitude for the night and have as much fun as you can.

five drinks in and haechan is the last thing on your mind. the harsh liquid had burned at first but as lucas offers you a sixth you don't feel it slip down your throat. he grins and you match it, head spinning and vision blurring, the bassline of the music pounding in your ears. lucas has always been a great host, and he laughs at the way stumble from the kitchen counter he sits on. litres upon litres of free alcohol fills the table in front of you and you reach for a colourful blue bottle that fizzes when you twist the top off. he passes you a red plastic cup and the drink spills over the sides as you try and pour it, lucas' laugh piercing through your head which starts throbbing with the beginnings of a headache.

as if he can sense the state you're in, jeno appears in your line of sight, head shaking disapprovingly. you put up a fight when he takes the cup out of your hand and tips it down the sink but give up quickly when jeno shoots you a stern stare. lucas has already slinked off back to his living room where the rest of the guests reside, hands waving at people as a pretty brunette pulls him to the corner of the room. "you're already drunk, y/n."

"no i'm not," you insist but you can hear the way they slur together. the sound of them is foreign to your ears and they make you giggle, the sixth shot you had taken moments before starting to take effect. when you try and walk towards the drink's table your knees buckle under you and jeno has to catch you to stop you falling to the floor.

"this is why i hate being the sober friend," he mumbles as he sets you down on the floor to prevent you from hurting yourself, pulling your hands away when they reach to pull on his hair, muttering about his hair colour.

"now that, i whole-heartedly agree with," the new voice belongs to johnny, who frowns in amusement at the position you're in, giggling hysterically at jeno's hair. "hyuck's in a similar shape, we just put him upstairs in the spare room."

"can you help me take her up? she can't walk properly." their conversation falls on deaf ears to you and you're staring at everything in the kitchen and yet nothing at all as they both take one of your arms, hoisting you into an upright position. standing up, you last all but five seconds on your own before you put all your weight into them and allow yourself to be carried up the stairs.

true to johnny's word, haechan is sat on the edge of the bed, head between his knees whilst jaehyun crouches to talk to him, rubbing his back with a sympathetic smile on his face.

you call out when you see him, "haechannie!" and his head shoots up at the sound of your voice, all the darkness of his eyes from earlier dissipated.

"y/n!" johnny and jeno place you carefully on the bed next to him and meet jaehyun by the door to watch you. haechan's arm is already around your shoulder, your head planted on his shoulder, unclear if you're passed out already or not.

"where are they staying?" jaehyun asks, eyes not leaving the pair in front of him, grimacing when you bump heads with each other.

"i think here?"

"you really wanna leave them alone like this?" johnny questions as he watches you press kisses to the side of haechan's neck, turning to face him.

jeno considers his options for a moment. leave the two of you alone drunk and clearly ready to omit any rational thoughts, or stay here and try to keep you off each other. or, he supposes, he could bribe someone else to do it for him. yes, that's what he'll do. he'll find jaemin.

once the others leave and you're left alone, hands are immediately on your waist, pulling you into a kiss. haechan rubs his thumbs into the exposed skin of your middle, pressing his lips to yours in such a desperate manner you can do nothing but sit and kiss back. the hands pull you onto his lap and you waste no time threading your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, subconsciously grinding your hips down onto him.

"i've wanted to do this for ages," he moans into your neck, fingers hastily skimming over your skin, trying to touch you everywhere at once.

"i told you you were needy," the reminder does nothing to halt his actions, accepting your words with nothing but a hum, hands now making their way up your shirt to the clasp of your bra.

just as he's battling with the article of clothing, the door shoots open again and you fall off his lap and onto the matress. jaemin walks in, snickering at nothing and plops himself in between you on the bed, head falling onto haechan's shoulder.

"hi guys!" the tone of his voice gives away just how much he's drunk already, and you eye haechan over jaemin's mop of blue hair, pouting in disappointment.

a pounding head greets you in the morning and even though you and haechan both remember what had happened the night before, neither of you can stop blushing for long enough to bring it up. so you don't, the fear of ruining your friendship too great a risk for you.

it's a hot summer day and you meet haechan and jeno along with jaemin and renjun at the ice cream shop near your house. it's a brightly decorated new place that offers a mammoth selection of different toppings, which is partly the reason you get bullied when you choose an ice lolly instead. in your defense, it was boiling outside and ice cream is dehydrating.

haechan is cursing every god he knows of as you sit opposite him in the booth, lips wrapped so prettily around your ice lolly. he blinks harshly when you lick the side to stop the juice dripping onto your hand, still talking to renjun. in front of him sits the tub of ice cream he previously been so excited to try and yet now he can't seem to eat it, thoughts elsewhere.

in his head, he curses himself for thinking like this, for thinking about how amazing your lips would feel wrapped around his–

"dude are you okay? you're staring at your ice cream like it holds the secrets to the universe." jeno's laugh cuts through his mind and his cheeks burn. he nods wordlessly, searching for something, anything, else to think of, instead of the blood rushing straight to his dick.

later that same day, when he's back in his bedroom alone, you're the only thought that crosses his mind. he thinks about that night at lucas' party, how you had both been so ready to forget anything holding you back, he thinks about the car ride there, how cocky you had been when he got hard from you sitting on his lap. it was clear you felt the same way, at least, he hoped you did.

in your own bedroom, you're having a similar crisis to your best friend. it hadn't been easy to ignore to way he was staring at you earlier, you had even exaggerated your eating just to tease him. you wondered if he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. maybe you should ask. no, that was too risky. you needed something less obvious.

"you wanna come over to watch that new movie? i'm bored."

haehcan reads the words over and over again, trying to decipher any ulterior motives you might have, yet again that may just be him wishing for some. he takes a moment to reply, choosing his response carefully, even though he knew immediately he would be saying yes.

"sure, when?"

"tonight?"

once you had confirmed a meeting time, haechan had but two hours to compose himself. he didn't know what to expect, after all, you could have invited him over simply to watch the movie, however much he hoped that was only a cover. a cover for an empty apartment, and some suppressed desires.

when you open your front door, you're already worked up enough. it takes all the self restraint in you to not pounce on the boy in front of as soon as he steps into your hallway. he seems to be having a similar internal debate and you feel the air shift as he drops his bag next to your door, stepping towards you.

neither of you want to make the first move, the tension growing until you can’t stand in anymore, reaching towards him, knotting your fingers behind his neck and pulling him down to you. he closes the gap between you, lips smashing against yours in such desperation you would tease him if you didn’t feel the same way.

“where?” he mumbles against your lips, hands gripping up and down your sides.

“bedroom.” is all you reply before he wraps his arms around your waist, shuffling the both of you into your bedroom and shutting the door with his foot. he pushes you onto the bed and you let yourself fall, hair splaying out underneath you in a way he likes maybe too much.

his body follows yours and he slots between your legs perfectly, hands reclaiming their grip on your middle, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. wherever his fingers slide over, goosebumps rise in their wake, sending shivers through you at their coldness.

your lips return to his and you tilt his head up to deepen the kiss, only breaking away to press open-mouthed kisses to the space under his ear, relishing in the way his breathing hitches in his throat. the kisses trail down his neck to his collarbone, biting down before sucking the area into your mouth. haechan lets out a sinful moan that goes straight to your core.

as soon as you pull you lips away from his body he pulls your shirt over your head, cursing at the lack of underwear, gaze locking in on the swell of your breasts, nipples hard in the cold air. “you had such a hard time taking it off last time,” you reason into his ear, pulling the lobe into your mouth and pulling before continuing, “i thought i would save you the trouble.”

“fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” his words are silenced by the moan you let out when his fingers come to toy with your nipples, rolling one between his digits. you can’t help but arch into him, legs closing around the thigh spreading them apart. it’s clear you’re already so turned on that haechan almost pities you as you grind against his thigh. “so hot, and needy it seems.”

“haechan,” you moan, hands coming to tug on his own shirt, pulling the material over his head and throwing it somewhere else in the room. “i need you so bad.”

“i know, baby,” he cooes, dropping his mouth to envelope your nipple in between his lips, “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry, princess.” the filthful nature of his words make your body heat up, the coldness of fingers now toying with the waistline of your shorts so much more noticeable.

the shorts are removed quickly, your panties following quickly. before you can process what he’s doing, his fingers are spreading your lips apart, lips blowing on your clit to watch the way you clench around nothing. you shiver, hands moving to grip his hair.

after admiring your pussy for a moment, he licks a thick stripe from your hole to your clit, stopping to suck the bud into his mouth, hands coming to press you into the matress when you buck up into him. his tongue laps over your most sensitive spot and he rubs your wetness over his fingers before pushing one into you, moaning at the tightness of your walls. the vibrations of his moan travel straight through your clit and you let out a shameful whine.

after working his finger in you for a few moments, he adds a second, closely followed by a third as he continues his assault on your clit. your moans are loud and non-stop, only stopping to warn him how close you are.

“cum on my tongue, babygirl,” the dirty words dripping from his tongue push you over the edge and you let go with a cry, tugging on the strands of haechan’s hair so hard it nearly hurts him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all you can say as haechan makes his way back up your body, pressing his lips back to yours. on his tongue, you can taste the sweetness of your own cum and you move away from him only to tug his bottom lip in between your teeth, pulling then sucking on it to numb the pain.

you make quick work of his jeans, helping him out of them and chucking them to the floor, shortly followed by his own underwear. from his view, you look stunning, eyes hooded and blown out with lust, lips red and wet from kissing, bruised almost.

he doesn’t say anything as he lines himself up with your enterance, rocking his hips forwards and filling you completely. the pleasure is almost too much for you, still sensitive from your orgasm only minutes prior, eyes rolling back at the way he fills you so well. haechan’s head falls to your shoulder as he gives himself a moment to calm down, biting into your shoulder when he pulls out to the tip.

“you take me so well, baby,” the words are hot in your ear, his breath fanning down your neck, “look at you, all spread out for me.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself as he pushed back in, moaning into your shoulder at the feeling of you around him, tight, wet, hot. he can sense he won’t last long as he sets a fast pace, chasing his own high.

to make up for his fast-approaching orgasm, he takes your ankle into his hand, pulling your leg up to rest over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit every sweet spot possible. the feeling leaves you paralyzed in pleasure, unable to do anything but chant his name.

“i’m gonna cum,” you mumble against him, whining out when his thumb comes down to rub fast circles on your clit.

“fuck,” haechan’s eyes are screwed shut and the sight is so other-wordly beautiful it almost makes you tear up. “i’m cumming.”

his hips stutter and the feeling of his cum filling you, some leaking onto the tops of your thigs, pushes you over the edge. your back arches as you cum over his cock, his hips still easing the both of you through your highs.

when you’ve calmed down, chest heaving as the aftershocks of your second orgasm ripple through you, he pulls out, wincing at the first flicker of overstimulation. he turns and presses a gentle kiss to your ankle, rubbing the fingers of his other hand over your cheekbone, relishing the fucked out expression on your face. he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, so exhuasted underneath him, sweat glistening over your skin.

“that was–”

“long overdue.”

he laughs an agreement out, falling next to you on the bed and lacing your fingers together. “we should watch movies together more often.”

a/n: the only thing i have to say is yikes at this point.

[kookiesjoonies]

risk it — jjk | four.

risk it | four: pretend.

a/n: i think it’s safe to say that yn, jk, and yoongi are all a mess, right? let me know your thoughts, loves! xo

↠ main pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x salon owner!reader

↠ side ships: namjin, vmin (fwb), hoseok x makeup artist!oc

↠ word count: 2.7k

↠ warnings: some fluff if you squint LOL, angst so much angst, explicit language, jealousy, being drunk, light violence, spitting (but in a non sexual way lmao)

SERIES SUMMARY:

✧ a drunken text ends with you wrapped up in the arms of your ex-boyfriend. aka the man that you dumped two years prior, after he refused to marry you. suddenly, all of the feelings that you’d seemingly had buried come rushing back up to the surface, and you’re not sure how long you can ignore them.

Nearly ten minutes. 

That’s how long you’d been arguing with Jungkook at the bottom of your stairs. 

You were the world’s most stubborn person, and most (if not all) of your friends would agree with that statement. And you were even worse when you were drunk. 

“For the thousandth time,” you slurred your words together as you spoke, leaning against your ex boyfriend’s side for support as you stood, “I can walk up the damn stairs by myself. You don’t have to carry me. I’m not a baby.” 

He rolled his eyes at you— hard. If he had a dollar for every time you’d caused him to roll his eyes since you’d gotten into his car earlier, he was sure he’d be a millionaire by now. 

“If you can stand up on your own without holding onto my arm, I’ll believe you.” 

And now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Only, when you did, it made your vision fuzzier than it already was. 

“Well if you’d stop spinning the room, maybe I fucking could.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he dragged his free hand down his face. 

“You know what—“ You were being whisked off of the ground before you could even register what was happening. 

Jungkook had your body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he treaded up the stairs, and of course you were pounding your fists against his back like a child. 

“Put me down!” You insisted, to which he decided to happily oblige once he’d successfully carried you into your bedroom at the end of the hallway. 

“Absolutely.” He gently tossed you onto your queen sized bed, and you let out an overly dramatic huff as your back hit the mattress. 

“Not what I meant.” You mumbled.

You laid back and rested an arm over your eyes after you’d closed them, but you still felt like you were moving in circles. Nausea quickly set in and you groaned, clutching your stomach with your other hand. 

“Fuck you, this is all your fault.” You snapped at the man that was standing at the foot of your bed, staring at you with a look of both annoyance and concern. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook’s voice was laced with sarcasm, “how is this my fault, exactly?” 

“Because if you’d have just shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have tried to drink my feelings away,” you barked out a harsh laugh, a pitiful sound that made Jungkook’s heart drop to the pit of his stomach, “feelings that I shouldn’t even fucking have.” 

He let out a low sigh. Of course he knew your feelings for him were still there, or maybe he at least secretly hoped that they would be. Because after all, his feelings for yours never seemed to go away. No matter how hard he tried to forget you and forget how much love he had for you, it never worked. 

“Of course,” you scoffed, “just stand there all silent and brooding. It’s what you do best.” 

The feeling of being giggly and buzzed was long gone, now you were just an insane amount of nauseous and wanted nothing more than to sleep this state of drunkenness off. You were sad, and you were fighting an internal battle. 

The rational side of you kept screaming for you to tell Jungkook to leave, and you knew that he would without question. Which pissed you off to no end. As badly as you didn’t want to admit it, you wanted him to refuse to leave. You wanted him to fight to stay with you tonight. Hell, you just wanted him to fight for you. 

So, instead of asking him to leave, you asked him a different question instead. 

“Can you find me some clothes to sleep in? I can’t sleep in a mini dress, and if I stand up I’m going to fall, vomit, or both.” 

“Yeah, shorts and a T-shirt okay?” 

You nodded, finally feeling like you’d come back down to earth enough to remove your arm from your face and open up your eyes. 

Jungkook made the short walk from your bed to your dresser, and you couldn’t help but to admire him as he did so. 

He looked good— so good, and you fucking hated it. His hair was longer, just the way you’d always liked it. It was messy from sleep, which somehow made him even more attractive. He’d shown up at the club wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie to match, and that damn leather jacket he’d had for years. And in typical Jungkook fashion, he’d worn combat boots to top it all off. He looked like a fucking dream. And maybe it was the alcohol— no, it was definitely the alcohol, you were sure of it, but you desperately wanted to jump his bones. 

As he made his way back over to you, with your newfound sleep attire draped over his arm, a wave of boldness hit you. And you blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. 

“So, you wanna fuck?” 

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but you definitely weren’t expecting to hear the sad sounding sigh that made its way out of his mouth. 

“You’re drunk.” He stated the obvious, and you crossed your arms over your chest as you sat up on your bed. 

“So?” 

“So,” he emphasized as he handed the clothes off to you, “I’m not fucking you while you’re drunk.” 

You scoffed, “But I’m asking you to. It’s not like you’re taking advantage of me or anything.” 

“You know me better than that. Now please, just get some sleep.” 

Of course he wanted to. It’d been over two years since he’d last been inside of you, and if you were sober, his answer probably would have been much different. Sure, he’d had hookups, but none of them could compare to how you made him feel. Not even close. 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up on your knees to tug off your dress. 

As you did, Jungkook turned around and faced away from you to give you your privacy. 

And of course, you thought he was being ridiculous. 

“Jungkook, you’ve seen me in my underwear before.” 

“I know, but it’s different now.” 

Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as you tossed the dress onto the floor and replaced it with the old T-shirt. 

“Wouldn’t have to be different if you weren’t so stupid.” You quietly mumbled, pulling the pair of plaid cotton shorts up your legs. 

“Huh?” he prompted, “Couldn’t hear what you said.”

“Nothing,” you sighed, “are you going to hold me, or what?” 

Before Jungkook could respond, your bedroom door was being swung open by a very heated Min Yoongi. 

