#you’ve never hidden the fact you think i’m an idiot and a fuck up and think my brother is this super genius

[peachlit]

can’t wait for the day i can get away from my parents

[bratz-kitten]

random thoughts on the moon signs

moon in pisces is literally my favorite placement ever. something about these people makes me feel safe. as a capricorn moon, i repress my emotions constantly and i’m deadly afraid of showing vulnerability, but pisces moons give off this vibe of constantly being consumed by their emotions – and it’s fascinating. you make me feel like it’s okay to express my deeply emotional side; even better, you encourage it. you’re the type of people who i love crying with while eating ice cream, even cuddling with. your empathy and passion for your interests is your biggest strength.

moon in aquarius reminds me of that shrek quote of him being an onion – you guys have layers upon layers upon layers. my brother is an aquarius moon and sometimes i feel like i’m the only person who knows how emotional he really is. you hate showing this part of yourself – it’s hidden safely from prying hands; you racionalize your emotions, repress them, attempt to conceal them; but ultimately, your deeply compassionate and intuitive nature will be shown – even if only to the very few you trust. your dreams are your biggest strength.

i have never met a cancer moon without raging mommy issues yet who was deeply attached to their mother. you always share this very close bond and she’s very present in your life – yet its so obviously this very toxic dynamic. you guys get this fame for being the only ones with ‘stable’ emotions because your moon is exalted but you’re like.. not. your emotions aren’t stable; much on the contrary, and even if you’re very emotional, you don’t particularly like showing it. most of the cancer moons i’ve known are iffy about expressing their feelings. you joke a lot about your trauma, though, and so you give people the impression of knowing you when really, they don’t know the half of it.

moon in sagittarius makes it feel like life is worth living. you dream so much and so high; you’re so open about your love for adventure and freedom, so optimistic and fun-loving – to the point where most people don’t understand how turbulent your emotions are underneath the façade. you give off the vibe of the funny friend who’s depressed and afraid to show it because you’re supposed to be the one who raises the spirits. doesn’t it hurt when you try opening up to others and they almost seem bothered by it because they prefer it when you’re just this bubble of fun? you need to learn to take that weight off your shoulders – stop trying to entertain others and realize that they’re the ones who need to entertain you. this is your show, baby. your resilience is your strength.

is it possible to be a capricorn moon without having strict parents and a terrible childhood in which you had to raise yourself? because i think it’s kind of a given. it’s so funny how literally everyone sees you as this cold, unemotional, strong person yet you probably cry everyday. a lot of problems with self-worth every time you’re in a bad place mentally, which is constantly. extremely calculating – you always do shit with a clear purpose in mind and it can come off like you’re using people for your own gains. your ability to survive even unsurmountable odds stacked up against you is your strength. i almost feel like you thrive on pain because that’s how you’ve learned to grow and adapt.

moon in aries people are so smart, and most of all, dedicated. you make me want to get my life together so bad – you’re the type of people to set a goal and go through with it no matter what. you’re always on to something, looking for opportunities and recognition. you see what you want and you go for it. you’re so easy to rile up and lose it, though, it’s so funny how you’re so bold and passionate yet so big of a crybaby (all aries placements are tbh).

moon in scorpio stop being so pessimistic pleathe i will kiss you in the lips just don’t lose your faith in humanity /yet/. trust is the most important thing in the world to you which is funny because you have raging trust issues. so sensitive but you cover that up with anger. you be looking like you wanna commit sporadic murder when on the inside you’re just so hurt. you’re so dependable, things might be in deep shit but as soon as you’re in the room i know we’ll find a way to fix it. if the l*ve of my life doesn’t end up being a scorpio moon i’ll be so pissed.

moon in leo YOU’RE SO INFURIATING PLEASE SHUT UP OR I’LL FUCK YOU??????? massive egos, you know you’re the shit and you won’t shut up about it. likes to start arguments just to rile everyone up and then laugh maniacally in the corner at the chaos they created. always have a wicked plan in mind and i’ll go along with it because you’re also stupidly endearing. the best friends, literally always there when you’re down and sosososo supportive. i’ve noticed that feeling insecure is quite possible the worst thing you can feel, it’ll start to take a toll on your physical health. your ability to be a fucking idiot but also a /pretty/ idiot is your biggest strength.

moon in virgo if you say “well actually, that’s not how that works” one more time i’ll throw hands. incredibly nit-picky and obsessive but also the types of people to have a pile of dirt on their room?? mom friend, WILL take care of her babies/friends. you always ruin the mood yet.. you’re so fun to be around? how does that even work? i could listen to you talk for hours. i don’t think you know what the concept of relaxation is. also pleathe stop with that need to fix others. the fact that you’re so focused on your goals and willing to do just about anything is your biggest strength (it’s also kinda scary).

my mom’s moon is in libra and ma’am can you please stop transferring your mommy issues onto me? i get it, you had a codependent relationship with her and she showed you she loved you while also constantly criticising you and treating you like an extension of herself. my bestie is a libra moon too and it’s also like that. just.. mommy issues and insecurities for days. a passion 4 fashion and people love to be around you. also, i can’t understand how you feel. like, you’ll cry a lot and love so hard yet when you break up with someone you’ll never spare a thought about them again? it’s almost like you can turn your feelings off. which is funny, because that’s supposed to be a capricorn moon thing but i’ve never met one who can stop caring, they just act like they’re heartless to protect themselves. either way, libra moons can switch from sweethearts to cold and aggressive in a literal second and it’s scary but also cool.

moon in gemini please don’t ever shut up you have so much to say, your interests are so fascinating and the way you talk with so much passion about literally anything makes my heart do the flippy thing. also so complicated, can you name one person in this world who fully knows and comprehends you? very secretive, people feel like they know you because you talk a lot and are very open about certain things but as soon as something actually serious happens you turn into allison dilaurentis real quick.

moon in taurus why are you so pretty? you’re so extra too, you always leave the house looking straight off the runaway. you’re literally so caring for your friends and overprotective too, possessive of even them. you prioritize comfort a lot, wether it be on your home or concerning yourself. you’re very good with people, i feel like you’re the ex that your ex-boyfriend’s mom doesn’t ever shut up about because she misses you and wants you to be The one. you need to learn that change isn’t the enemy!! change is fundamental for personal growth. hold grudges for a crazy amount of time. very weird sense of humor, in an oddly endearing way. your mentality of “if they’ve hurt you, they’ve hurt me too” is your biggest strength.

[sofiafushiguro]

4k - bakugo katsuki

↳ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: bakugao katsuki x afab! reader

↳ ⚠️𝖙𝖜: masturbation (f) guided masturbation (?, kinda dubcon, cum eating, consented filming, degradation, praising, orgasm denial, daddy kink.  All characters are 18+ here.

↳ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 0.9k

↳𝖆/𝖓: This is a re-upload from my old blog but it’s too good to forget

prompts

"Oh, what do we have here?" Bakugo's words were sharp as a knife and full of lust. He laughed at how defenseless and shy you looked at that moment, with a camera recording each one of your moves and words. "You were having fun just a  few seconds ago. What happened, honey?" he asked, even tho he knew well the answer.

Your face was bright red, and your hands were hidden in between your thighs; the coldness of the room was hitting your skin, taking into account that you were only wearing your bra. Bakugo grabbed you roughly by the hair, forcing you to face the camera and not him.

"This little slut right here was playing with herself while I break my back saving the world," with his other hand, he spread your legs. Fresh arousal from earlier was dripping into the bedsheets, and indeed, you still wanted to touch yourself. "Aren't you ashamed of that?" He let go of your hair and walked to where the camera was, kneeling next to it.

"I risk my life every day for a bunch of idiots, and when I come home, I see my girl touching and using the only thing I can claim as mine," he laughed. You knew it was ironic, laughing and smiling after saying cruel things to you. "But since you sure love to do it, why don't we show it to the world?"

That's when your heart jumped in fear inside your chest. You've sure done it a couple of times because Katsuki was obsessed with preserving forever those cute moans of yours, that fucked-dumb face you had after he finishes with you, and of course, the picture of you covered in his spit and cum. But now, you felt insecure, exposed; perhaps it was because Katsuki caught you masturbating or because you knew that he was going to fuck you mercilessly after this.

"I'm so sorry, Katsuki, I will never-" you quickly answered and shook your head, giving him puppy eyes, expecting him to understand and believe you. Bakugo hissed at you, and you immediately stopped talking.

"My bad. I forget that inside that little brain of yours is only space for my cum, so of course, you wouldn't understand," he cleared his throat, and his eyes never left you. "I was asking you, when in fact, I'm demanding you to do it. So stop fucking with my time, and fucking touch that pussy because it sure wants attention,"

Bakugo could see perfectly how the camera was recording your glistening cunt, and your inner thighs covered in your juices. He was pushing you to do it, even tho you were feeling uncomfortable with it because at the end of the day both of you knew that you always do as he says. You leaned back on the bed and supported your weight with your non-dominant hand while your other hand was making its way to your core. You were ashamed that you were so needy because when you brushed your clit, a loud moan escaped your lips.

"Good girl. Was it hard to obey me for a fucking time, you slut?" his words mixed with degradation and praise at the same time made you clench around nothing, and you began to draw small circles on your clit.

Katsuki's dick was painfully hard inside his black slacks, but he knew well that he was only cumming inside you, so he could not touch himself at a time like that. Lots of years of training had taught him self-control.

"We both know you can do it faster," he commanded, and you did. The small circles sooner became bigger and faster ones, touching every part of the bundle of nerves. Your middle finger made its way to your entrance, and quickly Katsuki stopped you from doing that.

"The only thing going inside you today is going to be my cock, so don't even think about it," he stood up from where he was and walked to the bed. He made his way behind you and rested his chin on your head. "Say hi to the camera, baby," he talked. Bakugo's hands caressed your back and shoulders until they found a perfect spot on your tits. "I don't wanna repeat myself," his index and thumb pinched your nipples thru the fabric of your bra, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your body.

"Hi-" you managed to say in between moans, and he smiled. "Great job. Are you daddy's biggest slut?" he asked and once again pinched your nipples. You nodded. 'Say it, then,"

"I'm daddy's biggest slut," repeating those degrading words was just increasing the size of the knot on your lower stomach. You felt your orgasm approaching, and so did Bakugo; he knew you too well to recognize those high-pitched moans everywhere. 

"Good," he lowered himself so he could kiss your cheek and nape, burying his face in the crook of your neck from behind. "Are you gonna touch yourself again and take what's mine?"

"Never!" you replied. Katsuki's hot breath hitting your skin gave you goosebumps. It felt so good.

Suddenly, he stopped caressing your breasts and grabbed both of your wrists, leaving you in a cliffhanger because you were so close to cum. You looked straight at the camera, your hair was messy, and a thin coat of sweat was covering your whole body. Your juices were dripping onto the bedsheets, creating a bigger spot than what already was, and it was all being recorded.

"Never, huh?" he rested his chin on your head again and looked straight at the camera. "Then I'm the only one making you cum, understood?" you nodded eagerly, still trying to catch your breath. "Now say your last words to the camera before I fuck the shit out of you,"

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

– all rights reserved © sofiafushiguro 2022.  please do not repost, plagiarize, distribute or translate my work on any platform

[dyhayc]

could you please please please write this,literally everyone I've asked doesn't want to write my idea!

ok so basically reader x Eddie Munson. Reader and him are on the roof of reader's house,both looking at the sunset,when reader wants to try smoking for the first time. Also they're giving each other surprise birthday presents because their birthdays are 6 days apart. (Eddie's is first,then reader's is 6 days after)(Oh and Eddie gives reader a mixtape and a malachite ring to match it with her malachite necklace and reader gives him crystals and a lot of expensive metal casettes and he flips).

A lot of fluff,really. Oh and they're not dating,they just have the biggest crush on each other.

Title: Real Rings and Expensive Things

Pairing: Eddie x gn!Reader (fluff, mild angst)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Marriage Iguana (Marijuana), Eddie And Reader Are Stupid Idiots, Reader Is Down BAD (And Also Super Impulsive)

A/N: While thinking up ideas for this oneshot, I became enamoured with the characters I created. I think I’m going to make this an entire AU, but I don’t want to make the original anon uncomfortable, so this specific oneshot will be a spinoff and not canon in the universe. Most of my ideas aren’t relevant to this piece anyways, so I hope it’s okay!

I didn’t explain it in the oneshot, but the reader was adopted by a super rich couple. Also, I changed the request a tiny little bit. You freak out more about your gift than he does for his, but there’s a good reason for it. I hope you like it, anon! <3

By the way, I know absolutely nothing about crystals, so I kinda glossed over the crystal part. I didn't want to make any mistakes so I made it as vague as possible!

Masterlist

The sun is beautiful, golden rays barely peeking through the dense trees behind your house. Birds fly in the distance, most likely Sandhill Cranes– they call the wetlands beyond the line of trees home. Clouds dot the sky, perfectly framing the sunset in pink and purple hues.

All of this natural beauty, and yet, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen is sitting right next to you. Eddie Munson, with his unruly curly hair and big doe eyes, has the most important star in this solar system beat.

He’s looking out, lips slightly parted in wonder, as he watches the horizon. Your heart clenches at the sight even though you’ve seen him thousands of times. He’s been hanging out with you since literal birth, his face is in photos posted all around your house, and he spends almost every Saturday with you. But, still, there’s something about his face that takes your breath away— every single time.

God, he’s so pretty. You desperately wish you could tell him. Sober, that is. Sometimes, when he’s so fucked up he can barely walk, you whisper the things you hold back. You’re not sure if he remembers or can even comprehend your words through the fog of his high, but you find comfort in the fact that somewhere, hidden deep in his brain, Eddie may know you love him.

Impulsively, you speak before your brain can stop you. He has to know. He needs to know.

“Eddie, I-”

But you choke, frozen like a damn deer in headlights.

He’s turned his head. Looking into his eyes, you’re consumed by an ocean of brown— hundreds of shades, highlighted by the golden sun setting to his right. The depth of his stare cuts deep into your heart, and you see adoration, and kindness, and warmth. Things that most people never bother to see or even look for within him. The grim reality hits: you’d never be able to ever emotionally recover if he rejected you.

What if he only sees you as a friend? Or worse, a sibling. Your parents basically adopted him, too, all those years ago. It wouldn’t be surprising if he saw you as family and nothing more. Would he stick around after you’ve confessed despite the awkward air when he rejects you? Or would you drift apart until he’s just a ghost from your past? Overwhelming emotion wells in your chest. How could you live without him?

You turn your head away to hide the quickly forming tears, pushing the fear of abandonment down. “Can-” you swallow thickly, willing the pain away, “Can you. Er– Well, can I smoke? I know I haven’t tried it before, but– Just, well– yea.” Heat floods your entire body, you’re absolutely mortified. Sure, you couldn’t confess, but damn, did you have to make a complete fool of yourself?

He chuckles lightly, an attractive sound to match his attractive face. “Haven’t even tried cigs yet, and you wanna go straight to weed?” he questions, raising his brow.

You scoff, trying to hide your emotions behind annoyance, “How do you know I was talking about weed?”

“Would you have gotten all stuttery over a cigarette?” Well, he had you there.

Lamely, you shrug. He huffs but digs around in his jean pocket, pulling out a ziploc with a joint. To this day, it still shocks you how brazen he is with his drugs. When you were in school together, he’d bring his food in the same metal lunchbox he carried the little baggies of marijuana in. You assume he still does it, not that you’d know definitively since you graduated in ‘84.

“It’s your first time, so you’re probably gonna cough your lungs out,” he motions to the water bottle at your hip, “You’re gonna need that.”

“Is it… that bad?” You ask hesitantly. The only information you had to go on was Eddie’s ramblings about what it feels like to be high and your observations from when he’d smoked in your presence. You say “observations,” but really, you’d just been watching his lips.

“For most people, no,” he comments casually as he flicks on the lighter.

You quickly snap back, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I know you. You’re gonna find a way to choke to death on the smoke.” The little shit is smirking while he says it, knowing you’re gonna be angry with him. Your nose scrunches up, offended, but you don’t say anything because you know he’s absolutely right. Again, he chuckles.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he explains what to do before showing you a demonstration. Yea, you’re definitely gonna need the water. He doesn’t even bother handing the joint to you, instead holding it in front of your lips. Butterflies flutter intensely in your stomach. Fuck. He’s so hot, and he doesn’t even know it.

Maybe when you lean in, your lips “accidentally” brush against his fingertips, but who can really tell? Following his instructions, you don’t immediately breathe out the smoke. It feels… odd? A little uncomfortable, too. You’re sure it shows through your expression, judging by the amused look on Eddie’s face.

Finally breathing it out, you feel like someone’s just punched you in the throat. The muscles seize up suddenly, causing you to double over and cough hard. In the background, you can hear Eddie laughing at you.

He’s laughing. You’re dying, and he’s fucking laughing at you.

Once he’s done giggling at your expense, he scoots next to you and rubs circles on your back with his hand until you can breathe again. Snatching the water, you drink half of it in one go. You scowl at him, but he grins wide in return. Holding out his hand again, he asks cheekily, “Ready for another?”

Still aggravated, you go in for a second time, nipping his finger before you lean back. He murmurs “ouch” half-heartedly, but you both know it didn’t hurt. This time goes over much smoother, and you’re grateful because you don’t think your throat could take that again.

This continues until there’s barely anything left. He drops the burned paper onto the roof unceremoniously and squishes it under his boot. You really should say something, but this is a fight that’s lasted for years. Realistically, if he hasn’t stopped dirtying your section of the roof, he never will, so you decide not to bother.

You can feel him shift because of your head on his shoulder. When had you done that? Oh well, it doesn’t matter because he’s speaking. “Do you wanna exchange gifts now?”

