#why does it want me to constantly chew the insides of my mouth

[malfoyfarms]

Comfort

JJ Maybank x Pogue!Fem Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Okay this may be self indulgent bc I just had my heart broken by a boy. Also i’ve never written smut before, rip. Not proofread bc i’m working

It was a warm summer evening in the Outer Banks, and Y/n walked back to the Chateau quietly. In the summer she never walked slowly, let alone quietly. She tried to pack her summers with as much adventure as she could, no matter how sleep deprived she was. Her grandfather always said that she could sleep in the winter. 

The hole in her chest was growing, she felt heavy. Her mouth was dry, nose was running, and she kept looking up at the sky trying to make the tears go away. Stopping for a moment against a tree, she took a deep breath, “You were just fine without him, you are just fine without him.” 

Her friends always used to tease her that she was too much of a “lover girl,” falling a little bit in love with anyone, everyone she met. She just felt so stupid. Kiara had warned her about the boy that had mysteriously shown up one day and gave her the world. Sure it could have been the start of something wonderful, he was the original one to show interest, so that had to have meant something. 

By the time she had actually made it to the Chateau, she had swallowed her sadness. She put that award winning smile on, and was ready to be her normal self. Walking in, the girl threw her bag into her normal spot, and made her way toward the jetty. She passed out greetings and hugs and jokes as if she wasn’t just trying to get herself to breathe a few moments ago. 

The pogues could tell something was off. They could tell she had been upset by the way her eyes were glossed over. But Y/n was closed off, no amount of prying would get her to reveal what was going on inside. That’s just how she worked. John B tried to cheer her up by throwing her in the water, Sarah just offered her a small smile and a compliment on her swimsuit. One she was now going to donate because he had told her just how gorgeous she had looked in it. 

JJ offered her a Twisted Tea blueberry, her favorite, but she only took a few sips over the entire afternoon on the boat. She knew if she became intoxicated, there was no stopping the feelings, no covering up. 

“Lover girl, you headed out tonight?” John B asked as they started collecting money to buy pizza for dinner. 

“Uh, n-no actually. Here’s $10 for dinner,” she quietly pulled a ten out of her bag, and the others watched her silently. Y/n was always peeling out around this time, ready to experience some romantic rendez-vous with her beau. 

“I’m not letting you pay $10 when you’re gonna eat maybe a piece of pizza,” John B argued back.

“JB just take my money!” all eyes were on her, “It’s less y’all have to pay anyway.” 

To avoid any confrontation, she walked up to the house to get her sweatshirt. The air hadn’t changed, still as hot and sticky as before, but the girl knew without the protection from the hood of her sweatshirt everything would be too real. 

God, while the sweatshirt provided a small amount of comfort, it brought back more painful memories than it needed to. She could smell her perfume, one that he thought was just to die for, the chewed up aglet that he would constantly take out of her mouth and say “relax.” There were still no notifications on her lock screen. She kicked her backpack with all of her might. 

“Mama,” she slowly turned around. “Why are we kicking the living fuck out of our backpack.”

The smug look on her best friend’s face made her lip shake and tears come sprinting to the front of her eyes. JJ’s expression quickly changed when she started to come towards him with open arms. 

“I knew there was a reason you didn’t chug your Twea.” 

The girl quietly shook in his arms as he guided her to his room. “You’re allowed to cry, you know, I won’t tell anyone.” 

“No.” Her voice wavered. “I-I just want a distraction. Can you give me that?” From the way she was laying next to JJ, to the doe eyes, she was achieving exactly what she wanted. JJ pushed the hair out of her eyes, lingering his fingers just long enough on her jaw to indicate he was going to falter. And falter quickly. 

Y/n closed the distance between their faces. Her lips locked intently around his, becoming the dominant mouth. JJ pulled her back just long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes before kissing her back hungerly. 

Her hands wandered under his shirt and up his back, feeling every knot in his muscles, but settling on one right below his shoulder blade. Their lips stayed latched together as she began to massage the knot. JJ’s hands similarly mimicked her motions but he settled on her hips. His first two fingers found themselves tangled in the side strings of her bikini bottom, while his thumb and last two fingers found themselves squeezing her love handles. 

Small, breathy, almost inaudible moans escaped from her mouth as JJ guided her hips against his torso. His other hand buried itself in the nape of her neck, pulling her hair to force her chin up as he nipped and kissed at her neck. Her perfume made him absolutely and unequivocally feral. He hummed against her collar bone, feeling her body snap towards him. She was dying for friction. For contact. Anything to smother the weight in her chest. 

Never had he imagined when he volunteered to go talk to the pogue, he’d be up close and personal with her. 

His fingers untangled from the strings, and pulled leg up by the thigh. He gently ghosted his fingers over her most personal spot, feeling wetness and the small whimper against his neck. 

Y/n’s dainty hand guided his hand to touch her where she needed attention the most. He followed her advances and pushed the fabric to the sides. One quick swipe of his fingers to gauge her readiness and then he pushed two fingers in. She was rolling her hips and clenching around JJ’s fingers almost rhythmically, like he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. He pressed on her clit, adding pressure to her.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong,” he questioned, pressing down heavily as he ended his question. A hiss slipped through her lips. “If you make me cum, I won’t have any.” 

Her hand stalked down JJ’s swim trunks, trying to determine how big he was. His penis became still and hard as her fingers circled the shaft. He bucked into her palm, looking for his own friction. After a few particularly hard presses on her clit, she began to let up on her hand job. Too immersed in chasing her own high.

JJ couldn’t remember the last time he had been this turned on, this quickly. He’d only been on solo missions recently, eyes always eyeing one specific prize. 

Finally finding the courage, JJ flipped her underneath him. While placing sloppy kisses on her collar bones, he ground his hips into her. Both letting out soft gasps from the pleasure of pseudo-sex. 

“JJ, please.” she mumbled. “Put him in. I need it.” She took it upon herself to untie the bikini bottoms, trying to quickly find the friction again. JJ nearly came at the girl’s begging. 

He then found himself ripping his trunks off at lightning speed. Y/n took his cock and lined it up with her entrance, teasing JJ with her slit. He waited for her nod, and then slid himself in. He let out a small breath at the feeling of her warm insides around him.

“J, move,” she begged. He began long, slow thrusts into the girl, trying to make every second count, trying to keep from finishing in her like it was his first time. JJ could immediately tell she needed more stimulation. He pulled out, and waited for her to open her eyes. 

“Turn around mama, lay on your stomach.” Doing as she was told, she opened her legs impatiently waiting for his re-entry. 

JJ did as he promised, sliding in with a faster pace. He slowly pulled her ass towards him, up in the air. He could feel her clenching. She was so close. JJ had her body mirroring his, her back flatly against his chest. His one hand played with her front as his other held her by the neck to his. 

“I’m s-so,” she squeaked. “So, close.” As she finished her sentence, her thighs shook, her walls clenched around his dick, and nails dug into his forearms. 

This lethal combination sent JJ spiraling, releasing his load into her before he could even think of pulling out. Her body went limp as JJ rode out the rest of his orgasm. 

As their bodies separated, he then spun her around to hold her close. Even with his cum dripping out of her, he wanted to make sure she was okay. 

“Are you okay?” He looked down at her, trying to avoid looking at the trail of each other down her legs. 

“No,” he panicked. Had he crossed a boundary? Broken something good in a weak moment? “You just started an addiction.” 

Relief flooded his body. “Good, because I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

[rossithepixie]

ROSSI ROSSI ROSSI !! could I pretty please have 5 and 10 for omegaverse churomu?

Ahhhh hiii, minnie! (i say as if we aren't having an active conversation in a different app)

omegaverse selfship asks

5. if applicable, where are your favorite places to scent one another?

So related to their scents and indeed part of scenting is I like to chew on the wrist of chuuya's gloves when we're sitting together and I do something similar to Osamu's bandages around his wrists. The fabric in those spots really holds onto their scents since it's constantly right over top a scent gland. Osamu thinks it's cute and is indulgent about it chuuya sometimes treats it like i'm being a bit weird, at least the desire to chew, "stop fuckin' chewin' on them do you have any idea where those have been??" he certainly does since he's been wearing them to work all day and that's why he doesn't want them in my mouth. "Didn't you get your tongue pierced so you'd stop putting random shit in your mouth??" "Not random if it's you, chuu."

Speaking of wrists Chuuya does often press brush the inside of his wrist against mine, though since we're the same height he'll lean in quickly to scent my neck as well.

Dazai is very overt with how he scents me, in a way it just comes across as PDA which is probably one of his more alpha traits coming through. Will often slide the scent glands in his wrists over the ones in my neck as he wraps his arms around me while nuzzling his face into my hair. Will slouch and lean into me if we're sitting together so he can nuzzle and scent my neck. Surprises some people who care to notice by not trying to cover chuu's scent, but that's mostly because most people assume chuuya to also be an alpha.

when it comes to eachother Dazai and chuuya tend to only scent eachother intimate moments or in more subtle ways. The most telling thing is when the three of us get together and they eventually refresh their bonding bites to which they occasionally scent eachother there.

10. have you or your f/o ever taken any form of suppressant/medication? are you currently taking any?

Dazai: doesn't take them? Doesn't seem to have terrible ruts and doesn't see much point.

Chuuya: heavy suppressants. Most people assume he is either an alpha or beta between his personality and the suppressants he's on. Break through heats fucking suck for him.

Rossi: Yes. Mild suppressant that are more of a birthcontrol than anything, meant to all for mild heats

I got so wordy, minnie!

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 2

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 2

Warnings and such: some angst, especially sibling, talks about shitty past, stalker?, mentions of scars, jokes about dying and poor driving....?

--------------------------------------------------

“And yesterday I met you. I think that’s all there is to tell.”

I don’t know why, but opening up about my life and talking to Lee felt like second nature, like the easiest thing to do in the world. It shouldn’t be, I don’t think. Despite feeling like I had known him for years, it had hardly been 24 hours. Maybe it was in the way he listened, how his eyes constantly flickering between me and the road. Or how he’d smile and nod along as I spoke, interrupting to ask questions or confirm that he was still following along with the people and places I spoke about. I never imagined people like that actually existed, not outside of the books I read at least. 

“That’s some heavy shit, not going to lie.” He chucked, pulling into a gas station. “But you seem to be handling yourself well, I’ll give you that much!” 

“Thank you? I think?” I laughed, getting out too. I watched him, again, as he got gas and walked circles around the parking lot. He was easy to watch- in a non-stalkerish type of way. 

“You hungry?”

“Ummm…”

Lee laughed, pointing to a dinner behind me. “I know better.” The idea of Lee eating regular food seemed like a foreign concept. I don’t think I can ever recall a time where my mother ate “people food,” outside of coffee and some junk food she had shoved in the back of the kitchen cabinets. I was learning, at an alarming rate, that I knew nothing. 

“You’re turn,” I smiled as we sat down to dinner.

“My turn?”

“Lee! Come on, tell me about you.” He chewed his food slowly, avoiding eye contact with me as he did. 

“Can it wait? Until we’re back on the road.” I tried to glare at him in a non-threatening type of way, if that was even possible. He smiled, holding a pinky out towards me. 

“Fine.” I turned his hand over, taking in his tattoos for the first time. “How about those? Can we talk about those now?” He laughed, taking his hand back.

“Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. I did them myself. When I was younger. For no reason at all…I was just bored. Why? You want one?” 

“I’ve thought about it…”

So we talked about tattoos, and hair and piercings…all the things teenagers toyed with and were typically done with by our age. As it turns out, the pink hair was actually supposed to be red, but he could never keep up on maintaining the color. ‘So pink it is.’ 

I learned 3 things about Lee over dinner;

The first was that he had an appetite. This boy could eat, and would eat, anything you put in front of him. He must have the metabolism of a God. He was probably, what? 140 pounds, soaking wet?! 

The second was that he was an absolute riot. He wasn’t loud, per say- quite soft spoken and monotone actually, but he could find a way to crack jokes at every word that came out of my mouth. Some of them were great- we were doubled over in laughter, drawing attention to ourselves a few times over the two hours we sat inside. Other times, the jokes were really, really lame. I’m talking kindergarten level knock knock jokes, but the way he told them…you had to laugh. And boy, did he have a beautiful laugh! 

The third was that he was unfavorably kind. This was more of a judgment call on my part, I don’t know that he would ever admit to being a kind person, considering what he was, but I thought he was kind. He held doors for me, let me order first, and asked if I had enough to eat more than once. He was overly pleasant to the waitstaff, though I saw nothing wrong with that, and he even asked the entirety of the dinner if anyone wanted the last piece of peach pie before he took it. I mean, who does that?!

“Alright mister,” I turned my full attention towards him once we got back in the truck, back against the door, feet on the seat. He turned down the radio and cleared his throat. 

“There’s not a whole lot to tell, I’m just going to say that now.” I nodded.

He talked. It was a drawn out story with bare bone details, and I could tell he was reluctant to share anything too personal, but in the moment it didn’t seem to bother me. I didn’t push him for details- I was just happy to hear him talk.

His voice stirred confusion throughout my body. Lee was human, of course he was, but I think he went his whole life believing he was a monster, or at least that’s how other people would see him. I couldn’t bring myself to see him that way though, outside of the cannibalistic tendencies, he and I shared very similar experiences growing up. The monsters I’ve read about in stories, the real ones you heard about on the news- they all had tragic backstories of abuse and neglect and abandonment. Lee didn’t get along with his dad, but he had a sister, a mother, aunts and uncles…never any real friends to speak of, but I didn’t either. I don’t know if any of that made it easier or harder on Lee to be ‘what’ he is, but I thought him to be far from a ‘bad person.’ 