“Get the fuck out.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he took two steps closer to Jungkook, pointing toward the door with his index finger. 

You watched the scene in front of you unfold as Jungkook, too, took two steps forward— the two of them starting to get dangerously close to one another. 

“If Y/n wants me to leave, I will. But if she doesn’t, I’m not fucking going anywhere.” 

Yoongi clenched his fist at his side, staring daggers through the taller man in front of him. He took one swift stride forward, resulting in the two of them being toe to toe. 

“I swear to God, Jungkook. I’ll throw your ass out of this apartment if you don’t leave in the next sixty seconds. You’ve hurt her enough. I’ll be damned if you’re going to do it again!” 

Jungkook was seething, you could tell by the way he was clenching his jaw. This was about to get ugly, and if you didn’t put a stop to it you were sure to be wiping blood off of the floor and picking up their teeth. 

When you said you’d wanted him to fight for you, you didn’t mean it literally.

“Like I said on the phone, I’d like to see you fucking try you piece of shit!” 

It took a lot to make Jungkook this angry. But somehow— for a reason unknown to you, Yoongi always seemed to push all of the right (wrong?) buttons to piss him off. All Jungkook could see was red, and he was ten seconds or less away from putting your best friend through a wall. You could tell by the way his knuckles were turning white as he formed his tattooed hands into fists. Yeah, it was definitely time for you to step in. 

As you were scrambling off of your bed, still unbalanced from your alcohol induced high, you heard Yoongi spew out a string of insults— followed by a harsh spitting sound. When you looked up, you saw Jungkook wiping saliva off of his cheek with the back of his hand. And you knew it was too late. 

“Jungkook, don’t do it!” You shouted, trying to get to him before he could make a move. 

But you weren’t quick enough. Jungkook had his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders in an instant, shoving him backwards and slamming him into the wall so hard that you were sure there’d be a Yoongi shaped hole in it. 

Jungkook balled his right hand up into a tight fist, ready to swing and forcefully connect it to Yoongi’s jaw. Fortunately, you stood in between them before he could do so, causing him to halt his actions abruptly. 

“Don’t,” you pleaded, the current situation resulting in you slowly sobering up, “please.” 

Your hands found their way onto the sides of his face, your thumbs grazing along the tops of his cheeks. To your surprise, he leaned into your touch and allowed himself to focus only on the way you were rubbing his skin. He hadn’t touched you, or been touched by you, in so long that he was going to take all he could get. 

Yoongi stood up straight behind you, watching the way you seemed to handle Jungkook with such care. It broke his heart to know that you’d never be like that with him. Especially since he was one hundred percent certain he could treat you better than Jungkook (or anyone, for that matter) ever could. You deserved the world, and he wouldn’t hesitate to give it to you. Jungkook didn’t deserve you. He was the dumbest human alive for refusing to marry you. Whereas Yoongi— well, he’d marry you any time, any place, any day of the week without hesitation. 

Maybe if he wasn’t such a chicken, he would’ve confessed his feelings to you by now. Or maybe he would’ve if he wasn’t already certain that his feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. 

“Do you want him to stay?” Yoongi questioned, despite knowing the answer. 

As much as he loved you, he also respected you. And he also knew that you were an adult and free to make your own decisions, even if he thought they were the wrong ones. He couldn’t stop you from getting hurt again. But he’d be there to hold you while you cried afterwards, and to pick up your broken pieces if you needed him to. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back at your friend as you rolled your shoulders into a shrug, “I do.” 

“You know where I’ll be if you need me.” 

He shot Jungkook a death glare before glancing at you, and you felt like you could crumble and fall to the ground from the amount of disappointment you saw in his eyes. 

“Yoongs, I—“ The loud slam of the wooden door cut you off, and your lower lip began to quiver. This was all too much, too fast. Alcohol, sleep deprivation, and emotions didn’t seem to mix well. 

At the sight of your trembling lip, Jungkook brought his hand upward to run his thumb along it in an attempt to soothe you and provide you with some form of comfort. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft as he spoke, and you shot him a questioning look. 

“For?” 

“For a lot of things.” He admitted, and you simply gave him a nod. 

“I know. Doesn’t change anything, though.” 

He sighed, “I know.” 

You grabbed hold of his hand with your own, taking just a few seconds to admire the way that your hand seemed to mold perfectly into his— like it was made for him to grasp. He let you lead him to your bed, kicking off his boots and stripping himself of his jacket before lying down beside you. 

“I miss you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you didn’t dare face him. 

He closed his eyes, and you could hear him intake a deep breath.

“I’m right here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the tears that were begging to overflow to stay back. 

“Would it kill you to say that you miss me too?” Despite your efforts to hide your true feelings, your voice cracked and gave you away, “Unless you don’t miss me, then I guess that would make sense.” 

“Look at me.” He ordered, but you shook your head. 

“No.” 

Jungkook rolled over onto his side, scooting closer to close the gap in between your bodies. You could feel the warmth from him beside you, and you could smell his signature warm, inviting cologne that never failed to put you in a trance. 

“You think I don’t miss you?” The question was clearly rhetorical, seeing as how he continued to ramble on, “I miss you so bad that it hurts, it physically hurts. Every bone in my body aches from how badly I miss you.” 

That’s all it took for the tears to finally spill over and onto your cheeks, and you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were crying. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his own eyes welling up with water, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. Maybe I should just leave—“ 

“Go ahead!” You shouted, your tears coming out quicker and stronger now, “leaving is what you do best!”

“I didn’t leave you. You broke up with me.” He didn’t yell. In fact, he spoke calmly. It was rare for him to raise his voice at you, and you could count how many times he’d done so on only one hand. It didn’t matter how badly you seemed to piss him off, or how loud you got with him, he couldn’t bring himself to scream at you. 

“What other fucking choice did I have, Jungkook?” You finally looked at him, and when you did his heart shattered at the pain he saw in your eyes. 

“You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can give you—“ 

“Everything that you can’t,” you finished his sentence for him with a bite to your voice, “yeah, I’ve heard that before.” 

It was silent for what felt like an eternity. When in reality, it was only about five minutes. And it was Jungkook who finally broke the obvious tension in the air. 

“Let me hold you.” 

You didn’t say anything, only turned your back to him to allow him to spoon you from behind. His strong arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his chest, using his free hand to card his fingers through your long hair. 

You melted into his touch, humming as he began to dig his fingernails into your scalp to massage it. 

“Can we just… pretend that everything’s okay between us?” you asked, “For tonight, and then tomorrow we can go back to how it was.” 

He pressed his lips to the back of your head and allowed them to linger there as he nodded, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah, bug. We can.” 

Your heart swelled at the nickname, short for lovebug, that he’d given you so many years ago, and you cracked the saddest smile you’d ever mustered up in your life. 

“Kook?” You allowed your arm to rest over his, and he took the lead in intertwining your fingers. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you… cover up my name? The tattoo of it on your chest, I mean.” 

“No,” he didn’t hesitate, “and I have no desire to. Do you regret letting me tattoo you?”

You shook your head, running your thumb along the back of his hand, “No.” 

“You need to go to sleep.” 

“I know,” your eyelids were already beginning to droop, “sing to me?” 

“Of course.” 

��� masterlist ⇢

a/n: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! thanks for reading!

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[muzawrites]

Carrying On (Jay Park Mafia AU)

Summary: Its been said that in times of tragedy new relationships emerge and become stronger, when tragedy strikes we seek connection it is in our nature.  How does the loss of their father affect the relationship between Jay and his adopted sister, Amara. Does it strengthen it? Or does it reveal things which were once hidden?

AN:  This is the first story I’ve ever posted, constructive criticism is always welcome

Fifty-one.... fifty-two…. fifty-three…. fifty-four…. fifty-five… damn this is really not working. Why do they always make it seem like counting sheep helps you fall asleep? I checked the clock again- 12:05am. Sighing, I rolled over to the cooler side of my bed and let my mind wonder to the last 2 weeks, the worst 2 weeks of my life as far as I can remember. My adopted father and leader of the most powerful mafia clan in South Korea had passed away, leaving his only son Jae-beom (aka Jay) in charge of his empire.

I don’t remember too much from my childhood before I was adopted but from the snippets I do remember and what I’ve been told, it wasn’t good. I was found by Jay’s father going through garbage outside one of the restaurants the family owns at the age of 10, having been abandoned by my mother for being a mixed-race baby, I guess she couldn’t deal with having a half black half Korean child any longer. According Jay’s father I reminded him of the daughter he had lost a couple years prior when she and her mother (his wife/Jay’s mother) had falling ill and both passed away. In the back of my head I always felt like some sort of ‘replacement child’ for the daughter he had lost, even though he never made me feel like it, even Jay made me feel like his little sister even though it took a bit of time for him to get use to me as he was 16years old when I was “brought into the family” but over time we became very close, even naming me his co-right hand along with his best friend Simon. And of course he always took his role as the protective big brother a little too seriously with some of my boyfriends throughout high school and varsity. They would break up with me after a few weeks with either a broken nose or blackened eye.

I sighed and rolled over one more time before giving up and getting out of bed to make a cup of tea or something stronger to help me fall asleep. I threw a long silk robe over my sleep chemise to conserve some decency just in case one of the guards was roaming around. As I walked down the hall, I noticed Jay’s bedroom door slightly open with the light inside shining through. After softly knocked I pushed the door to find him sitting on the couch facing the fireplace with the coffee table filled with presumably work papers, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he asked without turning around, his full attention on the fire before him. “Shouldn’t you?” I rebutted as I grabbed the empty whiskey glass in his hand, walked over to the mini bar in his room to get him a refill and me a glass of his strongest whiskey on the rocks. He was still wearing the black slacks and black dress shirt he wore earlier in the day with the tie thrown somewhere in the room and his top two buttons undone.

“Seems we both can’t fall asleep huh” he said, as I handed him his glass. He mumbled a soft thanks as I sat down next to him. “Seems like” I replied leaning into his shoulder and staring into the flames with him. For some time, nothing could be heard but the fire crackling and the occasional clinking of ice against glass as we took sips of our drinks. “So, what happens now?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. He sighed, running his hand over his face. “In a few days, we meet with the heads of the families underneath us to continue business as usual” he answered, gulped down the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the side table as to not jolt me from his shoulder. “Can’t believe he’s gone” I whispered.

“Neither can I” he responded, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Jay had been prepped to be the leader of the family organisation since he turned 13 and now at the age of 32, he was more than ready to take over and I had no doubt he would do great things in this position but the fact of our father’s passing was still heavy in our hearts. I gulped down the rest of my drink as well and placed my glass on coffee table. I stretched out my back and neck, unconsciously pushing my chest out against the silk of my robe. Long gone were the days of the scrawny little girl who first joined the family; I had grown into a woman with curves in all the right places, soft caramel skin which glowed under the light of the fire. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jay intensely watching me, not being able to decipher the look like I usually would be able to I pushed it aside.

“Can I have a hug?” I asked, giving him my best puppy dog eyes and pout. He chuckled while getting up and opening his arms up for me. I quickly jumped into his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck before he could change his mind. He wrapped his arms around my waist a bit lower than they usually would be. For some reason this hug felt different from every other hug we’ve shared, but still felt warm, safe and like home. “I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you” he suddenly confessed into my hair as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of my head, I looked up to find his dark brown eyes staring into mine. “And I will never leave your side” I replied, my statement making him smile. I don’t know what took over me but I suddenly found myself leaning up to kiss him. He didn’t respond at first but after a few seconds I felt his lips move against mine. This kiss was so much better than any I had ever experienced before. His lips were soft but firm, he tasted of the whiskey we had been drinking and a hint of something else, something uniquely him, he took full control of the kiss holding onto my waist a little tighter. Suddenly I felt like a bucket of cold water fell on me when I felt his tongue brushing against my lips and I came to my senses. I shouldn’t have kissed Jay… he was practically my older brother. I quickly ended the kiss, pushing myself away from him and loosening his grip on my waist in the process. “I’m sorry” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes, trying to get past him and back to my room and to hide under my covers from the embarrassment. “Amara wait” he said, calling me by my birth name instead of the name I was given when I came into the family. He was the only one who called me Amara as he knew I preferred that name a little bit more than my given name. He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me back into his embrace before I could even take 5 steps away from him. I couldn’t bare to look into his face because of the embarrassment. “That kiss wasn’t a mistake” he said softly. I looked up at him, surprised. “I’ve always felt more for you than any normal brother would or even should, I guess that’s why I have always been so protective over you. At first I thought it was because you had such a tough time growing up and I wanted to protect you from that and this hectic mafia life you had been brought into, but as we grew older I knew it was much more than that. That’s why I could never stand seeing you with those idiots you used to date, especially that piece of shit Bobby” he said. Bobby was the guy I had dated in my senior year of high school but he had broken up with me right after prom after I had given him my virginity, stating that the only reason he was with me was to sleep with the “Park Princess”. I remember crying for a week but after that he mysteriously went missing and his family left town not long after. I had always assumed he had left with his family.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine and I’m never letting you go” he declared, looking deep into my eyes before pulling me back into a slightly rough passionate kiss. Deep down I knew I felt the same way about him. I even had a full blown crush on Jay between the ages of 16-18 but after that I quickly pushed it aside thinking it was not only one sided but wrong as he was supposed to be my brother. I briefly thought back to my past boyfriends and realised they all had either personality or physical similarities to Jay but in my mind and heart they would never amount to him. I felt him walk backwards towards the couch without breaking our passionate embrace. He broke our kiss to sit down and signalled for me to straddle him. Before I did I untied the knot I had done on my robe, letting the soft silk fall off my skin, revealing the deep red chemise I was wearing underneath. “Fuck” I heard him whisper as I straddled his lap and continued kissing him, his hands returned to my waist, pulling me closer into him which cause my barely covered pussy to brush up against the quickly growing bulge in his pants, this action causing us both to groan into each other’s mouths.

His lips left mine and started trailing down my neck, finding that sweet spot that made me grind into him just a little harder. My fingers made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and slowly ran down his strong chest lightly brushing over his nipples, this action causing him to groan and dig his fingers- which had moved from my waist to my ass- deeper into my soft but firm flesh. His lips quickly returned to mine as his hands started trailing up, dragging my chemise with them. We briefly separated so he could pull the material over my head before returning to the kiss. “Hold on tight” he muttered, as he got up without breaking our kiss, my legs wrapped securely around his waist. He softly placed me onto his bed as he broke apart from my lips to remove the rest of his shirt. “Fuck you’re perfect” he groaned, his voice laced with lust. “Those fuckers didn’t deserve you” he muttered as he returned to kissing my neck, this time also grabbing onto my boobs and playing with my nipple with his one hand whilst the other trailed down the side of my body and returned to my legs around his waist, I felt nothing but him at that moment, the soft heated touch of his hands running down my body, the smell of his rich expensive cologne, his soft lips on my nipple driving me crazy. At that moment all my thoughts were consumed by him. “Have you ever wondered what happened to that piece of shit Bobby” he said looking into my eyes with a dark look I had only seen a handful of times. “I killed him” he said, now kissing and sucking my left nipples whilst his right hand continued to play with the other.  “What!” pulling his hair causing him to look up at me, “Not only did he have the audacity to touch what’s mine, but he hurt you as well…he had to pay for that” he declared kissing me once again. As dark and twisted as it seems, his confession turned me on even more.

His kisses left my lips once again as he kissed my body further and further down. His fingers made quick work of the cute thong I had been wearing, tearing it off my body “Hey! That was one of my favourites” I complained before moaning as his fingers brushed up against my clit, “I’ll buy you a million more, get you whatever you want and I’ll do whatever you want” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “Well right now, I want you to stop teasing and eat me out” I said grabbing onto his hair, pushing him down towards where I needed him most, “Your wish is my command, my Queen” he said seductively before attaching his lips to my clit. Him calling me his Queen and the feeling of his thick fingers entering me as he sucked my clit made me cum instantly. “Jay!” I screamed his name as I experienced a high like never before. As I came down from it, he pulled his fingers out of me and licked them clean whilst looking me dead in the eye. “You taste so good babygirl I could be down there forever” he said. I quickly sat up and pushed him back and kissed him, tasting myself on his lips sent my body into overdrive as I quickly unbuckled his pants. He chuckled at the rushed movements and pushed me back as he got up to remove his pants.

 As he did this, I got a full proper look at his body; firm, muscular, covered in tattoos and all mine. I truly was the luckiest girl in the world at that moment. As he pulled down his briefs, I got my first proper look at him, he was long, thick and veiny. His tip was an angry red colour dripping beads of pre-cum. He’s gorgeous, I thought. I reached out to feel him, barely able to wrap my hand around him. He felt hot and heavy in my hand. I slowly started to stroke him, and he let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard causing me to look up at him. His eyes were dark with lust and passion. “Baby, you better stop if you don’t want this to end too early” he groaned, taking my hand away from him and leaning into another kiss. He laid me down and once again started kissing my neck. At the back of my mind I wondered if it would hurt; Jay was definitely much more blessed than any other man I had been with.