Right, you’d completely forgotten about those. Today is what you affectionately call the “communal birthday.” Eddie’s birthday was three days ago, and yours will be in three more days. It’s the perfect in-between. As children, you’d have birthday parties together on your communal birthday. They had been fun in the moment, but looking back, you’re somber, knowing your parents threw those parties because his own parents didn’t care about his birthday. But, you shouldn’t dwell on such sad topics when you’re about to exchange gifts.

Humming, “Mhm,” you reach over to grab his present. A carefully wrapped cardboard box, tied together with a blood red ribbon. You used children’s Star Wars-themed wrapping paper, of course.

“Wow,” he whistles, holding up the box to admire the print, “Darth Vader, huh?” Giddily, you giggle and turn your head to press your face further into his shoulder. He smiles down at you, “You’re so quiet when you’re high. Normally, I can’t get you to shut up.” You just stick your tongue out at him.

He struggles for a little too long with the bow, but you don’t help him. You’re considering it payback for the teasing things he’s said tonight. Finally, he unties the ribbon and takes off the wrapping paper. He hands the ribbon back to you, knowing you’d reuse it. Gingerly, he picks up the lid and reveals the red tissue paper you’d used to protect the contents.

Carefully, he plucks out the sheets one by one. You smile wide at how gentle he’s being, obviously trying to be mindful of your gift. He comes across the first part of your present, a collection of various crystals, each with different uses and meanings. You want to tell him what they all do and represent, but words are escaping you at the moment. Instead, you promise, “I’ll explain ‘em t’you when ‘m sober.”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to it,” he responds, setting them off to the side. Returning to the box, he pulls out the last few pieces of tissue paper, revealing the best– and most costly– part of his gift.

“Holy fuck!” he blurts, taking a few in his hands to examine them. Limited edition cassettes, eight of them. All on his wishlist and all expensive. “I thought we agreed not to use your parents’ money?”

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little embarrassed, “I didn’t.” 

He chuckles in disbelief, swapping the ones in his hands for the tapes left in the box, “Sweetheart, these are worth at least two of your paychecks.”

Yes, you’re working, even though you have rich parents. They’re big on humility and work ethic, so they’d encouraged you to get a job while attending community college. Not that you’d really needed one to form a work ethic. Sure, you grew up with money, but you weren’t spoiled. If anything, Eddie made sure of it, drilling into your head how important it is to not take your wealth for granted.

It was a little… how do you say? Impulsive to buy these for him, sure. But Eddie’s your best friend, and he’s always been there for you, so he deserves a thoughtful gift to show him just how much you appreciate him.

Your mind completely skips over the fact that he’d called you a pet name.

His reaction makes you insecure, so you ask, “D’you not like ‘em?” You still have the receipt somewhere in your room, so you can probably return them if he really doesn’t want the cassettes.

“Not like ‘em?” he repeats, astonished, “I fuckin’ love ‘em! This is an amazing gift, thank you.” He continues to flip all the cassettes over in his hands, inspecting them. They’re in pristine condition, so hopefully, Eddie will keep them safe.

You beam, “Your welcome!” excited he likes the tapes. You’d spent a lot of time thinking of what to get him, so you’re glad your thoughtfulness paid off.

He sets the box aside and picks up his present for you. It’s in a gift bag that you two have been swapping for years, but you’re happy to see it again. There’s colourful tissue paper covering the contents and spilling out the top.

You grab it carefully, as he had, and take your time unwrapping the present. The cassette grabs your attention first, and you chuckle at your similar gifts. It looks like it’s a blank until you turn it over and see Eddie’s signature handwriting on the front. It reads: “Really Cool Mixtape” and has a skull, heart, and fire symbol drawn next to the words. You bite your lip to hide your smile. He’s so adorable. Fishing in the bag, you find a piece of paper pressed against the bottom.

Opening the folded paper, you can’t stop your smile this time. It’s a song list, but what really draws your attention are the crudely drawn doodles of skulls, hearts, and fires in the blank space on the margins. The same shapes that are on the cover of the cassette. You decide to close it, wanting to discover the songs he chose organically.

Grinning wide, you exclaim, “Thank you! I really love it, Eddie.”

“That’s not all,” he says slowly, as if he’s not sure whether he wants to say it or not. Pulling something out of his pocket, he places it gingerly in your hands. You hesitate before looking down.

It’s a simple dark brown box. You take off the top, revealing cream pleather embossed with a fancy logo directly in the center— a jewelry box. Looking up at Eddie, he doesn’t meet your gaze, instead glancing bashfully to the side.

You turn the boxes over so the cream one will fall into your palm. Flipping open the top unveils a beautiful silver and malachite ring.

Sure, you’re high, but you’ve been around authentic jewelry your entire life. This is one hundred percent real, down to the 925 imprinted on the inside of the ring. The malachite appears to be high quality, too, the bands of colour within the stone being distinct and striking.

The ring is so delicate, the polished green stone in the middle is surrounded by silver leaves, which are attached to stems that intertwine to make the band. It’s an exact match to the necklace you’re wearing right now. The one that your mother bought for you when you turned eighteen, the one that’s made by an expensive designer who charges ridiculously high prices. Yea, that one. And now, it’s your turn to freak out.

“Holy shit, Eddie! Oh my God! Holy shit! Eddie! Oh my God!” your words loop as you try to accept just how much his gift cost. If yours is worth two paychecks, his is worth five, easy. You can’t even imagine the amount of drugs he’d had to sell to pay for it.

You carefully take the ring out of the box and slip it onto your finger, holding your hand up to examine it. He smiles sheepishly, “Do you like it?” Your jaw literally drops. How could you not like it? Your mouth moves before your brain can filter your words.

“I– I love you.” Fuck.

You just sit and stare at each other, not moving an inch. Dread settles heavily on you. You’ve just ruined everything. He’s going to leave and never come back. Tears gather in your eyes as you whimper uncertainly, “Eddie.” That seems to break him out of his trance.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not lying?”

“No.”

In place of words, he grabs you and brings you into a tight hug. You’re a little disoriented but still cling to him, regardless. “I’m so stupid,” he murmurs in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, “I love you, too. Ever since middle school.”

You smile, pulling back, “Me too.”

He grins up at you, “Well, the buzzcut was irresistible, really. Everyone wanted me.”

You both burst out laughing. Eddie’s buzzcut was so bad that he refused to let your parents hang any photos of him from that era. Calming down, Eddie lifts his hands to your face. He rubs his thumbs across your cheek before pulling you down for a sweet kiss just as the sun passes below the horizon. You swear you’ve never been happier, even if it took years to finally get here.

For someone so emotionally intelligent, he always fell short when it came to you.

But maybe you were the same way.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[sacredsorceress]

Secrets (Two) || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after your conversation on the phone, bucky returns home with sam and natasha to find that you’ve been kidnapped. everyone begins to discover that the super soldier has been lying to them for far too long.

a/n: second chapter! once again the first few chapters are pure angst, but you can find fluff on my masterlist below! reblogs/replies are super appreciated!

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst, mentions of kidnapping, swearing, description of violence (the fight scene from ca:tws)

Prologue One

masterlist || request || taglist

“What do you mean your wife?” Sam asked, following Bucky into the hallway.

When Bucky didn’t stop walking to answer his question, Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him around to face him.

“Buck, man, what’s going on?” He asked. “You’re married?”

Bucky snatched Sam’s hand in his, yanking it off of his shoulder. “Yes, I’m married and no, I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. Can I go now?”

Sam stared at the man in front of him. Although he had apparently not known him well enough to know that he was married, he had known him long enough to recognize that underneath his tough exterior he was scared.

There were very few times that Bucky Barnes was genuinely scared and the fact that Sam could see the feeling etched on his friend’s face now, terrified him.

“Buck, whatever it is- let me help you.” Sam said.

Usually Bucky would have handled it himself. He had been handling his problems- his secrets- for years in his own, but as he thought about you and possibly even your children in danger because of him, he knew he would have to take all the help that he could get- not for his- but for your sake.

-

As soon as Sam stopped the car outside of Bucky and yours shared home, Bucky swung open the door of the vehicle, pulling a gun out of the holster at his side with Sam quickly following behind. With no sign of any unknown vehicle in the driveway, Bucky swung open the front door of your home.

“Y/n?” He called. “Rebecca? Grant?”

When he heard no reply, he felt his heart drop into his stomach and his hands begin to tremble. You had to be there. His family had to be there- safe and sound. If you weren’t... if something had happened to you all because of him... he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Remembering what he had told you on the phone, he jogged towards the basement door, pulling it open and rushed down the stairs, Sam close behind on his heels.

As soon as he saw the rug on the basement floor he threw it to the side, swinging open the hatch he had hidden in the ground.

Being met with his children’s faces staring back at him, he breathed a sigh of relief, slipping the gun back into the holster. He reached out his arms, pulling his daughter from his son’s grasp into his own and reached out his hand to pull his son to his feet on the ground above the crawlspace.

“Oh my God.” He heard Sam say from beside him. “You have kids? What.. what haven’t you been telling us?”

He felt guilty as he stood there, both of his children in his arms. Sam was his best friend since Steve’s passing and had done more for him than anyone else possibly would. He felt guilty standing there, knowing that he had not only been keeping secrets from him, but from you too. He had been burying the truth from everyone for so long and he felt idiotic for not realizing that it would eventually come to the surface.

Before he could say anything however, Sam softened, kneeling before the boy stood at Bucky’s side.

“Hey buddy.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m-”

“You’re Captain America!” Your son exclaimed, pulling his tumb out of his mouth- a habit you and your husband had tried to break him out of years ago, but that he still slipped back into when he was nervous.

A smile stretched across Sam’s face at the fact that the child had recognized him. Pushing himself up and onto his feet once again, he pointed at your son.

“I like this one.” He said to Bucky.

Without an answer, Bucky handed his daughter over to Sam who took the young girl in his arms. Your husband kneeled in front of your son now, placing his hands on either of his shoulders.

“Grant,” He said. “Where’s your mom?”

He felt awful as he watched the young boy slip his thumb into this mouth once again, just now noticing his tear-stained cheeks.

“I- I don’t know.” He told his father. “There was yelling and- and-”

“And what, bud? What happened?” Bucky asked desperately, feeling his heart race in his chest, praying that nothing had happened to you.

“I- I think they took mom.” He said finally.

As soon as he had heard the confirmation from his own son’s mouth, he stood up and began pacing the room before rushing up the stairs, Sam calling after him as he did so. When he reached the top of the staircase he couldn’t help but tug at his own hair, pacing back and forth, thoughts of you running through his mind.

You were taken because of him. It was all his fault. He was the one they wanted- not you, but you got caught in the crossfire because you cared about him- because he didn’t tell you the truth. These people came in here looking for him and they took you. You didn’t deserve to suffer because of his past or because of his mistakes. He couldn’t bare the thought of you spending a minute with people who would do anything to get back at him.

“Barnes?”

Being pulled out of his own head he turned and saw Natasha Romanoff standing in the doorway.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating- so much so he could barely take a breath to speak.

“Wilson texted me when you guys left the Compound.” She said.

Just as she mentioned him, Bucky heard Sam come up from the basement, both of his children in tow.

Natasha glanced between Bucky and the two children attached to Sam’s hip.

“What-” She began. “Wilson said you were married, but...”

Too consumed in his own mess, Bucky didn’t even bother explaining the situation to the woman standing in the doorway, instead just continuously tugging at his hair, willing himself not to fall apart.

Watching the scene unfold, Sam was the first to speak.

“Alright.” He said, turning to Natasha. “Why don’t we take these kids back to the Compound. They’ll be safe there.”

Although he said nothing, knowing that his children weren’t safe in his own home because of him made Bucky sick. He moved over to the couch, falling back onto it.

“Okay.” Natasha nodded seriously at Sam before turning her attention to the young girl in his arms, smiling. “Hi hon. Why don’t you come with Auntie Nat?”

Natasha reached out her arms for the young girl and she immediately fell into them, grasping at the woman’s shirt and laying her head against her shoulder.

“I think she likes me better.” Nat joked to Sam who rolled his eyes in return.

“Don’t take it personally, Sam.” Bucky finally spoke up from his seat on the couch, hand over his eyes. “She likes her mom better... everyone likes her better.”

The two Avengers gave each other a look, silently communicating their concern for the super soldier in the other room. Although he had been known as the grump for a good expanse of time, they had never seen him so miserable or so lost in despair- even after spending eighty years as a brainwashed assassin.

“What’s your name?” Natasha asked the young girl, taking her tiny hand in hers.

“Becca.” She replied.

“It’s Rebecca.” Your son corrected her. “I’m Grant.”

She smiled patting the boy’s head. “Hi Grant. I’m Nat.”

“Grant?” Sam asked, glancing at Bucky. “Isn’t that Steve’s middle name?”

Hands still over his eyes, Bucky replied. “Yeah.”

A silence hung in the room for a brief moment.

“I um... I’m going to get these kids to the Compound, alright?” Nat said, guiding the children out the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

When Nat left the house, shutting the door behind her, Bucky sprung up from the couch. The only thing holding him back from rushing out the door was Sam stepping in front of him, laying his hands on his chest.

“Woah man- slow down.” Sam said.

“I have to go get my wife, Sam.” Bucky nearly shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Somebody took her! I have to get her.”

Sam felt his heart break in his chest to see his best friend so distraught in front of him. He understood- of course he understood. If anything like this had happened to his own family, he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t be doing the same thing, but Sam understood that despite Bucky’s feelings, nothing would get done without a clear mind.

“I understand that, Buck.” Sam said. “But you can’t help her if-”

“Somebody took her because of me, Sam!” He shouted. “This is all my fault! Don’t you see that?”

“Buck,” Sam attempted to ease him. “I know that, but she knew what she was getting into when she married you, man.”

At the sound of his words, Bucky allowed his hands to fall to his sides, the anger falling from his face as he looked down at the ground, ashamed.

Watching how quickly the rough exterior and fury had been drained from the man, Sam grew worried, backing up from Bucky.

“I mean- she knew, right?”

Silence.

“Buck...” Sam said slowly. “She knew... right?”

Silence.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted.

“I didn’t tell her!” Bucky finally shouted, shoving Sam away from him. “Are you happy? I didn’t fucking tell her about any of it!”

“Shit, Buck!” Sam shouted. “You lied to her! You lied to your own wife!”

“You don't think I know that?” Bucky continued to yell.

“Fuck!” Sam exclaimed. “How could you lie to your own wife about all of this!”

“I thought I was protecting to her!” Bucky replied.

“Yeah? Well look what you did!”

Bucky knew he was right. He knew this was partly his fault keeping this all a lie from you. It was wrong even before you had been kidnapped, but Sam pointing out the situation to him only reminded him further of how much he had completely and utterly fucked up.

Sam watched as the anger drained from Bucky’s face once again and he felt that he had gone too far. He was no doubt furious that Bucky had kept his life a lie not only from his team, but from his own family- hurting innocent people such as you along the way without even realizing it- but he understood that making Bucky feel like shit about it wasn’t the way to handle the situation.

“Buck-”

“Forget it, Sam.” Bucky said. “You’re right. You don’t have to apologize. This is my fault.”

“That doesn't matter now.” Sam said. “What matters is getting her back. We’re going to get her back.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Sam-”

“I’m not doing this for you.” Sam sighed, shaking his head at who he thought was his best friend. “I’m doing this for her.”

-

When you woke up again, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of your right temple throbbing. Opening your eyes you took in the dingy, wide room surrounding you. Attempting to move, you felt the rope tying your hands and ankle to the chair you were sitting in, burning your skin as you struggled in its grasp.

“Hello?” You called, your voice echoing throughout the wide room. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Barnes.”

At the sound of the familiar voice you leaned back in your chair, just now noticing the balconies hanging over the room, your eyes catching the figure standing above you on one of them.

“Where am I?” You asked.

“Old S.H.I.E.L.D operations camp.” The man told you as he climbed down a flight of stairs from the balcony to the floor your chair was sat on.

“S.H.I.E.L.D?” You asked. “What does that have to do with me? What does any of this have to do with me?”

“You know, Mrs. Barnes,” He said, strolling up to you, hands behind his back. “I feel sorry for you... really... I do. I pity you for living in the lie your husband has held you in for so long... it’s sad really. However, you should consider yourself lucky to not know your husband. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

You were exhausted, cold, scared out of your mind and you were tired of not understanding a single word this man said.

“What does this have to do with my husband?” You asked, the memories of the conversation you had in your home flooding back into your mind. “Who’s the winter soldier?”

As you asked the question, the man finally moved his hands from around his back, a tablet in hand.

“As I’ve explained to you, Mrs. Barnes,” The man said, pulling up the tablet in front of him. “Your husband is the winter soldier. Your husband is James Buchanan Barnes, correct?”

“Yes,” You replied. “But I don’t see-”

Cutting you off, the man in front of you pulled the tablet up and began reading off of it.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes born March 10th, 1917-”

“1917?” You repeated. “That’s ridiculous-”

Without answering, the man continued.

“Known associate of Steven G. Rogers AKA the former Captain America.”

“You have to be joking.” You said. “1917? Friends with Captain America? You have the wrong-”

Rather than arguing you, the man held the tablet in front of you.

Just as you were about to scoff and once again inform the man of how ridiculous this situation was and that there was no possible way your husband could be the man he was looking for, you looked at the screen and saw a photograph of a man that was unmistakably your husband besides none other than Steve Rogers...  a photograph from 1942.

Glancing at the man in front of you back to the photo, you began to feel the pace of your heart quicken in your chest. Why did he look like your husband? Why is this man who you immediately recognized as Bucky in a photograph with Captain America from over 80 years ago?