We rolled to a stop at an intersection in the middle of nowhere. The red glow brought me out of my thoughts, my attention back to the boy at my feet. He yawned, looking around. I don’t think either one of us had realized how late it had gotten, and we didn’t make plans to stop somewhere. We’ll have to get better at that. Lee stuck his head out the window, like a dog, and smiled. 

“How do you feel about sleeping outside?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing here, I’m not sure where else to stop. We could find a nice spot to park, sleep under the stars?”

“Okay…” I hesitated, not sure if he was being serious or not.

He was serious.

We found a quiet spot at the edge of a field a few miles up the road. We pulled out our bags and the few small blankets we’ve collected and piled into the bed of the truck. Lee handed me the keys and a flashlight. 

“Gracie?” He muttered, trying to get comfortable. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could stop in Kentucky? I promised my sister I would teach her how to drive…”

Domestic.

“Of course we can!” He smiled and rolled over without another word. 

I sat on the tailgate and tried to read. There was only a few chapters left in my book, but it was my last one and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I’d find somewhere to get another one. The stars were beautiful. I was beginning to regret not sleeping in the bed of my truck before tonight, I had always slept in the cab, too scared to be out in the open and by myself. But I wasn’t alone anymore. I had Lee. 

******

“How long will it take to get to Kentucky?” I asked, watching as Lee’s fingers traced over the map. 

“If we don’t stop anymore than necessary, we could probably make it by tonight. Or tomorrow morning if you wanted to raid a bookstore along the way.” I smiled at him, eyes returning to the road.

The drive was long, but otherwise easy. Lee sang to every song on the radio, belted at the top of his lungs to his favorites, and groaned at every commercial. It reminded me of a road trip with a small child, except this was far more enjoyable.

We had to stop for gas one more time before the sun went down, and decided that this would be it for the day. We found the cheapest motel and walked across the parking lot to a convenient store for dinner. 

“You know, this is considered a delicacy in some areas.” Lee grinned, holding up a can of spaghettios. 

“In this area, we respect spaghettios!” I beamed, snatching the can from him and tucking it under my arm.

Lee continued looking up and down the aisles, but I could tell that he wasn’t excited about anything. There was something else on his mind. I could see it, the way he watched everyone who walked past him in the store. I’m not sure how often eaters eat, but maybe that’s what it was? Lee and I had been together for almost a week…

I slipped around the corner, gitty to find the last box of exactly what I was looking for. I returned to Lee, who was still watching someone at the front of the store. I stuck the box in front of his face and smiled. 

“Really?” He laughed. I nodded excitedly. “Will you do it for me?” The question caught me by surprise, it was an innocent request but seemed so…personal? Intimate almost? 

“Okay!” 

We perused the store for a little while longer, but Lee seemed to be more distracted than he had even when we walked in. I figured I would ask him about it later, when the only people who could hear us were the ones on the other side of the paper thin walls of the motel room. Strangers. People we would never meet face to face. Who cares what they thought. 

I noticed an old man who was watching Lee and I intently as we checked out. Lee must have noticed him too, because as we were leaving and the man made a step towards us, Lee put a hand at the small of my back and rushed us across the parking lot.

“Go. Go.” he whispered. The door slammed behind us and Lee locked it quickly, peeking behind the curtain.

“What?”

“That guy…” he started, dragging a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

“Like, recently?”

“More than once. I can’t be sure though. He’s one of us- he’s like me, I mean. I could smell him.”

“Lee…” He began pacing in front of the door. He took a deep breath and stopped. “Do you think we should leave?”

“No,” he sounded much more confident this time. “We’re almost to my house, if I see him again…we’ll deal with it.” 

I nodded…not knowing what else to say. I tried to recall if I could smell someone like that too. I could smell Lee, he smelled nice… but I’m not sure if that was the same thing or not.

“Ready?” He asked, taking the box and walking towards the bathroom. I jumped up in excitement. 

“Look down, you’re too tall.” I laughed, reaching for the top of his head. 

“Have you done this before?” He walked away, sitting on the closed toilet seat. 

“It’s hair dye, not rocket science!”

“That’s a no!” Lee laughed. I looked around the bathroom, everything was smeared with a bright red hue, like someone had been- I stopped that thought, turning my attention back to what I was doing. 

“I think that’s all of it.” I smiled, taking a step back to look at him. 

“Are you sure? There’s still some in the bowl…” 

“There’s always extra, you should know that!” 

He chuckled softly, standing to look at himself in the mirror. He looked rather impressed that I didn’t get any on his face. I was impressed too. He smiled at me in the reflection, watching as I took off the cheap gloves and tossed them in the trash. 

“Gracie,”

I looked up. Lee was standing within arms reach, the rest of the hair dye on his fingers. I nodded, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks. He stepped forward, and grabbed a strand of hair from the underside of my head, fingers ghosting against my skin. He smeared the chemicals in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was more left over than I thought there was, so I allowed him to dye a section in the front of my hair too- a section that would be more visible. 

He looked so proud of himself. 

We sat down to dinner and a movie, the comfortable silence engulfing me like a fire. I was starting to love it… I checked my watch and nudged Lee towards the bathroom to wash out his hair. He took a shower, emerging a short time later with the ends of his curls now a bright shade of red. 

“Not too bad!” He smiled in the mirror. 

“Oh my god!” I stumbled to my feet, walking towards him. 

“What?!” He immediately tried to look at the back of his head. I reached him and grabbed his arm.

“Adam, Eve and Steve?!” I laughed at the tattoo on his shoulder. He stilled for a moment under my touch. “I love that!” 

Until now, I hadn’t seen Lee shirtless. Not that I thought it was a big deal, but it let me find my new favorite tattoo of his. I could guess that it was a jab at sexuality, his or otherwise, but it was funny. A continuation of the jokes he loved to make. My fingers trailed lightly down his arm, not realizing that I was holding onto him the way I was. I selfishly let my eyes wander over his body, a well healed, but good sized scar on the left side of his chest. A bite. I reached to trace it, stopping when Lee took a deep, shaky breath. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, hands dropping from his body entirely. 

****

I tried desperately to peel my eyes open, the sun pouring into the room was overwhelming. There was rustling beside me, Lee was peeking out the window again. I watched him, assuming he didn’t know I was awake. This was quickly becoming my favorite way to pass the time. 

“You could take a picture, it would last longer.” He smiled, looking at me over his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” I yawned, looking around the room. Lee’s bed hardly looked slept in, or on. I worried that he had spent the whole night in front of that window. 

I stumbled to my feet, crossing the room without an ounce of grace in my body. Oh, the irony. I smiled at the new red strands in my hair. I quite liked them, actually. Not to sound all metaphorical and english-teacher like, but it felt like something that sort of…tied…Lee and I together. One in the same, but still different. 

“We should go, when you’re ready.” Lee spoke, standing behind me and pulling me from my thoughts. 

We only had a few short hours until we got to Lee’s house, nothing in comparison to the hours we had put in over the last two weeks. I was worried that things would be awkward, or that he would bring up the small moment we shared last night, but he didn’t, and I think I was grateful for that. 

“This is my aunt's house,” he said, pulling into the driveway. “She died a few months ago, so it’s empty. We can stay here. I live just on the other side of that plant, but my mom she’s…” He shook his head and smiled. 

“Say no more!”

“I’m going to go take Kayla driving…hopefully I don’t die!” 

“She can’t be that bad!”

“You’re right, I survived your driving-”

“Lee!” I swatted his chest playfully. 

“Any requests for dinner?”

“Are you cooking?” I raised an eyebrow at him, looking towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not! But we got about everything in town. Just can’t be seen hanging around…do you need to know why?”

“Nope!”

“So?”

“Surprise me?”

Lee smiled. “Lock the door, keep the lights off! Snoop around if you want, fuck if I care. I’ll see you in a bit! Hopefully!” 

I snooped. I didn’t see any reason not to. It was clear this was something that didn’t bother Lee, he snooped through people’s things all the time- dead people for that matter. The more time I spent with Lee, the more questions I had about being an eater. My mind was still unwavering, there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to experience any of that for myself, but I had questions nonetheless. I wondered how much Lee would be willing to divulge, if it wasn’t anything “personal.” 

I found a box with old photos and sat on the floor to look through it. These were all strangers, I didn’t recognize anyone in the photos, but they seemed to have a happy life. About halfway through the box I found a photo of a little boy, his smile screamed familiarity. Baby Lee! There was a stack of photos of him at Christmas and his birthday parties, at halloween and on a bike. He didn’t look much older than 10, but after that they stopped. No pictures of him at any other family events, school functions, carnivals…nothing. Maybe it all started around that age. Does his family know? They must know…or they don’t and that’s why he still sees them?

“Gracie!” Lee called from the door. I had lost track of time, the sun was setting and the street lights were coming on. “Food’s getting cold!” 

“How did it go?” I asked, watching him pick at his food. 

“Minimal deaths- could have gone worse.” He smiled. “Actually Kayla-”

There was a loud banging on the door, followed by a woman yelling.

“Lee, I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door.” I looked at Lee who simply rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. “Come on you asshole. Open the goddamn door!”

“Speaking of the devil!" He whispered. "Kayla, fucking chill!” He opened the door and a short girl with bright blonde hair came barreling in, shoving him back until he hit the wall. I stood in the doorway. 

“I found the note you left me, you’re leaving already?!”

“It’s just for a little bit, I’ll be back. Chill!”

“Why the fuck do you do this!” She continued to yell. “You’re just like dad you-” She stopped, finally noticing me. “Who are you?”

“Kayla, this is Gracie. Gracie, this is my sister. Kayla.”

“Hi-”

“Fuck you, Lee!”

“Outside, Kayla.”

“No! You-”

“I wanna talk to you outside.” Lee sighed through gritted teeth. “Please, just go outside.” 

My mind flashed back to the night I met Lee. To the drunk man in the grocery store and everything that followed afterwards. I could hear them arguing outside, but couldn’t make out what was being said. I sat down and waited, not knowing what else to do. 

“Fuck you, Lee!” Kayla yelled, and I could see her storming off towards their house. 

Lee came in, stress and frustration radiating off of him. His body temperature alone raised the temperature in the house a few degrees. He shed the button up he was wearing and I could see him sweating. His sister must really get under his skin. Either that, or just being back here was a lot. His leg bounced restlessly as he sat and tried to steady his breathing. 

“I think we should go…” he sighed. “She’s probably going to tell my mom I’m here and I just…I don’t want to deal with that right now, you know.” 

Dinner was abandoned, Lee grabbed a few things from the house and we set off once again. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, sitting idol in the driveway for a moment. I slid closer to him, hand resting on his. 

“It’s okay,” I tried to sound reassuring. “Siblings are supposed to get under your skin.”

Lee chucked softly, relaxing his shoulders. “Can we make another stop? Before we go?” 

“Of course.”

We drove to the far part of town, to a slaughterhouse. Lee smiled, parking the truck and turning off the lights. 

“What are we…”

“I used to work here over the summers. I wanna show you something.”

I followed him, over fences and railings and through doors. Lee knew this place like the back of his hand. He didn’t seem worried about getting caught. I guess there was only one security guard and he was old. ‘Deaf in both ears,’ as Lee put it when I asked. We ran down a few dark hallways until we reached a cafeteria. 

“Lee?”

“I can’t get into the safe, but they keep petty cash in the lockbox. Stand guard?” He ran through the back, returning a moment later with a good size stack of money and handed it to me. “You’re the bank.” He smiled breathlessly. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Of course not! Come on.” He grabbed my hand and we were off again.

In the back of the plant there was soft music playing, and the distinct sound of cows. It was sad to think about, but otherwise peaceful. We climbed to the top of the walkway and sat, our feet dangling over an empty pen. 

“I used to hide up here a lot.” Lee smiled, looking around. I could see why. 

Comfortable silence. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Hmm?”

“You look like you wanna say something- ask something, so speak.” 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” 

“Deal.”

“What’s it like?”

“To work here?”

“No,” I laughed, picking at the skin around my nails. “Eating…to have to do the things you do.”

“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I wouldn’t know…”

“It’s kind of like predator versus prey meets natural selection. I can’t speak for other eaters, and maybe your mom did it differently…but for me…I try to only pick the people who aren’t worth saving.”

“Saving?”

“Yeah. Like the guy in the grocery store when we first met? No one’s gonna miss him.” Lee laughed. “Only men, not married, no kids…”

I nodded. There seemed to be a method to who Lee “picked.” It wasn’t just a random, spur of the moment decision, but something he calculated meticulously in his mind. He didn’t want to hurt anyone- he didn’t want someone’s wife waiting for him at home, or some kids wondering where their dad was. Lee was kind like that- if there was a way to be kind in all of this. 

My hand found Lee’s, lacing our fingers together carefully as I found the courage to ask the next question. He seemed to sense this, and squeezed my hand gently.

“Do you remember your first time?”

“Yeah, it was with this girl when I was like 16? She was hot-”

“Lee!” I laughed, leaning into his shoulder.

“I was…10? Maybe? I don' t even remember if that was the first, but it's the first I remember. It was a babysitter. I don’t remember why I did it, or how it started…but I remember feeling this kind of rush- the blood vessels popping you know. I felt like a superhero. Until it was over anyway. I remember knowing what I did was wrong, but I wasn’t sorry…if that makes sense. I think I was upset that it was a girl.” Lee sighed, “I liked her too- she was good with kids!”

“So, do your parents know?”

“My dad does. He's one too, but I didn’t know it at the time. He umm,” He reached for the scar on his face, stopping himself and hoping I didn’t see. I did. “He made sure I wasn’t going to tell anyone. And I didn’t. For 12 years.” He smiled at me before chewing on his bottom lip. 