“Don’t worry baby I’ll go slow” he said positioning himself between my legs as if reading my mind.

“At first” I replied with a sexy smirk on my face as I grabbed him and pumped him a few times before lining him up with my entrance.  “I love you” he said as he slowly entered me. He felt so big that it kind of hurt but I didn’t want him to stop. The pleasure outweighed the pain. “Fuck baby, I love you too” I moaned as he finally bottomed out. “Shit baby you feel so good” he groaned as he started moving at a slow and steady pace. I grabbed his face and pulled him down into another kiss, missing the feel of his lips on me. In this moment I felt complete I knew that we were meant to be, I knew that he was fully mine and as I his. “Fuck baby harder” I moaned as he moved one of my legs to rest on his shoulder. He granted my wish as he started moving faster and harder, hitting a spot in me that made my brain go all fuzzy. I became a moaning mess underneath him as he did what he pleased with my body. “Shit baby, I’m so close” I groaned against his lips. At that moment he pulled out of me and before I could protest he flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled my hips up into a perfectly arched position, he quickly re-entered me, now feeling even deeper than he was before. The sounds that were coming out my mouth didn’t sound like me but at that moment in time I didn’t care because all my body and mind were focused on Jay and the pleasure he was giving me. My mind briefly drifted, the thought of him impregnating me at the moment and how beautiful our baby would be warming me up even more. This thought quickly got pushed aside as I felt him grab my hair and pull me up till my back met his chest. “Fuck baby you feel so good and so fucken tight” he groaned into my ear as I turned my head to kiss him. “I want to feel you cum on me” he groaned as his fingers attached themselves to my clit sending me into the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life. My walls tightened so much around him that he came not a second later. He continued pumping into me, drawing out our highs as much as possible. “Fuck” he sighed in content. “I’m never going to get enough of you” he said pulling me into another kiss.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” I said clenching my inner walls around his still hard member. He groaned, flipping us over till I was on top of him with his dick deep inside me.

“No, not a bad thing at all” he smirked as I slowly started moving, “You’re mine forever” he said, sitting up and kissing me once again. We continued to make love until the sun slowly started peaking through the curtains. “I love you” he whispered into my hair as I lay in his arms, “And I love you” I replied as I turned my head to give him one last kiss before we fell asleep.

At the back of our minds, we both knew we would probably face a lot of heat and probably negative attention if our relationship was to be exposed with most saying it’s wrong. However, I knew that no matter what Jay would never leave me nor I him.

The End

[a-tiny-atiny]

I Get Deja Vu

Have you ever felt yourself falling in love? In a way, have you felt it physically manifest itself? Has your world ever felt like it’s suddenly gotten brighter and you wake up every morning excited to see that one special person in your life who made you feel that way?

Because Mingi has. In fact, he feels it stronger and stronger every day. All because of one person: Jung Wooyoung.

Mingi is a loser.

Okay, he can practically hear his friends screaming at him for even thinking that, but it’s how he truly feels. He used to have higher self-esteem when he was a kid, but it’s long gone now. He used to feel pretty neutrally about himself (maybe even a little confident), but that all changed when a classmate of his came up to him at the playground when he was nine and pointed out his small eyes and crooked teeth, and everyone else laughed.

He never thought about those parts of his face before. He really never looked at himself for more than a few minutes in the mirror while conducting his daily routine before school and before bed, but it made him wonder if he should have spent that time looking at himself more carefully.

When he thought about it, his eyes were smaller than the other kids’. He didn’t think it was a bad thing before, everyone in his family has smaller eyes, but since his classmate pointed it out and everyone laughed, it must be a bad thing. Same with his teeth.

He still looks in the mirror every morning and inspects his small eyes and crooked teeth as though staring at them for long enough will cause them to “fix” themselves into something more conventionally attractive. He doubts the classmate on the playground even remembers saying that (or remembers Mingi at all), but Mingi definitely does. It hasn’t left his mind since the day it occurred.

His best friends at the time, Yunho and Wooyoung were there to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with his appearance. “Some kids say I have weird cheeks,” he remembers a seven-year-old Yunho saying, “but my mom thinks they’re cute so I don’t really care.” Wooyoung offered a somewhat different but still comforting sentiment about the kid being a “butt-face” and a “stupid idiot,” which admittedly helped cheer Mingi up a lot.

Middle school was when a lot changed for Mingi.

On his very first day of middle school, he awoke to find his skin red and blotchy, the first sign of his to-be consistent acne problem. He was covering his face when he walked into the building, so Yunho and Wooyoung didn’t even see him at first. When they finally did, they scolded him for being dramatic and promised that no one would care if his face was a little blotchy that day.

Wooyoung seemed to have been blessed with perfect skin, because he never had a single breakout throughout middle school. Maybe he’d get a pimple here and there that he would cover with some of his mom’s foundation, but that was it. Yunho had a bit of acne too, but his parents could afford the expensive creams that made it go away instantly while Mingi’s family didn’t have the time or the money for that.

Throughout his experience in middle school, Mingi noticed three key differences in his life there than in elementary school: 1) Unlike in elementary school, it did matter what you wore.

The fact that he only had a few good shirts that were usually either a size too big or a size too small and only a few pairs of baggy jeans didn’t matter in elementary school. He could wear the same shirt and pants every day and the kids probably wouldn’t notice. In middle school, they definitely did notice.

In only his second week there, someone in his class asked why he was wearing the same shirt he wore just last week, which caught him by surprise. Was that a bad thing? He owns a laundry machine, it’s not like he’s wearing a mud-covered, dirty t-shirt or something. But his choice (or lacks thereof) in clothing brought several confused and sometimes even disgusted looks from his classmates.

This leads us to point 2) Being funny wasn’t enough to be well-liked. Admittedly, Mingi thought of his humor as basically his only talent. He’s just a pretty loud and outgoing person, so that earned him a lot of friends back in elementary school. In middle school, he was labeled the “class clown” and was viewed as a troublemaker by most of the kids, which made people want to stay away from him.

Even to this day, Mingi has a hard time being open with his thoughts and feelings because he’s worried he’ll come off as obnoxious and rude, even when he isn’t trying to be.

And finally point 3) Middle school is a lot bigger than elementary school. Normally, this wouldn’t really matter. Mingi was actually really excited at first when he heard the middle school had multiple floors that he could race to be the first one to climb. The only problem is that with a bigger school, there are more classes, and more classes mean less of a chance of him being with his friends (i.e. only Yunho and Wooyoung).

He ended up having most of his classes with Yunho but hardly any with Wooyoung except for when they could sit together at lunch.

Because of this, Mingi and Wooyoung started to drift apart a bit. Wooyoung even made a new friend named Yeosang, who Mingi genuinely liked but was afraid would replace him as Wooyoung’s best friend. Thankfully, this is not what ended up happening and all that occurred was Yeosang being added into the friend group with open arms by all parties.

It was then that Mingi started noticing something…strange.

He would get a tiny pang in his chest when Wooyoung was overly-friendly with any of the members of the friend group. This feeling didn’t occur with Yunho or Yeosang, only Wooyoung. At first, Mingi thought it was probably the feeling of missing Wooyoung because they didn’t have many classes together that year.

Mingi didn’t know what to do with this feeling. He just let it be at first because it wasn’t really bothering him that much, it was just strange. But as the years went on, it got stronger and stronger until Mingi couldn’t ignore it anymore.

In addition to this weird pang in his chest, he also started to feel a weird feeling in his stomach, kind of like when you’re at the top of a roller coaster and it’s just about to drop. That’s the kind of feeling he started to get when Wooyoung started to get, well…hot.

In high school, all four boys started to grow into their features more, but it was most evident in Wooyoung. Yeosang looked quite handsome too, but that wasn’t much of a change from middle school because he always kind of looked like a Greek god in Mingi’s eyes. Wooyoung, however, he was friends with since childhood and never really registered his features as anything other than “Wooyoung” until now. Now, they were registering as “hot.”

And that’s when Mingi started to get a feeling that something was…off. He wasn’t sure what and he wasn’t sure why, but he had never really been good with feelings to begin with so it made sense to him that it didn’t really make sense. Does that make sense?

“No,” Yunho said when Mingi tried explaining this predicament to him. “You’re going to have to give me more to work with, Mingi-yah. Maybe you miss him because you haven’t been spending as much time with him? You can text him and ask him to hang out.”

The very thought gave Mingi that weird feeling in his stomach again. He groaned and said, “Whatever, it probably isn’t a big deal anyway.” So, Yunho let it slide and so did Mingi for a while. Even if he got that weird feeling in his stomach, he just tried to ignore it.

He ignored it all the way until it became time to submit college applications.

That led Mingi to let another roadblock in the path of being a loser: he wasn’t really that good at anything in particular. His grades were fine, admittedly a bit below average, but not terrible. But they certainly weren’t enough to get into any university that Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang were planning on going to, which was his main concern.

The only good part of Mingi’s life was his friends. His life basically revolved around them, and it still does, so not being able to go to the same college as them was a terrifying thought. Which is why Mingi started studying harder than ever.

“Whatcha doing?” Wooyoung asked one day after noticing Mingi in the library after school. This was very unlike him because anyone who knows Mingi knows that he hated school and always wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Mingi jumped, seemingly not having noticed Wooyoung there before. “Oh! Um, just studying. You know, college stuff,” he explained clumsily. Why did he feel so nervous? It’s just Wooyoung, the same Wooyoung he’s known for his entire life.

“Studying? Since when did you study?” Wooyoung asked teasingly. Some people found that cheeky attitude of Wooyoung’s to be off-putting, but Mingi loved it because it fit right in with his sense of humor. That was part of the reason why they were such good friends.

“Since I needed to get into the same college you guys are going to,” Mingi said, the stress evident in his voice. This was obviously really weighing on him. “You know I can’t get into Sejong with my grades.”

Wooyoung frowned. It was true that Mingi’s grades were…on the weaker side, but he hadn’t ever considered the possibility of him not being able to get into Sejong with everyone. Going to college without Mingi was almost unthinkable. They had been together forever and Wooyoung wanted to keep it that way.

“I’ll tell you what,” Wooyoung said, taking a seat next to his friend. Mingi looked up at him with nervous eyes. To be fair, most of Wooyoung’s propositions were either very dangerous or very stupid or both. “I’ll help you study until the deadline for the application.”

Mingi’s eyes widened in shock and he was about to immediately refuse, but Wooyoung cut him off with an even more outlandish assertion: “And my parents and Yunho’s family are going to pay for your tuition.”

Now Mingi felt like sobbing, for so many reasons. Wooyoung actually wanted to help him and was willing to take time out of his incredibly busy schedule just to ensure that he had a fighting chance of going to the same university as his friends? Not to mention the fact that their families were willing to pay for his tuition? He actually felt somewhat lightheaded at the thought.

It’s true that Mingi’s parents had been relying on him getting a scholarship to be able to pay for his college education, but the chances of that occurring were seeming slimmer and slimmer when Minho’s grades failed to improve past a low B.

There were so many things he wanted to say to Wooyoung. Things like, “Are you crazy?” and, “There’s no way I can let you do that.” Maybe even, “Thank you.” But what he ended up saying instead was,

“You can’t do that.”

Instead of getting offended or even rescinding his offer (which Mingi both anticipated and feared), Wooyoung simply laughed. “Actually, I can,” he said, “and so can Yunho. You’re basically family to us and you know how much our parents like you. We’ve been saving up for this for a long time now and we were going to surprise you on your birthday, but it seemed like you needed a little extra encouragement now.”

Mingi wanted to thank Wooyoung and was practically forcing himself now to drop into a full bow, but what he did instead was equally embarrassing: he started crying. Loudly, too, and in the middle of the library.

But Wooyoung didn’t mind. He never minded. He always knew that Mingi was loud, and emotional, and a little silly, but he never minded. In fact, those were the things he was the most insecure about until Wooyoung started telling Mingi that’s what he liked most about him. He simply pulled Mingi into a hug as the boy continued to sob loudly, and stroked his back all the while.

It still isn’t exactly clear when Mingi started falling for his best friend, but if there was one moment he had to pinpoint, it would be that day in the library that he was sure he was in love with Jung Wooyoung.

[vs-redemption]

Hi, its me! Im sorry for bothering you! How would Bakugou, Aizawa, and Iida react if some random kid, who had their eyes but different hair, who looks homeless and IS homeless, knockef on their door and said 'hey, do you know *insert womans name*? Youre my dad apparently' and it turns iut it was a woman they had a flimg with, who left them, and went on to abusr their kid? Like severely? Its just me projecting lol. Im so sorry have a great day!

A/N: I noticed that @madkaleidoscope got almost the same request while going through the my hero tags, so please check out their post HERE for another take on the same idea.

A Surprise Meeting (Bakugo, Iida, and Aizawa meet their abused child)

You can read the same scenario for Todoroki and Dabi HERE You can read the same scenario for Hawks, Fatgum, and Shigaraki Here

Warning:⚠️Mentions of child abuse and homelessness. Also, swearing for Bakugo!⚠️

Bakugo

“What the hell do you mean they were offended?” Bakugo growls at his manager through the phone propped up on his shoulder as he aggressively chops up vegetables for the stew he was making. “Instead of being grateful that I saved their asses, they decided to file a complaint against me huh?”

The underpaid person on the other end launches into an explanation about why a top ranked pro hero should avoid yelling out expletives while fighting villains in front of a crowd of civilians. Apparently it wasn’t an appropriate way to behave in front of impressionable children and elderly folks. Bakugo rolled his eyes as he continued cooking. He’d heard this spiel a hundred times before. He’d honestly worked hard over the years to improve the way he directly interacted with the innocent people he fought to protect every day, but he couldn’t help but get a little overzealous in the moment when taking down bad guys.

Bakugo clicked his tongue in annoyance when his doorbell suddenly rang. He wiped his hands off on a towel before going to tell off whoever it was that was interrupting his very limited free time. It was bad enough he was already getting an earful from his manger while he was trying to relax. He ripped open the door and felt a hint of surprise when he had to lower his angry red eyes to find the unexpected visitor. It was a little girl.

“What the hell?” Bakugo leaned out of the doorway a bit to look for an adult that might be accompanying the child but she seemed to be all alone. His manager paused their lecture to ask if he was all right. “Yeah, but I’m going to have to call you back,” Bakugo hangs up the phone and looks back at the little girl who was glaring up at him with familiar red eyes. Her long dark hair was dirty and matted. She had scrapes and bruises all over her arms and face.

“Do you need help or something?” Bakugo asks awkwardly as he tries to slip into his comforting hero voice. “Where are your parents?”

“Mommy left and didn’t come back,” the little girl scowls and crosses her arms. She then tells Bakugo her mother’s name, causing the man to freeze up in shock at the implication. “She said you were my daddy.” Bakugo just stands speechless for a few moments as his brain tries to catch up with what he’d just heard. He knew the girl’s mom, but he hadn’t seen her in about four years. They’d had a bit of a summer romance right at the beginning of his hero career before she’d suddenly disappeared, never to be heard from again.

Bakugo lets his eyes scan over the little girl once more. He couldn’t deny she had his eyes and his scowl. He felt irritated that his summer fling hadn’t even had the decency to tell him she’d gotten pregnant. He squats down to look more closely at the dirt and injuries all over the girl’s body.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, trying to keep the gruffness from his voice. Some emotion cracks through the little girl’s false bravado then and she looks down at her bare feet shyly.

“Mommy…” she whispers. Bakugo takes a deep breath to calm the rage that boiled up inside him and offers a hand to the little girl.

“Mommy left me too,” he confesses. “But she’s not going to hurt either of us ever again, okay?” The little girl looks up at her dad, a tentative hope blossoming in her eyes. Bakugo knew this was going to impact his life in a huge way, but at the moment he only cared about getting to know his daughter and making up for lost time. “Are you hungry?” The little girl nods her head eagerly and he leads her into his apartment. He would get her cleaned up and fed before getting started on all the legal stuff he’d undoubtedly have to endure before she could really be his daughter completely. His mind was already coming up with ways to fit parenting into his work schedule though, and he found himself looking forward to spending as much time with his little girl as possible.

Iida

Iida assumed he was going to have another normal morning as he sat at his desk, looking over his patrol route for the day. He’d taken over his family’s hero agency not too long ago, but he was already used to the daily routine. All the experiences he’d lived through during high school, not to mention growing up in a family of heroes, had prepared him for most scenarios he would encounter as a pro. He had no reason to suspect that anything out of the ordinary would happen, even as he heard the knock on his office door.

“Come in,” he calls out while standing up to start putting on his hero costume. The door blasts open and a young girl runs into the room.

“Daddy!” she shouts as she runs right up to him and throws her arms around his waist. Iida looks down at the girl in shock before glancing towards the door where one of his sidekicks stood looking as confused as he felt.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” the sidekick says a bit awkwardly. “One of the interns found her wandering outside. She was asking people to help her find you, her dad.”