“That can’t be him.” You said. “It- it can’t.”

Swiping the screen, the man displayed another photo for you- one of who you were sure was your husband beside not only Steve Rogers but the entire lineup of Avengers.

Watching the realization click in your brain, the man continued to swipe, photos upon photos of the man who you thought was your husband dated from the 40′s to just months ago.

“How... how did you get these?” You asked the man, feeling sick to your stomach, slowly coming to the realization that your husband had been lying to you all this time.

“There are many out there who are not your husband’s friend.” The man said.

“O- okay, why?” You asked, trying your hardest to come up with words when your brain became flooded with thoughts and memories- trying to comprehend how you didn’t know or why your husband wouldn’t tell you even after all this time who he really was. “Because he’s an Avenger?-”

“Because he’s a murderer.”

Before you could even comprehend his words, he shoved the tablet in your face once again, clicking play on a video displayed on the screen. You watched as a man with long hair, a metal arm and a mask over his face emerged from behind a vehicle, a gun in tow. The man pulled a grenade out from his waistband, throwing it underneath a car and you jumped as you watched the car explode on screen, seconds later a woman pouncing onto the soldier, trying her hardest to take the man out before being thrown off. When the soldier picked up the gun once again, you recognized the woman as none other than Black Widow, throwing some sort of device at the soldier, watching as his arm sparked and she quickly ran away.

You watched as she shouted for the civilians to get out of the way and you felt your heart race in your chest as you watched people escape from their cars, terrified of the soldier going after the Black Widow. Seconds later you watched as she felt to the ground, a bullet piercing her shoulder. You felt like squeezing your eyes shut, but you knew the man beside you would never allow you to do so.

Just as the soldier was about to take his final shot against the Avenger, Steve Rogers and his shield ran into view, going against the man with the metal arm, the bang of his metal fist colliding with the shield ringing in your ears. The fight didn’t end there as the soldier continued shooting at the former Captain America before they collided, each trying to take the other out- Steve Rogers with his fist and shield and the soldier with his knife.

Just as you were beginning to feel sick, wondering why the man was showing you the video you watched as Steve Rogers flipped the man over, and when he emerged, the mask had fallen from the soldier’s face.

Meeting each other face to face, you finally caught who the soldier was.

It was almost as if they were reading your mind when you heard his name.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

You couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question.

[multifandhoem]

server collab || ii

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: “Guess I‘ll just have to cum inside you.“

The masterlist for the whole collab is here!

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: slight SPOILER (it‘s really really small), smut obviously, little bit of public stuff if you count it as such, slight breeding kink, wedding sex, lot‘s of fluff

Word count: 3292

“I still remember when Iwa-chan told me, how he embarrassed himself in front of a cute girl and hoped he would never see her again to not relive the existential dread he felt at that moment. And then he told me he met her again and she laughed over the mishap and they were going to get coffee next week.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I am so sorry.” His face was red, head bowed down in embarrassment, but you could still see it at the tip of his ears.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t like you were a stalker or something.” You were giggling a bit at the state he was in. “On top of that it is kinda my fault, I should’ve closed the curtains or something.” He slowly raised himself again, face still scrunched up in discomfort. He really looked like he was in horrendous pain and it was kinda your fault. “Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll treat you to coffee, to make you feel better, when are you free?”

Maybe the fact that he was a looker made you act a bit more open towards him than usual, but you genuinely felt bad for him. He was obviously beating himself up over that accident a couple of days ago.

You had realised fast that you could look from your window right into the room on the other side of the street, which was why you invested in curtains pretty early. But apparently, you had forgotten to close them this time, so when you turned around shirtless and made eye contact with a man, you were both equally surprised. He looked mortified and you couldn’t even blink when he suddenly dropped to the floor, now hidden from your wide eyes.

Your body reacted, even though he probably couldn’t see you anymore, shielding your breasts with one arm, the other hastily closing the curtains. After the initial shock wore off you couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Why did he just drop to the floor? He could’ve turned around or something.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

Next to you, Hajime buried his face in his hands, but the large grin that had adorned his face for the whole evening was still there. Tooru waited a bit until the laughter calmed down until he continued.

“When I came back from Argentina for a visit she was already his girlfriend of five months. And when I saw Iwa-chan I knew that she would probably stick around for longer. You know, Iwa-chan is a very violent person-“ “Only towards shitty people!” You knew he couldn’t have let that jab just go by, but Tooru professionally ignored him.

“but with her, he was very soft, always touching her in some way. Sometimes touching too much. Don’t think we forgot the trip to the cabin!” He scoldingly wiggled his finger towards you, accompanied by Makki’s and Mattsun’s affirming but still scandalised shouts.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“We gotta be quick, Haji.” His lips were hot on your collarbones, fingers already dipping under your shirt, quickly pulling it over your head. “I know, they will wonder where we are.”

You had excused yourself for a second from the movie the others had put on. It was the first time this day where there weren’t two other people in the room with you, everybody being huddled in the living room of the small cabin where you resided for the weekend. With two bedrooms shared between the six of you and one big room that functioned as kitchen, living and dining room, there was never space for some alone time, which you were desperate to have after your boyfriend strutted around you shirtless the whole day. It should be illegal for someone as fine as he was to do such things.

Foreplay had to be postponed for the next time, you had little time until the others would grow suspicious. “No need, I can take you.”

You pulled his fingers out of your entrance, desperate to just feel his cock in you. He chuckled at your eagerness, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock sprung free, already hard and leaking. Apparently, you weren’t the only sexually frustrated one.

“Fuck,” you breathed out when he buried himself in you with one stroke.

“Quiet, baby.” His lips found yours stifling your small moans as he began moving his hips.

Breathless gasped and small moans soon filled the room, occasionally accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, when Hajime couldn’t stop his hips before they met yours. “I’m close,” you whimpered as he began rubbing your clit and he shot you a breathless smile and pressed a small kiss to your lips. “Bite something when you come,” he said quietly, thrusts becoming a bit more erratic.

“Disgusting!” Loud banging on the door interrupted you and Hajime let out a string of curses. “If you already know then don’t go interrupting, Shittykawa!” Not having to hide anymore his hips finally snapped into yours, using the full capacity of his strength to make you moan against his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the orgasm you experienced didn’t lessen the embarrassment when you faced the others again.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was your turn to hang your head in shame, trying not to meet your parents’ eyes, who were seated next to you. Or worse, Hajime’s parents.

Tooru chuckled at your misery, before continuing.

“To be honest, I wasn’t that surprised when Iwa-chan called me and told me he would send me pictures of rings and I should help him decide. He obviously forgot timezones since it was 2am for me and I first thought somebody had died, but after promising to make me best man I obviously forgave him.” The guests laughed again and Tooru took a well-rehearsed break.

“I don’t think I have seen Iwa-chan as nervous as when he was rehearsing his proposal through me via Skype. I told him it was good, even though he was a stammering mess. But the thing about those two over there is that they calm each other down. So I knew, when the moment would come, everything would go swimmingly. I saw the way they looked at each other, there was no way she would say no.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you planning?” You were chuckling, when Hajime lead you through the small house on the outskirts of Tokyo you two had purchased together when it was safe that he was staying in Japan with his work. “Let me surprise you, woman, and stop asking.” You could hear the amusement in his voice and it made your heart bloom. After all these years together he still made you feel like you were going on your first date. And he probably always would.

“Small step, be careful.”

You felt the ground changing from the hardwood floor to a rougher and colder one, showing you that you were now outside on the small terrace. You didn’t have to wonder for long, what he was planning when he carefully pulled the blindfold off your face. The first thing you saw was him.

But it was enough. He was smiling at you, his eyes radiating love. You couldn’t help but snaking your arms around his neck, to press a kiss to his lips. “You look so handsome. I love you.”

Hajime in a suit was something you had the pleasure of seeing a couple of times, but it still caught you off guard how someone could look this good.

“You haven’t even looked around, idiot,” He chuckled but still laid his arms around you to tug you towards him to kiss you again. After that he still forced you to turn around, to take a look at what he conjured in the last couple of hours.

The small garden you had behind your house was completely transformed, fairy lights making the faint evening glow even more magical.

“It’s beautiful.” The words were soft, Hajime wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t standing this close to you. “All for you, baby. I love you. I just thought, maybe we could sit on the blanket, maybe drink a bit of wine and just talk, you know?” His voice was laced with nervousness, even if he wasn’t even sure why. He knew you would like what he did. He went through your Pinterest boards and they were loaded with fairy lights, clinking classes, kisses shared under the faint glow. “That sounds perfect. What’s the occasion? I haven’t forgotten anything, right?” He laughed out loud at your nervousness. “No, babe, you haven’t. I just wanted to do something for you.”

His smile was so pure, filled with raw emotion, you had to kiss him again, putting as much passion as possible into the kiss. “Thank you, Hajime. I love you so much. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Your eyes were a bit wetter than usual and you hastily blinked the tears away, smiling at your boyfriend, ready to have a magical evening.

He really had everything prepared. Next to the blanket, a small cooler with a bottle of rosé laid, together with two glasses for you. His phone played soft instrumental music in the background, as you settled yourself against his chest, occasionally sipping at your wine, reminiscing about the past years, wishing for the future ones.

“Hey, move for a second, my leg’s fallen asleep.” A small tug of his leg under you made you sit up, while he fixed his posture, both of you now sitting upright in front of each other.

“Sorry, about that. Do you want to stand up for a bit to move it?” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he tugged you back down when you already wanted to stand up.

A shaky breath escaped him. So this was it. “Y/N, baby, I love you. So much, you can’t even imagine. You’ve been with me for the past couple of years and I honestly can’t wait for the future, if you’re by my side.” He paused for a second, hand slipping into his pocket. “Hajime.” Tears were already welling up in your eyes before he even managed to pull the ring out of his pocket, that he and Tooru had chosen so diligently a couple months prior.

“Will you marry me?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Those two, right there, are a great couple if I’ve ever seen one. I actually can’t imagine a better partner for my Iwa-chan. Hajime. I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve been growing up alongside you and, dare I say, we’ve both become pretty great.” Tooru chuckled a bit, but everyone could hear his voice wavering, as his eyes were fixated on his best friend.

“I can’t express how happy I am, to still have you in my life, to now seeing you maturing into this great man who is inspiring others in everything he does. Seeing you enter this new part of your life, with this great woman in my life warms my heart. And you deserve nothing less. A toast to you. A toast to your future, Mr. and Mrs. Iwaizumi.” He raised his glass to you, a big smile on his face.

If he weren’t sitting right across from you, you would’ve missed the small tears rolling down his face. The guests around you all raised their glasses to towards you, everyone touched by Tooru’s speech.

But nobody came close to Hajime, who was clenching your hand in his’ tightly, tears welling up in his eyes, before he strode over to his friend, tightly embracing him.

You couldn’t hear what words were exchanged as tears fell and people smiled at the pair. Every guest at your wedding knew about Hajime and Tooru. The best friends, the best partners, who have been with each other since they were about five years old. Who only see each other every couple of months, partners technically becoming rivals.

When your husband came back to you his eyes were puffy, some tears still escaping, but the happiest smile on his face. Tooru hugged you too, wishing you good luck for your future, making a small joke about becoming an uncle again and telling you, once again, to take care of his best friend, his brother.

“I’m so happy to be your wife.” Hajime kissed you at your words but you still knew that he was equally as happy as you were. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now,” you joked, relishing in the laughter that escaped him.

“As if I would ever want that. I’m going to put some kids in you as soon as possible. And then we have a little family. Maybe even a big family. Whatever you want.” He kissed you again and you couldn’t help but smile at the picture of him with kids in your head. More importantly, your kids. “About that.” You leaned into his side, grateful for the minutes you had at the edge of the room. “I’ve been thinking, maybe stopping my birth control? I mean we don’t have to start trying and stuff, but we’re married now and we’ve been together for a while, and we talked about it already, and-“ You were cut off with a passionate kiss, Hajime even dipping you slightly as he practically devoured you.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” You could only nod, a wide grin on your lips as you cupped his face in your hands to bring his mouth to yours again. “Fuck, I love you. I can’t wait to fuck you today.” Heat shot through your stomach at his words and his kisses did nothing to soothe it.

“Hajime.” You really didn’t intend for his name to sound like such a whimper. But when he growled against your lips you knew you were done for. “The bridal room. Where I got ready. Let’s go.”

You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking around again, when you were rushing through the halls of the venue, hand in hand with your new husband, giggling around, until you finally closed the door behind you, being pressed against the same one in an instant, a breathless Hajime resting his forehead against yours.

You were whispering ’I love you’s to each other for the probably thousandths time this day, but it wasn’t like you were growing tired of it anytime soon. “You gotta be careful about the dress, I don’t wanna have cum stains somewhere,” you reminded him as he was flicking up your skirt, already sinking to his knees.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” You giggled in excitement at his statement, soon leading into a moan, when he buried his face between your lower lips, thong pulled to the side, his tongue expertly doing all the things he found out about you the years before.

“Fuck, Hajime.” Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging him closer.

He took one of your legs in his hand, tugging it over his shoulder and digging even deeper between your legs, using the fingers of his other hand as well, to insert two of them into your dripping cunt. “Haji, I’m coming,” you whimpered, clamping onto him.

“Wait for my cock.” The years of never neglected training came in handy, when he stood up, with you in his arms, to seat you on the small table, that was probably just in the room for decorating purposes. You shrieked a bit at how fast everything was happening, but you kind of agreed with him.

The first time you should come as husband and wife should be with him deep inside you.

He dropped his suit pants to his ankles and you could feel yourself clench with excitement. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please, Haji.” You pulled him towards you again to connect your lips, moaning into his mouth when he rubbed his dick up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

It’s weird to explain what you felt the moment he pushed himself inside you. You had sex lots of times. But in that moment you felt more complete than you ever did.

You stayed like that for a couple of seconds, connected in the most intimate way possible, before his hips snapped back and into you again, eliciting a moan of both of you.

“Honestly, fucking you in your wedding dress is hot as fuck.” He laughed breathlessly, kissing you again, all while not halting his thrusts.

“Think about me pregnant with your kids,” you purred in his ear and squeaked in delight when his next thrust was harder than before.

“Don’t get me started. You’re going to look so good pregnant. All round and cozy.” His speed grew more erratic and you knew he would come soon.

“Fuck, we gonna start soon, right?” Your fingers clenched in his shirt, pushing him closer to you, chasing your own high.

“We’re starting right now, baby.” He kissed you again, hand moving down to rub your clit again, chuckling at the little whimpers you let out.

“Haji-“ You didn’t need to say more, he already knew, what you wanted to tell him.

“Go on, baby.” You kissed again, moans mixing in your mouths, as his tongue caressed yours, the slight taste of your juices still left on them. Every time his cock hit that one part you had to suppress a small scream, only slightly moaning in your husband's mouth.

“Can’t wait for tonight. Gonna fill you- ah- up again and again. And then you can be as loud as you want. Fuck. Gonna take my time with you.”

The filth he muttered against your lips only made you clench down harder onto his cock, feeling your high approaching rapidly. It was him coming, his cum spurting into you, which finally sent you over the edge, legs wrapping around him, bringing him even closer to your body, completely engulfing him, dead set on never letting him go.

Heavy breathing filled the room, as you both came down from your high. Small kisses were being exchanged, I love you’s were mumbled. But it was still perfect.

“I’m already anticipating tonight,” you mumbled, slightly exhausted due to moaning so much, making him chuckle, while his hands calmingly rubbed up and down your sides.

When he pulled out of you, you moaned again at the feeling of his cum slowly dribbling out of you.

“This looks so good. You look so good.” Hajime’s eyes were focused on the spot between your legs, fingers twitching to push it back inside.

“Don’t let it go on the dress!” You shrieked, chuckling at the way he darted to get a paper towel, carefully wiping you down.

“You alright, baby?” He helped you down from the table after pushing your thong back in place and fixing up his suit pants.

“Yeah. I love you. You made me the happiest woman alive, today, you know that?” The smile he threw your way at your words made your heart bloom. You were so in love with this man.

“Now, brace yourself for the comments.” You intertwined your fingers again, going back down the hallways to rejoin your guests at your reception. “You think somebody noticed something?” Your hands grew sweaty at the thought. Hopefully, nobody suspected a thing. Especially not his parents. Or worse, the grandparents!

“Tooru will have noticed for sure. You know how he is. If we’re lucky he hasn’t told Makki or Mattsun.” Hajime seemed way to relaxed at the thought, only shrugging his shoulders, ditching your hand to throw his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side.

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you could feel he was smiling.

“I love you, too.”

No matter what was going to happen once you got back, this was still the best day of your life.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

[nevertheless-moving]

Invisible Hand Chaos AU x 2

Star Wars Time Travel AU #31

Continuation from HERE

Anakin whirled to face his Master, “Did you know Yoda had a baby?” he asked incredulous and slightly betrayed.

“What? No. Also he could just be another of Yoda’s species. Obviously.” Internally Obi-Wan thought about the still unnamed larva in a hidden aquatic creche, but the Mandalorian’s associate even called him Baby Yoda...

“Unbelievable,” Dooku muttered. “That little green hypocrite.”

“Did you know about this?” Anakin asked the Sith Lord, temporarily forgetting about the fight in favor of the revelation that Yoda might also have a secret family.

“Of course not, the troll never tells anyone anything,” Dooku ranted, deliberately setting aside the fight in favor of unloading decades of suppressed irritation with his former Master.

“I feel we might be jumping to conclusions here-” Obi-Wan offered weakly. 

Anakin scoffed. “He literally just called him Baby Yoda,”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, your apprentice is correct. It would seem the Grandmaster of the order has been keeping some secrets.”