I let go of Lee’s hand, offering him my other one as I reached up to card my fingers through his hair. I tucked a few pieces behind his ear before he finally looked at me with the softest expression I had ever seen on a person. 

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” he spoke, barely above a whisper. I smiled but shook my head. 

“No, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

My fingers rested on the back of his neck, eyes glancing between his and his lips. I pulled him gently towards me, waiting for a sign of protest. There wasn’t one. It felt like an eternity before his lips ghosted against mine, the faint smell of his last cigarette on his breath. He was…intoxicating. I gave him one final tug towards me and with it, time stopped. He kissed with such caution and softness. Nothing was rushed or ravishing and breathless. I supposed I had expected something more, but found myself much preferring this than the visions I had of how this was going to happen. 

Everything I knew about him, and all that I thought I knew came to life in that kiss. I wanted this feeling for the rest of my life-

Oh, shit!

Lee pulled away, his forehead resting on mine, eyes still closed. I didn’t have to look at him to see the smile on his face. I could feel it radiating off of his body. Our fingers were still intertwined, squeezing each other carefully. There was a loud ‘moo’ from one of the cows below us, causing both of us to jump slightly. He groaned, staring at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to commit this to memory. 

“We should go,” he finally sighed. 

“Where to next?”

[bunnakit]

last twilight episode 4 thoughts, feelings, etc.

as always, i'm just some foul mouthed gremlin online.

holy shit. the episodes keep hitting us like a truck immediately.

do you think Mhok's hands smell like jasmine? do you think someday in the future they'll lay in bed at the end of their day and Day will hold Mhok's hand gently to his face, press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, and smile because Mhok smells like jasmine from all the blossoms he has picked for him throughout their time together?

sorry, i'm mentally ill. anyway.

the correction from boss to friend, oh fuuuuuuck. and Mhok asking Day if he's coming with - once again as Mhok always does he gives Day a choice and make sure Day is an active participant in his own life. kissing him on the forehead, Mhok you're doing such an amazing job as a caretaker. you're not perfect, but fuck you're better than most trained professionals i've seen to be honest. and Mhok doesn't just turn the radio on for Day, he guides Day to turn it on himself. UGH. UUUUGH.

I can't look at you, look into your eyes, or confront you

Oh. Ough the pain is unending and forever. Day quite literally can't do those things, even if he reaches that point emotionally where he might want to. Life is great because there are so many vegetables you can saute, but also, the horrors.

Once again, Porjai and Mhok's friendship is so important to me. Porjai is just so important to me (ignore the fact that I'm half in love with her fuck she's so beautiful-) it's so important for Mhok to have this support system and this friendship and UGH. I'm so glad there's no fallout from the fight.

AND AGAIN HE ANNOUNCES HIMSELF TO DAY. Mhok does this every single time he returns to Day's side, he very rarely forgets to announce himself to Day. He's so fucking good about it.

AND DAY ONCE AGAIN TRYING TO ESTABLISH HIMSELF AS A FRIEND. AND MHOK'S SMILE. CHEWING THROUGH MY DESK.

I also love Porjai not making assumptions of how she should act, she just asks Day what she should do to make him comfortable. Punching my desk, punching my desk, punching my desk. It's so funny how these complete strangers to Day have treated him with so much more dignity than his own family (however, it is difficult for family to navigate a newly disabled family member because there is this inherent need to protect and sometimes that protection goes too far into coddling, so I don't want to shit on his family constantly. It's a really tricky situation to navigate for the people closest to you.)

His voice is like the scent of cigarettes.

I'm never writing fanfiction again because nothing I write will top this, hey Day what the fuck. I also think this is a good example of Day's major; we know he was majoring in journalism and the sensation he creates here is incredible - and it shows he's still fully capable of capturing the essence of the world, of a story, without his sight. He offers a new perspective that is no less beautiful.

MHOK'S BAG SAYS 'I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR VOICE' RIGHT AFTER THAT CONVERSATION I'M GOING TO THROW UP WHAT THE FUUUUCK IS THIS ALLOWED

Oh, the way Mhok guides Day where to look when he's taking the photo so it looks natural, so he can keep his secret from the general public until he's ready. Ouuugghhhghh.

Oooof. The trophy only having one handle; only one player remains, half of the duo is missing, an incomplete set. And Day can't even read the plaque anymore. He can no longer see his own accomplishments.

This isn't important but the transition from part 2 to part 3 being all Namtan fuck I'm so bisexual.

WHY WAS THAT HAND TOUCH SO SENSUAL- YOU'RE JUST GONNA STROKE EACH OTHERS HANDS LIKE THAT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD???

FUCKING RIGHT THERE ON THE BED WOULD HAVE BEEN LESS INTIMATE. I feel like I'm fucking intruding. Holy shit. Holy shiiiiiit.

Staring unblinkingly at every red flag Porjai dodged. Also want to point out the only times we've seen Mhok get violent has been to protect the people closest to him - even back at the garage. He's never once been violent for his own gain, it's always been to protect.

Oh, Porjai. The circumstances are absolutely shit but there's no doubt in my mind that your child is going to be so, so loved by everyone around them. I just know Mhok is going to adore that kid.

Coming into this scene at the party makes me so anxious. Reintegration into society can be so, so scary. Day has been dipping his toe into it but this is a big, chaotic gathering. This is so scary and I'm so proud of him but like hhhggg makes me nervy.

Ugh I have a feeling Day is going to be exhausted after this. He's already having to field (I don't want to say stupid questions) a whole slew of questions and over the top concern. It's going to be a lot.

"To our blind friend" bro I'm gonna kick you into the sun.

Oh Mhok you want Day to want you so bad it makes you look stupid, I love you.

I knew he was going to sing that song, I knew it in my heart, but it still makes me emotional with the rainbow background. (I also love "I don't sing that well" and then proceeds to sing with the voice of an angel. [What if he actually isn't that good of a singer but it sounds that way to Day because of his affection for Mhok???])

Tell me why my ass is crying at Day trying to see Mhok on his phone, and looking up and barely being able to see anything of him. He wants to see him so bad.

OH NOW I'M GENUINELY SOBBING.

I love that while the show emphasizes that Day can see Mhok in a way no one else can, he still has that desire to see him physically. It hurts and it's so painful to watch but it's just another element of this show that makes it so real. Just because Day is starting to adjust, just because he can gauge a lot about people from the sound of their voice, it doesn't magically replace the sense he's losing and it doesn't make him miss that any less. I'm just gonna blanket apologize for how long these are getting. I feel like I don't have much insight lately rather than just raw reactions but this show makes me feel so fucking much. for my tag loves (just lmk if you want me to remove you from these, or add anyone idk) @benkaaoi @callipigio

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Can I request Hanako (or Amane Yugi), Teru Minamoto, and Akane Aoi (the male) with a female s/o who is literally invisible to people. (This totally not based on events that actually happened to me-)

Like some people, even her close friends, won’t even notice she’s there and if she’s has to asks something she tends to repeat it or stutter. She also tends to get forgetting or lost on school trips, etc.

This has happened for as long as she could remember and she’s use to it by now but sometimes it still hurts when they forget her

Headcanons please!

hanako x f!reader, teru minamoto x f!reader, akane aoi x f!reader

a/n: sure thing!! I feel like Hanako would understand that as a ghost, so I think I’ll write for him in his ghosty form! I hope that’s alright :)) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope these turn out alright!!

I’m really sorry if these are shorter or poorer than normal, and if they’re formatted strangely- I’m doing my best to get requests done on my phone (´ε｀”)

warnings: none?

word count: 1,414

Hanako <3

He understands, he understands more than anyone- so he thinks. I mean, he’s a ghost. He literally cannot be seen by anyone who isn’t an exorcist, near death, a fellow supernatural, or bound to him in some way.

Still… honestly, he gets pretty defensive over you-

They can’t hear him, but you can. (They can’t hear you, but he certainly can.) It’s honestly somewhat humorous, Hanako standing behind you, shouting that they’d better listen up!!

“IF YOU GUYS MAKE (Y/N) REPEAT HERSELF ONE MORE TIME?? Are they deaf, (Y/N)?? I think they’re deaf?????”

His reactions like that are half-joking-half-serious. He’s genuinely upset that they treat you like that- but he hopes that all his ranting and going on helps you to feel better somehow?

He can’t exactly follow you on trips, but! He makes Yashiro “Honorary (Y/N) Defense”! Meaning, since he can’t, she’ll defend you in his place!

You get interrupted or ignored? Hanako tells Yashiro to help you out, and (though she would any way) she’s raising her hand somewhat shyly- explaining that you were trying to talk.

Getting left behind on a field trip? Yashiro is sticking by your side! She turns around constantly, making sure that you keep up with her, and especially making sure that you get on the bus with the rest! As per Hanako’s request, and her own care for you, she’ll let you sit next to her.

Hanako is always very talkative, but he’s still very patient with you- he loves to have conversations with you, which is a big reason he doesn’t get why they treat you like that. You’re such a great person-! You’ve got such a cute voice-!!! Why don’t they listen-?!!!

To be honest, he finds your stutter kind of cute… he’s quite bold, so you being timid is something he doesn’t mind! Hanako doesn’t mind listening out for you- even if the other people aren’t in a relationship for you, isn’t it… basic human decency?? What happened to that???

“It’s really alright, Hanako. Things like this have happened since I was little- it hurts sometimes, but I’m mostly used to it.”

Hanako would then grab your shoulders gently, looking in your eyes with some determination!

“You shouldn’t have to be used to that!! I’m used to it because I’m dead, but you’re… alive. You can be heard and seen by everyone, yet they choose to not listen- it’s… ridiculous. I’m sorry that you have to deal with that, (Y/N)... really.”

Uncharacteristically soft moment, but it simply hits different for him due to personal experience. I’m sure as a human, the only time people saw him were when he was bullied, and now he’s- obviously- not seen by nearly anyone. It’s such a lonely feeling, and he genuinely hates that you can relate to it.

Teru Minamoto <3

It’s hard to not garner attention as Teru Minamoto’s girlfriend- so, people certainly acknowledge you once your relationship is made public/becomes obvious.

But! Before the entire school knew about the Prince having a girlfriend, Teru was… quite defensive over you- even before the two of you were a couple, he’d notice the way others seemed to step all over you. Ignoring you, interrupting you, forgetting about you.

Like Hanako, he doesn’t get it? You’ve got his attention, how do you not have anyone else’s? You’re so cute… and really do have a lovely voice, appearance, and overall are really pleasant to be around?? If anything you deserve more praise than he does-

He also doesn’t get it due to the fact that people acknowledge him a little too much-

Anyway, he tends to give that praise he thinks you deserve to you!

Meaning, he brags on you so much. Compliments you to your face, telling you how nice it is to converse with you- telling his family how lovely of a person you are. He even mentions it to classmates, which does start to earn others being more noticeable of your presence.

Not afraid to stick up for you in the least!! Who wouldn’t listen to Teru?? The moment someone interrupts, he’s politely making his way into the conversation- offering an “I’m sorry, I don’t think (Y/N) got her chance to speak.”

“Th-That’s okay, Teru. I appreciate it, but I’m used to things like that,” You told him after class, slightly embarrassed.

“Used to things like being ignored?”

“Yeah..?”

“...you shouldn’t have to be. I’d never be upset with you, but it does upset me that people have been so willing to pretend you aren’t there? I think you���re lovely, and nearly impossible to ignore. It’s simply confusing, I suppose.”

BRO if he, for some reason, isn’t on the field trip and you get forgotten- it’s game over for the chaperones will get their heads chewed off. Except he’ll be calm and collected while doing so- however, on the inside, he can’t express how upset he is.

“Is it not your job to make sure all the students are accounted for? What if (Y/N) had gotten lost? Do you not realize she could have been kidnapped? Should some low-life had decided to try anything strange, the blame would have been on you, and therefore our entire school. What would that do for both your’s and the school’s reputation?”

If he’s on the trip? You won’t be getting forgotten <3 Even you were to get distracted for a moment, he’s grabbing your hand and making sure you stay caught up with the class. Sits with you on the bus, and makes absolutely sure that you’re safe and with him!!

Akane Aoi <3

He worships the very ground you walk on. We all know how he treated Aoi? Well, now that’s how he treats you- maybe a bit less exaggerated and dramatic, but all that love and more is there!

So, he’s admiring you, and sees that you keep opening your mouth in an attempt to speak- only to have someone interrupt you, not even acknowledging that you’re there??

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s up?”

“O-oh, I was just trying to ask them something…”

“Oi, you heard her. Shut up for a moment and let (Y/N) get her question in.”

Most are somewhat aware of how scary Akane can be, so they’ll certainly listen whenever he’s there. Heck, people occasionally keep an extra eye open if they know he’s around- making sure they don’t unintentionally look past you.

If you dislike his very direct method, he’ll try to be nicer to others about it. But, he can’t help but get defensive- like our other boys, he admires you so much, and enjoys talking with you so much, that- by this point- others are simply missing out?? Like, it’s basically their loss for treating you like that. And it’s his mission to shower you in love and admiration to a point where others do the same- platonically of course, and boys better rethink anything that isn’t strictly “wow (Y/N) is cool, it’s cool that she’s taken by Akane.”

Cos, as we all know, if someone even says “oh, (Y/N) probably makes a cute girlfriend” it’s game over. RIP unknowing student, he had no mercy bashing their skull in </3

“Akane, it’s really fine, you know? Things like this happen been happening since... forever. I’m just not easily noticed, I suppose. I’m used to it!”

“Hmm... well, get un-used to it. You’ve got the most beautiful presence and voice of anyone I know! And, I want the class- for everyone- to be able to acknowledge that. You shouldn’t have to repeat yourself constantly, nor be ignored like that. Not on my watch, at least.”