Iida wanted to deny the claim immediately. He would definitely know if he had a child, especially one who looked to be around eight years old. The idea became a lot less preposterous as he looked back down at the girl. Her hair color was as white as snow, a complete contrast to his dark blue. The thing that gave him pause were the two legs sticking out from under the dirty skirt the girl was wearing. Her legs looked skinny, too skinny, aside from her calves which had tiny exhaust pipes sticking out of them. The girl looks up at him after a moment to meet his gaze. His breathe catches in his throat at her blue eyes and checkmark shaped eyebrows that were iconic to the Iida family.

“Uh, thank you,” Iida felt flustered as he looks back at his sidekick who was blatantly starting at him in shock. “I’ll handle this from here. Do you mind asking someone to take over my patrol?” The sidekick accepts the job and hurries off, leaving Iida alone with the girl. Part of him felt really embarrassed that this had happened in front of his coworkers. He couldn’t imagine what they must think of him now. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to be involved with something that could be perceived as scandalous.

“What is your mother’s name?” Iida asks, even though he was sure he already knew. The list of possibilities was very small. The little girl goes up on her tiptoes and Iida bends down to meet her so she can whisper in his ear. He sighs heavily at the name that falls from her lips. It was just further confirmation that this wasn’t some crazy misunderstanding. The information settles into his mind. He was a father.

“Please don’t make me go back to her though,” the girl’s eyes brim with tears as she searches Iida’s face for comfort. “She’s scary.” Iida understood how the girl felt. If given the option, he would choose never to see that woman again either. She had only dated him for a brief time, pretending to be in love with him in order to take advantage of his fame until she found someone higher up in the ranks to seduce. He had been so shocked and heart broken when she’d left him so suddenly, but now there was no way to hide from that mistake of his past.

“Why do you say she’s scary?” Iida asks while putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She winces and flinches away from his touch. He narrows his eyes in concern and asks her to roll up her sleeves. His heart fills with sadness at the welts marring her frail arms. “I see,” he frowns. “I promise you won’t have to see her again if you don’t want to, but can you tell me where she lives?”

“I don’t know. We always have to sleep outside,” the girl explains warily, painting a rather sad image of her life.

“Well that just won’t do,” he pats her on the head. “I’m going to make sure you have a comfy, warm bed to sleep in from now on.” The girl’s face lights up happily and she hugs Iida even tighter. The shame he’d felt initially was gone now, replaced by a determination to provide his daughter with the best life possible.

Aizawa

Between all his hero work and being a full time teacher, Aizawa’s opportunities to simply sleep for a couple consecutive hours were few and far between. He took any chance he could to just shut his eyes and rest for a while. Tonight he’d hoped to get a decent amount of sleep in before having to wake up at the crack of dawn to attend a UA staff meeting. However, it seemed fate had other plans for him.

It was around one in the morning when a knock on his front door pulled him from the depths of his much needed slumber. He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes as he rolled out of bed, not even having the energy to be annoyed. “Who is it?” He asks while putting on his slippers and shuffling over to the door. There was no answer, so he pressed his face up to the peep hole. He let out a groan when he saw a random kid standing outside. If this was some kind of prank, he wasn’t sure he had the strength of mind to deal with it at this hour. He already put up with a whole class of teenagers every day who drained him of every drop of patience he had.

“Can I help you?” Aizawa mumbles after opening the door. The young boy in front of him looked to be about thirteen years old. The ends of his dark burgundy hair were frayed and had been cut sloppily as if he’d done it himself. He had outgrown his clothes a while ago, and they appeared uncomfortably small on his skinny frame. The poor kid looked extremely dirty and smelled even worse.

“Do you know this woman?” the haggard boy holds out an old photograph of a person Aizawa recognized immediately. It had been a very long time, but he’d never forget the face of the first woman he’d ever been with. He’d been so young and naïve at the time, and he still felt bitter toward the friend who’d set him up with a woman with such an atrocious personality. Aizawa knew right then and there that he wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon.

“This is my mother,” the boy states the obvious fact. “And apparently you’re my dad.” Aizawa had no reason not to believe him as he looked into the boy’s tired eyes that matched his own. It was clear that life had not been kind to the kid so far.

“Come on in,” Aizawa invites his son inside, deciding to wait to involve the proper authorities until morning. “You can take a hot shower, and I think I have some leftovers we can heat up.”

“A shower?” the boy looked overwhelmed, as if the promise of a shower was more than he’d ever dared to hope for. Aizawa was growing more concerned with each passing second.

“Where is your mother now?” He asks and the boy shrugs.

“I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks,” he states as if that were normal. “I think she met some new guy.” That was enough to put Aizawa’s teeth on edge.

“Where have you been staying then?” he asks.

“Wherever I can,” the boy replies, sounding embarrassed. “Park benches, bus stops, train stations…” Aizawa was horrified. What kind of person left their child to survive in those conditions? Why hadn’t she ever reached out to him for help?

“What are these?” Aizawa reaches out to snatch up the boys arm. Now that he was inside where the lighting was better, he could see strange scars and scabs covering his skin.

“Cigarette burns,” the boy pulls his arm away and averts his eyes. “Mom thought it would make people more willing to help when I had to beg for money.” Aizawa felt his eyes fill with tears at the words, and he doesn’t think twice before pulling his son into his arms. The boy returns the embrace, clinging to Aizawa as if he feared the man might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“What’s going to happen now?” the boy asks fearfully after he calms down a bit.

“You’re more than welcome to stay with me,” Aizawa finds himself accepting the role of father rather quickly. He was already responsible for so many kids already, he didn’t see the harm in adding one more to the list. “If that’s something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yes, please!” The boy nods his head, looking ecstatic as he wiped away his tears. Aizawa nods his head and pats his son on the shoulder.

“Well then kid,” he says with a small smile. “Welcome home.”

------

Aizawa Tag List:  @clovertitan  @raine-needs-help @lucacangettathisass @lea2107-foxsin @tiaraowens

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Marked by an Angel PART 1 Collab with @samros95​

Pairing: sub! Angel! Yoongi x Dom! Demon! Noona! reader ft. Demon! Jimin ft. Demon! Jin ft. Angel! Hoseok

Warnings: smut, angst, spit play, blood drinking, hand job (m) receiving, blow job (m) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Rating: 18 and over

Tag List (perm): @mochilicious-yoongi​ @heyimtavia

Y/N:

It was unusual for him to call you like this, out of the blue, during the day. You had scheduled nights to see each other and right now it was neither night nor one of your usual evenings. Normally you would turn him down, but he sounded so desperate on the phone, you just couldn’t say no. Here you were, dressed in your signature all black, huge black sunglasses to keep the sun at bay as you made your way through the streets of Purgatory. Min Yoongi wasn’t a normal Angel, he was a general for their leader, Kim Namjoon. Which means you needed to make your way into Heaven, not as abnormal as it sounds. Demon and Angels crossed the barrier lines often, many fornicating, many just to fuck around with “friends” or just to fuck around with rivals. You hated that Yoongi lived among the hierarchy especially when he claimed to hate it and his position but who were you to judge. You yourself were the highest-level assassin and gifted Soul Reaper for Kim Seokjin, a position you have grown to despise as well.

You head in the direction of the great staircase, smirking when you lock eyes with one of the gatekeepers. You give a small nod and walk past, knowing you’d die before showing your ID to get through the pearly gates. Instead, you head past the entrance and off towards the River Styx. “Ferryman.” You greet the decrepit caped man seated on his Ferry. “Demon.” He greets back. “I need backdoor access into Heaven.” He looks up at you with his cloudy eyes and grimaces. “I need a taste.” You wince at his request. “A drop.” “A gulp!” You swallow hard but nod. ‘Fucking Min Yoongi.’ You thought to yourself, noting to punish him later. You move towards the ferryman and tug up your sleeve, using your sharpest nail to carve a line in your wrist. His eyes widen as he catapults forward to slurp on your flowing vein. You groan in disgust at his moans. Demons and Angels blood sold for thousands on the black market for their healing properties. In large doses, their affects could last days or weeks but in small ones only hours. “That’s enough!” You shout, shoving him onto his back, licking your wound close. He drops happily, licking his lips and panting. “Thank Namjoon.” He moans. You roll your eyes, watching the decrepit man begin to age backwards to a young adult.

You raise an eyebrow at how handsome he is. “Praise Seokjin,” You scoff, “My ride?” “A deal is a deal.” He stands now, waving you to follow him to his ferry. You allow him to help you in. He begins to row his boat in the direction of the gates, but rather than move towards them directly, he makes a slight right, flowing with the river current towards a tunnel beneath them. He whispers an incantation under his breath and a door in the tunnel appears. A loud clang rings through when the doors open and soon Heavens lights beam through at you both. He rows forward, stopping when he makes it through the doors. “This is where I leave you Demon. Ferrymen are not welcome beyond this point.” You nod, standing and stepping out into the tunnel. “Thank you, Ferryman.” He smiles. “Your Angel can get you back Demon. Enjoy.” He smirks, disappearing with a clap of his hands.

You make your way through the streets of Heaven, your head spinning from your heightened sense of smell, another one of your gifts. Angels always had a distinct smell to you, like cinnamon and honey. Some had stronger muskier scents like Yoongi, he always smelled woodsy to you. He was always different from the other Angels, his scent, mannerisms, all different from what you were used to. His voice ringing in your head now. “You should wear white when you come to Heaven to see me Noona. It will keep heads from turning.” You looked around at all the disgusted faces. Demons were not welcome in Heaven, regardless of business or not. “Demon bitch.” A man whispers as you walk past. You smirk, deciding to not respond. Seokjin forbid, Namjoon get word you were moving around heaven, let alone attacking citizens. You lift your head, a very distinct smell hitting you. It was no Angel scent. It was instead sulfur mixed with lilies. There was only one Demon you knew with such a distinct scent. You look around for its owner and smile when all the Angels begin to walk past you without a care in the world. “I’m intrigued to know what you’re doing here.” Jimin suddenly appears beside you. “Just scouting the competition.” You respond, turning to face him. His eyes are lit up red and you know he’s using his gift of Altered Perception to keep you both from being noticed. “Noona, we are all deviant creatures. It’s ok if you’re looking for a meal. I too am bored. They have such delectable Trainees in the Ethereal Guards. You may find something you like. Come with?” He pouts. You smirk. “As I said before, I’m scouting. Seokjin forbid I get caught slacking.” “Mm, yes, daddy’s pet has to be on her best behavior always. Well, if you change your mind.” He bites the tip of his finger and holds it out to you. “It’ll keep the Angel scum from seeing you while you move about.” You nod, wrapping your mouth around his finger, his wound healing as soon as you unlatch.

“Be careful old girl.” He smirks, spinning and disappearing in a puff of grey smoke. You release the nervous sigh you had been holding onto, moving faster now through the crowd. You arrive at Yoongi’s apartment complex, walking past the guard in the lobby, and straight for the elevator. When you get to the penthouse you exit the elevator, walking to his front door, entering the lock code into the keypad. You are immediately hit with his scent mixed with his need, your senses going into overdrive. You turn into his bedroom to see him standing by his bed, squinting at you in confusion, his erection unabashedly on display through his white linen pants. “Noona? You look, so beautiful.” You swallow hard, feeling your face blush. “What are you saying?” You snip. “Your hair. The flowers, the dress.” He describes and you look down at your body, at the black leather pants and black corset you’re wearing. “What,” You begin, eyes widening with realization, “Altered Perception.” “What?” He tilts his head. “You’re seeing me the way you imagine me. It’s Jimin’s gift, your perception is being altered because I drank his blood.” He stands straighter, covering his erection with his hands. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were just with someone.” You smirk, walking towards him to remove his hands from his rigid member and instead replacing them with yours. He whimpers at your touch.

“Oh Angel, did you think Noona would ever sleep with some lowly Demon over you?” You slowly palm him, his excitement leaking and staining the front of his pants. “I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just, bloodletting is so, intimate.” “Not for me. It was a favor to keep me from being seen while I was here. It’s dangerous for me here.” “I know. I’m sorry. Thank you for coming. I know it’s not our normal day, but I missed you.” He confesses. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get here?” He shakes his head, moving his hips in succession with your hand. “Take your pants off Angel.” He swallows hard, removing the article of clothing quickly, his large cock springing forward. You grip it hard before gently stroking his full length. He throws his head back, his precum spilling out into your palm. “How long have you been this hard Angel?” “Two days.” Your eyes widen and your cunt leaks at the thought of his resolve. “Such a good boy, waiting for his Noona.” You praise. “I waited as long as I could but today it was too painful.” “Spit on it.” You command, his reddened engorged tip resting in your opened palm. “What?” He questions. “Spit on your cock for Noona.” You whisper, palming his balls with your free hand. He mewls, nodding. He moves his jaw around, gathering his lubricant in his mouth, slowly allowing the spit to drip from his soft pout and onto his tip. You release a heated sigh at the sight, closing your fist around his tip and stroking him quickly. His body shudders, your name leaving his mouth in soft whispers over and over while you build up his high.

“Uh, please, I’m going to cum.” He warns. “Not yet you’re not.” You state to his desperate eyes, releasing his cock and shoving him onto the bed. He cries out, stretching his needy body from the lost orgasm. “Top off Angel.” He pants, removing his sweater. “Fuck! This skin. It’s so gorgeous.” You growl, moving forward and biting a red mark onto his chest. He moans, jolting his hips upward. You move to your knees and take his full length in your mouth. “Ah, fuck, Noona!” You glide up and down his cock, taking him to the back of your throat. You come up a moment for air, gathering all the moisture in your mouth. You look him deep in his eyes, gripping his cheeks. He opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, allowing you to spit onto it. “Spit on your cock.” He is completely out of breath, spitting a mixture of your saliva onto the tip of his cock. You grip his shaft, moving up and down with the ease. “Noona.” He whines, hitching his hips upward into your fist. His head falling back while he keeps pace with you. Your phone begins ringing and Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Please Noona, ignore it, please. I need to cum so bad.” You stroke faster, his breath quickening. “Yes, please, don’t stop. I’m so close.” Your phone rings again and you release Yoongi’s angered cock. “No! No! Fuck!” He whines.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and put a finger to your lip. “Jin, how are you?” You answer. Yoongi’s eyes tighten to slits at the name that leaves your mouth. You get off your knees, sitting on the bed now, leaning up on the pillows. Yoongi looks at you with defiance. “Y/N, I need you to come see me. We have much to discuss.” You swallow nervously at the request. “Everything ok?” You question. Watching Yoongi watch you. “No, everything is not ok. Since when do you ask questions? I need you to come see me and that’s it!” He shouts. Yoongi growls and you give him an angered look. “What are you doing?” Jin’s voice comes into your ear. “Nothing. I’m... home.” Yoongi’s breath quickens in anger and he moves towards you, latching his mouth onto your neck, sucking at the flesh. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. “Well, we have an emergency here and I need my right hand by my side. Besides, shouldn’t you be out scouting?” “Of course,” You stutter, “I was getting ready to do just that.” There is a pause and then Jin scoffs. “Are you with someone?” “No, what would make you ask that?” You swallow. “It’s been a while since we fucked. I’m sure you’re in need. Come quickly and we can get a quick fuck in.” He immediately hangs up and Yoongi unlatches from your throat. You turn to meet Yoongi’s teary gaze.

“You fuck him?” He grumbles, fighting back his tears. “No. At least, not anymore.” You answer as honestly as you can. “Who fucks their boss?” He moves away from you. “Angel, please.” “Fuck you! You’re just like the rest of your kind. Liars.” He shouts, snatching his pants from the ground. You grab him quickly and slam him onto the bed. “Shh, my sweet Angel. No one touches me anymore. Only you. I promise.” You comfort him, kissing his cheeks and soon his pout. He resists at first but soon open his mouth for you to swirl your tongue around his. “Promise?” He whispers into your kisses. You nod, unzipping your leather pants. He moans, running his large hands down your back, gripping your bare ass. “Let’s me show you Angel.” He growls like a jaguar, the scent of jealousy releasing from his pores, and you chuckle. “You gonna change on me baby?” You ask, standing to remove your pants. He lays before you his rigid cock twitching in anticipation for your cunt. His body steams as his eyes glow blue, a lighthearted threat from the gifted Transmutationist. You moan, straddling him. “You don’t scare me Angel. I’ll tame any form you choose to take.” You smirk, lowering yourself onto his cock. He growls again, his eyes glowing brighter when you begin to ride him quickly. You throw your head back, moaning loudly. He licks at your exposed neck, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you up and down his member faster.