“This is absurd!” Obi-Wan protested as the small child on the balcony above tilted his head curiously, watching the conversation below with interest from the safety of his Buir’s arms. 

“I agree.” Anakin said self-righteously. “If Yoda can have a baby then- then everyone in the order should be allowed a family.”

“Anakin...”

“Anakin, as interesting is this all is, I’m still in somewhat of a bind over here,” the Chancellor called across the hall, irritated and somewhat alarmed by the sudden outbreak of peace in the room.

“We’ll be right with you Chancellor, don’t worry!” Obi-Wan called back. 

“We just need a minute to figure some Jedi business out!” Anakin added. 

“You there- Mandalorian” Dooku called up sharply. 

“...Yeah?” the Besker-clad warrior answered uncertainly.

“What is the parentage of the child in your arms? How did you come to possess him?” The count's question cut through everything else in the room, and the two Jedi held their breath as they waited for the answer.

The Mandalorian pulled Grogu in closer, “He is a foundling. I know his name as my child.”

“Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan and Dooku muttered, Obi-Wan fondly, Dooku with exasperation.

“What?” Anakin asked bewildered.

“The Mandalorian adopted him- hold on a second, I’m going to try something.” Obi-Wan said.

“Mando! Forgive me- Have you already attempted to return your foundling to his people and been denied? If not, we can show you where to find an elder of his kind.”

The Mandalorian stiffened. “I already found one of his people. It took a great deal of time; neither of us knew there were any others left in the galaxy. By the time I met Luke...the child was mine and we would not be parted long. The three of us began traveling together. He acted as mentor to Grogu, though he is too young to be considered the boy’s senior. In time...we decided it would be simpler to raise him as a warrior together. We are one.”

“Oh. How wonderful.” Obi-Wan said weakly. 

Anakin’s brow furrowed furiously and he lowered his voice “Master did I get that right? This guy is really good friend’s with one of Yoda’s people but the friend is not the Child’s biological father and they don’t know anyone else from the species?”

“He actually said he was married to one of one of Yoda’s people but other than that your conclusions are correct. Very good Padawan.” Obi-Wan nodded, attempting to wrap his head around the various implications.

Dooku made a triumphant hum, “Then, by simple inductive reasoning, and in the absence of an alternative candidate, we can assume that the Child is, in-fact, Yoda’s offspring.”

“Exactly!” Anakin agreed with Dooku excitedly. 

“Interesting that he would give the spawn to a Mandalorian, rather than the creche. Embarrassment, perhaps.” the Count mused. 

“Unbelievable.” Anakin agreed indignantly. 

“Ok, now hold on. Foundling is pretty literal most of the time-” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Mando- was the child entrusted to you or did was there a rescuing involved?”

“...I was assigned to find him as part of a bounty, but found the imps who I was supposed to give him to...unpleasant.”

“Imps?” Anakin asked. 

“There you go!” Obi-Wan said, with just a tinge of hysteria. “Yoda didn’t abandon the child- not that it necessarily is Yoda’s child- he was kidnapped.”

Anakin gasped, “Master! We have to save him!”

“Hold on now, Anakin- He seems perfectly safe at this point and we were here for the Chancellor remember?”

“You won’t be leaving here with the Chancellor or the child.” Dooku sneered. “I can sense the force potential- and I am in want of a new apprentice.”

“Over my dead body,” Anakin snarled.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey Luke-” the Mandalorian said into the comm as the three swordsman began circling one another “-it looks like two of the Jedi are attacking the other- do you want me to get involved?”

“...Din, by any chance, are any of the laser swords red?”

“Yeah, the fanciest dressed one has a red lightsaber, the other guys are blue. Does it matter?”

“...Red lightsaber means not Jedi. I- hold on, I think I see you!”

The three combatants jumped apart again, looking up at the slight comm echo to the sound of footsteps and the absolutely blinding force presence of the approaching Jedi. 

Had he never learned shielding? Obi-Wan thought hysterically. “Or was he just so powerful that he never bothered restraining himself?”

He tried to exchange a glance with Anakin, but his padawan was too focused on straining to see the incoming Master force user of some kind- light, but not necessarily Jedi. He instead looked over at Dooku, shrugging in confusion. Dooku grimaced back at him in solidarity.

The being finally entered. He was- significantly taller and less green than Obi-Wan was expecting, but still probably shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Din- are you two alright?” The soft-faced man asked in a remarkably gently voice, appearance somewhat at odds with the overbearing power he exuded.

“We’re fine, Luke but look! More Jedi!” He gestured below. 

Luke peered over the balcony, eyes growing wide as they passed over the faces of everyone below. “hoLY KRIFF!” He shouted.

The ship shuddered and Obi-Wan glanced nervously out the view ports, suddenly remembered that the damaged ship only had so long before it fell out of orbit.

“Do you know them?” Din asked. 

“Do I- for fuck’s sake Din, I love you but I have literally shown you holopics of my father before.” Luke whispered furiously. The room unfortunately was utterly quiet and remarkably acoustic, meaning his words carried easily to the listeners below.

“FATHER!” Anakin yelled, causing Luke to wince, slapping a gloved hand to his face.

“FATHER!” He repeated loudly, head ping-ponging between Obi-Wan and Dooku as if trying to find a resemblance, before gasping to stare at the Chancellor, before gasping again to squint at Obi-Wan. 

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SECRET FAMILY!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for force sake- I do not have a secret son. Honestly, Anakin, he’s clearly in his 20s, be reasonable. His birth would however fit into the timeline of Dooku’s withdraw from the order.” Obi-Wan said, raising a brow.

Dooku puffed out his chest, “I did not fail to meet the Code, like so many of the pathetic masses. Before I left the Order I followed the rules precisely. When my disagreements grew too great, and my attempt for structured reform were repeatedly rejected, I left for ethical reasons, not personal ones. I looked at the code and decided it was failing the Jedi.”

He smirked and lifted his chin at the chancellor, who was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression, “My, my Chancellor, this is an interesting surprise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Dooku. Obviously the boy’s parents were force sensitive, look at him.” 

Dooku’s smirk grew wider.

“This is absurd! Again!” Obi-Wan threw up his arms and lifted his head to address the dark-robed young human, “Hello there, Luke, was it?” 

“Uh, yes. I’m Luke.” The powerhouse responded nervously. 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi-”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Luke responded drily.

Anakin gasped. 

“He is not my son.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m not Obi-Wan’s son.” Luke called down cheerfully.

“Oh.” Anakin slouched, oddly disappointed. He liked this guy for some reason, felt- connected to him. Maybe it was the dark robes, or the force signature that nearly rivaled his own (though it was somewhat lighter), or even the gloved hand that he suspected was mechanical. If he was Obi-Wan’s son than that would make him practically his brother! The Chancellor might be neat but Dooku...ugh.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us whose son you are? I realize its none of my business but you’ve peaked our curiosity. And then afterwards, regardless of your parentage, we would not mind help in rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic from this slowly crashing ship.”

“Right. Right.” Luke nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

He pressed his head to the side of Din’s helmet and started whispering rapidly, to quiet for anyone else to hear. 

The group below exchanged glances, beginning to tense up again. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian nodded and spoke, “Let’s do it. I trust your judgement.” Luke grinned and returned to the edge of the balcony. 

“Ok, I can help with the first, but not the second.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin bristled. “So Dooku is your father.”

Luke smiled at Anakin. “No. You are my father.”

Anakin blinked as Obi-Wan’s face twisted in confusion. “No...” he said slowly. “No, that’s not true. That’s impossible.”

Luke’s smile grew wider, “Search your feelings,” he said urgently, with the full weight of his force presence screaming honesty with every word, “You know it to be true.”

Anakin gasped as he reached out into the force to find...his son. Impossible, but true. The ground trembled, either with the immensity of the realization, or catastrophic engine failure.

“No.” Obi-Wan said clearly to Luke on the balcony.

“No.” He repeated firmly, snapping a finger in Anakin’s face to try and break him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “It’s not true.” He said to the room in general, incredulous it even needed to be said.

Dooku began slowly backing away. The confrontation was rapidly spinning out of his or his Master’s control; he had only stayed this long to indulge vain curiosity. Regardless if the boy was insane, lying, or a time-traveler, he was clearly powerful. The ship’s orbit was gradually decaying and with any luck he could use his dead man’s switch to speed up the crash as he departed, neatly killing everyone who could stand against him in one stroke.

“Anakin,” the lunatic on the balcony continued, “You can destroy the emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny! Join me, and together-”

Din cleared his throat.

Luke stopped and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! Sorry. Got a little...carried away there.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“Anyway- yeah. I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m from the future, I guess we... time-traveled accidentally somehow? I uh- was kind-of quoting something you said to me once and you kept going along with it and... yeah, definitely got carried away. Sorry, I really don’t know how we got here but, weird stuff happens around me- one time I was on Yavin IV and these ghosts started- anyway. Long story. Surprise!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok...I might believe you’re Anakin’s son.”

Dooku had nearly reached a side door when his treacherous Master called out- “Anakin! Master Kenobi! Dooku- he’s getting away.”

Skywalker’s- Anakin Skywalker’s- attention snapped over to the Count and with a outstretched arm, he crumpled the steel door, throwing a beam across it for good measure. The ship moaned alarmingly and several more red lights began blinking at the navigation panel, unnoticed by anyone.

“Luke- son- I don’t know what Emperor you’re talking about, but help us defeat Count Dooku and save Chancellor Palpatine! After that- after that I’m happy to, um, join you? And meet your... husband? And padawan? Sorry, we were kind-of in the middle of something...” 

“Wow. Ok. I’m not sure if-” Luke started to respond before being interrupted by the Mandalorian.

“Wait, Dooku! I know that name!” Din said suddenly. “The covert hated him! He was the evil Sif Emperor you defeated, right?”

“...Sith Emperor. Din, darling and light of my life, as always, your grasp of history and recent current events never fails to amaze me.” Luke sighed.

“You must stop him, before he becomes Emperor,” Palpatine shouted desperately. 

Luke sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. FINE! Kriff the timeline, I didn’t ask to be born anyway. Din- go help capture...Emperor Dooku. Grogu- Pod. I’ll go- free the Chancellor.” The floor beneath them gave a lurch. “Before this ship breaks apart. Go!” 

Luke and Din jumped off the balcony as a shiny metal pod with a transparisteel view screen closed around Grogu, hovering between them, well off easy reach of the ground.

Din landed between Obi-Wan and Anakin, helmet turning to face each of them in turn, “...I’ll follow your lead.” He finally said, arming his weapons.

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely, “Excellent, Anakin, stay with me.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Mando, you- Is that the DARKSABER- ARE Yoouu- ugh you know what, I will ask after the fight. I will ask after the fight. How did the Mand'alor- NEVERMIND. Let’s just- FORCE I have so many questions-” 

“No time, Master!”

And the battle began. 

[teasty]

irresistible || h.hj (m)

a/n: yess fuck boy hyunjin ftw ngl,,,,i’m so in love with that idea,, especially with his long hair (i actually got into skz cuz of hyunjin’s hair lol i love longish hair on men)

● pairing: hwang hyunjin x (fem) reader

● genre: angsty n smutty (mdi!) | crack lol | enemies to lovers!au | college!au | nonidol!au

● warnings: hyunjin and reader hate each other at first :( | fighting | profanity | name calling | suggestive dialogue | fuckboy!hyunjin | snarky/goodgirl!reader | unprotected sex | hair pulling | cunnilingus | degradation + hints of praise | hyunjin is just an insecure baby underneath a tough guy exterior ;-; | virgin!reader | hyunjin keeps switching between fuck boy and sad boy |

● requested? yes!

● words: 9k

● summary: You despise Hwang Hyunjin with a passion. And he just hates you right back. You’re a good, moral student while he fucks around with everybody. He likes to pull at heartstrings while you like to pull at his palm tree hairdo. There’s nothing that makes you like the other, but when you wind up at the old art room with him and things get heated up, you see a softer, truer and more broken side to him.

Is falling in love with someone you've hated for years in the span of one night even possible? Apparently so...

i miss him so much don't @ me

“You’re too irresistible not to fuck until you're screaming my name and begging for more.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin, or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head,” you threaten darkly. The ever so proud Hyunjin only scoffs, laughing mockingly at you as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He crouched down to be at eye level with you. Despite you being much smaller than him, you still stood your group, even tripped over on the floor, your once organized papers sprawled out on the floor.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin’s brow raises, and your lips downturn into even more of a frown. You would never, ever dare to start a physical fight with Hyunjin, but boy you can talk. Sometimes, your mouth might even be a little bit too big for your own liking. The words just flow out so naturally, and you don’t even realize it to actually stop it from flowing off of your tongue.

It was your dumb mouth that started this whole mess, anyways. Back in the last few years of high school, your best friend (who, in the end, turned out to be the fakest bitch you’ve ever met) had gotten with a boy. A boy you had no clue even went to the school. And, that’s when you met Hwang Hyunjin at lunch that day. In all his short - haired glory. At first, he seemed pretty decent, but you knew something was off about him from the start. Sure, he had a bright smile that could make any girl with a brain filled with boys faint, but he just didn’t sit too right with you. The way he acted around your friend (at the time) and the way he’d talk to her and other girls.

At first, you didn’t think he was a fuckboy, but it was when he tried to get in your pants after you called him a fuckboy after school one day when it hit you. That was the first and only day you really punched him in the face. Giving him a black and blue bruise on his cheekbone from the impact when he tried to take your clothes off, not caring whether or not you said it was alright or not. Of course, he got mad at you, but didn’t lay a hand on you, like you thought he would. You remember bracing your body for some sort of punch, kick or push, but nothing came other than Hyunjin’s loud voice screaming curses at you and calling you all - too vulgar and hurtful names.

You would have apologized if you weren’t so upset with the fact that he tried to be your first fuck. Your virginity isn’t the most precious thing to you, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t allow yourself to lose it to Hwang Hyunjin. Especially not after that day he actually tried to fuck you behind the school. You went running to your friend afterwards. Who, to your surprise, got mad at you for trying to make her boyfriend cheat on her with you. You couldn’t believe her, and you dropped her right there.

It was actually Hyunjin who broke up with her, having her come running to you with tears in her eyes about how upset she is that Hyunjin broke up with her. Of course, you didn’t react and only ignored her for… the rest of her life so far. She eventually gave up on trying to be friends with you, and went her own direction. However, Hyunjin didn’t leave you alone.

You can swear that he’s vowed to make your life living hell after you rejected him with your fist. At first, it was just teasing. Calling you names. Making fun of stupid mistakes. Sometimes even flirting with you just to make you mad. And no matter how many times you seemed to reject, verbally or physically, he never gave. Maybe he doesn’t try to get in your pants anymore, but he won’t stop calling you stupid nicknames when he’s being a dick to you… like “princess, baby, babygirl, darling, honey, sweetheart.” Stupid, meaningless nicknames to call you just to pull at both your heartstrings and your thin line of patience.

You weren’t so friendly to call him bittersweet names like that. You decided to go with a more aggressive route of, “dickhead, motherfucker, bitch, asshole, asshat, shithead” and other conjugations of any curse word you could think of. Of course, none of it fazed him one bit. In fact, it all seemed to amuse him. Like your anger was his entertainment, and that idea pissed you off.

You’ve had friends tell you to “Just not give him the attention since that’s what he wants!” But, that was the most difficult thing to do when Hyunjin was always following behind you, yet always a step ahead. Everywhere you end up, he’s somehow ironically there, too. Everywhere you plan to go, he’s somehow, ironically, planning to go there, too. Sometimes you debate if he’s stalking, but you don’t have much social media (nor do you post anything if you did) and you made sure to always keep away from the name Hyunjin just in case it’s the Hyunjin.

But, now, you’re sitting on your ass like an idiot, papers flown around you as Hyunjin crouches down in front of you. Almost as if peering down at his prey. His judgemental eyes scan your trembling figure, shaking from the pent up anger, up and down as he smirks like the little devil he is.

You’d been running back to your classroom, having to collect papers for your professor from the teacher’s lounge. She specifically asked for them to be organized by date, and you spent a few well - focused and frustrating minutes organizing the papers. Of course, as you were running through the supposedly empty hall, looking down at your phone to check the time to make sure you’ll have enough time before the end of the class period, you slammed face first into Hyunjin’s chest. Knocking him off of his balance, but catching himself on the wall, and sending you flying back and the papers to fly out of your arms, all your hard work scattered around you as you glare up at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Oh…” Hyunjin smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. His brows creasing up in a fake worry, his bottom lip jutting out in a mocking pout, staining his handsome face with the pathetic expression, “Poor baby… Do you need help picking up your papers?” He asks in a high pitched voice, and you try to hold back the urge to kick him right in the balls.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin,” you growl out darkly, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen and his fake, bitter smile widens in a pathetic imitation of shock and hurt, “Or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head.” You shamelessly threaten, both of you knowing you’re probably not going to even try to rip Hyunjin’s gorgeous hair for his scalp.

Hyunjin gets up off of the wall and walks over to you, you sitting on your ass with a glare that could spew daggers, and he crouches in front of you. His elbows on his knees, and he peers down at you like a predator stalking over its prey, ready to pounce at any second. He scans you, his half lidded, judgemental eyes peering over your body, heavily hidden by your black leggings and dark blue hoodie that was two sizes too big.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin cocks a brow at you, his eyes finally landing on your dark ones.

“Don’t call me that, dickhead,” you spit right back, but he only chuckles darkly, his head falling briefly before he lifts his head up again. Shaking it slightly as he critically smiles at you, his mocking laugh making you feel small and weak.

“That’s a no - can - do. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, alright? Princess?” Hyunjin’s face dips down, nearing yours. You do the first thing you think of, grabbing a handful of papers, wrinkling them and throwing them with full force at Hyunjin’s face. He flinches back and stands up, swatting away the papers quickly. “Fucking hell! You scared me for a second there.”