You won’t be getting forgotten. He’s ahead of Teru, ahahahaaaa!!! If he isn’t on the field trip, he’s telling someone who will be to keep an eye out for you “or else <3”. The person wouldn’t even bother to question it- just nod and keep an eye out for you constantly. They even offer to have you sit with them! How sweet! Glad to know they value their skulls!!

If he’s on the trip, like the others, he’s keeping an eye out for you constantly. He’ll hold your hand the entire time, stopping as you pleased, but keeping an eye out for the group. He wants you to see what you want, so you will- all while staying with the class, or at least close to the class. If he, for some reason, were to lose sight of the class, he takes comfort in the fact that you wouldn’t be lost alone.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

♡  bakugou headcanons that feel like a warm hug ♡

➳wc ;; 1.2k (oh my god. what is wrong w me.) 

➳ a/n ;; or my bakugou brain-rot that never goes away. thanks for being my comfort character, you fucking gremlin. forgive the silly title. 

♡ always makes little adjustments to the environment for you. he’s observant to a fault so if there’s something even a little off and it happens to bother you, he’s trying to work around it. 

♡ good at playing guitar but not good at reading music. he can throw something together if you give him a chance but he’s not good at trying to recreate someone elses memory. he’s not like.. musically gifted either but he likes how guitar sounds 

♡ thinks about getting a lot of piercings in his ear because he thinks they’d look cool but is kind of too nervous? the idea of a needle going through his skin is a ick. when you start dating, he drags you to his appointments lol - won’t admit it but he thinks he looks so hot when he gets them. takes a bunch of selfies <3 

♡ needs to be moving constantly. can’t sit completely still to save his life. when he listens to music, he moves his head. sometimes he just runs his thumb over his fingers. 

♡ really, really bad at talking. not in the sense he can’t communicate (that too) but he just likes listening in conversation. rarely adds his own thing. but when he does - always accidentally says something super meaningful 

♡ enjoys subtle physical touch because it is literally intimate he melts inside. a hand on his forearm or shoulder. your legs over his lap. small things that show how comfortable you are. 

♡ likes being held cause he’s a big ass baby lmfao 

♡ wont admit it but enjoy when you choose pretty or colorful bandages for his cuts he won’t himself but it’s like keeping you in his pocket wherever he goes.  

♡ really needs you to find him attractive dslksjk it’s not that he ever thinks he’s particularly ugly. but he didn’t really assign importance to his appearance at any point in his life, yet now he puts in a scary amount of effort. readjusts his hair so much more, makes sure his clothes fit good. fixes his fuckin’ face lol 

♡ likes chewing gum a lot and always has a pack on him. really proud of how big he can blow bubbles and will be a little sad if you’re unimpressed. 

♡ is overly sentimental about things you’ve made him - especially if it’s something super dumb. you drew him a silly little sketch of him in a frog hat? it’s in his wallet behind his id. freaks out when he thinks he’s lost his wallet 

♡ LOVES phone calls. yes he still hates talking. but the way his face looks when he listens to your voice. eyes half-lidded, shamelessly smiling - it’s so tender and so lovesick. 

♡ terrible first grader hand-writing. he tries to write them for you in the beginning of your relationship (to be romantic or some shit) but they’re so incomprehensible pls. if he focuses on it - it can be legible but most of the time ... yea no. 

♡ doesn’t favor tea or coffee but prefers tea if he has to drink one. 

♡ crazy good at eyeballing measurement. even in baking. once made a perfectly good bread without weighing anything and doesn’t get why that’s so wild. 

♡ has the phone on his text set to be bigger even though his eyes are fine. 

♡ lets you do the layout thing on his iphone and decorate as you please. says he doesn’t care but when he sees you made it hero themed/fit with his aesthetic - he got so red it was so cute. 

♡ hates shopping in store. will still always go with you because the one time you went alone a store clerk hit on you.  

♡ so practical. he started couponing when he was in his early twenties like an old man. checks the news and weather the night before, every night. never misses doctors appointments. 

♡ shit at any form of visual art. drawing, painting etc - cannot do it to save his life. but he tries. his hands shake when he tries to draw hearts for you 

♡ blows the eyelashes off your cheek super gently whenever he notices. he’ll like.. take your face in his hands and blow so softly like he’s gonna hurt you. 

♡ used to agree to make pinky promises with you as a joke. now though? automatically holds his pink out for you to take it. straight up pouts if you don’t. 

♡ you two have a song and when it comes on, he’ll sing it back to you. any other time? any other song? he wont. but he always sings your song even without realizing, just mouths it. 

♡ enjoys when you put your hands under his shirt and just leave them there and hug him like that. skin to skin contact is elite but only from you. 

♡ hamsters adore this man. they just do. 

♡ draws frowny faces on your eggs with hot-sauce 

♡ soul leaves his body when you play with his hair and scratch his scalp. the tension in his neck literally disappears and he just sighs that shit relaxes him like crazy 

♡ the first time he says i love you, you’re tying his tie for his first hero event. you’re telling him to that the color looks good on him and you’re smiling. it honestly it just slips. he went on to win an award that night. 

♡ his favorite memory of the two of you was when you were trying to leave the grocery store one afternoon. it was raining heavy as shit. you pulled him in under your clear umbrella and just stood there. he doesn’t know why but that means a lot to him. 

♡ cares a lot about his dads approval on his work specifically. him and his dad have a really specifc bond and he actually admires him quite a bit. 

♡ nothing makes him cry like “im proud of you”. especially when it’s for something small. it’s just something he didn’t hear enough in a sincere way. 

♡ likes fruit flavored sweets over chocolate (generally needs something to do w his mouth cause it helps him think. bad oral fixation) so he keeps little candies on him 

♡ shit at video games. terrible at them with the exception of mario kart? for some reason. 

♡ always loses his keys 

♡ stutters every!single!time! he tries to compliment you. it’s been YEARS. 

♡ takes a melatonin gummy before bed and always drinks a glass of water 

♡ buys you flowers and keeps them too. like does the upkeep on it and replaces them if the wilt. suggests pressing them to keep them for longer. 

♡ lowkey cries really easily. he just gets overwhelmed w his feelings some times and it makes him cry even if he doesn’t want too. you and the bakusquad are sworn to secrecy over it though 

♡ wears his ring around his neck on a chain bc it’s easier to show off. 

♡ naturally good at doing hair! 

♡ likes sneakers but wears dr. scholl's because he walks a lot and is on his feet for most of the day w his job. just being careful. 

♡ loves u a lot <3 

[books-and-catears]

I liked the one about a ghost MC it was a really cute idea! I wanted to request something similar, where the MC who has a the appearance of the Japanese slit mouthed woman. She is a regular human and you can decide if she got the scar's from an accident or not, but she always where's a face mask to hide it and eats alone rather then with the brothers. When she's asked why they say "People can't eat when I they see my face." But one day she finally trusts the brothers enough to show her face.

OH MY GOD I KNOW THIS GHOST. If I'm not wrong, this ghost is called the Kuchisake Onna, kuchi meaning mouth.

This is so wholesome I love it. Your asks are so adorable :')

It has been forever since the accident. And yet the scar makes it feel like yesterday. Two scars running up towards your cheeks, making it look like you're constantly smiling. You hated mirrors at this point, without your mask especially.

You hear loud talking from the dining room downstairs as you stare at your meal on your study table. When was the last time you ate a meal with other people?

"What do you mean you won't eat with us MC?" Mammon and Asmo parotted every other day.

"People can't eat when they see my face." You left with that reply, refusing to answer the follow up questions.

Yours was a face only a mother could love, they said. Some screamed, some smiled sympatheticallly, the others nervously scattered away from the last time you tried to eat out by yourself. The restaurant requested you to leave since they were losing customers.

You walk up to the stairway, watching the brothers in their usual chaos. Maybe - just maybe, they won't be repulsed. Surely they've seen more horrifying things than you?

"Um..." You cleared your throat loudly. All of them stopped and looked at you. You usually never showed up until half an hour after meals.

But today you called out to the one of them. "Would you mind eating with me tonight...?"

Lucifer

"Of course I wouldn't mind MC."

He promptly got up with his plate as if he was already prepped for this day. Swiftly follows you into your room.

He sat down across you and began eating normally. "Thank you for inviting me in MC. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nothing just..." You said untying your mask. "It felt like a good day." The mask fell off your face into your lap.

You paused and stared at Lucifer. He only looked shocked for a split second before a hidden rage clouded beneath his eyes. "Did someone deliberately-"

"No it was an accident. I was getting my teeth fixed when the lights went out and I moved. And something cut through my- well you can see." You explained.

"I see. Well that's quite unfortunate." Lucifer said and began picking at his plate.

You felt uneasy as chewed your food."You can leave if you feel repulsed. I wouldn't force you to-"

"No such thing MC. I was just thinking of consulting Satan and Solomon. Surely they know of spells that can heal your scars if you want them gone." Lucifer replied promptly. "And it's going to take a lot more than scars to scare us demons away."

"Lucifer...thank you." You said quietly.

"If possible I'd like to eat dinner with you from now on, MC. Frankly it's much calmer and it's a relief from my brothers."

After a long time, you laugh without your mask on.

Mammon

"I'll be right there, MC!"

Hurriedly grabs whatever food he has making a mess and jumps to his feet. He is in such a hurry, it's a miracle he didn't drop half of his dinner.

He plops down across the table from you, grinning ear to ear. "Of course you'd choose the Great Mammon to eat with ya!"

You nodded and chuckled, "Of course. But would you choose to eat with me?" Your pulled your mask away from your face.

His eyes went wide and then watery in the same instant. Is he..crying? "I-Im sorry..." You feel horrible so you hurry and tie the mask back up. Mammon grabs your hands and holds them down.

"I'm not crying stupid human! I'm just...you..you must have been in pain..when that happened." He said. "Who did this to you..."

"It's okay it was an accident, Mammon." You try to calm him down.

"Then why do you hide it? It's not even your fault!" Mammon said pouting. You looked down, "People get uncomfortable..."

Mammon shot up from his chair. "WHO DARE MAKE YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT? Show me I'll get them all! Noone messes with my human! I'm yer protector ain't I?! You never have to wear that thing around me!"

You blushed as he moved forward and hugged you, burying your face into his shoulder. "Mammon..."

You knew he was the best protector out there.

Leviathan

"I'm coming right away, don't worry MC!"

Stumbles around with his plate at your sudden invitation. His day has come. He is the chosen one.

He struggles to sit down, feeling estatic and nervous at the same time. "I didn't think you'd want to eat with me of all people, MC..."

"After tonight, maybe you'll feel that way about me Levi..." You said, taking off your mask. His face lit up as he let out a loud "Woahhh!"

Thinking he was scared you tried to hide it again before he screamed, "MC you look just like my favourite character from that horror romance anime "I fell for my best friend's scarred smile! That's so cool!"

You blink at him, blushing. What is with him and his oddly specific anime names!? Levi was oblivious to your shock ,going off at his own tangent. "You could pull off the perfect cosplay, come to my room tomorrow I can design it for you and then I'll make my own to go with it and we can go to the next convention-"

"Levi Levi calm down you'll run out of breath!" You couldn't hold in your laughter.

He stared at you awestruck,"So cute...why would you hide that cute face MC?" You shake your head, "Not everyone sees it as cute Levi."

"Well sucks for them to be such stupid normies." Levi blushed and scoffed.

Levi was the best friend everyone deserves and you were glad to have him.

Satan

"I'd be delighted to join you MC."

Was slightly taken aback at first but quickly composes himself and his dinner and follows you. His pace faster than usual.

Pulls out your chair for you like a gentleman and sits down himself. You smile and blush at the action. "So how was your day MC?" He asks like a gentleman, avoiding the elephant in the room, choosing it normalise it. You let the mask fall off your face.

"Oh..." Satan sat up straight, his shoulders stiff, his eyes going wide in anger. "Who dared to-"

"No no no Satan it was an accident!" You had to explain the whole thing for him to calm down. Then he nodded and held out his palm. "May I see how the deep the scar is MC?"

That was new. Noone has wanted to touch your scars before. When you nod, he reaches out and runs his fingers softly across your scars. "Hmm don't worry. They're not too deep. I can have them gone in a matter of days. That is if you'd like to me to."

It's like he knew. As much as you hated that scar, it kind of helped you see people's true intentions. You looked down unsure. Satan held your hand. "It's normal to get attached to scars you have for too long. None of us here will treat you any differently with or without it."

You smiled at him and held one of his fingers playfully. He laughed, his cheeks turning pink. "Ah now that's a smile I'd love to see everyday. May I have dinner with you more often MC?"

"Of course." His words and his presence were always calming to you.

Asmodeus

"I was wondering when you'd ask MC!"

Daintily picks up all of things and paces after you. He was excited but he restrained himself but he didn't want to scare you off.

Sits down close to you, smiling gleefully. He's just happy to be there with you. Grabs something off your plate with a fork and holds it upto your mouth. "MC come here let me feed you!"

It was probably the most nerve wracking to open your mask in front of him. The Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in Hell, and you- ugh, what's the point? You've come this far, let's get it over with. You put your mask down, bite off the potato off his fork.

You'd think Asmo would probably gasp and act all dramatic and hysterical. But instead he cupped your face, his eyes filled with worry and tenderness. "MC how long have you had this...?"

"A little over three years." You answered honestly. Asmo looked like he was about to cry. "You've been hiding away your pretty face from people for three years..." Asmo pulled you in a hug. "Noone deserves that. It's too lonely."

"Oh I'd hardly call it pretty-" Before you can even retort, he is glaring and pouting at you, holding your shoulders.