“That’s it Angel. Fuck this cunt.” Yoongi growls, flipping you over suddenly angling his needy cock into you so it rubs along your g-spot. You claw at his back, earning moan after moan from him. “Mine.” He growls, his sweat dripping onto your face. “Yours.” You assure him, wiping his dark locks from his forehead. Your mouth falls open. “Fuck, Yoongi, feels so good. Don’t stop.” You gasp, your orgasm sparking up from deep within you and shooting through your body steadily. You cry out his name, your pussy slick with your climax as he continues to pound into you. “I’m going to cum.” He whispers. “Yes Angel, fill me up.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hips staggering for a moment. “Hyung, Are you here?” You hear from Yoongi’s living room. “Don’t stop.” You tell Yoongi, nearly gagging on the scent of the sweet smell of Heaven’s dutiful Arch Angel Jung Hoseok. “I can’t. It’s too good. I’m cumming.” He pants, crying out your name. His seed shooting out into your warmth, leaking out with his continued thrust. “Hyung?” Hoseok emerges into Yoongi’s room. You turn your head away quickly to avoid being seen. “OUT!” Yoongi yells. “Shit! Sorry.” Hoseok shouts, running out.

“He’s gone.” Yoongi whispers. You turn to look up at him. “You think he saw me?” “No, he’s clueless.” “I should get going.” “To Jin?” He inquires. “To work.” You push him off you. “Why didn’t you tell me that you two were a thing?” “Should we exchange list?” You snap. “It’s different, he’s the king of the underworld.” “Don’t do this Yoongi. We just had a beautiful moment.” “Why do you avoid everything?” “Because I don’t answer to you. Now, I’m leaving.” You tug on your pants, standing to leave. “Noona, please. Don’t leave upset.” “Too late. Goodbye.” You say, walking out of his bedroom. You look about for Hoseok but don’t see him and make haste to the elevator. You’re gone no more than 5 minutes when your phone goes off with a text.

Angel: ‘Please don’t be upset with me. I’m sorry. Please, can I see you tonight?’

Me: ‘No.’

He doesn’t respond and for that you are grateful.  

[poisonintopositivity]

(My Very Own) Top 20 Sterek Fics

Here is my very own Top 20 Sterek Fics (out of order)

For me, these fanfictions are a “MUST READ NOW!!!” kind of deal. These authors have so much talent, it’s incredible. These stories are just marvelous and deserve LOVE ! So, I decided to share them with you.

I’ve read most of these fics several times and some of them are even my bedside table books (with Harry Potter and the Prisonner of Azcaban and Jane Eyre)

So here we go!

1:  Enemy Lines by @qhuinn -  150k - Explicit - Dystopia - Enemies to friends to lovers - Action/adventure

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

2:  Actions Speak Louder than Words by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 435k - Explicit - The BEST and slowest burn there is - Spark Stiles/Mute Derek - Friends to Lovers

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

3: Radio Tower by @hyperlittlenori - 130k - Explicit - Dystopia - Hope - Slow Burn/Build 

Everything was different. The world he knew was gone. It’d been a long time since he’d started thinking he was probably one of the last humans on earth, that out there the only sentient beings were those that would devour him whole. He wasn’t sure why he continued with the radio broadcasts, continued to talk into nothingness. The only explanation was that there was a spark of hope in him yet that he wasn’t alone. The lonely safety Stiles has built around an old radio tower in the middle of nowhere is about to be broken. Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is a harbinger of chaos or hope at the end of the world. 

4:  The Hollow Moon by @thepsychicclam - 180k - Explicit - Fix-It - Memory Loss - Slow Burn/Build

It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

5 :  Amor Fati by @alocalband  - 43k - Explicit - Consent is sexy - First Time - Fluff & Angst

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised.As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

6 :  (not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit - 33k - Explicit - Shared fantasies - Angst with a happy ending - hotdamn! 

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

7: What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm - 119k - Explicit - Wolf!Derek - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

8:  Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by @devildoll - 77k - Explicit - Captivity - Feral!Derek - Angst with a happy ending

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

9 :  What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 196k - Explicit - Soulmate - Slow Burn - Misunderstandings 

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

10 :  taste your beating heart by @cinematicnomad​ - 112k - Mature - Pack Dynamics - Slow Burn/Build - Stilinski Family Feels

Something was wrong in Beacon Hills. Derek was halfway across the country when he felt a call to return to his hometown, and somehow Stiles had been talked into letting the werewolf stay in his guest bedroom. This could lead to nothing good.

11 :  between the click of the light and the start of the dream by @thepsychicclam 105k - Explicit - Pack Dynamics - Getting Togheter - Fluff & Angst

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

12:  And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker - 30k - Explicit - Pack Dynamincs - Bad Friend Scott - Romance

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

13:  Trust Fall by Stoney - 144k - Explicit - Body Swap - Hurt/Confort - Slow Burn/Build

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.

****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused.

Of course.

14:  Gravity's Got Nothing on You by @zosofi - 84k - Explicit - Fake/Pretend Boyfriends - Humor - Romance

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

15:  Every Step You Take by @nokomiss - 49k - Mature - Magic - UST - Secret Feelings

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

16:  Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence - 179k - Mature - College AU/Coffee Shop AU - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

17:  Windows by @drgrlfriend - 83k - Explicit - Blind!Stiles - Friends to Lovers - Found Families 

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

18 :  Just to See You Again by MellytheHun (@loserchildhotpants​) - 15k - Explicit - Love Letters - Getting Together - College AU 

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

19:  Chasing Slumber by @hyperlittlenori - 21k - Explicit - Post-Nogitsune - Porn With Feelings - Fix it

Stiles finds solitude and a glimpse at recovering from his ordeal with the Nogitsune in a dingy motel far from Beacon Hills. Inhuman blue eyes follow his silent struggles in the darkness of the room and he can no longer pretend to sleep, pretend he hasn’t been profoundly changed by all that has happened. He can only let his fingers stretch out across threadbare but clean sheets and clench around them, in a failed attempt at not reaching for Derek.

20 :  the thread is ripping by @thepsychicclam - 36k - Explicit - Pinning - Angst with a happy ending - Flashbacks

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn't include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

If you are interested, feel free to check out my Sterek Fic Recs Collections on A03.

On this lovely note, happy reading guys!

[bre-meister]

9 &/or 10 (Dialogue Prompts) for cleon !! TY FOR FEEDING US

9. “I just wish things could have turned out differently between us, you know?” 

Mall trips were always...interesting. Perhaps it stems from the insanity that was his everyday life, but Leon always felt that doing things so mundane like going to the mall was kind of weird? But, weird in a good way. He wasn’t sure exactly how to describe it. D.S.O Agent Leon Kennedy wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about it as he stood surrounded by little tiny onesies and itty bitty tutus and headbands; cribs, strollers, changing tables, and more displayed on top of the shelves reaching up towards the high ceilings of the store. Well, that’s a lie, Leon did know how he felt - awkward, out of place even.

He wasn’t exactly sure why that was the case, especially considering this wasn’t his first rodeo so to speak. Though, last time Claire had done most of the shopping for the smaller things. His preparatory skills were mostly limited to ordering the bigger things online once Claire had picked them out and then assembling them after they had arrived. 

When his wife had asked him to come along this time - mainly to help wrangle little Izzy who had insisted on helping pick out clothes for her new little sister - Leon couldn’t say no. He had nothing else to do on an unnaturally normal Saturday and spending the day with his family sounded like heaven after spending the week doing paperwork. He just hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of things they actually needed to get. Technically speaking, they should have all of the said items at home from when Isabelle had been little - and they did have some. Some of her baby things had been lost in a move a while back - a two-bedroom apartment in the heart of D.C was great for him and Claire but not necessarily for a little girl. The couple had also given away some things to one of Claire’s co-workers who had needed some baby clothes and such. They truly had not expected to have another child, what with their hectic lifestyle but Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely excited for the new baby.

So, things having been lost one way or another, they had to replace almost everything; which was fine considering Leon’s paycheck alone was enough for them to live fairly comfortably. Chris was always making snide comments about his “government money”, he might as well put it to good use. Which is how the small family found themselves in the non-descript baby store on an even less notable Saturday afternoon. But, despite coming in with two girls, Leon now found himself alone hence the unnecessarily awkward feelings. Claire and Isabell had stepped out for a short moment to find a bathroom, his pregnant wife needing to go nearly just as bad as their four-year-old. 

“Leon?” a voice called from the doorway of the store that leads out to the mall.

Leon looked up confused, that was the direction that his wife and daughter had disappeared to but that voice sounded nothing like Claire’s. Upon laying eyes on the source of the noise Leon felt his confusion shift to something else.

He hadn’t thought he could feel more awkward but somehow, he managed. Calling his name was a living ghost. Leon didn’t have much time to consider that oxymoron before the blast from his past in the form of an objectively beautiful woman entered the store and made her way towards him.

“Oh my gosh! It is you - Leon Kennedy. What’s it been, like five, six years?”

“Yeah,” Leon swallowed awkwardly, “something like that.” If he remembered correctly, it had been much longer than that.

As if coming to his senses, Leon suddenly realized how rude he was being - a former fling or not, Claire would have scolded him if she saw the way he was behaving now. He chuckled awkwardly to cover up how...awkward he was feeling. Quietly, Leon wished he could think of a word or a feeling that was not “awkward”.

“How have you been, Cindy?” He hoped she didn’t catch the upward lit of his greeting when he got to her name - he wasn’t exactly sure he’d remembered correctly.

“Oh ya know, working, shopping,” she gestured to the bags in her hands, “this and that. I’m good though, how about you?” If she noticed his hesitance at her name she didn’t let it outwardly bother her.

Leon looked around before answering, trying to see if he could spot Claire anywhere - no luck. Apparently, at this moment, Leon was two things: awkward and incredibly unlucky.

“Ya know, work, family, shopping,” he mirrored Cindy both in his statement and bodily actions. Motioning to the pack of baby bottles in his hands that he had been mulling over he hoped that Cindy would take the hint - Leon purposefully having emphasized the word family.

Yet again, if Cindy noticed she didn’t let it deter her. She placed a well-manicured hand on Leon’s bicep, gently squeezing all the while batting her eyes in what he assumed was supposed to be a sultry manner. Not many things could be taken as sultry when surrounded by pacifiers and burping cloths. 

“I was genuinely surprised when I saw you, and in a baby store of all places. Never would have thought of you as the settling down kinda man. Then, I thought that you were probably just shopping for a friend or a family member, ya know like a shower gift or something. I also thought you’d might want some help, ya know, a woman’s touch. So, here I am” 

At that the hand on his arm began to move up and down, those red-colored nails causing involuntary goosebumps to rise on his skin. Apparently, Cindy had been doing a lot of thinking in the last few minutes. Doing some thinking on his own, Leon came to the realization that he’d used to think he loved the color red on a woman. Now, he realizes that he loves the color red on one particular woman. 

Before he could get a word in to stop whatever was happening in its tracks, Cindy started up again. Her attention had shifted to the things on the self in front of him, finally removing her hand from his arm. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t done with her not so subtle come on though.

“Sometimes I just wish things could have turned out differently between us ya know? Maybe this could have been us together, shopping for our own baby,” Cindy let out a small laugh at her own imagined scenario. 

“I don’t.” He said confidently, happy that the awkward had finally made his way out of his system.

Apparently so had the unluckiness because as Cindy looked up at him, a confused frown on her face, any response she was about to formulate was cut short by a tiny body barreling into Leon’s legs.

“Daddy, Mommy and I saw the coolest candy store and she said that if I’m a good girl then we can go after we're done here! Are we done yet?” Isabelle let out, seemingly in one breath.

Leon laughed, both at his daughter's enthusiasm to curb her sweet tooth and at the look on Cindy’s face. He knew it was rude but the genuine shock was just too good to let slip and she was too wrapped up in said shock to notice.

“No baby girl, we are not done yet. Although trust me, I would much rather be in the candy store,” She looked to Leon as she approached, her next words directed towards him, “their chocolate display was pretty impressive.” 

Leon wanted to laugh at his two girls. Instead, he coughed a little, nodding his head discreetly towards Cindy - an action he knew only his wife would notice.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. How rude of me, I'm Claire and you are?”

Cindy had managed to pick up her jaw from where it had fallen on the floor but still seemed to be too stunned to speak.

“Claire, this is Cindy, an old friend of mine. We haven’t seen each other in a while so when she spotted me from the window outside she came in to say hi. Cindy, this is my wife, Claire, and my daughter, Isabelle.”

Isabelle waved shyly from where she had retreated behind her daddy’s leg. Leon felt that was a little odd considering usually Izzy was a boisterous little girl who loved to talk - even to strangers. Perhaps she was tired, or maybe Cindy just rubbed her the wrong way - he’d heard kids were perceptive like that. It certainly didn’t help that Cindy’s face had been akin to a fish what with all the open-mouthed gaping when both girls had returned. 

“It's wonderful to meet you, Claire.” the tone of her voice said that this meeting was anything but wonderful. 

Still, Cindy held out her hand and the two politely shook. Leon couldn’t help but notice Cindy’s gaze falling on Claire’s hand returning to her noticeable bump as they pulled away. What was left of the color in her face drained and at that moment, Leon could tell that the woman made a tactical decision to save whatever was left of her dignity. 

“Well, I just came in to say hi. Leon looked a little lost on his own but now that I see he is not alone I suppose I should continue on my way. I still have a few stores to hit before I can go home. Congrats, by the way.” Cindy motioned towards Claire’s midsection at her baby bump.

“Thanks,” Leon said, in unison with his wife. 

Cindy turned to leave, giving one more awkward smile before she left - funny how the tables had turned in that way. Leon almost felt bad for her. It was obvious by her comment that she was still searching for the peaceful family life that he was forever grateful he’d found with Claire.

 I just wish things could have turned out differently between us ya know?

That one statement carried so much weight. Leon knew that eventually, Cindy would find the one who was right for her, and together they could shop baby necessities until her heart's content. But, as for him, looking at his two girls fawn over pink and purple onesies meant for his soon-to-be girl number three, he couldn’t say he agreed. This is where he was meant to be - with them. 

He knew he’d do anything for them, follow them anywhere. Even, he thought, overpriced, extravagant, mall candy stores. Although he had to admit, Claire wasn’t wrong about the chocolate display, it was pretty impressive.

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (10/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (50k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 10: Killian Jones, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

Killian only holds back because Emma does; if she gave him any indication, he'd be really reaching into the kiss. She pulls back gently, her cheeks having gone slightly red.

He directs his eyes back into hers to distract himself from the fact that she either enjoyed the kiss a lot, or didn't enjoy it at all. He's about to smile at her when he sees Eloise from the corner of his eye and turns to her. She's looking at them with her typical cold expression that hides a ton of judgement underneath.

He swallows his sigh for Emma's sake; he's so tired of Eloise and her everything. He shrugs at her casually. Did she actually expect something from him?

And if she did, does he care anymore?

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says, hoping Eloise's appearance didn't dampen the mood, and a thought jumps into words before he has the time to stop it. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested...” To do what? Find something to tell her, find something! “We can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts, amused. "Like we're in high school?"

He doesn't have the best memories from high school, but he remembers enough about that awkwardness to know he feels similarly now. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

His stomach nearly does a flip when Emma smirks at him. She reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says. When she picks it up, they both can see that the screen cracked a bit. "Shit!"

"Oh. I feel as if I've caused that." As if he hasn't made things awkward enough.

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

His chest feels warm at the sound of his full name in her voice. He should stop her; even in the slightest chance that she's actually interested, he's not the best person for any kind of connection.

But Emma is quick with her phone and says, "Friend request sent,” and he nearly leans down to kiss her again. “So we can chat about hot, new releases," she adds, still sounding amused.

He's about to ask for her last name. His battery is dying and he probably won't have the time to open the app before his phone turns off, and now that she did add him, his curiosity is skyrocketing.

"Hey," an older woman calls at Emma from the side. The woman looks at him with a slightly cautious glare, and looks a bit alike with Emma.

"Coming," Emma tells her. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, actually pointing at him with her phone.

He just smiles in response, giving her a slight wave goodbye.

Watching them leave, his eye catches Eloise pouting, keeping her arms folded and staring at him from afar. He snorts and takes out his phone, impatient to accept Emma's request and find out her full name.

Instead of the Facebook app, he accidentally opens the camera, just as Klaus Meine walks right by him. He sees Killian, phone in hand, stops walking, and smiles.

"S-Selfie?" is all Killian can say, shocked.

He doesn't even see Eloise walk furiously towards him, his eyes fixed on the perfect selfie he got with the lead singer of the group they just watched perform.

"What was all that about?" Eloise says upon reaching him.

Killian looks at her, retort ready. "That was me taking a selfie with Klaus Fucking Meine."

Eloise scoffs. "You were kissing that bitch."

"Oh, come on,” he taunts her. “You're just jealous you didn't get a selfie."

"I'm serious," she says, her 's' whistling through her teeth.

"Serious? About what? We're just fucking, and you know that. You treat me like a piece of meat and you expect full commitment on my side? Maybe you're thinking of the wrong woman as a 'bitch'."