“Good, now piss off. I have places to be. And shouldn’t you be in class?” You grumble as you collect the papers, trying your best to get them as organized as possible in your arms, making sure to keep a tight grip on them in case Hyunjin tried to do anything.

“Aw, do you suddenly care for me?” He places a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically, “I’m touched.”

“In your dreams, dipshit. Leave me alone,” you snap out, already getting a headache from this as you walk around on your knees to try and collect the papers, cursing to yourself when you find a wrinkled one, trying to smooth it out. Hyunjin watches you with a stoic expression, leaning against the wall. You don’t even bother saying another thing to him before you gather up the last of the papers and dash away, trying to organize the papers best you could before you reach your class.

Thankfully, Hyunjin didn’t follow you like he usually did. You let out a breath of air you didn’t know you were holding as you neared the classroom, your hands moving quickly to organise the papers. You open the door, somewhat out of breath as you hand them to the professor. Letting her know that you dropped them on your way here and they got a bit disorganized, but you tried your best to organize them again. She dismissed you and thanked you, sending you back to your seat to pack up (since it’s the end of the class, which is why you were hurrying).

Thankfully, your last class period is a study hall, so you take this time to run down to the library to work on assignments that are due soon. You prefer the library since it’s a calm and quiet place, and you know the librarian quite well, since you’re usually there during study hall. If you’re not there, you’re somewhere with a friend, and that’s usually not in the comfort of the library since you get pretty loud and unfiltered when you’re with friends. So, in the end, you’ll get booted out by the librarian.

When you get there, there’s already quite a few students sitting around, listening to music and typing vigorously on their laptops. You bow briefly to the librarian, who gives you a warm smile before you take a seat at a table in the corner of the library, far from the others. You take out your laptop and phone, plugging your earbuds into the earphone jack in your phone to play music into your ears.

You spend a good fifteen minutes writing an essay for your English Literature class. Focused in on the task at hand while soft lofi flows into your ears, letting your mind relax, but focus on what you’re doing.

So, it’s totally normal that you let out a short scream when your earbuds are painfully ripped out of your ears, your hands flying up to cup your ears. People glare at you, but turn back when they see who’s looming over your desk. Your earbuds and phone in his hand, and you could faintly hear the sound of the lofi that once calmed your mind. He stood there with a proud smile, and he raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh… quiet in the library,” Hyunjin says just above a whisper, and your lip twitches from holding back from strangling him in front of everyone. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? He’s always made a note to let you know how annoying you can be or how much he hates you, so why doesn’t he just leave you alone? He knows how much he upsets you, but it seems to make him happy. He already wears a stupid smile all the time. You’ve seen him upset before, plenty of times. But when he’s teasing you or doing things to make you miserable, he wears that same devilish smirk.

“I… Fuck you, Hwang Hyunjin. Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for the phone, but his hand yanks back away from you. Giving you a sarcastic smile as he looks down at you.

“Beg for it,” Hyunjin giggles darkly. Looking at something on your phone and even pressing a few buttons. Your eyes widen.

“Fuck no, just give it back!” You whisper - yell, reaching for it again, leaning over the table to grab for it.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “I said to beg for it…~” he sings - songs in a hushed tone, and your hands tense, his neck lookingly plenty good to just strangle. You don’t say anything, and you fold your arms over your chest. Raising a brow at you. “You think that’s gonna change my mind, hon? I still want you to beg for it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn, it’s annoying,” you grumble, and shut your laptop close and push it into your backpack. You start walking out, shoving past Hyunjin and fighting against frustrated tears. You don’t even bother to bow to the librarian as you walk out, on fist gripping the sleeve of your backpack and the other clenched tightly at your side.

You walk out of the library, into the court of the university. There’s not many people there, since it’s the last class period of the day and everyone was getting ready to go home for the weekend. You stood underneath a tree, and turned, cocking a brow at Hyunjin who followed behind you slowly. You frown at him, and his brow raises.

“So? You’re gonna get ‘em or no? You know I’m not giving them if you just frown at me, (Y/N),” Hyunjin smiles snarkily, and you visibly roll your eyes at him. You sigh softly.

“Hyunjin. Give them to me. I’m being serious, now, no fuckin’ around,” You hold your hand out, finally speaking in a normal, harsh tone now that you’re out of the library.

“Hm… Nah. You still have to beg for it like a bitch. Or else they’re mine,” Hyunjin gives you a pitifully fake smile, and your eyes close, trying to ease the rising rage inside you.

“Hyunjin. I’m not begging for it,” You take a step closer to him, but he doesn’t back down. Your headphones still clutch in his hand as he holds them away from you. When Hyunjin doesn’t respond, you finally act. Dropping your backpack and letting it slip off your shoulder and onto the grass, propping itself against the tree. Hyunjin’s smile finally drops when you grip his wrist, pulling it towards you harshly. But, on instinct, Hyunjin pulls himself away, pulling you towards him.

So, you push him down onto the grass, not caring for onlookers as you straddle Hyunjin’s waist before he could even try getting up. One of your hands reaches up to press against his chest, but Hyunjin doesn’t struggle. Not one bit. In fact, he doesn’t even smirk anymore. He’s just staring at you as you reach for his hand.

“(Y/N),” Hyunjin’s dark voice pipes up, and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up,” you snap, and you pry open his fingers, which was much easier than you though. His hands are hot and sweaty, and you almost laugh at it. Is he nervous that you’re straddling him let alone touching him in the first place? You will admit, it’s an intimate position, but you only got on top of him like that to prevent him from moving so you could grab your earbuds and phone out of his hands and stuff them into your pocket.

You smirk down at him, your hair falling past your face. It feels good to be the one in control, and now that Hyunjin’s vulnerable, you utter out, “And you almost got me to beg. Boohoo. Better luck next time, dipshit.” You finally get off of him, and the moment you’re off of him, he gets up and dusts himself off.

“(Y/N),” He calls out your name as he watches you grab your backpack.

“Shut up and don’t talk to me,” You snap, and Hyunjin’s lip clamp shut. He looks conflicted, and you would feel bad if it weren’t Hyunjin. The same Hwang Hyunjin who’s decided to make your every day a living headache.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again,” Hyunjin’s hand snatches your wrist, but you pull yourself away swiftly, “If you do that ever, and I mean ever again, I will not hesitate to stuff your face in the dirt.” Hyunjin gets dangerously close to you, and you back away. You’re brows creasing. Sure, Hyunjin is a huge dick to you, but he’s not this much of a dick. So, it took you by surprise, but you felt proud. It’s obvious that forcing Hyunjin into such a vulnerable position both mentally and physically set him off, and you were proud of yourself for that. He’s always been the one trapping you, making you feel small and tugging at your strings of patience, and sometimes your heartstrings, too.

“Oh, fuck off, Hyunjin.” You groan out, your hands falling to your side as you sling your backpack over your shoulder, “You do that shit to me all the time. What’s it if I do it to you?”

“Just don’t do it a - fuckin’ - gain, (Y/N). Don’t, unless you don’t wanna walk straight the next day.” Hyunjin threatens, and your brows furrow.

“And what the fuck does that mean?” You scoff as Hyunjin shakes his head, turning to walk away. “Hyunjin!” You yell after him, but he thrusts up his hand, his slim middle finger in your direction. You scoff, surprised by such behavior from a guy like him, who’s usually the one doing the teasing instead of the flipping off.

You try your best to ignore him and head back to the dorm to your shared one with your friend. You were able to settle down for a bit, especially since your roommate wasn’t there yet. You finished up your work. Working on assignments that you couldn’t get to finish because of a certain someone who decided to snag your phone.

Speaking of your phone, about two hours after you get back to the dorm, your friend comes walking in.

“Hey Yeona,” You pipe up, acknowledging her presence as she peels off her flats from her feet. Yeona waves briefly before plopping on her bed.

“Hey (Y/N). How was it going today?”

“Terrible.” You admit, Hyunjin being the only thing coursing through your head.

“Terrible? Lemme guess,” Yeona sits up, glaring at you, “it’s that one Hwang guy you keep ranting about?” You nod slowly, “Ah. Well, sorry about that. Actually, that reminds me. Someone was asking for you. A boy… A really, really cute boy.”

“Oh? Who?” Your brow raises.

Yeona shrugs, “No clue. Couldn’t catch his name; he seemed like he was in a rush. He wants you to meet him in the old art room. The one they use for storage, you know? He said to take your time, but he seemed desperate as hell.”

“The old art room? Don’t people go there to fuck because the camera’s are busted at the school’s too lazy to replace ‘em?” your brow raises, a bitter smile etching your lip.

“That’s the one. Hey, you might get some dick tonight. At least he’s cute,” she wiggles her brows, and you laugh. “Go one. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You jokingly salute, and Yeona does it right back. You stuff your phone in your back pocket, and give her a playful smile before you leave.

The old art room is at the very core of the school, and you know exactly where it is. Everybody does. It’s not exactly something that just goes unnoticed by the students. Since it’s old, the camera’s are very much out of date and therefore can’t hook up to the ‘new and improved’ security system. Usually people snuck there to fuck during passing hall, since no teacher went in there. Only special people on special occasions use it for storage.

You were somewhat excited. You still have your v - card, whether you like it or not. You originally planned to save it for someone special. But, at this point, you’re too stressed to care about who’s taking your virginity and who’s not. At this point, you’d get on your knees for anyone willing.

Except for Hwang Hyunjin. Of fucking course. You know so many people who would literally beg to be fucked by none other than Hwang Hyunjin. You were not one of those people. You weren’t one of Hyunjin’s toys, even though he treated you like one. You would never let him get to your head, though. You know that you shouldn’t listen to Hyunjin even if your life depended on it. He might mean those things, those vulgar things he says to you, but you choose not to believe them.

You were trembling by the time we were standing in front of the old art room. The rusty door is slightly ajar, signifying that someone’s inside. Of course there is, but it’s still weird that they didn’t shut the door in case any teacher got concerned and checked in. Whoever’s inside must be stupid, but you’re not one to ghost someone like that, especially if Yeona said that they seemed desperate. Someone desperate for you? You had no clue who. No one ever stared at you in class. No one ever teased you. Tried to constantly get your attention.

Actually, that’s a lie. That’s a bitter lie.

Hwang Hyunjin fit into every aspect of someone who’d be desperate for your attention. That’s when it hit you that Hyunjin’s only trying to gain your attention in the worst way.

And, he did. Because he’s standing right in front of you.

You turned to leave, but Hyunjin’s hand slammed against the closed door, making you flinch at the close proximity between the two of you, and you turned to look at Hyunjin. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he first sees you. In fact, you can’t tell what expression laces his godly face.

“Hyunjin? Was it you that told my friend to bring me here?” You ask, not so much a harsh tone, but trying to make things clear despite the answer being (literally) right in front of your face. There’s no one else in the old art room but empty boxes, old art tables and storage boxes littered here and there. “This isn’t funny, Hyunjin. I’m leaving.” You turn back around to grip the doorknob, but Hyunjin’s warm, shaking hand grips your wrist firmly, yet oddly gently.

“Don’t,” he utters out. His voice was strangely small. Nimble, even. Weak. “Don’t go. I need to talk to you.”

“Since when do you wanna talk to me?” You snap, and Hyunjin dodges your intense glare. His confidence seeps to be depleting by the minute.

“I just need to. I need to get things figured out,” Hyunjin grumbles out, letting go of your wrist. He steps away from you and sits on one of the old art tables, manspreading, stretching the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Get what figured out? Tell me,” you demand, now stepping away from the door and sitting across from Hyunjin on another table. Before Hyunjin could speak, though, you raise a hand, a thought coming to mind, “Wait, no. Why did you not just come to my dorm like a normal person? Why the art room? Do you know how many people have fucked in here, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, sighing softly, “Yes, I do. It’s just the only place we could truly be alone.”

“Wait… you’re not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, right?” You back up, reaching for your phone.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m not a stupid sixteen year old anymore, (Y/N). And neither are you.” You sigh, relaxing, “I’m just going to get straight to the point. I can’t take this anymore, (Y/N). I’m so lost without you.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, looking for any sign of mischief or joke in his eyes. But, no. Instead, they’re genuine. Your brows furrow, confusion crashing over you.

“I don’t want to live with the thought that I make every day for you living hell,” Hyunjin looks away, ashamed.

“Then why do you taunt me in the first place?” You nearly yell, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker closed. You get off of the table, standing in front of him, “Why do you work so hard to just get me pissed off for the rest of the day, huh? Why do you want my attention so bad? Why can’t you just leave me alone, then, if you don’t want to make my college life a living hell, huh?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

So blunt. So stoic. So true.

You’re silenced by his words, shock overcoming you. Overwhelmingly dominating your anger as your eyes widen slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact, this time. He doesn’t bother looking away. He’s standing his ground. He’s telling the truth.

You shake your head, “No your not.”

“You don’t decide that,” Hyunjin says almost directly after your voice drifts off.

“You can’t be in love with me, Hyunjin. You can’t,” You shake your head, backing away.

“It’s not my fault!” Hyunjin finally raises his voice, getting off of the table and taking an intimidating step towards you. Making you falter and scramble back, your lower back hitting the old art table. “I can’t help it. I can’t help, (Y/N). I’ve tried everything. I’ve been with so many girls, even guys. Trying to get out of my mind but nothing, nothing works. It’s always been you. Ever since high school.”

“Even when you were dating her…?”

“Even when I was dating her. The only reason I dated your fucking friend was to try and get close to you,” Hyunjin admits, and your mouth falls open. You lost a friend just because he wanted to get close to you? Your anger was slowly gaining back it’s superiority over your shock, “I tried to talk to you, but every time I did it just came out as mean. You viewed me as a fuckboy, and I fulfilled that role. Only to try and get you out of my fucking head.” He spits out through gritted teeth. “I’ve tried to make myself hate you, despise you. And, don’t get me wrong, hon, a small part of me hates you’re short, annoying ass. But everything else is incomplete without you.”

“Why didn’t you just confront me? If you didn’t decide to date my friend then we wouldn’t be here right now!” You yell, pressing a finger to his chest.

“I was sixteen, (Y/N)! Sixteen. Everything that I did ended in my misfortune,” Hyunjin yells right back.

“And was that my fault? Huh?”

“Yes! It is! Yes, it fuckin’ is!”

“How in the fuck is it ever my fault with you?!” You shove him away.

“Because it was. All. For. You. Get that through your thick fucking skull!” Hyunjin yells so loudly, so aggressively that it brought you to tears. But, you didn’t show any sign of fear. You weren’t backing down from this.

After his yelling, things quieted. You’re too nervous to talk, afraid your voice would pathetically crack from the painful lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin stared at you, as if waiting for you to say something, anything. But, you couldn’t utter a word. Only a few pathetic tears slipping from your eyes. His brows crease up when he watches the quick, warm tears fall over your cheek and down your neck. His bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, and he looks down for a bit.

You’re tired of the silence. You simply can’t take it anymore. It’s driving you mad how tense and uncomfortable the silence between you and Hyunjin is.

“Hyunjin, I-“

You’re not able to finish before a pair of soft lips press themselves to yours. Your mind goes blank, and your body stiffens as you stare into Hyunjin’s closed eyes. Your hands gripping the table behind you for balance as Hyunjin’s trembling hands creep up to grip your face. He’s kissing you.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin is kissing you.

That’s a first.

You want to push him away, but no matter how much you tell yourself to, you only relax more and more. The feeling of his lips against yours was supposed to repulse you, give you the push you need to slam a fist into Hyunjin’s face. But, with how delicately he kisses you and how his gentle, trembling fingers caress your warm cheeks, you can’t bear even clenching your fist in the need to hurt him or to get him away from you.

You couldn’t bear to admit it, but you were slowly melting into the kiss. It was as though Hyunjin was casting some sort of spell on you. Your eyes relax. Going from a dim half - lidded until they flutter shut. Your hands let go of the table. You’re shaking, ever so slightly. Your hands guide themselves as they bring themselves up to press against Hyunjin’s collarbone. At first, you believe you’re trying to push him away. But, your own hands deceive you when they slowly trail up to run your hands through his long grown hair.

You finally let your lips move, and you finally kiss him back.

Hyunjin’s reaction to it is one to die for. His back stiffens when he feels your lips part and move with his. One of his hands moves to caress your jaw, his thumb running across the bone, his hands a bit more firm as the kiss gets passionate.

You want to hate yourself for kissing him back. For succumbing to him and letting yourself fall weak underneath him. But, you just couldn’t help yourself. Hyunjin’s lips pulled you in and didn’t seem to plan on letting you go anytime soon.

It seems like a flash when your tongue presses flush against Hyunjin’s. The feelings send your back stiff and you tightly grip his hair, as if you were going to break apart from the feeling. Hyunjin’s experienced lips guided your inexperienced ones, despite him obviously being nervous.

You try to breath through your nose like Hyunjin does when things start getting more and more intense, and Hyunjin’s hands slowly start to creep away from your face. Tongues clash, and instead of fighting for dominance over one another, you both move in sync. Your torso pressed against his as Hyunjin traps you in between him and the table.

One of Hyunjin’s hands falls down your arm, gently caressing your side before picking up your thigh to push you to sit on the table. He pushes you back.

“Hyunjin - ah… We can’t…” You mumble out breathily as he kisses the sides of your lips. His lips instantly connect back with yours.

“And here… I thought… you were standing so strong and proud,” Hyunjin chuckles darkly, whispering out the words in between wet kisses. His usual self coming back, and your brows furrow. “But… no. You’re letting me… do this… without fight.”