"I think I know beauty a little better than you, MC. And I say you're gorgeous and I'm going to eat with you everyday now." Asmo huffed to which you laughed.

Everyone deserves a hypeman like Asmo in their lives.

Beelzebub

"Oh? Me? Sure MC!"

Is surprised but happily goes along with you with all his food. You know he loves you when he gets midway from eating just to eat in your room.

He sits across, already muching away at his food. "Thank you for asking me to eat with you MC." You nod and tentatively take your mask off, trying not to draw too much attention for it.

Beel looks up shocked, his mouth full of food but he stopped chewing. He involuntarily reaches out to touch you, "Does it hurt MC?"

You shake your head. "It's years old Beel. It's okay. " Beel looks genuinely relieved at that and goes back to eating again. He doesn't seem bothered by it at all after that.

"Say MC will you be free next week? I could use your help in the new workout I'm doing. I need to train particular muscles for the big game they said." He switched to a whole new topic just like that. "Also this means I get to eat with you every day right?"

You felt warm inside. You were more than just your scar and Beel made you feel like that by hardly saying anything at all.

Belphegor

"...me huh? No I wouldn't mind."

Has a smug grin on his face as he gathers up his meal and slowly heads upward with you, making sure his brothers see how you chose him over the others. Cheeky cow.

He sits leaning into you cause he's too lazy to sit up straight. "So what's the special occasion MC? A face reveal?" Wow this one is direct.

He is staring right at you, as you pull off the mask slowly, thinking if it was a bad idea. His eyes grow wide for a split second before his fingers are already near your mouth feeling the scars.

"Deliberate or accident?" He asks. "Accident." You answer. He nods, "Good. I'm too tired today, wouldn't be able to take appropriate revenge." His fingers never leave your face.

"Is that why you keep it covered? You're embarrassed of it?" He asks. You think about it for a while. "I think I accepted it, it just seemed to make people uncomfortable and scared, if I smiled or opened my mouth to eat." You answer.

He smirked. "Then smile more. Let their cowardly selves feel uncomfortable. It's their problem that they can't see how cute your smile is."

That was surprisingly thoughtful. You smiled at him. "Thanks..."

He smirked back, "Also I'm going to be eating here from now on. My brothers annoy me."

He's cheeky but he has a good heart. Smiling never felt so easy.

[meetmymouth]

Hmm concepts…

Omg okay so H’s POV and he has a crush on y/n and he can’t stop thinking about her, and they’re maybe out with friends or just lounging about and he thinks her skin looks so soft and he just wants to run his hands through her hair,, and he’s thinking of ways to impress her and how they’re going to kiss for the first time etc etc ?!!? 😳

not proofread yet!!

He takes another sip from his drink, a pink gin prepared by Y/N, and tries so hard not to cringe at the taste. It wasn't as if he didn't like gin– far from it. He just wasn't fan of the pink one, though he would never voice his opinion seeing how excited she was to prepare him–not just him, couple of people who arrived later than the others–a drink, her eyes shining with excitement and the alcohol in her system.

Truth be told, he wasn't supposed to fall for her.

When they first met, through a mutual friend, she was taken. When he first saw her, sitting in a corner, alone with hands supporting a sad looking cocktail and mouth turned downwards in a pout, he knew he was fucked. He remembers her yellow dress, the colour looking exquisite on her skin, and he remembers how she lift up her head, looked around before her gaze stopped at him, and gave him a tiny smile making his insides melt.

A year into their friendship, Y/N now single for eight months, Harry constantly found himself itching– just to be near her as pathetic and cliche as it sounds, or just say and do something to make her laugh. The tiniest attention he would receive from her meant the world to him.

He looks down at his drink again, the ice beginning to melt, and then looks up to search for her in their small crowd. He finds her pretty easily, because once again, she's wearing something colourful and quirky, and he can't help but smile when he hears the distinct laugh as Tom scowls in front of her, not feeling being defeated at beer pong once again.

He sees someone else from their group put her hand on her back, to guide her towards the snacks, and he feels his cheeks redden at the thought of jealousy, and he imagines– no, longs for being the one who touches her there.

"Why are you so quiet?"

He turns to his left with wide eyes and finds her next to him, plate full of cheese and some other snacks as she looks at him expectantly.

"Where did you come from?" He finds himself asking, the question making her laugh into her glass.

"From over there. I was getting food for us."

"Us?"

She nods, blinking up at him a few times before she looks down at the plate. "Here."

"You consider... this much cheese to be food?"

"Either take some or I'm eating all of them."

"All right."

They stand there for a while, both munching on some cheese and Harry takes one of those tiny sandwiches, but his eyes still linger on her face, watching as she chews slowly.

She sighs, then itches the side of her mouth before turning her gaze to him, locking their eyes. He knows he's caught redhanded, caught watching her like a creep, but he reckons there's not much he can do at this time so he gives her a tiny smile. She smiles back. Then takes a step closer.

"What's up with you?"

He raises his eyebrows in question. "What d'ya mean?"

"You're so quiet and haven't moved from this corner for like... god knows how long. You okay?"

"I'm– yeah, I'm okay. Just tired, I guess," he places his drink on the small table behind them, watching as she does the same.

"Okay... weirdo."

"Hey!"

"We've been friends for a year, I know when you've something on your mind. Is it a girl?"

Oh my god, Harry finds himself thinking, how cliche is this.

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"What's gotten into you tonight, hm? Why are you being so pushy?"

She gasps. "Pushy?"

"Y'know that's not what I meant..."

"So..." she sighs, placing the plate on the table before she turns to him again. "When are you going to kiss me?"

Harry's stunned, unable to move his eyes or limbs for that matter, except for his mouth as it parts ever so slightly at the question. He keeps looking at her with parted mouth, hands on his side, and she looks so confident, so sure of herself and the brave question that she's just directed at him.

He swallows. "Kiss you?"

"Yes... I'm done playing this game," she shrugs. "Sorry, it's–"

"–No! No... don't apologise, I'm– I want to."

"You want to what?"

"Don't... now you're just being a little shit," he whispers, hand coming up to wipe his forehead.

She lets out a chuckle, feet carrying her closer to where he stands.

"You want to kiss me?"

"I do... so bad– you don't even know."

"Then come here. Kiss me."

[starryhyuck]

mark! (m)

pairing: dom!mark x sub!reader x dom!yuta

words: 2.2k+

summary: mark is scared of stepping out of his comfort zone with you. therefore, you enlist yuta’s help to get your boyfriend a little more comfortable.

genre: smut

warnings: threesome (kind of), anal sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, breeding kink

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

You sigh. “Mark, stop being such a scaredy cat.”

The frown on his face is positively adorable. You want to squeeze his cheeks so badly. “I’m not a scaredy cat!” He protests, but it only makes him look more soft.

You giggle and press a kiss to his lips. “Whatever you say. Besides, Yuta won’t be back for a while. I don’t know why you’re so scared.”

“I’m not scared!” He argues again, eyebrows furrowing together in the most adorable way. “I just- this is Yuta’s bed. It’s kind of impolite to be doing anything on a place where he sleeps.”

You sigh. “Mark, I think we both know what kind of a person Yuta is. I’m pretty sure he would do the exact same thing on your bed.”

His nose scrunches as the thought passes through him.

“Ew. I didn’t need that visual.”

You flop down on Yuta’s comforter before bringing Mark with you. He’s still very reluctant, despite connecting your lips together. You try easing him up, hands moving over his shoulders as you pull him closer and closer.

Your sex life with Mark was always more than satisfying, but he was constantly scared to take risks. Being an exhibitionist yourself and considering how shy Mark could get, it was really difficult to get your boyfriend to even hold your hand in front of the other members, let alone kiss you. You’ve tried on more than one occasion to suck him off at the dinner table, but he was always too on edge that someone would walk in.

To combat your curiosity, you enlisted Yuta’s help.

Your eyes carefully watch the door as Mark’s tongue explores your mouth. Yuta stares through the small opening, watching you with a heavy glare.

You giggle into the kiss and Mark eases up a little at the sound. Your fingers dance around his neck as you pull him closer and closer, observing as Yuta casually walks into the room. Mark is too lost in you to notice.

After letting you make out for a few more minutes, Yuta finally clears his throat. You swear Mark jumps five feet in the air and scrambles away from you. His whole face is flushed pink at the sight of Yuta, quickly stuttering to provide an excuse.

Yuta raises an eyebrow. “And what were you two doing exactly?”

You blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

He smirks at your act. You’re still sprawled out on his bed, hair tangled from Mark’s fingers messily running through it. Yuta wonders how pretty you would look with his cock sliding in your mouth, beautiful lips eager to taste him. He leans closer to your frame, ignoring Mark’s surprise at his older member’s proximity to his girlfriend.

“I mean you and Mark trying to fuck on my bed.”

“W-We’re sorry, Y-Yuta!” Mark frantically says. “W-We just- I just-“

Yuta chuckles, and the deep sound shoots straight to your core.

“It’s fine, Mark. You weren’t putting on much of a show anyways. Why haven’t you touched her?”

Mark looks like his brain is going on overdrive. “W-What?”

Yuta’s fingers graze over your exposed thigh. He picked out the skirt you were wearing for this occasion, knowing it would make Mark incredibly flustered.

“Why haven’t you touched her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

You quickly nod. “It’s what I want. Touch me, Yuta, please.”

Yuta grins, his eyes darting back to Mark’s. “Can I, Mark?”

You think your boyfriend is really broken. He’s nervously twitching, shaking his head as he tries to gather his thoughts. You decide to give him a little break.

“I thought Yuta could help us out a little, Mark. I asked him to come so we can have more fun.”

Yuta nods. “If you’re uncomfortable, Mark, I can leave.”

The silence in the air is deafening. Mark finally clears his throat. “Can you show m-me how you do it?”

Yuta smirks. “Do what, exactly?”

The blush fully appears on Mark’s cheeks again. “Um, how you eat her out.”

Your eyes widen. You were definitely not expecting him to say that. Yuta’s smirk widens at the request.

“Definitely. Sit down and watch.”

Yuta’s staring at your clothed core in no time, playing with the hem of your skirt. He chuckles when he sees your choice of underwear.

“Lace,” he hums playfully, snapping the elastic against your skin as you squeak. “Do you always wear such pretty panties for Mark?”

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “I have prettier ones in his top drawer.”

“I’d love to see them some time, doll.”

You eagerly watch as Yuta pulls down your panties, making a show as his hands slowly caress your thighs. He throws the pair of red lace to Mark, who easily catches it and groans. Yuta yanks up your skirt so he can fully gaze at your exposed cunt.

He chuckles. “You should be nicer to her, Mark. She’s got such a pretty pussy.”

You moan when his fingers play with your folds, goosebumps spreading across your skin. You quickly learn that Yuta is a tease, patient as he touches you.

“Please, Yuta,” you beg, wanting him to do something already.

His smile appears again. “What is it, doll? What do you need?”

“Need your mouth,” you whine. “And your fingers.”

You’re already turning into a blubbering mess. Mark, on the other hand, could not be more nervous. He finds this whole situation incredibly arousing, but also dangerously intimidating. He wonders if Yuta will be better than him, and if you’ll like Yuta way more than you like him. All thoughts are thrown out the window when Yuta’s tongue takes a lick up your slit. Your moans shoot straight to Mark’s hardened cock, and Mark has no doubt in his mind that he could cum in his pants right now.

He takes silent notes as Yuta teases you, never fully giving you what you want and watching as you continue to beg for him. Yuta slips a finger into your hole and you cry out, your body reacting to every single touch.

Yuta’s gaze returns to Mark. “See? She likes it when you don’t go too fast. Draw it out, make her beg.”

Mark swallows at the sudden lessons. He’s always been really quick with you, never letting you wait this long.

“Yuta, please, please,” you continue to whimper, hands reaching for him. Yuta is quick to silence you, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you. No touching until I say so.”

You nod in submission. Mark’s eyes zero in on Yuta’s tongue exploring your folds, finger slowly pushing in and out of your weeping pussy. Mark swears he’s never heard you this wet before, the squelch of Yuta’s finger entering you echoing throughout the room. When Yuta adds a second finger, you almost lose it.

“Please please, Yuta, I want to cum. Please let me cum,” you cry.

“That’s up to Mark,” he states, and the younger boy freezes. “Can she cum, Mark?”

Your eyes are glistening with tears as you stare at your boyfriend. You whimper when Yuta furiously begins eating you out, your orgasm dangerously approaching.

“Wait, wait, wait-“

“Give her the signal, Mark,” Yuta instructs, attacking your pussy with his tongue and fingers.

Mark waits until you’re right on the edge, seconds away from sobbing. He walks over and leans down until he’s whispering in your ear.

“Cum, pretty girl.”

You fall apart, clutching your boyfriend’s arm as you clench around Yuta’s fingers. He helps you ride out your high, licking up any remnants of your orgasm.

You blearily come to your senses after that mind numbing climax, Yuta and Mark discussing quietly. There’s a faint ringing sound in your ears until Mark cups your cheeks.

“Okay?”

You giggle. “Okay.”

He laughs at your delirious state.

“Does she always get like that?” Yuta questions.

“Only when it’s really good,” he replies. His focus turns back to you. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You giggle again. “Okay.”

He smiles fondly at you, and butterflies swell in your chest like they always do when Mark smiles at you like that.

“Make it rough,” Yuta chimes in. “I want to see her really cry.”

You’re flipped onto your stomach in no time, Mark’s fingers threading your ass. Yuta’s taken a seat not far from the bed, switching roles with Mark as he watches you this time. Mark’s thumb gently grazes over your other hole and you gasp.

Yuta’s voice is full of curiosity. “She likes it there?”