Eloise is speechless. And he is suddenly feeling powerful.

"You know what? Fuck that. We're done. You drive back to Brighton, I'm not gonna put up with a return trip if you're involved."

"And what are you gonna do?" she spits back at him.

"We're right in the center of town. I can afford to stay in a hotel for one night." He starts leaving.

"It's late! You'll get charged double!" She hasn't even taken a step towards him – she's waiting for him to go back to her.

She can wait all she wants.

He turns towards her, walking backwards. "I don't give a bloody damn," he tells her, then turns forward and leaves.

He leaves her.

How did he forget how calmer his nights are without her? The receptionist doesn't even charge him double – they'd just prepared a room that got cancelled last minute, and providing Killian leaves on time the next morning, it's just the standard price.

The room is nice, yet his mind is still going back to Eloise.

Damn, he left her. He made it.

And all because Emma was bold enough to kiss a damn perfect stranger.

He picks up his phone, now connected to a charger the hotel offered. Emma's friend request is right at the top of his notifications.

He smiles as he accepts.

His first day away from Eloise brings to the forefront how their relationship was way, way more than sex, only in a bad way. How he'd go to sleep some nights, nearly shaking with despair to go buy a bottle and with fear that Eloise wouldn't react well to him doing that. How that bled through to other parts about his life, how he had let her control it, and how she jumped at the chance to do so. He has a full day on his own to reflect on his thoughts and worries with a clear mind.  

It ends on one conclusion; reconciling with family.

Nemo greets him back with open arms, and though Shakespeare keeps a collected face, he embraces Killian warmly too.

He spends the night there, falling asleep at the sight of his old drawings on the wall of his old bedroom. He hasn't picked up a pencil in some time...

Nemo doesn't ask anything the next morning. He's just happy Killian is back and willing to connect, and gets him to try playing chess with him, his new hobby. Killian doesn't even have the nerve to joke about Nemo's apparent mid-life crisis.

Once again, he's being more than Killian deserves. But maybe, once again, Killian can work towards being a man deserving of that love.

Before lunch, he's found himself with a picture of a forest landscape open on his phone, sketching from reference, when he receives a video call from Emma.

His heart speeds up. His hand is shaking slightly as he picks up the phone and looks at the screen, itching to tap “Accept”. He runs to the bathroom, making sure he's presentable, then back at his room, settles on his chair and accepts the call.

Her face fills the screen, and he gives her a cocky smile. She looks fresh from sleep; a different sight from the one in the concert, but what a sight still.

“Good morning,” he says. Is it? “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling wide, “I arrived last night.”

���How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Emma explains about her extended family in Norway, her visits there a few times a year, and being used to long flights.

He finds himself feeling a little jealous. The only two times he travelled abroad brought years of bad fortune on him.

Emma definitely seems to hold something back, but he pays no mind; his closet has no fewer skeletons. They start chatting about music and end up talking about their plans for the holidays.

Time flies by and it's only when he hears Nemo call for lunch that he realizes they've been talking for an hour.

Bloody hell, he thinks, why do they have to eat so early?

He excuses himself, telling her he'll see her soon, and he can't help noticing how she seems to be holding back something again. He hopes he didn't disappoint her, and ends the call.

He looks at her name on his screen and he nearly taps it to call her again.

He locks his phone and puts it down. Wait a few days, give her time, he thinks.

He goes back to his apartment that same evening, and there's a box of the stuff he kept at Eloise's place. He checks the drawers he kept for her, and they're empty as well. Eloise's spare key is inside the box, with a note for him to not bother with his spare key of her place, as she'll be changing the locks.

He actually feels surprised. That's really mature of her, and he doesn't have to see her again.

Maybe that's what she wants too. Better for both of them.

Before he goes to sleep he starts looking for therapists, and though he doesn't contact anyone yet, he considers it a step towards the right direction. He'll get there.

He calls Emma three days later, and before he's even noticed it, they develop a schedule, chatting two times a week. He wishes to talk to her more often, but he still sees the reserved expression he knows too well on her face, and he knows she needs time. Of course, half the time it's her calling him, and she participates in conversation as much as he does.

She wants it, he knows. She's just taking it slow, and if he's honest, he needs slow too. What he had with Eloise may have led to him meeting Emma, but it still had an impact on him – and not that long after he lost the woman he loved, too.

The same afternoon he makes an appointment with a new therapist – and dreading it, considering the pile of information he'd have to give them – he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Killian Jones?”

“Who is it?”

“My name is George Rogers, I'm a private detective. Could you confirm your name, please?”

The detective is looking into Milah's murder. He's – lawfully – found suspicious contacts between Gold, his false witnesses and two now convicted criminals in the States, and he's opening her case. Killian's case too, considering he was assaulted as well.

Killian can barely speak. He'd lost all hope that Gold would receive any judgement from anyone but Killian himself. He thought he'd just have to live with the burden that Milah's murderer walks the streets free until he would grow desperate enough to get a gun and kill him himself.

He agrees to meet with the detective at his office and he looks at his phone when he hangs up, catching his shocked expression on the reflection, unable to even close his mouth.

When Killian opens the door to Rogers' office, he freezes as he sees the man.

Rogers just gives him a warm smile. “Mr. Jones.” Then he nods at Killian's stunned silence. “I know.”

The resemblance is uncanny; Rogers has a few grey streaks and more wrinkles, so Killian feels as if he's looking into what he'll look like about ten years from now. Physically, at least.

Rogers has acquired the testimony Killian gave when he was still at the hospital, and is trying to piece the crime together and prove the two convicted criminals are the two bodyguards Gold had hired that fateful day. With a bit of luck and skill, he can lead them to a confession. They're already in prison and it seems that Gold's finances haven't been going well lately. If he hasn't been keeping his false witnesses content, they may not be hard to persuade.

Rogers excuses himself for a moment, and Killian looks dumbfounded at the chessboard Rogers has set on his desk. Nemo didn't pick the habit up, but Killian did. He starts playing on his own, trying to distract himself from the pile of questions for Rogers and the anxiety that is building up. He doesn't want to let himself hope for Gold's arrest; he won't be able to deal with the result of the case going cold again.

“Do you play?” Rogers asks, nodding at the board.

Killian shrugs. “I started a few weeks ago. I play a bit online to...” He looks up at him, still a bit shocked at their physical resemblance. “You said you opened this case. Why?”

Rogers sits down at his desk. “It's my job. I was hired to look into it.”

“By whom?”

“Confidentiality, mate. I was looking Gold up, and after some digging I found out you had accused him for murder and assault.”

“I tried.”

Rogers shakes his head. “That bastard's a few million pounds away from starting a bloody mob. Hiring a few false witnesses is a piece of cake for him. Unfortunately for him, he can't cover all his sources and expenses. Questions start piling; where did he get all that money, and where are they going to? Especially now that his businesses are supposed to be failing.”

Rogers can't promise anything, but he looks determined to do his best. Killian doesn't allow himself any hope. He focuses on his life; going back to work with Shakespeare, finding a new AA group, starting therapy again, and talking to Emma.

He doesn't realize how much he's changing his own life until Emma points out that he told her once he's an early bird, yet there he is at two in the morning his time, chatting with her. And indeed, Shakespeare was willing to give him a late shift, but Killian didn't mind it that much either. He shifts the conversation to her choice of snack, making a sour face at the pop-tart in her hand.

“How can you eat that thing? It's like sugar-coated sugar,” he teases her.

Emma laughs, saying it's European candies that need a good dose of sugar instead.

With Christmas approaching, Rogers takes time off officially but keeps doing some work from home, and he calls Killian one evening to discuss some details about his testimony.

Killian finds a taxi fast, which manages to avoid all traffic and red lights and he arrives early at Rogers'. He's in a bathrobe and his hair is wet when he opens his door.

“You're early,” he says. “Come in.”

Killian steps in, immediately noticing the girl sitting cross-legged in front of a coffee table, playing chess.

“That's my daughter, Alice. Perhaps she can teach you a couple tricks,” Rogers says, smiling. “I'll be back in a minute.” He disappears behind a door.

“Wow,” Alice says, looking at him. “You do look like papa. He told me so but I didn't believe him.” She turns innocently to her chessboard.

A lump forms in Killian's throat; neither he nor Rogers commented much on their resemblance, but with another person so close to Rogers pointing it out, he can't help the possibilities that fill his thoughts. His deadbeat father had already left two children; what would one more before them change anything?

Could it really be?

“Can I ask you something?” Killian asks when Rogers is done with his questions. “How old are you?”

Rogers looks a bit taken aback. “Forty-five. Why?”

Thirteen years older than him. Which means his father would've been fourteen when Rogers was born. Unlikely, but still...

“Were you born here?”

Rogers sits back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. “Actually, I was born in Seattle, but my folks moved us back to Plymouth when I was five.” He pauses. “Are you curious...” he points between their faces.

Killian shrugs, but relaxes. The possibility of his father, at thirteen years old, travelling to Seattle and impregnating a woman are downright impossible.

“I was also curious, when I found your file and saw your picture. But I see a lot of people in my line of work, and trust me, there is a notable number of almost twins out there.”

Feeling comforted, but still vulnerable, Killian confesses. “It's just... my father was not much of a parent. I wouldn't put it past him to have another child he never mentioned to us.”

“I understand. I can assure you, though, it's just a coincidence.”

“It's also that... my mother's name was Alice.” He smiles at that, though.

“Oh. That is peculiar. But I simply liked the name for my daughter, and it's not like it's a super rare name.” He then turns to look at the clock as a thunder rumbles somewhere not too far. “I'll be making some dinner, would you like to stay?”

“No, it's alright.”

“You can either help, if you want, or keep Alice company as she teaches you tricks.” Rogers rubs at Alice's back, who has come to stand next to her father.

“How long has she been playing?”

“Since before I could read,” she says, proudly crossing her arms.

Killian smiles at her.

“For real,” Rogers says. “She was still in preschool when I started teaching her. That's more than six years of experience.”

“Which is why I always beat you,” Alice tells him.

Killian stands up. “Then I have no hope against you. Thanks for the offer, but you've already done enough.”

“Come on, mate, it's pouring rain outside.”

Killian smiles a little wider. “I have a good feeling about it.”

Indeed, the rain slows to a drizzle and the taxi he calls arrives quickly.

Most of his nights for the past four years have been plagued by the thought that he'd never see Gold pay for his crimes. He had a few nights of blissful calm, either brought by alcohol or the occasional good time the last couple months, but this is the first night that he feels at least relieved. Not confident or hopeful, yet; he knows better than that.

Emma confesses to him that she won't be spending Christmas with her extended family and that she lied to her friends so that they wouldn't cancel their plans for her sake.

He sneakily looks into flights for Boston while he's still on chat with Emma; a cold dread spreads in him when he's reminded of what both his trips to the States caused him.

He goes to bed very late that night, hating himself. Emma needs someone to spend the holidays with, she wants someone, and he's too afraid of his own superstitions to be that someone for her. And the worst part is, he used to be lucky. He knows what's it like to throw caution to the wind and still everything coming out fine. It's the first time in four years that he's started to feel that things have started going well. He's too afraid to push his luck.

He resorts to sending her a collection of his favourite seashells that he's gathered over the years as a gift. He's happy to hear it arrives in time, and he has a celebratory video chat with Emma on Christmas day, going along with her and her pop-tarts.

He regrets not going to Boston, or at least offering to help pay her tickets so she could come visit him, when it's New Years Eve and he has to show a happy face for his family while he knows Emma is all alone.

Just two hours before midnight his time, he takes Nemo's car and manages to find an open toy store. The owner says Killian is the luckiest bastard of the year, as he was about to close for the night. Killian buys a confetti cannon, thanks him, and wishes him a happy new year.

He allows himself exactly two hours of celebrating with his family before he goes to bed. He wakes up at half past four and sets everything up for a surprise celebration for Emma, checking at least three times that he's got his timezones right and it's still before midnight in Boston.

He starts calling her at quarter to five, but she's not online. Then again at ten to five. When she doesn't answer at five to five, he sends her an SMS to turn her WiFi on. As he waits for her to become active, he prepares to tease her for falling asleep on the one night most people want to stay up. He sets into a smug face and calls her immediately after her dot turns green.

His face falls when she accepts his call and he sees her tear-stained face, broken by a sorrowful expression.

“Oh, Swan,” he says.

Emma bursts into sobs. He waits for her, he doesn't give a damn if they miss the countdown, they can do one of their own. As long as Emma is alright.

As her sobs slow down, he feels tears in his own eyes. How he wishes he could reach over and hold her.

What a coward he was. When she wipes away her tears, he gives a silent promise to never let her experience anything like that again.

“Thank you,” Emma says.

Killian looks at the clock he's set up. “It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He sees the smile on his preview turn more cheerful.

Emma looks at him, her smile widening as the seconds go down, contrasting her red and puffy eyes.

Killian pops the confetti cannon, but his eyes never leave her reflection. “Happy New Year!” he says.

“You stayed up,” she says.

“I... woke up,” he admits. “I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

Her face is so vulnerable, and the wish to hold her overwhelms him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she says.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone.” Nor if I let it happen again. “Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

He has a whole array of snacks prepared for his late night with her, but he sets it aside when she says that all she has is the few pop-tarts left from Christmas.

She seems to love them so much. “Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me all kinds and I'll taste them all.”

He almost says 'when' instead of 'if'. But he has to be rational; financially he cannot yet support a trip, and he owes Emma an honest promise only when it's possible.

There's not much he's wanted from life; and by now he's learned to not push for more than he has. But is it too much to think that he's in love with her? That he's reminded what it feels like, to feel his heart full of love and not thirsty for revenge?

Is it too much to hope he can have something with her?

He makes himself some coffee, determined to stay with her until she falls asleep. Her eyes are drooping closed when he takes the phone to the window, to show her the lighter blue streak of the early sunrise. Her eyes are already closed when he sits back and sings Auld Lang Syne to her. When the song ends, he lets a few seconds go by before he calls her name once.

When there's no response, he ends the call and sends her “Happy new year, love,” in text.

The new year arrives promising. Only three days in, Rogers calls him to tell him one of Gold's fake witnesses confessed.

Killian needs to attend two sets of trials; one for Milah's murder, and one for the assault against him. Both are draining, but Nemo is beside him, and Killian bursts into tears when Gold gets life sentence.

He thinks about Milah's boy, Jack; he's barely fifteen years old, and he's dealing with what Killian had hoped he never would; seeing one – or in his case, probably both – of his parents as a monster. Gold had remarried; right after divorcing him, Belle, his now second ex-wife, was the one who had hired Rogers to look into Gold. She attested against Gold in the trial, but she seemed to care a lot for the boy.

Three weeks later he hears that Belle took custody of Jack. Killian is sure the boy hates him already; all he can do is hope his stepmother will care and provide for him.

His heart had stopped aching for revenge, but that doesn't mean it's not relieved that a murderer who chose to ruin him is now behind bars.

And with Emma, it soars. Through those emotionally taxing months, talking to her is his one constant.

Before either he or Emma realize it, their chats become a daily habit, even when there's little to say. Sometimes they just synchronize their Netflix to watch something together. Sometimes just each other's presence there on the phone screen is enough while doing housework.

Killian has completely switched to late shift at Shakespeare's boat rental, so that he can stay up late and talk with Emma after she's done with her shift.

For years, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. His consciousness felt lighter, but his heart still felt empty after Gold was convicted. With Emma, he remembers how it feels like to care for someone that way, the way he did before Gold took that away from him.

Emma is in no way a replacement for Milah; but he knows it's time he moved on, and he can see in her someone he can do that with. Someone he can be happy with. Milah would want him to be happy, as he would want that for her.

Killian shares the story of his family slowly coming apart; his mother dying, his father leaving, and the final straw when his brother died. He tells her how he was nearly lost himself, how he has no idea where he'd be if Nemo hadn't, quite literally, saved him.

Emma shares her story of growing up an orphan, of being adopted and finally feeling she belonged, until her adopted mother was deported and she had to fend for herself, resorting to trusting the wrong person.

It's yet another time that Killian wishes he could reach into the screen and hold her. It could've been him, the one who trusted the wrong person and lost everything. And Emma is still standing on her feet.

He tells her about Eloise, she tells him about having done time – which makes her current standing even more admirable. Where would he be if his lawyer hadn't managed to get him on probation for breaking and entering on that stupid, desperate night?

He tells her about staying off of alcohol. How he'd thought he'd never stay clean for good. What he doesn't tell her is that it happened to be that he got the strength to keep up his sobriety just after he met her.

He loves her, he knows that. And he doesn't think lightly of their kiss at the concert, but he's not sure she's ready to hear she's had such a positive impact in his life.

And all because he was cheerful enough to hum a song and Emma happened to hear it.

With his emotions muddled by the trial, the stress, the anticipation for the results, and eventually the worry for Milah's son, he is surprised to realize it's late April and he can afford much, much more than a trip to Boston, thanks to the eighty thousand pounds he got from Gold as compensation for losing his hand.