Your head cranes back as Hyunjin’s lips drag down to your neck. Licking wet strips up and down your neck, suckling on the sensitive skin and pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your skin. You bite back a moan.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything…” You whimper out, and Hyunjin chuckles against your neck.

“Maybe, but you’ve passed the point of no return when you kissed back. And here I thought you’d punch me in the face,” Hyunjin laughs against your skin, moving you so your legs are spread for him to press more and more against you.

“Maybe I should’ve,” you whisper out in one breath.

“Mmh, but you know you like it, baby,” Hyunjin smirks.

“What happened to you wanting to talk?” You breath out, your breath moans getting louder, and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

“You ruined it,” Hyunjin grumbles, nibbling on your skin briefly.

“Fuck you…” you grumble, your arms wrapping around his neck unconsciously.

“Already, hmm? Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck off…!” You groan at his dumb joke, and Hyunjin laughs against you. “But… seriously, Hyunjin… Wait… I’m still a virgin.”

Hyunjin’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed. “You’re a what, again?”

“A virgin, dumbass.”

“Are you saying you want to have sex-..”

“Hyunjin! Don’t take this so lightly. I’ve never done it with anyone before, and I definitely wasn’t planning on someone like you being my first,” you admit, and Hyunjin cocks a brow at you.

“You’ll regret those words. I’ll make sure this is a night for you to remember,” Hyunjin snaps, his words dark, and you swallow. “But, I need you to let me know that you want me, too.”

“Goddamn it, Hyunjin,” you groan, and your hand grips a lock of his hair, pulling his back so he can look clearly at you, “I want you to fuck me, Hyun - ah…”

A smirk creeps up on his lips, and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows his spit, and you let go of his hair, and his head dives back into your neck. Not exactly going back to kissing you, but resting his lips there. He mumbles out, “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your pretty mouth.” And neither did you. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it’s a spur of the moment idea. But, right now, again, you can’t push Hyunjin away. Your body won't let you.

Fuck it, your mind screams, and you let your legs wrap around Hyunjin’s waist. His hands find themselves caressing your thighs, your waist and back as his lips start moving again over your neck. The sensation sending constant chills up and down your spine, causing your back to stiffen and arch at the new feeling erupting in your core. You’ve masturbated before, that’s not the issue. But, being in the control of somebody gave you a whole new stimulation with even having to be touched too much. A new spark of intensity.

Hyunjin’s hands are rough, yet cautious. Trying not to go too far, but obviously trying not to pull away himself.

He eventually pushed your shoulders lightly, but with enough force to push your back flat against the old art table. He’s still standing, but he’s leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head and his pelvis nearly pressed against yours, standing in between your legs.

His warm hands move slowly underneath your shirt. Your back lifts at the feeling of his hands meeting your untouched skin, and you let out a hoarse breath as Hyunjin sucks on the skin below your jaw. Your head tilting to the side to give him the access he needed. Your neck craning, and your eyes flutter shut from the bliss. Your lips parting in a silent moan. Too embarrassed to actually make too much noise. Hyunjin’s hands move up the sides of your bare waist, carrying your shirt and hoodie with it. He parts from your neck to look up at you, his hands coming to a sudden halt.

You only glare over to him before you take your shirt and hoodie yourself, peeling it quickly off and over your head and tossing them to the side, trying to make it onto another table, but it landed on the floor. You could care less. Hyunjin’s eyes immediately dart down to stare at your semi - exposed torso. You bite your bottom as Hyunjin’s hand eases up, poking at the wire of your cherry pink bra. “Pink? Cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Hmm, that’s not gonna happen and you know that.” Hyunjin winks at you, and you roll your eyes before your head falls back again. Hyunjin’s wet lips come back to your neck, but this time, he starts pressing slow, wet kisses down your neck. Over your collarbone and chest before over the bump of your breasts. You watch him with nervous eyes as Hyunjin presses wet kisses over the skin of your breasts. The feeling of the sensitive, untouched skin being no longer untouched is euphoric. However, he doesn’t take off your bra, most likely since you’re in the old art room and being completely nude would be a bit too overbearing and overwhelming for both of your likings.

You thought Hyunjin was going to stop there, but no. He kept on kissing down, now going over your stomach. Your heartbeat got louder and louder as he kept going down. His warm mouth pressing warm kisses to you before moving down, the area before being shadowed by the cold air.

Your breath got caught in your throat when Hyunjin’s fingers loop around the loose hem of your jeans. His eyes darting up to look at you briefly. But, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to take them off. One finger undoes the first button before he swiftly moves out of the way to pull them down. Your legs try to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s knee jerks up, stopping them from closing. Your panties don’t match your bra, since they’re black and not as fancy. However, Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care at all.

Your pink face watches as Hyunjin tosses your jeans to the side, with the rest of your clothes.

“Hyunjin - ah…” You utter out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, one brow raising in question.

“I’m going to eat you out,” Hyunjin gives you a sarcastic smile, and you don’t have the willpower to roll your eyes. Your pussy is already sopping wet, and you hold back the urge to throw yourself on top of him. You’re not surprised by how blunt he is, but it’s still nerve wracking for you. “Don’t be scared. You’ll be perfectly fine.” He reassures, and you know you’re fine. That you’re safe, but, as said before, you were so nervous.

You watch as Hyunjin dips between your legs, getting on his knees on the floor, perfectly level with you. He looks from your wet panties to you for a moment before he presses a firm kiss to your clothed cunt. Your hips jut up from the sensitivity of it, your legs trying to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s hand is quicker. His hand flush against your thigh. He smirks against you, pressing another feather light kiss to your clothes pussy once more before he licks up it, firmly pressing his tongue against you, sending your hand to your mouth to hide your choked moans.

However, Hyunjin’s hand flies up to pull your arm down, grumbling out, “Don’t be fucking quiet this time, (Y/N).”

“We’re in a fucking classroom, Hyunjin, I have to be!” You let out a throaty groan as Hyunjin licks another long, slow strip over your panties.

“All the teachers are gone. God, relax,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, and you shoot him a confused look.

“You planned this didn’t you?” You snarl, propping yourself, and Hyunjin cocks a brow, his long fingers hooking around the hem of your pantines. You tried to close your legs, but they’re blocked by Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin only shoots you glare before pulling down your panties, and you gasp when your sopping pussy meets the cold air of the old art room.

“Ha,” Hyunjin scoffs, one of his fingers moving up to grace itself over the smooth, all too stimulative and sensitive skin around you, making your hips jutter, “No matter how mad you try to make yourself, you’re still dripping wet like a bitch in heat. Didn’t know I turned you on so much, sweetheart.”

“I’ll kill you,” you snap, but your hand goes to grip the edge of the table.

“You’ll love me after this,” Hyunjin winks at you again.

“I doubt it,” you backfire, and Hyunjin’s brow raises. A challenging smile on his face as his lips near your throbbing womanhood. So close, you could feel his breath fanning you. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you as his lips make contact with your warm, wet cunt. Your head falls back when you feel Hyunjin’s tongue against your clit. You let out a breathy moan and your hand flies down to tug at Hyunjin’s hair.

Hyunjin doesn’t go slow. He’s already teasing your hole with his middle finger as he licks and suckes around your pussy. His lips and tongue working wonders no toy you’ve ever owned ever could. The explicit sounds he makes turn you on even more, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on his mouth’s movement more than your face, which is tilted back. Your back arches from the pleasure, and you let out delicate moans as Hyunjin’s lips satisfy your throbbing pussy, giving it the attention it’s been craving.

Hyunjin slowly eases one finger into you, and your hips buck onto it. Hyunjin chuckles against you at your movement and raises a hand to press against your gut, pushing you down and holding you there as he lapped up your flowing juices while his finger inserts inside you. His knuckles soon flush against you, slowly twisting his hand inside you as you push yourself against him. Chills running through your body as Hyunjin’s tongue presses against your sensitive clit.

“Oh, god, Hyunjin…!” You moan out when he presses another finger into you. Your eyes squeezing shut as your trembling hands grip Hyunjin’s hair, your legs resting over his shoulders as he begins to thrust his fingers into you at a decently fast pace. His long fingers penetrate your tight, virgin hole. Pumping them in and out quickly, and you clench around him.

Your hands that grip Hyunjin’s hair pulls him further towards you, trying to get more and more of his tongue on you. Your hips grinding down on his fingers as your mind fogs from the pleasure. Now, you don’t care that it’s Hwang Hyunjin, you’re just loving the pleasure he’s providing you. You neck cranes, almost as if trying to pull away from how sensitive you were and how Hyunjin was abusing that.

However, when he enters a third finger, stretching you out, you feel your orgasm nearing. You clench around his fingers, your moans getting louder. Now, the thought of a teacher overhearing your explicit moans clearing from your head, your mind relaxing on the thought. All you can think of is how high you’re getting from the pleasure.

“Hyunjin… Hyunjin, I’m gonna cum soon… Hyunjin - ah, mmh,” one hand reaching up, the back of your hand pressing against your lips. Hyunjin doesn’t slow down. His hands move faster, and his mouth sucks at your clit. Your back begins to arch, your climax dangerously close.

But, it doesn’t come.

Hyunjin’s hands pull out of your pussy and he stands up when your back twitches, about to throw itself up when your climax hits. You look at Hyunjin with wide, glossy eyes. Sweat dripping down your forehead. Your legs twitch from the lost orgasm.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?” You snap, and Hyunjin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, giving you a raised brow and a smirk.

“You don’t get to cum, yet,” Hyunjin climbs over you again, trapping you down underneath his arms as he pushes himself in between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was just by a small brush of his bulge against your thigh. “Now, be good for me and take my cock like a good slut.” Your back stiffens from the vulgar slur, but it only makes your oversensitive pussy even wetter.

Hyunjin is quick when he lets his pants drop down with his boxers, and his dick springs free. His achingly red cock pressing against his stomach. As you look from his cock to his eyes, you feel waves of fear spring over you. However, Hyunjin’s soft touch on your face calms your nerves. His other hand pumps his member a few times before the tip it teases against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet,” Hyunjin groans, and you don’t answer, watching as Hyunjin slowly pushes himself into you, raw. Your head falls from the feeling, and Hyunjin’s mouth falls open, letting out a breathy groan as he eased himself into you. Your throbbing womanhood getting used to such a feeling. Once his pelvis bone is pressed against your ass, he stays there like that for a moment, and you get used to his size.

After a few moments of the sounds of both of your loud breaths, Hyunjin’s face nears yours, and your eyes flicker open to stare into his dark eyes. “I’m gonna start movin’, (Y/N),” he warns, and you nod.

“Please…” You grumble, and Hyunjin’s lip rises in a smirk.

“Please?”

“Move… Fuck me hard, Hyunjinnie. I can’t take it anymore. It’s about time you stopped fucking teasing me, huh?” You growl out, irritated.

Hyunjin’s smirk drops to a frown, and his hand grips your cheeks harshly, “Watch your tone with me, (Y/N). You can be so fucking proud, and that’s one of the reasons I wanna hate you. But, you’re too irresistable not to fuck until you’re screaming my name and begging for more.” And, after that, he ever so slowly pulls out of you before ramming himself back into you. So harshly and aggressively, it moves the whole table enough to where it creaks on it’s old legs. You let out a loud, inevitable moan that forces its way out of your lips.

Hyunjin does that a few times, and he throws his head back because of the pleasure. His face drowned in lust, and you clung to the table. A new burning sensation in your core as Hyunjin’s dick rams into your pure walls, deriving them from their innocence. You’re heat clenches around him as he pulls himself in and out of you. Slowly driving himself out before ramming into you.

But, he doesn’t do that for long when he starts to find a fast rhythm. One hand gripping your thigh while the other holds himself up on the table. He’ll sometimes let out breathy grunts or groans, but you’re on the verge of screaming out from how fast he was going. His cock burning your walls, sending a new sensation through you. It’s painful, but you’re loving it so much. You’re loving the burn, the penetration, everything.

Your eyes are closed, pure ecstasy running through you as your hands move up to wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him close to you and into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. Both of your mouths open to crash your tongues together in bliss as your legs wrap around Hyunjin loosely. His hips stay consistent, but your hips twitch and stutter. Your back stiffening and twitching, pressing tight against Hyunjin’s clothed torso as he kisses you. One of his hands guiding up to harshly caress your cheek, jaw and neck. His long fingers tugging lightly at your hair as your hands screwed with Hyunjin’s hair. Running through it, gripping it, even tugging it sometimes.

“Oh my fucking god, (Y/N),” He moans against your lips, moving away to rest his lips against your neck as he groans, his hips stuttering slightly, throwing him off his rhythm, “You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ good. Feels so fuckin’ good.” You moan out in response, too lost in desire, lust and euphoric, blissful pleasure to form something as simple as a response. Your mind so blank, nothing running through your mind other than how Hyunjin’s cock makes your pussy feel so fucking good. How he makes you feel so fucking good. The way it’s overstimulated and edged on, it’s almost overwhelming to the point you want to cry from the stimulation.

You begin to moan, nearly screaming out Hyunjin’s name as you feel your climax nearing, clenching helplessly around his cock. “Hyunjin… Hyunjin! Oh, fuck, Hyunjin - ah, I’m gonna cum! Please, oh god, please, I wanna cum so… ah! - so fuckin’ bad…” Your words are slurred, but enough for Hyunjin to make out.

“Mmh… Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, baby girl,” your back arches, flush against Hyunjin’s body as your gut erupts with a new feeling. Your neck cranes as your eyes open, rolling into the back of your head as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Cumming all over Hyunjin’s cock as he stops his thrusts, deep inside you to let you cum. Your mind hazing as you let out a string of high - pitched moans. Your body twitches and your knuckles turn white from gripping Hyunjin’s tee shirt.

Once you’re halfway through your climax, nearing the part where your whole body relaxes, Hyunjin quickly pulls out. Getting up from you, and your arms drop to your side as you breath heavily, coming down from your high. Hyunjin pumps his cock fast in his hands. Not slowing down whatsoever as his eyes squeeze shut. You watch his face as his mouth opens, moaning loudly as he cums over your stomach.

Once he is down from his climax, he breathes heavily. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. Your head falls back, your eyes closing as exhaustion then waves over your body. Catching your breath.

You didn’t even notice Hyunjin leaving shortly to grab an old cup from the counter and fill it with water before coming back. Dipping his fingers in the water to wipe his cum off of you. You jump at the sensation, but relax when you see Hyunjin’s distant, wistful smile. You watch as he wipes it off, making sure it’s clean before dumping the cup in the sink. Your heart quickens as Hyunjin puts on his clothes before he walks over to grab your clothes and silently help you put them on. He doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but it’s a comfortable silence. The first ever comfortable silence you’ve had with him.

It’s then, as he helped wipe you clean, dress you and make sure you were already by wiping the sweat off of your face with the back of his hand that Hyunjin wasn’t who you thought he was. Everything’s not as it seems. The way he smiles so adoringly at you as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheekbone ever so lovingly makes you feel conflicted with feelings.

At some point, Hyunjin lays down next to you on the art table. It’s quiet for a few minutes, both of your just staring at the ceiling, shoulders and legs touching.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He whispers, and you finally look over to him. He wears a delicate smile, and a tear trickles down the side of his face, “I really shouldn’t. I really don’t know why, but I do.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and you swear your heart shattered right there. “I… I shouldn’t have had sex with you. It’s only making everything worse for me. It’s making everything hurt so much more.”

He sits up, wiping his face, turning his back from you. He sniffs softly, letting out sharp breaths as his back trembled from his hoarse breathing.

You sit up, too. Reaching over to put your hand on his shoulder, but you hesitate.

No. If Hyunjin isn’t really who you thought he was, you want, you need to get to know the real him.

So, you make up your mind.

You get off of the table to move in front of him, and he tries to move away, his hands covering his red face. You gently grip his hands, pulling them away from his face. And it’s a sight you thought you’d never have to see. His eyes are red, his face wet and pink from the tears staining his face. It’s such a pitiful look on him, and you thought you’d never, ever see him so vulnerable. He keeps him looking down, trying to pull his hands away, but you have a tight grip on them.

“Look at me, Hyunjin.” You demand in a soft, yet firm voice. Hyunjin doesn’t for a moment, and you were about to repeat yourself, but Hyunjin’s eyes lock with yours. You give him a soft sigh and smile, “Hyunjin. You’ve proved to me that you’re not the person I thought you were. And… if you’re really not the douchebag, fuckboy and absolute asshate that I know, then… then I’ll stay by your side. Alright?”

Your heart hammers against your chest as Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly, another tear slowly dripping down his face. You let go of one of his hands to gently rub it away with your thumb. Just below his eye. Hyunjin stares at you with wide, doubtful eyes. His lips slightly ajar as his hand trembles in yours.

So, to ease the silence, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. With no tongue, it’s an innocent kiss. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but he does after a moment.

And, the rest of that night was spent in that old art room. Either talking to each other, kissing each other or holding each other that night. You learned a lot about Hyunjin. About why he likes to fuck around, why he thinks he’s in love with you and other things about his life. You also told him a lot about you, about why you didn’t feel right about him at first.

And, by the end of that night, you could easily conclude that you’re in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and that it’s possible to fall in love with someone in the span of one night after years and years of hating each other.

[bokutoslittlebird]

I’m Sorry

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader x Alpha!Oikawa

Warnings: THIS IS A SEQUEL to Regrets, intention of suicide, suicidal thoughts and actions [overdose, cutting, falling], mentions of self harm [overdose and cutting], angst, pregnancy, bonding mention, I did not look up Argentina resident rules

The rain was heavy today.

You felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying it was sorry for you. The ride back to school would be in the pouring rain that matched the gloominess of your heart, only to enter a campus where nobody wanted anything to do with you. His scent was all over you; despite being a Beta, you could feel it. You had been claimed and nobody would dare try and claim Ushijima Wakatoshi’s mate, despite the fact you’re not his mate.