“Sometimes.” He pauses before making a decision. “Can I fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes, Mark, please.”

You can practically hear his grin. “Okay.”

Yuta tosses him the bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand, and Mark quickly preps you. You moan when he fingers you, scissoring and stretching you to make sure you’re ready to take him.

You and Mark rarely do anal, mostly because he’s always afraid of hurting you. You know now, though, that he wants to put on a good show for Yuta.

Once you’re prepped enough, you feel the tip of his cock circling your hole. You both groan when he sinks the tip in. Unlike the other times, Mark doesn’t wait for you to adjust. He pushes into you roughly.

You cry at the intrusion, already feeling the first batch of tears painting your cheeks. Around this time, Mark usually pulls out and apologizes, checking if you’re okay. He’s turned into a completely different person in front of Yuta.

You grip the sheets as Mark relentlessly pounds into you, stretching you harder than he has before. It isn’t painful at all because even though Mark is rough with you, he always knows how to make you feel good.

You’re incoherently blubbering for him. “Y-Yes, feels so good. Feels s-so good, baby. Such a big cock inside my small little hole. So good, so good.”

Mark grunts, fingers tangling into your hair again. “Yeah? You like it when I fuck your tight little hole? You like making a show for Yuta?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob.

You can barely make out Yuta’s figure as he grows closer to you, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Aren’t you such a pretty sight? Really selfish of Mark to keep you all to himself.”

Mark pinches your clit and you scream, diving headfirst into your second orgasm. Mark hisses as you clench even harder around him, pulling you as close as possible before shooting his cum deep inside you. You both release little moans as you recover.

Yuta laughs when you both are done. You swear you could pass out right now and sleep for at least twenty four hours straight.

The ringing sound echoes in your ears again as Mark and Yuta quietly converse once more. You whimper when Mark pulls out of you, his cum dripping down your thigh.

“Baby?” Mark’s voice pulls you out of your reverie. “Yuta wants to ask you something.”

You blink as Mark gently flips you on your back again. Yuta’s eyes grow darker.

“Are you on the pill?”

You nod.

“Can I try something?”

You nod again.

Mark leaves you to go get cleaned up and you observe as Yuta pulls his cock out, tip leaking and begging for attention. He runs his hand up and down his shaft for a few times before lining up with your pussy.

“Can I?”

You nod again, feeling too tired to form words. You gasp when Yuta pushes in, his cock much thicker than Mark’s.

“Fuck,” he curses, eyes focusing on how his cock disappears into your cunt. “So fucking perfect.”

He builds up a steady rhythm, and you finally understand what he wanted to try when he’s balls deep inside of you.

“Gonna breed you, doll. Gonna stuff my cum into your cunt until you’re dripping. Would you like that? Walking around with cum dripping out of both of your holes?”

You openly cry at his filthy words, clenching harder around him.

“Oh, pretty doll likes that. You think I’d never notice how many times you’ve tried to get Mark to fuck you while we’re eating dinner? How many times you’ve sat on his lap in the dressing rooms and tried to get him to fuck you in front of us? Naughtily little slut.”

“Yuta, Yuta,” you gasp, your third orgasm of the night building. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Want to cum? Why don’t you cum for me then? Show Mark why he should be more protective of his girl.”

You follow his command, seeing white as you cum again. Yuta’s right behind you, still hissing dirty confessions.

“Always wondered what it was like to see you stuffed full of cum. Pretty little girl, just waiting to be bred all the time. Practically made to take cock.”

He growls and with a few more snaps of his hips, he shoots his cum deep inside you. You whine as his warmth fills you, Mark’s cum still leaking out of your other hole.

You feel absolutely used when Yuta pulls away from you. You didn’t even notice Mark had entered the room again until he starts cleaning you up. You smile sleepily at him.

“I hope that was okay.”

He presses a kiss to your lips. “More than okay. Get some rest, I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As you slowly drift off to sleep, you faintly hear Yuta say, “We should do that again, I could die a happy man in your girlfriend’s cunt.”

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Hotshot Part 3 - Dusty Memories

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Army!OC - Fluff

tags: @rousethemouse @hotchgan​ @hotchnerxo​ @chaoticconnoisseurgiver

Warnings: mentions of sex, Army stuff, mentions of 9/11 and going to war

Notes:  Back with part 3, I hope you enjoy and I apologize for the time between installments. This one is shorter than the others and not my favorite, but it has direction. Again let me know what you want to see out of this! Gif isn’t mine

Part 1, Part 2 - Irreplaceable

“Daddy, why are you always smiling so much,” Jack asked out of the blue. He was almost eight, but he could profile with the best of them. Aaron flipped the omelet and turned off the stove to let it stay warm as he went to pour his coffee. It had been a week since the last time he saw Willow, but he felt like a lovesick kid constantly texting her and talking to her on the phone as he drove to work. He felt a little bit ridiculous at times, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I met one of my old friends from when I was in the Army and we’ve been talking to each other. It’s very nice to talk to her again.” Jack nodded and maneuvered his too big fork to his mouth with another bite of hash browns. Aaron readied his own plate and sat across from his son. 

“Uncle Spencer is going to come over and hang out with you tonight, if that’s okay.” Jack’s eyes instantly lit up, nodding as he finished chewing. 

“Yes! He said we could try to use the telescope again next time he was over!” The boy seemed to think as he took a long drink of his orange juice. When he put the glass down he looked at Aaron. 

“Are you seeing your Army friend?” Aaron sighed, cursing the intuition that Jack had gotten from his mother, and maybe a little bit from him too. 

“Yes, does that bother you?” Jack shook his head. 

“I like it when you smile, daddy. Can we go to the bookstore so I can get the next book? I have ten pages left in this one and when Uncle Spencer comes over we always read for a while.” Aaron smiled and nodded, “Finish your breakfast and we can go.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Willow pulled up to the building, parking her car where Aaron had indicated there was guest parking. Aaron was leaning against his car and stood when he spotted her. The glimpse of him in a crewneck and jeans, leaning that way, made her heart jump.

Aaron kicked another rock, wiggling his toes in his sneakers. It felt weird to be out of combat boots for the first time in days. He heard a door open and a whistle, followed by Willow’s voice snapping back, “You better keep it in your pants, Paulson.” Aaron looked up and practically let his jaw drop when he looked at her. For the first time out of uniform or the gym clothes she had been in when they first met, Willow had her hair down, a fitted purple long sleeve and jeans on. Aaron felt slightly self conscious for a moment when he remembered he was just wearing a ratty crewneck and jeans. 

“Hey,” he said shyly. He stood up from the bumper of the pickup. He hadn’t gone on very many dates in high school, and almost all of them had been with Haley. He pushed the woman out of his mind, they had ended when they graduated. They had different paths to follow. 

“Hi,” Willow said, contagious grin making him smile. She pecked him on the cheek, “Where we going? We’re kinda low on options.” Aaron laughed, stepping just a bit quicker than her to open the passenger side door for her. He got in the driver’s side and the radio started up on a country station. Willow began to hum the tune, looking around the inside of his car. 

“You like country?” 

“They have country music north of Virginia you know.” He laughed, backing up and heading out onto the road. 

“We’re going to that diner in town. It was the only option since its Sunday.” Willow didn’t respond and he looked over. She was holding a picture she found in the overhead mirror. 

“Oh I -” He reached out to take it from her. It was Haley and him at prom. He had failed to clean out the car after he left home. Willow turned it over, looking at the scrawled note on the back. 

“Haley?”

“Yeah, she and I were together in high school. It was just something for teenagers, ya know?” He tried to brush it away, and Willow let him take the picture and tuck it into the small door side compartment. Aaron cleared his throat and then opened the overhead mirror on the driver’s side. He took out a few pictures, one of him standing on the truck when it was brand new, smiling proudly. Another of him and his brother.

“That’s Sean, he’s my little brother. He wanted to get the truck when I graduated, but I told him he had to get his own.” Willow laughed lightly. 

“I’m an only child, but my mom’s dogs come as a close second to me. Anyone would tell you that.” 

Willow walked up to him, clad in a green Army hoodie and jeans. She fell into the hug Aaron offered, taking a deep breath to try and memorize his smell.

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” she responded, pecking him on the cheek, “Where we going?” Aaron’s face contorted, remembering the moment. 

“You really have the most extraordinary memory.” Willow smirked. 

“You seem to as well.” He opened the passenger side door for her, getting in on his side and backing the car out. She took his hand before he could reach for hers. 

“Really, where are we going?” Aaron laughed and shook his head. 

“Never gained patience did you? That’s why I always had a better shot than you.” Willow mocked offense, “I seem to recall you proposing to me before we agreed to because, and I quote ‘I don’t have a patience to love you less.’” 

Without thinking, which he seemed to only do around Willow, Aaron said, “Well I had the patience to keep the ring.” Silence fell for a mile or two until Willow turned on the radio. They had passed out of the more urbanized areas and she fiddled with the dial to find a new country station. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...” 

“I guess we are still figuring it out right?” Aaron nodded and squeezed her hand. A few more miles were filled with both of them singing quietly along to the radio before Willow exclaimed. 

“We’re going to the drive in aren’t we?” She turned to look in the back of the suburban and found blankets, pillows, and snacks.

“Aaron Hotchner, you sneaky sneaky boy. I hope you don’t think I’m easy.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” They pulled in, the sign showing that they were playing Footloose, of all movies. 

“You know, at dinner Morgan said you were from the town in Footloose.” Aaron laughed as he backed into a spot, popping the trunk. They were further back, and not that many cars came, most of them full of teenagers or with older couples. Willow kicked off her shoes and crawled through the gap in seats, making Aaron smile as he fixed the radio station to the correct one and went around the back to sit with her. She had piled up the blankets and pillows just right, and Aaron climbed in next to her. 

“Just like old times.” 

“Mmm, in old times we wouldn’t feel all the aches of sitting like this tomorrow.” Aaron pursed his lips and nodded. She shifted closer to him and as the screen lit up, her head fell against his chest. Aaron’s arm went around her and it felt more than natural for her to be there, like she fit perfectly. 

“Aaron?” 

“Mhm?” The rumble of his voice through his chest made goosebumps appear on Willow’s skin, a shiver passing through her whole body. It really did feel like that first night they had sex, eighteen years old in a field in the middle of Georgia. 

“Don’t feel the need to say it back bu-”

“I love you, Willow Cutler.” She didn’t have to look up at him, eyes glued to the movie that had started on the screen, knowing he really did mean it. He had refused to say it for so long when they were kids. 

“I love you too, Hotshot.” He gave her a small shove, and she looked back at him, brown eyes meeting hers with sincerity and so much love in just one look. 

“I really do love you, Aaron.” 

“Watch the damn movie before you start asking me what happened in it.” She bared her teeth at him jokingly before turning to look at the screen, but Aaron’s arms tightened around her. He couldn’t remember the first movie they had seen at the drive in, but he could remember the last movie they had watched together. 

“Okay, but wh-” 

“Sweetheart, could you pay attention please before you ask me another question about the movie?” He knew she had something tell him. She always talked even more than normal when she was nervous. He was quite the opposite. Finally, after a few more minutes of just the movie playing, she leaned away from his chest, reaching for the remote. Her engagement ring shone brightly in the blue light of the TV. She paused the movie, then turned on the couch, legs going criss cross. He looked at her, waiting for impact. It had been ten months since September 11th, and both of them had managed to not get hit with the deployment, but it had been looming over their every moment. 

“I got the notice this morning.” She didn’t have to explain, “I leave in a few weeks.” He nodded, looking down at the tattered leather couch before looking back at her. He had his own things he needed to say, but now wasn't the time. 

“I love you.” Willow leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as tears began to roll down her face. She had spent months planning a wedding, pretending that the worst wasn’t yet to come. When she sniffled and opened her eyes there were tears on Aaron’s face too, but he pulled back and wiped hers away. 

“I love you too.” 

It had often felt to Aaron like Willow was reading his mind constantly since they had found each other again. Every moment felt like they were on exactly the same page, reading their life from so long ago word for word together. And in that moment it felt more than ever like that, when she looked back at him with a sad smile gracing her face. 

“Did you know then? That you were going to leave?” He nodded, gathering her closer still so she was practically laying on top of him. 

“I had known for a while, but I thought if I kept pushing it off I would get my orders first and by the time... if I got back I would have been able to do it with you.” She nodded, chin resting on his chest. Music started up in the movie behind them, but the world had faded to Aaron. He knew he hadn’t brought up that ring by accident, not consciously, but his subconscious knew what it was doing. The woman of his dreams, the woman who had walked into his life and hit play on their love again so easily, was right there in front of him. 

Willow was watching Aaron’s gears turn. It had been one of her favorite pass-times when they were finishing their undergrad degrees. They would sit outside after PT in the pickup and finish homework, but her degree program had been simple compared to his. She would lay under the stars with him and watch as he thought through the questions for his homework. Now she didn’t know what he was thinking about, but she knew that he needed to think through the problem. He always seemed to come to right conclusion. Well, almost always. 

“I promise that I won’t keep things like that to myself anymore. It ruined our lives, it ruined Haley and I’s marriage. I will not let it separate us again.” They had talked about what happened with Haley, all of it. It had been as easy as when Aaron brushed off the Polaroid in his car.

“I know.” Aaron pressed a kiss to her lips, and they both turned back to the movie. Willow talked a bit throughout, and asked questions, but Aaron wasn’t focused on the movie anymore. He was busy thinking about how Jack was going to take meeting Willow.

[yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink]

Okay, I know I just rbed a post and rambled in the tags about it, but let's talk about my

Ticci-Toby mouth guard HCs!