He chooses to not wait too long for Emma. He wants her, and he wants to be good enough for her. Even though he'll need time for that, and he feels she's not ready for anything too quick either, he feels excited to meet her again.

When he tells her he's thinking of visiting her in May, she immediately offers her place for him to stay at.

His heart soars, he smiles widely – and Emma's connection cuts off.

When she comes back in, her smile reflects his. It's a relieving conversation that night, to tell each other that they want something more, but that they both need to take things slow. And one first visit can clear the path, so to speak.

He's still slightly nervous to get on the plane; he treated himself to a first class seat, however – not provoking karma by sneaking into someone else's unclaimed seats this time – and he's surprised to be awaken by a flight attendant when they've already landed at Logan Airport. There were apparently disturbances that delayed landing for an hour, and he slept peacefully through it all.

He turns on his phone and he feels a little relieved seeing Emma's message that she would have to be late. At least she wasn't left to wait for him.

He spots her as soon as the automatic doors leading out of arrivals open. She smiles and waves at him.

When they embrace, his chest feels lighter than it's felt in years. He pulls back and looks at her calm, happy face, then his gaze drops to her lips.

She closes her eyes when she pulls up to give him a peck.

~

(A/N: Finally, things start happening! And not just with them getting together at last!)

[nikibogwater]

The City Never Sleeps--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

“Moving to New York City is no easy task, and Douxie's been burning the candle at both ends for the past month in order to make ends meet. Fortunately, he has a family waiting for him every night when he comes home.”

Special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author for beta reading and providing me with the title!

So yes, this is my coping mechanism after the emotional trauma of Wizards. A little Found Family fluff to ease my screaming soul. Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830517

Or under the cut:

Why the hell was living in New York City so expensive?

Douxie had started this latest venture with at least some optimism. Protect the tiny sorceress and keep an eye out for any suspicious magical activity that could point to the return of the Arcane Order, all while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t that different from what he’d been doing for the last nine-hundred years. 

Except for the damn cost of living. 

Arcadia Oaks hadn’t exactly been low-rent either, but at least he’d been able to manage by juggling two part-time jobs and occasionally passing himself off as a streetside fortune teller (humiliating as that was) whenever finances got particularly tight. He’d had plenty of time to do his nightly patrols of the streets, chase down any rogue magical creatures, set new stasis traps, and be home in time to microwave dinner and pass out on his sofa-bed for seven hours before the routine began again the next morning. But New York City was a different monster. 

He’d chosen this place for a few very good reasons. First, it was on the other side of the continent from Arcadia. Provided he’d covered their tracks right, the Arcane Order would have to scour any number of miles of the country before they could even begin to narrow down his position here. Second, the presence of magic in New York City was borderline undetectable. The area was so choked with noise, pollution, traffic, and people that picking out a magical signature from the chaos would be practically impossible. Third, (and perhaps this was the weakest reason, if he was being honest with himself) he had never been there before. Douxie had done some traveling in his centuries-long life, but somehow New York City had never ended up on his itinerary. If he was going to be immortal, he wanted to make the most of it and see the big sights. Up until now, he’d been stuck in Arcadia, trying to keep an eye on the magical stirrings there (and fuzzbuckets, there were a lot of them). Once he was free to go where he pleased, of course he was going to pick somewhere he genuinely wanted to be. 

At least two of those reasons had been good ones, but that didn’t change the fact that paying for a studio apartment in New York City and feeding himself, Archie, and occasionally Nari (she only ate on days when she could not simply absorb energy from the sun) with no high-demand career skills to speak of was a herculean task. He’d had to take on three minimum-wage jobs just to make ends meet, and sleep? Well, he counted himself lucky if he got four hours in a single night. 

Which landed him here, stumbling up to the door of their ramshackle apartment, fiddling with an ordinary keyring in order to keep up appearances should anybody walk by while he undid the twelve magical seals he had placed when he left this morning. He let himself in with a groan, slammed the door behind him, and somehow dredged up enough energy to replace the seals before he slid to the floor, utterly spent. What time was it? He’d gotten off work at 1:30, right? Or was he mixing up tonight with last night? Wait, was today Thursday or Friday? Fuzzbuckets, he could barely string two thoughts together in his head. He groaned again and pressed his fists against his bloodshot eyes. It was pitch black inside the apartment, and the only sound came from the small heating unit in the corner. 

But he wasn’t alone. He felt a familiar form brush against his folded legs, and heard Archie’s welcoming purr close to him. Douxie sighed and blindly reached out, groping for a moment before his Familiar pressed his furry head against his waiting fingers. 

“Did anything happen t’day?” Douxie slurred quietly. At this point, Archie no longer needed him to specify “anything magic related that could potentially be dangerous.” 

“Nothing. All clear,” the cat told him, stepping into his lap. “Though I can’t say the same for you. I haven’t seen such a breakout since the fifteenth century.” 

“What?” Douxie raised a hand to his face and felt his cheek, which was peppered with tiny red bumps. “Fuzzbuckets,” he moaned, letting his hand fall. “Think it’s the stress. I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night.” There were a few minutes of silence as Douxie stroked his friend’s fur, knowing he should move to his mattress in the corner, but too exhausted to care if he just passed out here. 

“Douxie?” 

His eyes slid open as he heard a small voice at his side (when had his eyes closed?) and saw Nari crouched beside him. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, which was comically large on her tiny frame, and a part of him suddenly wished he could afford to buy her nicer clothes. He was her guardian now, he should at least be able to provide her with that. Then again, she had spent most of her considerably long life wearing enchanted armor from the Eternal Forest, so maybe she didn’t care about not having brand-name PJs. Right now, her eyes were sweeping over his face critically, her brow pinching with worry. Oh right, she was probably waiting for him to say something. 

“H’llo,” he mumbled, his eyes closing again. 

“Your aura is so weak,” Nari whispered, her hand coming to rest on his chest above his heart, where she could feel his magic give a pitiful, fluttering pulse beneath her fingers. “You are pushing yourself too far.” There was an element of reproach in her soft voice.

“Got no choice,” Douxie replied. “Have to keep you safe.” He heard her take in a sharp breath as though he had struck her. His lids flew open and he saw her fiddling with her hands and looking ashamed. “I....I didn’t mean...” He forced himself to sit up, pausing for a moment when his vision swam and his brain flopped around his skull like a dying Nyarlagroth. “Nari, this isn’t your fault. I just....It’s hard to make ends meet, that’s all.”

“You came here because of me,” she argued quietly, still refusing to look at him. “Because you thought I would be safe here.”

“I....Yeah. But it’s not your fault the rent’s so high. ‘M fine, I just need to sleep.” He shooed Archie off his lap and somehow managed to get to his feet, though the world spun around him and his knees wobbled like jello. Nari reached out to help him, but he ignored her offer (it wasn’t like she could provide much support, seeing as she only came up to his waist), and stumbled over to the mattress on the floor in the corner, falling onto it with a rough sigh. 

“Your shoes are still on,” Archie informed him, coming to sit by his head. Douxie hummed noncommittally and did nothing. A moment later, he felt Nari untangling the laces of his hightops and sliding them off of his feet. Archie curled up in the crook of his shoulder, his purring filling the wizard’s ears and silencing his disjointed thoughts. Nari draped a blanket over him, pausing for a moment to rest her small hand on top of his uncombed hair. He felt her thumb rub a few circles against his scalp before she pulled away and stood up to return to her own bed on the other side of the room. Douxie was asleep before she’d even crossed the floor. 

*****

Douxie found his eyes opening twenty minutes before his phone alarm was set to go off. He felt oddly rejuvenated for someone who had worked himself to the bone yesterday and only fallen into bed at quarter past two. He double checked the time on his phone, wondering if he’d somehow slept through his alarm. 6:13 am. He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Archie, who was sprawled out next to him, paws twitching as he dreamed. He glanced over at Nari, who was barely visible within a tightly-wound cocoon of blankets, her antlers the only easily distinguishable part of her. He could sense her aura, but it was dim, and scarcely pulsing, which meant she was quite sound asleep. Satisfied with the knowledge that his family was comfortable and at peace for the moment, he slipped out onto the tiny balcony, shivering as the cold embraced him. He left the door ajar a few inches in case Archie woke up and decided to join him, and zipped up his rumpled hoodie, before casting a glance around him.

The sky was a silvery grey, and he knew that the sun was peeking over the horizon at his back. The balcony faced west, and had a less-than-stunning view of a dank alleyway. It was barely wide enough for three people, and nearly half of it was occupied by Nari’s rapidly growing collection of houseplants and herbs. Douxie sat on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him, and leaned back against the brick wall of the apartment building. He gazed up at the slowly lightening sky, mind curiously blank, though not for want of energy. There was something about the stillness of the early morning that put him in a state of silence. Almost as though he were listening for something. 

Or someone. 

His heart twisted sharply in his chest, and for once, he let himself acknowledge it. He’d spent many early mornings like this in Camelot, perched on a battlement, watching the sunrise, waiting for the sound of his master calling him to his chores. Back then, he had dreaded hearing Merlin’s voice, knowing that it would be the end of the brief momentary peace he had carved for himself from the stillness of the morning. But now....Now he’d give anything to hear his master calling his name again. 

Something pressed up against his knee, and he looked down to find Archie’s bespectacled gaze meeting his own. Without a word, Douxie opened his arms and let his Familiar settle into place on his lap. Douxie wrapped him up in his arms, clinging to his presence, suddenly acutely aware of how much his heart was aching, and Archie purred in understanding. The cat was warm against his chest, a physical reminder that although he had lost a great deal these many years, he wasn’t alone.

The door creaked, and Douxie looked up to find a very sleepy-looking Nari stepping out to join them. 

“You’ll catch a cold out here,” Douxie scolded wearily, taking note of her bare arms and legs. She responded with a disinterested hum and rubbed one of her eyes blearily. Douxie sighed and held out an arm to her. She flopped down next to him and curled up against his side, one hand coming to rest above his heart, feeling his magic swirling and pulsing within. 

“Your aura was twisting. You were sad,” she mumbled as he tucked her closer with his arm. 

“...Maybe a little,” Douxie admitted. “I didn’t think you could feel that in your sleep.” 

“Never try to hide anything from an ancient sorceress,” Archie advised from his place on Douxie’s lap. “Especially one who likes you.” Douxie breathed a quiet chuckle and gave his Familiar a scratch behind the ears. There was a moment of companionable silence between the three of them. 

“...You enchanted my sleep, didn’t you?” Douxie said suddenly, looking down at Nari. She shifted, almost guiltily, and nodded. 

“She does that several times a week, actually,” Archie put in. Nari opened her eyes long enough to send him the most resentful glare she could muster. 

“Tattletale,” she muttered. The cat merely shrugged. 

“...Thank you,” Douxie murmured. “I don’t think I could’ve survived this past month without either of you.” 

“We’re going to be okay, Douxie,” Nari said through a yawn. “I believe in you. You’ll find a better job soon, and the Order will never find us.”

“You think?” Douxie asked lightly. The wood nymph nodded sleepily against his chest. “Well, I suppose there’s no arguing with you, is there?” He squeezed her shoulder fondly. 

“You argue with me all the time,” Archie pointed out, turning a few circles and settling more comfortably on Douxie’s crossed legs. “If I were any less gracious, I might accuse you of playing favorites.” 

“Oh, I do play favorites, Archie. You’re my favorite person to argue with.” Archie huffed and flicked his tail, but Douxie knew he was smiling without having to look. 

The mage held his small family close, staring up at the sky that was turning more blue with every passing minute, no longer feeling the pervading chill. He couldn’t say what the future would bring. He couldn’t promise that everything would work out. But he did know, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that he would fight to save the world a hundred times over, work himself until he was nothing but skin and bone,  if it meant he could have more moments like this. 

[vigilantesanonymous]

clean - klaus hargreeves

Diego is your best friend, and he asks you for your help, the one and only favor he’s ever asked of you. The catch? It involves helping his addict brother get clean.

Warnings: addiction, alcohol, mentions of an abusive relationship

Word count: 4900

***

A favor. That’s all that Diego mentioned in his text about why I oh so urgently needed to meet up with him. That’s Diego though, curt, short, and to the point. Elaboration was not his strong suit, never had been. 

“You need to get a real place to live, Diego,” I say, looking around the cramped room that reeks of sweaty dudes and menthol muscle cream. “I mean who are you, Rocky Balboa?”

“Hey, I’m doin’ just fine. Mind your own business,” he snarks, obviously butthurt that I don’t revel in the aesthetic of living in a gym as much as he does. “I asked you here to see if you could do a favor for me,” he says, his tone suddenly shifting to serious. “It’s about my brother.”

Diego Hargreeves, in my years of knowing him, has never talked about his family. I know they exist, from all the splashes in old newspapers about the Umbrella Academy. But he would be damned before actually speaking about any of them. Any time that I tried to tease out some information about the strange family that Diego was apart of, he clammed up, changing the subject to literally anything else. So the fact that he wanted to ask me a favor involving his brother had me start to wonder if Diego had been replaced by a clone, a carbon copy of the man who had erased his family from his life. 

“Which one?” I ask, slightly confused. “One, four, five, or six?”

“Klaus,” he responds. “I um, I really need your help with him.” Diego rubs at his forehead, his go-to body language for when he’s stressed. “This isn’t easy for me to ask you this, but you’re my closest friend and the only person that I really would trust with him. My brother Klaus is a drug addict, and he got caught, again, buying pills off of some loser. I’ve tried talking to him, talked about getting clean and sober, I know a few of our other siblings have talked to him, but nothing sticks. He just won’t listen to us,” Diego says through gritted teeth. “He’s in jail right now, and I’ve been talking to the ADA to see if they’ll let him out easy if he gets clean. But they’re being really strict about it, and they won’t let him out unless someone really helps him get clean. They’re going to make him get checked weekly, make sure nothing new is in his system. It’s going to be rough.”

“So where do I fit into all of this?”

“That’s what I’m getting to.” Diego has never been one to ask for favors, especially not one this grave, and I can tell it’s painful for him to get the words out. “You’re one of the most kind, patient, loyal people I know. If anyone can help Klaus kick this, it’s you. So, I’m asking you if you’ll help my brother get sober.” 

“Diego Hargreeves,” I sigh heavily. I didn’t know on my walk over here that I would be enlisted to become a one woman sobriety clinic, but I owe Diego my life. So anything that he asks of me, I’ll do it.

“I know it’s a lot that I’m asking of you,” he starts, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.

“You know I can’t say no to you, you bastard,” I chuckle softly. “I’ll help your brother. I can’t say that I’m going to succeed, seeing as he sounds like he’s a real pain in the ass, but I’ll help you.”

Diego reaches out and smothers me in one of his rare hugs. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he breathes, giving me a final squeeze. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” I note. “Let’s get your brother out of jail first.”

~~~

Klaus has himself flung dramatically over the bench in the cell, his skinny arms flung to either side of him. Well- it must be Klaus because he’s the only one in the cell. I notice that he has a few tattoos, and more than his fair share of puncture holes around the inside of his elbow. His outfit it… Excentric. A crop top and pants so tight they might as well be painted on him. 

“Get up, asshole,” Diego barks.

Klaus looks over lazily, his energy shifting as he sees his brother. He bolts upright, a grin lighting up his features. “You’ve come to rescue me!” He cries as soon as his eyes fall onto Diego. He then turns to me, his expression becoming more coy. “Well Diego, I didn’t know you were going to bring your side piece. I would have cleaned myself up more for a proper introduction.”

Diego and I both look at each other, disgusted. “There’s no way-” “We’re not fucking-” We say at the same time, which only amuses Klaus more.

“Why’s she here then?”

“She’s going to get you sober,” Diego says with a devilish smirk. 

“Ah, so she’ll be my keeper then,” Klaus grins. 

Diego rolls his eyes. “Look, she’s a good friend of mine, so if you try to pull any bullshit with her-”

“You’ll skin me alive or something like that. Whatever, Knife-Boy.” Klaus dismisses Diego with a wave of his hand. 

“Promise me.”

Klaus raises his right hand, cocking his hip to the side. “I promise, okay? Scouts honor. I will be a delightful little cherub and do nothing except focus on becoming squeaky clean and sober.”

“Good. You better.” Diego gives Klaus a knowing glance before turning back to me. “Okay, he’s in your custody. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” I agree, swinging my keys around on my finger. “Alrighty Klaus, let’s get going.”

Klaus and I walk out into the crisp autumn air towards my car in the jail’s dinky parking lot. Despite the weather, Klaus was arrested in a crop top and sinfully tight black leather lace up pants. He shoves his hands in his pockets, goosebumps littering his arms. He shivers slightly. “If it gets any more cold out here, my nips might show.”

I laugh and shake my head at him, unlocking the door to my car. “That’s inappropriate. I’ll have to get you a change of clothes; I run a modest household,” I tease. 

“Oh wonderful, I can’t wait for our stay together to begin, then,” Klaus says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m surprised that my brother hasn’t tried to steal this car from you,” he notes as he swings himself into the passenger seat. “I don’t know a whole lot about cars, but this looks a hell of a lot better than that shitty vintage beater he’s got.”

“I know,” I reply. I drive a white ‘72 Ford Mustang, and on more than one occasion Diego has commented on how pretty my car is. I stick the key in the ignition, the roar of the engine a sound that never ceases to comfort me. 

“So what’s the plan?” Klaus asks me. He starts toying with the knobs for the radio, switching from one station to the next. “Find a sleazy hotel, snort some coke, have wild sex?” His eyes glitter with mischief as he says this.

“Yeah, don’t you wish,” I retort. 

Klaus huffs, folding his arms and slouching down in the passenger seat to pout. “Well you’re no fun,” he sighs. “Can we at least get some cigarettes and take out for dinner?”

“Why don’t we establish some ground rules instead?” I suggest, laughing as he groans loudly from his spot in the passenger seat. 