Sobbing did little to ease the ache in your chest, eyes blotched from the constant tears and your nose sniffling as you tried to wipe away snot with your sleeves. Your sleeves, not his sleeves of a jacket you stole. Reading stories of how an Alpha would bestow their mate clothing would always warm your heart, but sitting on a dirty busstop with nobody but the rain beside you, your heart felt cold.

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. Your head snapped up to see a brunet looking down at you, his attire telling you he was dressed to run. Running? In pouring rain? What an idiot. He was gorgeous, though, hair collecting silver droplets that seemed to only accentuate his features. Your eyes trail down to the black collar adorning his neck, hidden beneath the white and blue jacket he wore. He quirked an eyebrow, giving off a small chuckle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“More like an idiot running in rain. What’s up with that?” You sniffle, rubbing at your raw nose and cursing the timing. An Alpha coming on a claimed Beta alone — words don’t need to be spoken for the other man to know why you’re crying. But instead of running off, he sits next to you. “You’re gonna get me wet, weirdo,”

“Well if I sit too close, I’d get snot on me, so maybe I’d be better keeping my distance, anyways,” he shoots back, barely batting an eye. You just scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Someone seems to have a problem with me. I don’t even know who you are, stranger,” you give off a grin, trying to keep up the light tone.

“Well, you’re wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket and you stink like Ushiwaka, so can you blame me for being a bit of an ass?” He says, grinning. Though you were keeping a light tone, his words quickly reminded you of the position you’re in. Gloomy day, pouring rain, busstop. Looking back to the ground, you sigh heavily.

“Well, at least it’s the most interaction I’ve had all day. Ushijima’s got a stick up his ass and no funny bone in his body, so I suppose if this is my last interaction, it’s better than him,” you off handedly say. The man beside you quirks his eyebrow once more, your words settling into his brain before he’s leaning closer to you. His shadow moves towards you, making you jump back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re pregnant,” he flat out says. Before you can shoot anything back, his eyes get sad as he pulls himself back some more. “You’re going to kill yourself because he abandoned you?”

“How-” you sputter, tears springing to your eyes once more, “how did you-”

“You know if he’s abandoned you, another Alpha can take claim, right? You’re not worthless,”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a Beta with an Alpha’s bond mark. An Alpha that doesn’t even want to talk to me. My family and friends have turned their backs on me because it’s my fault. I wouldn’t expect an Alpha to understand the other party’s feelings,” you say, wiping away the tears. Despite trying to appear strong, your eyes are wet and there’s snot running down your face. “No Alpha wants Ushijima Wakatoshi’s leftovers. Don’t make me laugh,”

“Well, a cute little Beta would look better with a genuine smile then tears in their eyes, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles, rubbing your cheek, but you slap away his hand.

“Stop patronizing me. You sound like a creepy old man. Who even are you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think I had to introduce myself. I’m Oikawa Tōru,” he smiles once more, a genuine smile, as he holds out his hand. “And if there’s someone who hates Ushiwaka more than you, it’s me,”

“[Y/N]. You’re from Seijoh, right?” You shake his hand, although it’s brisk. His nod confirms your suspicions. The captain of the team that never beat Ushijima’s team, but always aimed for the top. Ushijima also mentioned how talented Seijoh’s setter was, but you never expected to be sitting on a busstop next to the man himself. “Well, you’ve gotten my life story and told me you hate Ushijima, so I guess it’s time for you to go back to running in the rain,”

“Nah, I can’t,” he shrugs, but you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, you ask him why. “Well, I can’t leave someone in need alone. If I leave, you’ll still kill yourself. You’re hurting and I can’t just abandon you. I’m not like other Alphas, you know.” You know his reference is to only Ushijima, but it warms your stomach nonetheless, seeing someone actually be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me then. If you hadn’t stopped, we’d both be blissfully unaware of each other’s presence,” you say, letting a sob wrack your body before covering it with a cough. “Guess I’m the weirdo getting sick,”

“Still thinking there’s no other option, huh?”

“Well what do you expect? You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to face my consequences on my own and turned your back on me. There really is no reason for me to stay here, especially if I have to raise a child without a support system. I’m still in high school, what the fuck,” you huff, running your hand through your hair, looking up at the sky, noticing how the rain has eased up and the sky is brighter. “I’ll be out when it comes, but the fact of the matter is I’ll graduate pregnant, who wants to go through that? I’m basically a cheap slut in everybody’s eyes. I just wanted to feel needed by someone I admire and this is what it results in? The more I think about it the more I want to down a bottle of painkillers and never wake up.”

“If nobody is sticking up for you, then maybe they’re not your real friends. Fair weather friends, only there for good tea and sunny days. If there’s nobody there for you, reach out for help,”

“I don’t want to be a burden,”

“People who will help you willingly won’t see it that way. Me sitting here with you isn’t burdening me, and I haven’t turned from you. I know we just met, but I want to help you. There’s a lot to live for and one setback doesn’t deserve to sever that line before you’ve even gotten to the good part. Good people exist, you just need to find them,”

“‘Find them’? I thought I had, so what’s the point in trying to find more, only to be disappointed?”

“[Y/N], was it? I’m right here, you know,” he puts a hand on his chest, a smile on his lips and shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’m still here. Find someone like me,”

“That’s sweet, but I doubt there are multiple Oikawas running around in the rain,” you sigh, looking back up. It’s almost time for the bus, but you have a feeling that if he’s still here, then he won’t let you leave. “Are you gonna sit there until my opinion changes?”

“They don’t change that easily, trust me,” he chuckles, but it lacks the merry behind it. Glancing at him, his eyes are downcast as he runs a thumb over his knee. “But I don’t want to see someone die over one thing. There’s a lot to live for, a lot to strive for, that’s why I keep moving even after all my failures. If someone kills themselves for one thing, something I don’t see as a reason to end, I wonder if it was deeper than what it was on the surface. Was it a quick way to feel numb for a while? Was it an easy solution? Sometimes the easiest path isn’t the right one. Surviving an attempt makes you realize things can change, but what if you didn’t survive? If you regret putting the blade to your skin or stepping off the ledge seconds after you do it or seconds before death? You can’t change it once it’s in motion.”

“I never.. I never thought about it like that,” you mutter, your hands holding each other, fingers twiddling. A brief meeting with a handsome Alpha suddenly put things in perspective. A laugh breaks you from your trance, his mouth behind his hand.

“If I see an opportunity to help, I’ll be there, but the fact is I can’t change your mind. I would like to put things in perspective and give you options, but that’s all I can do. If the reason you’re planning to end it all is because you have no friends, I can help with that. I’ll be your friend when nobody else gives you a chance.”

You mull it over, thinking of your options. In the end, the worst that could happen is you end up back on the bench, in the rain, ready to match to your death. “You know, I was told that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is,” you mutter, but rifle through your jacket pockets for your phone. “Don’t make me regret second guessing myself, Oikawa Tōru. If you want to be my friend, I’ll take the hand extended to me,”

“Wonderful! And just in the nick of time, the bus is here,” he takes out his own phone, ready to swap numbers. As the bus pulls up to a stop, Oikawa waves at you as he pockets his phone, your contact information all piled inside. You really hope you don’t regret this decision, too.

In the few days that pass, you find yourself wondering how you could have possibly thought bad of Oikawa. He was sweet to you, introducing you to his friends (who knew about your predicament prior), with their promise they’d never turn their back. Iwaizumi was also an Alpha, but the other two were Betas. You did think it to be odd about how they seemed to willingly to help you, stay beside you, despite having no reason to. Their only reason was a promise to you. To Oikawa? Maybe, but you never asked him about it; if you did, he’d just shrug and give you a vague answer.

He promised to show you the light on a dark and gloomy evening, and he kept that promise. As your friends turned their backs on you, scoffing about how your decision will affect you for the rest of your life, Oikawa was there when you needed him the most. He was on standby all hours of the day and night, his phone always on and beside him. When your family turned you away, calling you out on your sudden friendship with another Alpha while carrying a child, they kicked you out and you had nowhere else to go, Oikawa was there. When you felt your world crumbling around you, feeling hopeless and desperate, picking up a secret stash of painkillers, Oikawa was there to talk to you. He didn’t actively take away the pills, but he sat on the other side of the door and talked to you, listened to you. Even his mom was there for you when your family and friends had left you, but Oikawa stood beside you through it all.

Then your world crumbled again.

“I’m planning on moving to Argentina,” he had said. You were looking into colleges to further your education when he had knocked on your door, his old sister’s room, sitting on the bed.

“You’re.. leaving?” You wanted to add to that sentence, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He’s been with you for so much, you’re not entirely sure you can be independent without him.

“It’s been almost 6 months since you met me. I actually went on that run to decide if I wanted to study abroad in Argentina, but after meeting you, I decided to wait. I’ve been studying the language and keeping up with local volleyball communities, but my dream is over there,” he explains. You click your pen and set it down, ready to ask if you should leave his house, but he continues. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

“Wh- What?”

“I’ve been putting in extra time so we can both move together, get a fresh start,” his face tints as he speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It seems a bit forward, now that I’m actually talking aloud about it. Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckles, before clearing his throat.

“You want me.. to come with you?” You ask, unsure if you’re hearing correctly. He’s asking you to move to a new country with him, which is exciting! But, the baby.. “He is due soon, you know,”

“5 weeks, if I remember correctly,” he smiles, looking down at the large bump. You run a hand over it, solemnly nodding. “He’d be born in Argentina, our new home, if you come with me,”

“But Ushijima—”

“He’s abandoned you, officially. Your bond, it’s hardly noticeable anymore. The scent, I mean,” he corrects himself. “He’s basically just a sperm donor at this point,”

“This is.. very sudden, you know,”

“I know. And it’s also a very grand way of asking to court you, while also essentially marrying you, but I will say that if you choose to stay here, Iwa-chan will take care of you. He’s going to study in California for some amount of time, but that’s not for another few months. There is Mattsun and Makki, but I’m not too sure-”

“Okay, don’t stress yourself,” you giggle, getting him to stop. “I’ll go with you, but you gotta teach me the language,”

“I’ve been told I’m a great tutor, actually,”

“I believe it. Will the bond go away, or is it just the scent that’s gone?” He raises his brows at that.

“Ah, I guess you never took those classes. The bond is permanent, but another Alpha can lay claim on a mate that has been abandoned. I’d be honored to replace his bond with mine, but I’m sure you’ll need-”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him. He sputters as he processes the words, but then smirks.

“Are you sure? I don’t plan on making mistakes, so you’ll be stuck with me, you know?”

“Tōru, I’ve been ready for a while now. Hope you don’t mind bonding me while I’m pregnant,” your hand once more rubs the large bump, settling on the top.

“It just means I’ll have to wait until it’s my turn to try,” he licks his lips, moving towards the door. The locking sound seals your fate, keeping others from interrupting your moment.

- Years Later

“Koichi, come back here!” you shout, weaving in between the crowds. Aiko is somehow still asleep on your shoulder as you chase your son through the crowd. He’s been dying to meet his favorite uncle for quite some time, so see as he’s the trainer for the Nationals team of Japan, Koichi ran once the match ended. A brief Q&A with the members of the team would happen exactly right after they left the stadium, which he knew because of his father’s position.

You finally come to a stop, grabbing Koichi’s collar as he struggles to get through the crowd. “I told you to not leave me, and what did you do? Uncle Iwa isn’t going to suddenly disappear. He’s been waiting for this day, too, you know?”

“But mama! I told him I’d be the first one!”

“That’s impossible. The paparazzi gets to him first, that’s how it works in Hollywood movies,” you joke, but you pick him up. You’re no professional athlete, but you do stay in shape to take care of two children. As soon as you pick him up, he’s shouting as he sees Iwaizumi, trying to talk to the reporters. He catches Koichi’s waving hand and decides to take a break, going towards where you are as the crowd parts.

“How is the Oikawa family doing? I see Koichi is energetic,” he laughs, taking the boy from your arms.

“Ugh, as always. Don’t know where he gets it from, it’s not like his sister is bursting with energy all day,” you gesture to the child sleeping, despite the loud crowd.

“Well, definitely Oikawa’s kid. He sleeps through anything and so does she, jeez,” he sighs, but you just laugh. A few members of his team come over, excited by the new people.

“Iwa-chan, what’s this? Wife? Your kids?? You have kids???” A man with white and black hair says, giving Koichi a high five.

“Uh, no. They’re actually Oikawa’s wife and kids. I’m the favorite uncle, of course,”

“I wanna be the uncle! ‘Samu is never gonna get married, I need to be an amazing uncle somehow,” a man with platinum blond hair says, but he’s quickly pushed aside as a familiar face comes into view.

A face you didn’t want to see.

“[Y/N], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ushijima says, tone as flat as ever. Iwaizumi takes on a forced smile as yours drops, a frown etched on.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either. Actually, ever again,”

“Oh?” The owlish man says, eyebrows quirked up as his eyes glance between the two of you.

“I see you moved on. I’m glad to see that,”

“No thanks to you,” the venom in your voice has Koichi turning to him, looking at the larger man with large eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the resemblance. He’s got the same hair color and eyes as the man in front of you, taking hardly any features from you. Not to mention, Koichi is showing signs of presenting as an Alpha.

“Darling, that’s where you were!” Oikawa shouts from over the crowd, them parting so he can mingle with the group around you. “I was wondering where my personal cheerleaders went to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His eyes meet Ushijima’s and despite being unable to smell the tension, you can feel it. Reporters and guests alike back away as the overwhelming tension of two Alphas clash.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says. Oikawa just tilts his head, looking over his opponent.

“I thought you’d look more defeated after I wiped the court with your ass, but I’m more disappointed in that. Emotionless as ever, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, then looks to you. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you, [Y/N],”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late, Wakatoshi. You’re much too late,” you say, before nodding at Iwaizumi. “I’m leaving,”

Despite turning to leave, Oikawa taking Koichi away from his uncle and new “uncles”, despite being in the middle of a loud crowd, you can hear him. It’s quiet, almost as if he knows the words are weightless, holding nothing after years of his abandonment. Despite Oikawa’s bond pulsing, your heart still yearns for the other man, what he could have given you and what he did to you. Despite all this, you’ve fantasized about hearing those words, yet they do nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took forever to publish but I hope it was worth the wait! I didn’t keep track of time while writing this, so if something seems wrong just ignore it. I might come back and fix it later but probably not lol ; Argentina residency rules and citizenship requirements were not consulted for this, seeing as it only took up like one sentence, but I might change it if I look more into it of course.

[lovely-jily]

almost caught

something for @jilytoberfest! prompt: "if we get caught-" "i'll make it worth your while, i promise."

i wrote this quickly and didn't revise it a ton, but im just excited to contribute for jilytober!!! hope you lovely's like:)

"Okay, James. I'm going to be completely frank here- and I wholeheartedly mean every word when I say this- this is perhaps the stupidest idea you've ever had- and you've had loads of stupid idea's."

"Oh, come on. Try to have some faith in me," James whispered back, opening one of the drawers of the desk. They were in the Ravenclaw Prefect's office. James had suspected that the Prefects were somehow involved with their Quidditch team cheating by using weighted and magic-infused balls. The only evidence he had to back his theory up was a "gut feeling" and the fact that the bludgers seemed to target the other team more often, which Lily chalked up to confirmation bias. While she disagreed with cheating, she figured a better idea was to talk to their Prefects, not snoop through their office.

"Famous last words," Lily rolled her eyes, "I can't believe that I let you drag me into this. If we get caught-"

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise," The boy reassured her as he looked up at Lily, messy dark curls hanging in front of his eyes. He had finished looking in the first drawer and moved to the one below it, quickly searching. Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that, "Besides, we won't get caught. Now, are you going to start searching, or are you going to make me do all the work like usual?"

"Like usual? Excuse me?" Lily said. She was standing in front of him, hands firmly planted on her hips disapprovingly before turning to the cabinets. Besides breaking his collarbone last night in a quidditch game (Which Madam Pomfrey fixed just fine, and if he followed her instructions, he'd be totally healed in days), the year was going swimmingly for James and Lily. She enjoyed working with him as Heads and was seeing real change in him. He was no longer a bully, and in fact, he always shut that sort of thing down.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for."

James just chuckled as he closed the second drawer, kneeling to search the third drawer, "Probably anything quidditch related."

"You've got the wrong person for this," Lily sighed. That was probably true. She knew nothing of sports- both muggle and wizard alike. She turned to the cabinets on the far wall, which was full of books, mostly student records, and smelled musty.

"You know, this would be so much easier if you just agreed to use the cloak with me," James commented as he stood up and brushed off his pants. Lily had grown to like him over the past few months and didn't mind working with him as co-Heads. He was kind, responsible, and enthusiastic enough that almost everyone adored him- even Lily. She was even starting to get butterflies around him, something she never thought could happen.

"I'm never going under that damn cloak with you," Lily said as she took out a book of student records. She dusted it off and then put it back where she found it.

"Never is a strong word," James said as he walked over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and stepped inside, pressing against the back of it to see if any secret openings were on the back wall.

"I know," Lily said, following him and standing behind him, "That's why I said it."

That's when they heard the door handle jiggle, indicating that someone was trying to come in.

Lily, panicking, looked up at James. He quickly grabbed her by her waist and lifted her into the broom closet, quietly slamming the door. One hand was on her waist, the other over her mouth to try and keep her quiet. He gently took it off and put it behind her head. One hand was still on her waist as he tangled his other in her hair.

Fucking hell, he was hot.

Lily's hands were holding tightly at the bottom hem of her skirt. She knew that if she didn't plant them there, they'd undoubtedly find themselves tangled in James's dark locks.