(disclaimer I have no idea what Kastoway said about it, but I also don't care, this is a Kastoway hostile zone)

Now, I don't know if it's INTENTIONAL or not, but it always reminded me of the mouth guard/muzzle Hannibal Lecter wears in Silence of the Lambs during the prison transfer.

Comparison is pretty striking, right?

So, the main concern I would have is breathability and the ability to talk. His mouth is COMPLETELY covered, as opposed to Hannibal there having a mouth window. If he has a stuffy nose, the boi is gonna suffocate. In addition, it'd have to be something hard, but lightweight. Unlike the Hannibal getup just keeping him from chomping people for a short transfer, it appears that Toby wears it CONSTANTLY, he can't get away with something as heavy or cumbersome as leather, but it has to be more durable than plastic.

And then it hit me: Fiberglass! I've worked with fiberglass for cosplays a few times, it's a more TECHNICAL skill that takes a bit of time to get right, but it's pretty cheap (the base core just requires enough cereal boxes or other thin cardboard to make the shape, and the resin isn't very expensive), less DIFFICULT and more just time consuming if you know what you're doing, and can lead to some pretty durable, hard pieces that are easy to paint and with just a little cloth or even a bit of foam, very comfortable to wear for extended periods of time! (my crowning achievement with it is a hard chest piece for a Mettaton cosplay!)

So, what I imagine is this:

I GENERALLY draw a more simplified version of it without the individual slats, but I DO feel like they're there. I feel like the smaller slats are more of an aesthetic choice than anything else? But there is a large window with just cloth and the slats to allow breathability like your average cloth mask.

As for WHY he wears it? I think it's a combination of being self conscious over his large mouth scar, an effort to correct harmful stimming, and aesthetic appeal.

Self conscious: I feel like he doesn't let people see his mouth scar often. Even if you stick with him having amnesia (not everyone does, which is valid), he's still got the trauma from being bullied. And if they teased him relentlessly over some tics, then him having a gash like that will turn his life into a NIGHTMARE--or at least, that's what his brain tells him. He probably wouldn't want to show his face to just anyone, he would prefer to know he can trust the person.

Correcting behavior: He lives as a proxy, and no matter how you hc that, he's likely out in the forest or other unsanitary places for extended periods of time. He also canonically chews on himself, that's a lot of what starts his story rolling. I personally hc it as a stim, but more akin to Self Injurious Behavior. It's something he uses when he's seeking more sensory input, control over the sensory input he's getting, a way to calm his racing thoughts, a way to communicate distress his conscious thoughts can't quite catch up with, or any combination of the above. However, when he's in the woods with all manner of germs, and also doing some dirty work (he's a proxy and a murderer, blood, hello), open wounds that he can't feel pain on and have to be cleaned, bandaged, and constantly monitored for infection aren't exactly helpful. Having a comfortable barrier over his mouth, as well as gloves on his hands, prevents him from successfully biting himself, at least anywhere but something inside his mouth. It's probably used in conjunction with other stim toys, and probably not uncommon to find he has some chewlery stuffed inside it

Aesthetic appeal: Dude, it just looks fucking rad. Do you SEE that thing? Boi probably SLAVED over making it, sanding it, giving it comfortable straps, painting it... It just looks REALLY cool

[bokettochild]

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.​

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

 The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

 The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

 “It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

 The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

 “There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

 Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

 The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

  Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

 “But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.  

 “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

 “I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

 Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

 Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

 “His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

 “But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

 The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

 Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

 It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

 It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

 Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

 But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

 “Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

 “When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

 Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

 Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

 His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

 Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

 Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

 He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.  

 “Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

 “One sec!”

 Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

 “There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”  

 Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

 “Thanks, Ravio!”

 “Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

 “We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

 “Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

 Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

 The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.  

 Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

 He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

 Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

 Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

 It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

 He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

 He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

 Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

 The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

 The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

 He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

 Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

 Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

 It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

 Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

 “He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

 “So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

 Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

 “Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

 He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

 Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

 It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

 “For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

 “But you’re the hero?”

 “A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

 A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

 But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

 Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

 Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

 Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

 It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

 Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

 He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.  

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

 Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

 The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

 Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

 The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

 Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

 Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

 There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

 That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

 The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

 Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

 While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

 Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

 Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

 Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

 The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

 It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

 “And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

 The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

 “I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

 “Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

 “You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

 “What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

 Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

 “Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

 “Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

 Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

 “Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

 Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

 Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

 He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

 “Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

 “Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

 “He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

 Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

 No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

 And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

 The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

 “I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

 Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

 It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

 But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

 He was never going to get one either.

 They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

 Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

 Mr. Hero is shivering.

 Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

 Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

 “Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

 “My what?”

 Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

 “I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

 “But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

 “It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

 He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

 “Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

 Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

 A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

 “Oh shoot!”

[seiyasabi]

The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji. 

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc! 

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. ) 

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something. 

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?” 

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?” 

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!” 

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful! 

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!” 

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab. 

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?” 

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?” 

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down. 

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating. 

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him. 

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

-

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired. 

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you. 

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve! 

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off! 

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does! 

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time. 

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab! 

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try. 

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you! 

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to. 

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so. 

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them. 

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances! 

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications. 

-

Saturday night comes far too soon. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside. 

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building. 

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen. 

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar. 

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city. 

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure- 

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you. 

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace. 

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.” 

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.” 

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.” 

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig. 

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting. 

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji. 

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them. 

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool. 

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!” 

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately. 

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji. 

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer. 

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding. 

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee. 

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod. 

“You bet!” 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

-

You spoke too soon. 

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once. 

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people. 

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession. 

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are. 

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you. 

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute. 

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[koocycle]

play thing | drabble series (iii)

pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader

summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s determined to show you what you’re missing out on.

wc. 2435

warnings. mild explicit language, suggestive themes.

taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!

previous / next

“Do you think he would notice if we’d fuck here?”

The question is ridiculous yet amusing to the ear, but you’re still having a hard time finding it in yourself to laugh at the remarkable query. And that’s most likely because Jungkook’s voice falls heavy in the shell of your ear even as you attempt to ignore him the best you can. Yet the act seems harder than usual when his pretty fingertips start gazing over your clothed waist, softly nipping at the flimsy material of your tight shirt in between his pleasing, tattooed fingers.

“He would.” So I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, is what you mean to add, yet the words don’t manage to slip any further than your charming lips that seem sealed shut as soon as you look at him in the eyes.

‘‘Do you think he would care?’’

This one seems to shut you up soon enough – you’re not entirely sure if the answer to that will suit your fight against the man behind you, and the jerk knows that. Because you don’t even have to look at him to see the grin that’s growing on his pretty features.

It’s taking you one more look upon the living room of which is connected to the rather chilly kitchen you’re finding yourself in before you can come up with a decent answer. The silence hurts your ears, but you have no other choice than to stay quiet by his side. Both you and Jungkook know the situation you’re finding yourself in, lying won’t do you any justice.

Your boyfriend’s dyed, blonde locks are astounding and vibrant alongside his fellow teammates on the sofa. They’re yelling at something that happens in the game playing in front of their noses, multiple chaotic arms pointing at the big screen and already loud voices which are only increasing in volume. And you can only guess there’s no good coming out of it.

“Of course he’d care.” You carry on your act, and you’re not entirely sure if it is you or Jungkook you’re attempting to convince here, but it doesn’t seem to work either way, “He is my boyfriend, after all.”

All the lights in Minho’s apartment are turned off, the only ounce of lighting available being the one coming from the big screen in the living area. And that might as well be for the best, considering Jungkook’s sneering eyes that are boring holes in the side of your face right now. He doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, certainly not when your lips grow into a content, irritatingly smug grin. You probably think you’re the shit now.

“Are you sure about that?” He questions, the fingers that were previously playing with the fabric of your shirt tightening in the heat of his palm as for right now. He can’t keep his hands to himself today, but it seems like you don’t really mind the way today’s play is going.

“So if I do this,” both his hands position themselves down your waist, finding their place on your hips before he slams his chest against your back, “he would come running to punch me in the face right now?”

When his head dips into the crook of your neck, a gasp is leaving your lips and it’s only feeding onto his ego, especially when he can feel you freeze under his fingertips. His lips are only inches removed from the skin on the side of your throat, yet his hot breath spreading down its place is taking an enormous toll on you.

His fingers tighten around both of your hipbones, head dipping even further down your neck to place a wet peck on the spot, a gasp leaving you once a pair of dampened lips make contact with you skin.

‘‘He’d kick me out of his shitty dorm?’’ He stupidly laughs in the crook of your neck, the vibrations against you being anything but sly, but you doubt he even worries about something silly like that. ‘‘Don’t fool yourself, ___. He isn’t even looking.’’

His index fingers that were wrapped around your hips just earlier make a move to tilt your chin up, yet the action doesn’t seem to revolve around him – no, he’s making you look up at Minho. And even though the feeling of his fingertips isn’t overbearing underneath your chin, merely being there for moral support, you don’t make a move to pull your gaze away from your boyfriend.

‘‘Do you think he would care?’’

You don’t need Jungkook to constantly remind you that Minho doesn’t give more than 2 fucks about you, because you’re able to do that yourself just perfectly fine. But what gives him the right to talk about your relationship like that? As if his opinion is relevant to you even the slightest way – he’s ridiculous.

‘‘Cut it out, Jungkook.’’ You snarl in between your gritted teeth, the sweet tone from before completely disappearing as you feel yourself heating up now.

‘‘Or what? Are you going to tell him?’’ His lips are making movements that send shivers down your spine, and you have to refrain your head from falling down to rest on his shoulder, ‘‘I think you’re enjoying this far too much to be putting this to a stop, no?’’

‘‘You’re nothing special.’’ You say, but your body language proves him otherwise. The heavy weight of your head is betraying you, the way you fall limp in his embrace proving his every word to be correct.

He pays no attention to your previous statement, not feeling the need to prove you wrong when both of you already know the deal, ‘‘Tell me why you’re here today.’’ He says instead, voice lower than before.

‘‘Did you invite yourself over because you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend,’’ flat hands slide down over your clothed belly, large palms reaching lower to the place you desperately need him, ‘‘or because you knew I’d be here?”

You stop him before he can get too far, your own hands clutching own just as desperately. ‘‘Me being here has nothing to do with you.’’

The lie is obvious and perhaps a little lacking in itself, the eager tone in your voice merely being there to overpower him. The attempt was there, but the execution could have been worked on.

His fingers are playing with the belt loops of your jeans, solely hooking his thumbs through them as he pushes you more against him – which he doesn’t even have to put a lot of effort into, not when you sloppily fall against him with your hips wedged to his own, no fight notable in your body. He uses his tallest fingers to reach out from their place to hover over the closed zipper that keeps your panties hidden – and you can’t find it in yourself to break away from him.

‘‘Go to your boyfriend, then.’’ He says, his breath tickling underneath your ear. ‘‘I’m not holding you back.’’

You’re sure it’s the conceited tone in his voice that has something snapping inside of you – most likely the thick layer of confidence nagging at you to stay in your lane. And you have to remind yourself that you’re completely falling for him, melting in his embrace as if your boyfriend isn’t mere feet away from the two of you. As if this Jungkook guy has some kind of effect on you.

Pfft. As if.

You don’t say anything as you remove your body from his own, and neither does he. Yet both of his arms fall slack besides his posture when you look back at him, the tip of his tongue pocking the inside of his cheek. And you know it irks him, yet you’d have to walk over his dead body for him to say it out loud.

If he wanted you to go to your boyfriend, then you will. He can kiss your ass for all you care.

Stupid, hot basketball jock.

With no seats left over of which are relatively close to your boyfriend, you find yourself sitting on the arm of the couch. Annoyed and pissed beyond your limits. He doesn’t reach out for you to make you feel included alongside his friends and neither do you wait (nor want) for him to do so.

You don’t know where Jungkook is, and you force yourself not to care about him for much longer. He didn’t follow you into the living room like as you assumed he would, and for all you know, he could have silently left already the dorm already.

The idea of that doesn’t sit right with you, though. The void in the pit of your stomach is only expanding at the thought of you sitting here with Minho and his friends, watching some stupid game you’re barely interested in. With you being here, bored and out of your mind, does nothing to spark your boyfriend’s interest – and it’s not like you expected much different when you walked through his door today. Your mind is already looping down a hole of excuses you’ll be throwing into his face as soon as you can get out of here.

‘‘Minho,’’ you eventually speak up, fingers nudging his shoulder. ‘‘I’m leaving now.’’

He only hums in response, a quick and effortless ‘‘mhm’’ leaving his closed lips. Eyes trained on the screen in front of him as he unappealingly munches on some popcorn, the greasy saltiness sticking to his fingertips.

He’s not asking you why you’re leaving, and you don’t think it’s happening any time soon. Except doesn’t matter this time, because again, you didn’t expect anything else to happen. His friends are focused on the game, so you’re no use to him at this moment. Not when he can’t show you off in front of the world.

As if on cue, Jungkook comes strolling into the living area as soon as you stand up from your seat on the armrest. A bright red, nearly perfect looking apple rests in the center of his palm as he’s chewing on the remaining pieces in his mouth, flawless and sharp eyebrows just slightly furrowed.

He barely looks at you as he walks by, feet moving to his previous spot on Minho’s cornered sofa, yet he raises an unabashed eyebrow once he catches a glimpse of you. As if asking you where you’re heading to, but at the same time telling you he could care less if you were actually to leave.

That’s a lie though. You know that much.

Seeing the way he falls down on the couch with a huff, cockily munching on the sweet pieces of apple on his tongue; you can see right through him. He doesn’t want you gone.

The guy enjoyed shoving all the blame on you tonight, telling you how much you needed him, yet you know he is in an all too eager frame of mind for your presence just as much as you are for his. And it’ll be a hard job to get him to say it out loud, but you might as well think Jungkook is a challenge you’d gratefully accept tonight.