~~~

Something I learned very quickly was how feisty Diego’s brother is. Klaus did not take to sobriety well, and made it very clear and is very vocal that he was not going to get clean without a fight. Within the first day, he had cleared through all the liquor I had stored under my bathroom sink (for when I was having a rough day myself). He was suspiciously quiet for how talkative he had been in the car, which made me nervous. And low and behold, when I went into his room to check on him, he was laying on the floor, giggling to himself and reeking of whiskey. I dragged him to the bathroom and forced him to puke (“Kinky,” he slurs as I hold his head up by the hair. “You know, you’re sexy when you take charge like this. Maybe pull my hair a little harder,” he jeers, clearly enjoying making me flustered by flirting with me. “You having fun? This won’t be so funny in a second, smartass,” I snap. Klaus thought it was a great joke until I shoved my fingers down his throat and he starts purging himself of all my booze). 

That was the other thing: the relentless flirting. Whether he was sassy, or he wanted something, or wanted to throw me off guard, or even when he was in one of his sweeter moods, Klaus would always make some kind of remark that never failed to make me blush. After a few days, I should have grown accustomed to it, expected if from him even. But I didn’t, and every time he would say how hot it was that I was taking charge and keeping him from downing as many pills as possible to get high, or when he was shaking and barely coherent and suggesting a sexual exchange in order to get his fix, I would find myself red in the face. I tried to shake it off and chalk it up to him just buttering me up so that he could get what he wanted, but it didn’t always seem that way. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me for a beat too long, his usually mischievous look replaced with something softer. I didn’t really know what to make of it. 

“Ah, there she is!” Klaus cries as I walk in the door. He pops up from the couch a little too quickly for my liking for his current state. He’s so close to being done with the ugly stage of withdrawal- the shaking, sweating, screaming in your sleep and calling me a bitch because I wouldn’t get him something to get high with- stage. It’s made him a little worse for wear; he’s shaky and lightheaded because of the lack of drugs in his body. Only a day or two more and it should be out of his system completely. “My little angel! Did you get any snacks for our movie night?”

I feel my face heat up as I root through the convenience store bag for his cigarettes. “Yeah, and I got you a present too.” I hold them out to him, Klaus eagerly snatching them up like a child on Christmas Day. 

“Oh, bless you and your beautiful face,” he says gratefully. 

“They’re for us to share,” I say as I dump out the contents of the bag onto the counter. Smoking is the only vice that Klaus and I share. Klaus makes fun of me for it, saying that I smoke for the aesthetic of it, whereas he smokes because he’s an addict. I actually picked up smoking to temper my anxiety- the ritual of taking a drag, forcing myself to breathe slowly and surely helps calm me down a lot. 

Klaus leans against the counter, lighting up a cig. He takes a deep drag, letting the smoke tumble from his lips. I stand mesmerized as I watch it tangle through the curls in his hair to the ceiling. The slight tremble from his hands stills as he absorbs the nicotine, and I see as the tension starts to ooze out of him. He takes a few more drags before offering it to me. 

“I really can’t thank you enough,” he says as I take a puff of my own. “That nicotine really hit the spot.” He shuffles over to me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, his facial hair tickling my face as he does. “A token of my appreciation.”

I giggle, playfully blowing smoke at him. “I’m glad I could make your day, Klaus.”

“Well, there’s always something you could do to make my day,” he grins, giving a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. He hoists himself onto the counter, feet dangling. He positions himself over me so he can see what else I grabbed for us. Giggling softly to himself, he leans back lazily as he watches me put things away in the kitchen. “Yeah, I’m pretty easy to keep happy. Smokes, yummy food, and someone to love me.”

Before I could respond, my phone started ringing. Diego, probably prompting me for another update on Klaus’ sobriety. I mentally scream, annoyed that I can’t seem to ever get to the bottom of Klaus’s flirting. Reluctantly, I walk down the hall to answer the phone, wishing the whole time I just would get the courage to deny the call and see what Klause really means. 

*

“Star China is absolute trash,” Klaus says, shaking his head. “I refuse to eat it. We should get takeout from that place that’s called Little Hong Kong or something. Their egg rolls?” He kisses his fingers, blowing it towards me. “Absolute perfection.”

I can never beat Klaus with his antics. They definitely have added to my experience of living with him. He always finds a way to overembelish an interaction, which keeps me on my toes. “Fine, we’ll get your fucking takeout place,” I say with a laugh. “But I want noodles.”

“Wait! I want noodles!” Klaus whines. “Can I have some too?” 

Klaus and I take a few minutes to negotiate what to order, Klaus perched over my shoulder as he reads the menu. His breath tickles my neck, causing my heart to start beating out of control. 

I pay for delivery, Klaus hopping up and down behind me as I gather all the food from our driver and shut the door with my hip. “Thank God,” Klaus moans. “I’m starving. I mean, I could practically wither away with how hungry I am.”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh. “I feed you. It isn’t my fault that you choose not to eat vegetables.”

He snatches one of the boxes of takeout from me, grabbing a fork and heading for the couch. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“I like to be comfy when I eat!” Klaus calls back, already shoveling food into his mouth.

I roll my eyes. He’s always distracted by something, whether it’s Ben talking to him or the TV, which causes him to get crumbs everywhere. But he’s already rooted himself to the corner of the couch, his feet tucked underneath of him as he devours his chicken lo mein. 

“Okay,” I agree, setting the other food down on the coffee table. “But if I find any crumbs someone is picking them all up, and it’s not going to be me.”

“Ben?” Klaus asks, pointing to the chair across from him.

“That’s kind of rude to pin the chores on your dead brother,” I retort. 

“Don’t back him up!” Klaus cries, which only makes me laugh more. I decide to sit down next to him, making it easier for us to share food. Well, that, and I will take any excuse to be close to Klaus. “I was planning on sharing some of this, but now I’m not going to,” he huffs defiantly.

“Oh, come on Klaus. Please?” I lean against him, hoping that batting my lashes will win him over. 

Klaus stops for a second, taking me in. He looks me over and grins, jumping back into his character. “Oh, fine. I can’t say no to a girl as pretty as you.” He twirls some noodles around on his fork, holding it up to feed me some. 

I take the food from him, positioning myself so I’m leaning against him slightly. Klaus moves some of the cushions so that I’m leaning more on him than I am on them. He takes advantage of the way we’re sitting to steal a piece of shrimp from me, his eyes twinkling with delight as I turn to look at him, but I don’t call him out for it. 

“Y’know, out of all of my siblings, I could argue that Diego is the least conversational,” Klaus notes as we sit nestled together on the couch. “So how on earth did a nice girl like you become friends with such a hard ass like him?”

I pick at my noodles, moving them by pushing them into a pile and then placing one on top of the other. “It’s kind of a long story,” I say, not really answering the question. I don’t really want to talk about how Diego and I became so close. Diego’s one of the most important people I know, and I owe him my life, but reminiscing on the finer details of how we developed our bond wasn’t something I wanted to focus on.

Klaus shrugs. “Well, I’ve got time. I’m all ears. I mean, I really couldn't leave if I wanted to. Not that I do, of course.” He shifts closer to me, his bright green eyes locking earnestly with mine. I can’t bring myself to turn him down. He’s looking at me supportively, almost like he knows that there’s something sensitive tied to my friendship with Diego. “I was working at a bar he would go to a lot between calls, or if he just wanted some time off from being a self-proclaimed super hero,” I start slowly. “And I was dating this guy at the time. And he and I move in together, because I’m young and naive and I think that even though there’s a million red flags, that moving in together is going to solve all of our problems. But he starts getting rough with me- real rough. So one night we’re fighting, like top of our lungs screaming at each other, and I just get this feeling like…” I stop to rub at my temples. Thinking back to that night brings back so many memories I prefer to keep buried. “I felt like that was it. He was going to kill me. I don’t really remember how I got away from him, but I locked myself in the bathroom and called Diego, just saying that I needed to get out of there and someone to be with me. I knew the police took too long, and I was scared out of my mind. I went back out of the bathroom, and he was choking me, saying that I would leave over his dead body. And then, in a moment of pure poetic irony, I see a knife sink into his jugular.” I chuckle darkly. 

My mind flashes back to that night, the images reeling like a silent film. I remember how dark it was in the apartment, what little light illuminated his face was starting to blur around the edges as I lost more and more oxygen. And the thick thunk sound as Diego’s knife sunk into his neck. The way he stumbled back, grasping at it like that was going to do anything. Me sinking to the cold, hard floor, coughing and trying to catch my breath. My head pounding, my vision coming back, the feeling flooding into my extremities. And Diego, silently slinking forward out of the shadows as my boyfriend bled out on the floor, his eyes hidden beneath his Academy mask. 

“Good old knife boy,” Klaus chuckles darkly. “I’m sorry though,” he says seriously. “You don’t deserve that. I mean nobody does, but especially not you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, but we both know it’s not. 

Klaus silently pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on my head. I feel small but safe in his embrace. “So how come you guys never got together?” I appreciate his attempt to change the subject, even though it’s one that still makes me feel a little awkward. He tries to sound blase about it, but I feel like there is a twinge of something else to his tone. “Diego is one of my best friends, and I’m forever grateful to him, don’t get me wrong…” I taper off. “I just… I know that he could never see me as anything but the way I was that night. When he saved me. And in some ways, I appreciate how protective and respectful he is to me. But if I’m with someone, I want them to see more to me than just that. I know he couldn’t ever do that with me.”

Klaus hums in agreement. “I can see that. Diego is a good guy, but he definitely takes the vigilante hero role to a whole new level. I think that’s what ruined his relationship with the cop lady-”

“Patch?”

“Yeah! That one.”

“Yeah,” I agree. 

I can tell Klaus is looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t care right now. I feel weirdly distant all of a sudden, like I need some air and space or something. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” I say, almost mechanically. 

“Okay.” Klaus gives my hand a little squeeze. “Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, but I’m sure he doesn’t hear it. 

Thinking about my ex always puts me in a bad place. That’s why I try to avoid it as much as possible. And that’s why I always keep alcohol around. Is it healthy? No. But I’ll be damned if I have to stay up all night with these thoughts and not get any sleep because of him. One thing I got at the convenience store that I didn’t tell Klaus about was the liter of my friend The Captain, Captain Morgan to be exact. I start throwing back shot after shot, making a face as I do, the sting of the alcohol making my mind melt slowly. But after a few, things start to loosen up, relax. And I feel like I can finally sleep because my thoughts are so spaced out, floating loosely in my brain.  

I feel myself bolt upright in my sleep before I fully realize that I’m awake. In my drunken stupor, I realize it’s Klaus screaming in his sleep that’s woken me up. Again. Poor thing, I think to myself. Maybe he needs someone with him right now. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and walk down the hall to his room.

He doesn't hear me come in at all. “Klaus,” I whisper. He stays asleep, his face screwed up with fear.

“No… No…” he murmurs. “Please Dave, stay with me.” 

“Klaus,” I say again, firmer this time. I give him a little shake, to which he gasps as he wakes up, his fingers digging into my forearms. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Fuck, am I glad you’re here.” He whispers it like a prayer. Any of the usual giddiness and antics is gone from Klaus’ usually bright eyes. Instead, he looks scared and exhausted, the kind that builds up from years of torment and pushing down emotions. He releases me from his grip, falling back on the bed with a faint thud. 

“Move over,” I instruct. Obediently, Klaus scoots over so I can fall into bed beside him. 

For once in his life, Klaus is doesn’t have anything to say. I hear him panting, still recovering from his nightmare as I scoot around until I get comfortable. I look up at him to see him staring back down at me. 

“What’s wrong Klaus?”

He looks down, his long lashes tickling the tops of his cheeks. “It was just… A really bad nightmare, that’s all.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

I hold my arms out to him, silently offering to hold him. Klaus accepts, shimmying himself into my embrace. His skin is cold and clammy from sweat and fear. I put my hand on his chest and can feel his heart thumping hard and quick, the way it does when you’re terrified. I feel him trying to relax in my embrace. 

“You smell like booze,” he says softly. I sigh, glad I can’t see his face. Whether it’s a smug smirk of perfect me being not so perfect, or a scowl of disappointment, that was honestly the last thing I needed to see right now. 

I let out a weary sigh before responding. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s been having a rough night.”

“I’m not judging,” he says quickly, almost nervously. “Trust me, I’m the last person who would.” He flips around to face me, snaking an arm around my waist. “If you tell me about yours I’ll tell you about mine,” he offers earnestly. 

“Maybe in the morning,” I suggest. The alcohol is coming back to haunt me, and my brief moment of coherence is wearing off now that I don’t have to attend to the screaming man. I feel tired, and I’m comfortable in bed tucked next to the man that I’ve grown to love. Love. Loving Klaus is a scary thought, but I don’t want to over analyze it in the state I’m in. That could be saved for later. “I promise we can in the morning if you still want to. I’m just, I’m really tired Klaus,” I admit. 

Klaus nods, silently agreeing with me. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’m tired too.” Hesitantly, he nuzzles himself into my embrace, placing his face in the crook of my neck and wrapping his long skinny arms around me. 

~~~

Most mornings, I wake up headache free. This is not one of those mornings. I peel my eyes open, not understanding why I’m not in my own room and why the fuck is Klaus here?!

“I tried not to move around so I wouldn’t wake you up,” Klaus admits as he watches me grasp at my throbbing temples. He must have been watching me for a while, which I find oddly sweet instead of strange.  “How are you doing, sport?” He’s sat up slightly, looking down at me with tender eyes. His dark hair is fluffy and sticking up slightly on one side from sleeping. Klaus is warm too, and I reflexively scoot towards him, he silently shifts to accomodate me. 

“Not well,” I answer gruffly. Then I start to put the pieces together. Drunk me really stumbled all the way to Klaus and slept with him? God, I need to never do that ever again. 

“Someone’s a little cranky,” he teases. “I can’t believe you didn’t share though!”

“Klaus!” I snap. His face falls, immediately sorry. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you all that stuff last night, huh?” He asks softly. “I’m sorry I brought it up. His ghost just keeps following you around though, and he was being so annoying with the accusing and bitching and-”

I sit up so fast that I feel woozy. “Did you just say that my ex-boyfriend’s ghost is following me around?”

“Um, yeah?” He says it so plainly, like it’s common knowledge. “Did- Did Diego seriously not tell you about our powers? They’re kinda like the whole reason that I’m fucked up literally all the time. Both literally and metaphorically.”

“No Klaus, he didn’t mention the powers or the seeing dead people thing,” I sigh. 

“I’m really sorry,” Klaus says softly.

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“I just- I’m sorry that Diego dumped me on you, and that you’re trying to take care of me, and that your ex-boyfriend is a piece of trash,” he says a little bit louder to an empty space in the room. “I know I can be a lot. But no one has ever been this kind to me- well, scratch that. No one has been this kind to me since Dave.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to find the words to tell me what the hell he means. “What I’m trying to say is- You’re a really amazing person. You didn’t have to help me with all of this, getting clean, you didn’t have to come to see if I’m okay when I’m having nightmares.” He slips my hands into his, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the back of my hands. “I like you a lot. Like, really like you a lot. I’ve been really scared of being vulnerable with someone after Dave but, you make me feel not so scared.”

“So all the flirting was real?” I ask. I feel slow, my brain processing what I’m hearing a few beats too late. 

“Of course it was. You’re fucking hot!” He cries, both of us giggling. “Um,” he swallows, flinging back to seriousness. “If you would want to like, be an item, or date, or something… That would be cool.”

I giggle, sliding a hand up to cup his face. He flicks his gaze up to meet mine, his green eyes melting into mine. I lean in and press my lips to his firmly, Klaus immediately melting into the kiss. He makes a little squeak of excitement as I pull him closer to me, grinning ear to ear when I pull away.

“How’s that for an answer?” I smirk.

“I don’t know, I think I’ll have to check again,” Klaus says before pulling me in for another kiss.