So in honor of him, you’ll stay just a little longer.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ Minho’s voice rummages through the room when you suddenly decide to slip into his lap, knees on both of his sides as your ass pokes out on his thighs. It doesn’t grab the boys’ attention just yet, only a few glances here and there before they quickly avert back to the game, scooping more loads of popcorn and coke down their throats.

But you can feel the eyes of a certain someone on you.

‘‘I want to cuddle with you.’’ You shrug, resting your head on the base of his shoulder, angled perfectly in a way where you can take Jungkook’s expression in. The dude doesn’t look happy. ‘‘I’ve missed you.’’

Jungkook doesn’t even pretend as if he’s interested in the game, not towards you nor his teammates. They’re not paying much attention to him, anyways. His harsh stare is only locking with your own as he slumps down his seat on the sofa, legs spread apart before you attempt on not looking down once he does so.

‘‘Did you miss me too?’’ You don’t want a genuine answer from him. Heck, you hardly hear him once he mutters an uninterested ‘of course I did’, and instead your fingers lock with his, guiding them down your ass.

And you’re glad his larger hands rest there without question, in full view of the guy you currently have wrapped around your finger. You can see his tongue poking in the inside of his cheek again, which is more than a good sign. He repositions himself quite a few times in his place, hoping the daggers he’s shooting in your direction are put into good use and you’ll back the fuck off soon enough.

There’s no luck on his side when your fingers come up to rest on your boyfriend’s jaw, solely being there for show when your lips make contact with the skin underneath his jawline.

‘‘Do you think they would notice if we’d fuck here?’’ Your voice is sharp and confident in the crook of his neck, the volume of your voice loud enough to catch some ears in the room.

Minho’s head shoots down to look at you as soon as the words escape your lips, totally caught off guard as well as the other boys who seem shocked as well – yet you couldn’t care less about them. Jungkook’s eyes are boring into yours and that’s all that matters at this right moment.

He’s stopped munching on the apple pieces in his mouth, swallowing them down his throat with some effort, his hand is tightening around the pretty colored fruit as he can already feel his body heating up at the sudden reference.

‘‘I don’t think they would care.’’ You continue to blabber on, the guy on the other side of the couch feeling a little tense in the current situation he’s finding himself in.

‘‘Babe..’’ Minho’s uncertain voice booms through his chest as he continues to mumble something about the game, but your focus isn’t on him. Instead you have found your center of attention elsewhere.  

Else, where his hands drop down in between his spread legs, cupping the inner sides of his thighs. His jaw clenched so tightly that you’re able to catch the sharp jawline from this distance as the two rows of teeth are clutched against one another – unable to open up.

You’re leading this game. And you’re loving it.

taglist — @jinsalpaca @moonchild1 @annenhypen @fan-ati--c

[comfortwriting]

Her Façade - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Hufflepuff Reader

Prompt 23: “your brother fancies me” you teased him, smirking. 

Requested/About: The reader hides behind a façade that everyone believes so easily but Fred. The two of them hook up occasionally but every time it happens, Fred swears he’ll never do it again. Ron is crushing on the reader and Fred dares him to make a move, which he does and succeeds. Fred thinks he can handle things until Ron invites the reader to the burrow for the summer, pushing Fred to his limits. 

Warnings: Jealous Fred, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of choking, swearing, mention of Dom/Sub.

Walking out of the great hall, Fred’s eyes burned into you from head to toe, watching you laughing at some lads terrible jokes. He couldn’t stand it, the innocent act you put on like a regular part of your clothing - because you weren’t innocent, you weren’t the ‘submissive little angel’ the Hufflepuff team gloated about and Fred knew it. 

You would bat your eyes, smile slightly, laugh lightly and sway. When having sex, you would obey your partner, lay on your back and act the part of the façade you picked out for yourself  - but when it came to Fred, you did nothing of the sort. You didn’t obey him, he obeyed you, you didn’t bat your eyes, you didn’t sway - you would mount him whilst he lay down, choking him whilst you fucked him.

Fred loved spending time with you, he loved the sex, he loved anything if you were in the picture - but after each hook up, Fred left feeling guilty, swearing to himself that would be the last time the two of you merge as one - and you noticed, and truth be told, you were hurt. 

“Hey Freddie” you chirped, snatching your attention from the Ravenclaw student.

Fred turned to face you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, the conversations between other students breaking through his head and drowning out his thoughts.  

“Alright Y/N?” he replied coolly.

Shaking your head you crossed your arms “not really” you replied “why have you been avoiding me since last week? was the sex too much for you-”

Fred tried to shush you, not wanting everyone around him to hear how you dominated him “no, I’ve just been busy” he lied “the usual, joke shop ideas and stuff, look - I’ve got to go.”

Pushing past you, Fred blended into the crowd of students before you had a chance to stop him, your heart pained for a moment but you didn’t ponder on it, Fred always came back to you, you didn’t even need to ask.

Fred would rather avoid you and you hate him than you knowing the real reason why he couldn’t bare to be around you. He shook his head, trying to rid the memories of you and him -  blaming himself for the reason you changed, for your true innocence to now be nothing but fake. 

Before you met Fred, you were innocent, you were a virgin, you knew nothing about asphyxiation, edging, squirting - and he changed all of that for you.

 Instead of showing up for Quidditch practice one afternoon, you laid in Fred’s bed, staring up at him, moaning out in pleasure and holding onto him tightly whilst he took your virginity. 

“You feel amazing Freddie” you moaned out, gripping onto him tighter.

Fred grunted and continued to penetrate you “I’m not hurting you am I?”

“Not at all”

One game absence multiplied and before you knew it hooking up with the more outgoing twin became a regular thing and because you weren’t dating - the two of you also saw other people which allowed you to remain your old self with them but become someone else entirely with Fred.

Riding him, your hand fastened around Fred’s neck whilst you moved your hips in circular motions.

“you look so hot with my hand around your throat” you moaned out.

“What's up Freddie?” George asked, seeing his distressed twin barge into the common room. 

Fred shrugged and sat next to George and his younger brother Ron, “just tired” he replied. 

“Well you’ll be glad to know, Ron is finally brave enough to tell us who he’s been fancying for the past year” George smirked.

Ron rolled his eyes and nudged his brother in the arm “shut up” 

12 months ago Ron noticed you, your gorgeous face, your stunning body, the way you laughed, smiled and the tone of your voice sounded when you got excited - the way you looked in your house colours making his heart skip beats. He constantly spoke about you to his older brothers, the two of them mocking him but ever so eager to put a face with the mystery girl. 

“go on then” Fred encouraged Ron “who is it?”

“Y/N Y/L/N” he muttered.

George raised his eyebrows and let out a whistle but his twin felt his heart split in two, he felt enraged knowing his little brother had fallen for your façade - not even close to knowing the real you. 

“I heard she’s a bloody good sub”

Fred couldn’t take it anymore, hoe everyone talked about you, the image of you laying with other people splashing in front of him, knowing how everyone wanted you and there was nothing he could do to stop it because you weren't his. 

“Just go talk to her!” Fred burst out “shoot your shot, make your move” 

Ron and George gave each other a strange look, both of them unsure as to why Fred sounded and looked so angry but Ron followed his brothers advice, and by the end of the school year, Fred couldn’t wait to be back at home, as far away from you as he could be - you and Ron flirting made him sick to his stomach.

“your hair looks so good when it’s long” you blushed, pushing Ron’s hair out of his face. 

Ron smiled “well, you look so good all together”

Fred in the distance watched, grumbling to himself knowing it wasn’t right for him to say a word - he felt relieved knowing that over the summer he wouldn’t have to see or hear anymore of you and Ron together.

“just tell her how you feel, Freddie.” George encouraged his brother, sitting on his bed. 

Fred sighed “there's no point, she prefers Ron anyway”

“don’t be bloody stupid, she’ll realise how much of a plonker he is.”

“I just don’t want to make things worse”

The first week back at the burrow felt like absolute bliss for Fred up until he heard your voice ringing through the kitchen, he paused and held his breath, looking at his brother George.

“is that Y/N?” George beamed, hopping off his bed to his feet, leaving the room and running down the stairs.

Fred took a deep breath and pursed his lips, also getting to his feet and leaving the bedroom, he walked down the many flights of stairs and down to the kitchen. 

“It’s so lovely to meet you.” you smiled at Molly, accepting a warm and loving hug from her. 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like dear, Ron has told us so much about you” 

Ron smiled and offered to give you a tour of the house and show you to his bedroom, Fred stared at you, his heart pining for you and aching in desperation to break free and hold you but the more he stared, the more infuriated he grew over his little brother having you.

You stay at the burrow went fast, in fact they had been the fastest three weeks of your life. You loved the atmosphere of the house, helping Molly cook, getting to know Arthur and his obsession with muggles, getting to know all of the family was an honour; you felt quite sad knowing that tomorrow you were going back home.

As much as you liked Ron, you couldn’t help but notice the lack of chemistry, he made you laugh, he made you blush and had lots to keep you engaged in conversation - but he didn’t really know you, like everyone else but Fred, you felt like you couldn’t be your true self around him. 

Over the dinner table you kept flashing looks at Fred, smirking at him, winking, running your foot against his leg under the table - anything to get his attention you had been deprived of for over a month now. 

Fred shuffled in his chair, clearing his throat and trying to contain himself, flashing looks of annoyance over at you, earning a grin from George who knew how much the tension had grown between you, how much it had been rising to the surface.

Sitting outside next to Ron in the garden in front of the outdoor fire, you sipped on Molly’s delicious hot chocolate which engulfed your insides in warmth, the sugar rushing to your head. Fred watched and chewed on his bottom lip in frustration at the sight of Ron making you laugh, he balled his hands into fists. 

“I think I’m going to call it a night” you beamed “got a busy day tomorrow”

Everyone waved and said goodnight, Fred stood up and said he needed to get his scarf as it was getting quite cold. 

Walking up the stairs, Fred followed you as silently as he could, walking into Ron’s room you picked up your belongings and turned around to shove them into your bag, bumping into Fred. 

“Do you mind?!” you hissed, clutching your chest.

Fred stared at you and scoffed “I could ask you the same thing”

Pushing past him, you stuffed your belongings in your bag “you’ve been acting as if I don’t exist Fred” 

“because you’re a liar, all you do is trick people, acting like you’re innocent when you’re not - you’ve roped my little brother into it!” Fred sounded more furious than ever.

Sighing, you zipped your bag shut and faced the lad your heart ached for “I don’t lie or trick people, I just don’t share every part of me with them.” You defended yourself “why do you care Freddie? why now?” 

“You wouldn’t understand” Fred started to pace around his brothers room, his hands stuck to his forehead. 

“your brother fancies me” you teased him, smirking.

Fred lost it, the desperation and hunger gleamed in his eyes, storming over to you, he pushed you against the wall and smashed his lips against yours. His tongue dragged across your bottom lip and you opened up your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours, his silky saliva pooling into your mouth. 

Letting out a moan, Fred’s hands went underneath your top, his long fingers fumbling with your bra strap and undoing it whilst your hands worked on getting him out of his trousers. 

Melting into his touch, you could feel yourself getting wet through your knickers and noticed Fred’s hard on poking through his trousers.

Pulling away from the kiss and pulling your shirt off, the two of you undressing one another, Fred lead you over to his little brothers bed, his hands gripping you by the hair. 

“do you want to know why I care?” he growled, bending you over the bed. 

You could feel yourself getting wet, the excitement fluttering in your tummy “yes Freddie, tell me.”

Fred kicked your legs apart, his free hand applying lube to his hard length and your desperate entrance he missed so much.

“I care because I’m in love with you” he finally confessed, lining his hard cock against your entrance “it infuriates me knowing that you pretend to be something you’re not to please other people you fuck, hearing them gloat about it riles me up, you’re fucking mine.” 

Fred slammed himself inside you without warning, causing you to yelp out in both pleasure and surprise, you missed the feeling of him inside of you, the way he filled you all the way, never making you feel empty.

“then make me yours Freddie, because I’m in love with you too”

Fred felt his heart skip a beat, all he ever wanted was now underneath him, telling him something he thought he wouldn’t ever hear. 

Continuing to slam inside of you, your juices coated his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. 

“I’ll make you mine” he growled lowly “cum deep inside of you and get you pregnant”

You moaned out, pushing yourself back against him so he could get deeper inside of you, your moans muffled against the bedsheets “I want to feel you shoot your load inside of me so bad.”

Fred started to pick up the pace, fucking you faster, his cock now shiny from your juices, the sound of him slapping against you filling the room.

“I will Y/N, everyone will know and you won’t be able to hide it.”

You moaned out even more, gripping onto the bed, your cunt wet and your walls tightening around his glossy hard cock.

“No one else will be able to go near you” Fred grunted “fuck... I’ll have you right where I want you”

As your walls continued to tighten around Fred’s length, his cock couldn’t stop twitching inside of you - the two of you getting closer and closer, being this close after so long apart, it finally filled the holes in your hearts.

“Freddie, I’m cumming!”

Fred smirked and pounded you faster “come for me Y/N, get yourself ready for my seed.”

The tension in your stomach built up and finally burst, your cum seeping out all over his cock, Fred watched and pushed himself deeper inside of you, releasing his seed.

Fred waited for a moment, the two of you cooking down and letting his load embed inside you to avoid any spillage.

Pulling out, you instantly felt empty and already missed him being inside you, Fred laid on the bed and pulled you into his arms, placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I meant everything, well, the I love you part.” He said softly, stroking your hair.

“Me too, Freddie. I want to be with you.”

Fred smiled and placed his hand against your cheek “me too.”

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