"Maybe you were right about that cloak," Lily whispered as they were both breathing heavily and pressed up against each other. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating. She wasn't sure if that was from fear of getting caught or being so close to James.

James just brought his finger back to her lips and shushed her softly. His breath was softly blowing on her bangs, which caused them to tickle her forehead. All Lily could do was look up at him, remembering what was going on outside the cabinet, hearing the door open. He then anxiously looked out through the crack of the wooden doors, trying to watch whoever she heard come in. Lily tried to ignore the way he was clenching his jaw. She noticed that was a sort of nervous tick of his, something that he did when anxious. One hand was still on her waist, the other resting on her hair on the nape of her neck.

Why was she caring more about James's hands on her than she did at the idea of getting caught?

"Weird, I swore I heard voices," Sabrina Wood, the sixth year Prefect, said.

"So did I," Robert Thomas responded.

James, seeming to spot something above Lily's head, quickly reached his hand up. However, he never got to inspect what he wanted to. Lily heard the sound of his collarbone crack, implying that it was rebroken. While Madam Pomfrey had patched him up just fine, she said he needed to refrain from sudden movements of reaching above his head. Lily now realized this was why.

James leaned forward and grimaced in pain. Still on Lily's neck, his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled at it slightly.

"Fuck," He groaned quietly in Lily's ear, and she felt his hot breath against her ear and neck. Her eyes widened at how attractive that word was coming from his lips, silently cursing herself at the sinful thoughts that flashed in her mind.

The sound of footsteps walking around the office brought Lily back to the current reality. She looked above her see his arm clenched in a fist. He was in a lot of pain.

Wordlessly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at his broken collarbone. She had practised nonverbal spells a number of times, although never this one. She wasn't sure if she'd ever done this one on a human before.

The footsteps were walking towards the wardrobe and she looked at James. He had relaxed his grip on Lily's hair (much to her disappointment) and moved it to her waist. He nodded slightly, giving her permission to try.

She wordlessly performed the healing charm. James gripped at her shirt in response to the painful snap of bone back in place, just as they heard Robert say something about how they needed to get back to their rounds. They heard the two leave and the door close, listening to the charm the Prefects performed to lock the door. Once they determined they were alone, James let out another groan as he brought his hand down from above Lily's head.

"Good girl," He exhaled as he melted into her, and Lily's eyes widened again. That should not make her feel the way it did, but regardless her toes crinkled and she tightened her grip on her wand.

"You alright?" She asked sheepishly, trying to relax. She was feeling bashful and disappointed that they now had to exit the wardrobe.

James, slightly sweaty from the pain, nodded and raised his other arm to what he wanted to look at earlier. He pressed against the wall, and a hidden drawer slightly popped out. He reached his hand in and pulled out a piece of parchment from inside it.

"Lumos," he said, still breathing heavily. The room lit up, and Lily looked at James, light reflecting on his glasses. He was looking so damn good, skin sticky and lips soft. She fought against the image of something else that could make James groan, sweat, and breathe heavily.

They both looked at the parchment, and written in neat handwriting was "For those who forget, use wingardium leviosa to control replaced quaffles."

James looked up at Lily, a victorious smirk on his face, which Lily couldn't help but smile at.

"God damn it," Lily said, annoyed that he was but also influenced by his contagious smile, "You actually were right."

"We did it, Evans," James said excitedly, putting his hands on her face and shaking it with enthusiasm.

Lily laughed, blushing at his hand placement, "For Ravenclaws, they really are thick. That was way too easy to find."

James shrugged and dropped his hands, "I don't really care too much. We'll take this right to McGonagall. She'll sort this whole thing out."

Lily nodded as he opened the wardrobe door, feeling the cooler air hit their skin. She blinked at the sudden brightness as he helped her out.

"I can't believe you could do that spell so well, and wordlessly too! You never fail to astonish me with your brilliance," James ruffled her hair with his empty hand and pocketed the parchment with his other.

Lily, blushing harder, smiled at him, "Says the idiot who rebroke his collarbone."

"True," James just laughed, putting his hand on Lily's back to push her forward. He then put both hands on her shoulder and shook them back and forth as he guided her out of the door of the office and down the corridor, "What would I do without you, Evans? My saviour."

Lily just laughed as she shrugged off his hands, playfully pushing him. She looked up at him, his hands clasped behind his back and glasses peering down at her.

"Probably walk around with a broken collarbone."

"Of course," He looked forward, "I've got a question for you, Miss Evans."

Lily's stomach lurched at that statement, and she bit her lip in anticipation, "Yes?"

He stepped in front of her, stopping her. His hands were still behind his back, and he looked down at her. They were nearly as close as they were in the wardrobe.

"Did you think about kissing me in that wardrobe?"

Shit. Fuck. How did he know??

Her stomach dropped, and while she was taken back from the question, but decided she wasn't too mad about it. So they were doing this now?

Lily, full of panic and anxiety, was determined to remain as calm and collected on the outside as she could. She smirked and tilted her head flirtatiously.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

James smirked back and stepped back to Lily's side as they started to walk again, "Why didn't you?"

"For starters," Lily said, deciding to remain confident, started to lie, "You had a broken bone and seemed to be in a decent amount of pain."

James scoffed sarcastically, "I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't hurt at all."

"Ah, of course, it didn't," Lily looked at her feet as they walked as she remembered the way that he grabbed at her hair and his tone when he whispered "Fuck" in her ear. She got chills again.

They were heading to McGonagall's office. She wasn't sure how James would explain how he obtained the evidence to McGonagall, but she wasn't thinking about that too much at that point. They were talking about kissing, something much more compelling and appealing to Lily.

"Regardless, and back to the more important thing at hand," He smirked at her as he leaned to whisper in her ear, sending chills up Lily's spine, "Perhaps we can get stuck in another wardrobe soon- and don't hold back next time. I still have to make it up to you for nearly getting caught."

[igotathingforvampires]

Anon Ask | Caius Volturi x F!Witch Reader: Punishments

Canon Divergent Dora is true mated to Renata because I <3 Renata Fight Me

Reader is a Witch.

You are a human. Who managed because of a latent heritage of being a Witch to wander past Heidi into the Throne Room thinking it’s a tour.

You’re not stupid, you walk right in and get near the dais and look around and realize that this is not just a tour.

Sighing, you glance around and face palm. “Ahhhhhh Fuck My Life.”

The Kings of Volterra are eyeing you with amusement.

You sigh, and glare UP at the throne of a very, very gorgeous almost elfin, platinum haired King who’s GLARING back at you with a raised brow and a scowl.

“So ah do I get to pick who offs me?”

All vampires just PAUSE.

“Because okay, if I’m gonna die.” You point at Caius. “That one. You. You’ve got dibs Sir.”

Caius is Shooketh.

This little human has got some guts.

He hates humans. HATES humans.

So why when he snatches you up and you just look at him with those big eyes, and a small smile “just make it quick hm?”

You wait, eyes closed.

Caius pauses, growling and suddenly NOPE you’re picked up and ZOOM.

Aro: The fuck just happened?

You’re tucked away in his inner sanctuary of his rooms, sat down on a chair. “Sit RIGHT here human. If you move I shall be displeased, you won’t like what happens if you make me angry.”

“Uhhhhhh kay.”

Caius goes and feeds and after he sits amongst his brothers. “I’m keeping it.” He growls

Turns out he can keep you because you’re not human! YAY!

“So am I like a bunny.”

“Less than a Rabbit you’re human.” Caius would growl at you.

“Mmmkay.”

How things Go:

You are the chillest bitch to ever chill. Life has not been great, in fact it’s been a horror show, Aro of course sees this and he scolds Caius for treating you like a piece of furniture rather than a person.

Aro knows you’re just feeling Caius out, watching because there are moments— the very few moments— when he is oh so gentle.

You shiver, a blanket is flung at your face. “My luck you’d catch pneumonia.”

Your tummy rumbles, the chef brings a five star meal. “I don’t need you dying.”

You’re bored, suddenly you’re in front of the TV and given access to ALL the shows. “You’re being a pest.”

Aro also knows your temper is starting to appear the more Caius pushes you away.

Caius isn’t sure what to even do with you— he is FEELING things, things he’s never even felt with Dora. And Dora is berating him alongside Marcus for being an utter nitwit.

“Cai for all your brilliance for strategy you’re an idiot in romance.” Dora says.

He knows it’s true. He’s an asshole.

And angry.

All the time. But when you’re around he’s not angry anymore.

But at one point you’re still fidgeting with your hands. “What is the problem now.”

“Ah…well…” you fidget some more, “c-can I have some water colors?”

Caius freezes. “You paint?” He seems curious.

You nod. “I do digital art but I like canvas art too!” You show him your phone of photoshop collages, watercolor, digital paintings and such.

“You do this on a computer?” He tilts his head. He hates technology. So seeing that one can create art this way is astounding to him.

“Yeah I had to sell my iPad a while ago so sadly I can’t do much right now but if I have some water colors that would be a good start!” You bounce on your feet.

You have the a massive iMac, a Wacom Cintiq 24”, an entire selection of Derwent colors and crazy amounts of canvases and anything else you might need that an artist can think of.

Caius is utterly stunned when you tackle him and kiss his cheek thanking him.

His heart explodes into confetti.

Art is how Caius communicates his gentler side. His art is beautiful, evoking deep emotions, and his hand is gentle and fluid enough in motion to capture even the most minute details.

You both grow exceptionally close, till Marcus one day pulls him aside to inform him of the Mate Bond that is between you two.

The Kiss:

You’re modeling for Caius, it’s a random request and you feel utterly embarrassed dressed in flowing robes and sprawled on a chaise lounge half hanging off, your hair spilling onto the marble floor.

You can’t quite help but notice how his gaze is pitch black and devouring you.

“M-Master Caius?”

“Caius.” He grumbles.

“Huh?”

“I think it’s about time you can call me Caius y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump an erratic beat as magic swirls in your eyes. It’s slowly been coming back to you, being cared for, like a plant long neglected, your magic has begun to grow under the tender albeit aloof care of the vampire King you’re so utterly in love with.

But you know it’s silly, there’s no way it’d work—

He’s suddenly next to you, hovering nose to nose, pulling you towards him, “you consume me.”

It’s the last thing he says for a long while as you both end up staying on that lounge for a— ahem lengthy amount of time.

Punishments:

Caius is a sadist.

But he’s a loving sadist.

He has so many kinks he doesn’t know what to do with them. And luckily for him— surprise surprise you’re kinky too.

But you tend to be mouthy. And Caius does not like when he is disobeyed. “Be a good pet and go sit.”

“But—“

“1.”

When Aro counts it’s for orgasms.

When Caius counts it’s for paddling or the crop.

Or it’s for forced orgasms and overstimulation.

The dynamic between you is quite lovely, boundaries are discussed whenever needed, although Caius can come across as gruff and uncaring, at one point during punishment play you had said your safe word rather quickly, and everything stopped. Oils, bath, rub down, talks, blankets, snuggles, and so many kisses to the forehead. “Bunny, oh my little bunny what happened?”

As someone who does not cry.

Ever.

Aro has attested to this.

It astounds Caius that you’d trust him enough to do so.

He realizes that he’s earned a trust that has not been earned by anyone in a long long time, knowing that feeling, he would never break it by overdoing things or going past your boundaries.

Punishments are talked out. Explained. Rules are fairly discussed and you ALWAYS have a say in vetoing or staying off for another day.

If it’s a topic that has yet to be discussed it is tabled, and discussed for what an appropriate response should be.

Punishments include:

Caning

Paddle

Crop (your favorite)

Being suspended and teased.

Leashed. Yes he will have you walk behind him with a leash and collar. And yes he will sit in the Library with you on a leash and your head in his lap. “Good Bunny.”

You are a very good bunny.

Caius has only had only lost his temper with you once. And never will again.

It was due to negligence on your part, you had disobeyed him when it was imperative for you to listen, not aware of the danger of a local coven’s very out of control member. “But Cai why—“

They had heard your blood sing to them.

Caius had torn the individual to pieces in a fit of utter rage before turning on you with a shout, “I told you NEVER to disobey me.” he roared at you, the energy coming off him practically feral as his eyes were murderous.

Seeing you shrink back; the fear in your gaze at him almost broke his heart when the dread kicked in as to what he had done. He had frightened you.

He was supposed to be your comfort and safety.

of course you wouldn't understand vampire's ways of doing things.

or what a singer was...you were a witch...

But before he could even think to reach for you...

You had fled.

Hidden away in Dora’s rooms you tucked yourself away in her bathroom in the tub with a blanket curled up and wept.

Dora and Sulpricia beat the shit out of Caius.

He had sat outside the door pleading with you for hours.

He knew he had utterly fucked up.

He had a horrid temper, he knew it, and the idea of you being drained dry right in front of him had been far too much for him to think of. “Y/n please talk to me. I'm so sorry please forgive me.”

You had unlocked the door with magic…. And he had merely crawled into the tub with you, curled around you underneath the blanket and held you while you cried into him and smacked at his chest. “Don’t do that ever again!!!”

“I know, I know bunny I know. Never again. I'm a bastard I know.”

You calmed down and glared at him.

“Would you like to delve out a punishment?”

You blinked, confused and then realized what he was offering.

“Yes.”

And that is how you ended up quite happy with your vampire begrudgingly, and amused sitting at your feet in your shared rooms with GOOD BOY on a thick leather collar.

Turns out Caius likes being punished too.

“Also a masochist hm?” You laugh at him and grip him by his hair.

“So it seems.” He muses kissing your knee and nudging your legs apart. “But the reward is worth it isn’t it bunny?”

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Stark!Fem!Reader) — part two

I’m backkk so sorry this took forever, my idiot/goblin brain wanted to hold onto this part for longer?? Anywho

Summary: The one in which you meet Bucky Barnes for the first time. Also the one in which you want to ram Tony Stark’s skull into the wall.

Warnings: angst, mentions of past violence, mentions of death, Tony is still pretty douchey (I know y’all don’t wanna hear this but he is a giant asshole 99% of the time)

Series Masterlist

You can’t sleep.

It doesn’t help that you haven’t had a real bed to sleep in — let alone one that has memory foam or whatever the hell that is on this mattress — for some time now. But the Tower is too quiet.

You can’t open your window and Tony must have the place basically sound-proofed because you can’t hear any of the city sounds that you’re used to. The late night traffic, the sirens, the footsteps, the voices, the fights, the snoring. You’re alone in here and it’s eating you alive.

You’re still wearing Wanda’s clothes. Pepper said she’d let you pick out some clothes today and they could be delivered. She offered to go shopping somewhere with you, but you don’t want anything fancy. You’ve never even been to a mall, not to shop, so that idea alone felt too much.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, you move to the floor in front of the window. Laying on your stomach, you rest your elbows on the pillow, staring out at the city lights.

After some time, you give in and lay your head down, hoping it’ll bring sleep around. Luckily for you, it does.

Unluckily for you, sleeping on your stomach on the hard floor has your ribs feeling properly bruised by the time the sun rises. You roll over onto your back, letting your shoulder blades take the weight for the next couple hours.

By the time late morning rolls around, you open your eyes, feeling exhausted. Restless sleep is the only kind of sleep you know.

Dragging yourself off the floor, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You’re not used to having one, but you’ll gladly use the toothbrush here. That’s one thing you missed more than the others while you were homeless.

You exit the bathroom and head out into the hall, down to the living area and kitchen. It’s quiet, so you figure everyone is gone or out.

You’re busy climbing on the counter to look in the top cabinet when you hear footsteps on the hall, but they’re sort of far away, or they sound muffled like they’re a distance away. You halt your movements for good measure of listening, and you definitely feel like someone is down the hall.

But, your stomach growls, so you go back to rummaging through the cabinet.

The person you sensed steps around the corner into the kitchen and freezes. He has no idea who you are, but you’re standing on top of the counter, and that’s when he realizes you’re standing on top of the counter.

This is around the same moment that you vaguely sense the same presence from the hall behind you, and you jump when you see someone is actually standing there.

He is next to the counter in a split second, holding his Vibranium arm out in case you fall. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get cereal, what the fuck does it look like?”

“It looked like you were about to fall on your ass.”

“Lucky me, I didn’t,” you snort, resisting the urge to kick his face. He’s at the perfect height for you to do it, too. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bucky,” he answers. “Who the hell are you?” He fires back.

“Y/N,” you reply, turning to go back to looking in the cabinet. It’s mostly random things, nothing you particularly care to eat. “Do you know where everyone is?”

Bucky leans back against the opposite counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Probably asleep. We just got back an hour ago.”

You hum. Right, Tony said a few of them were out. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Don’t want to mess up my schedule.”

“Hm.” You smell bullshit.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, closing the cabinet and hopping down. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As you’re making your way toward the hall, you’re stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Munchkin. Get back here. You and I have some things to discuss.”

You spin around. “What now?”

“What now is right,” Tony deadpans. “Come on. My office. And Barnes, go the fuck to sleep for once.”

Bucky snorts, flipping Tony off, but only you saw it. You grinned, mouthing thank you.

Bucky smiled boyishly in return.

+++

Tony conveniently waits until his office door has shut before he starts in on the questions.

“When did your mother pass away?”

“A month ago,” you reply slowly, really too exhausted to deal with this or Tony right now. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I wanted to see if you’d continue to lie to me, and you have.”

“What are you talking about?” You gathered that he was a pain in the ass, but delusional, too? Jesus.

“She didn’t pass away a month ago. Her funeral was a month ago.”

“Okay? And? What the hell does it matter?”

“The funeral was delayed because the police think you killed her.”

Fuck. He found out. “Well I didn’t.”

Tony looks ready to scream at you. “So you knew there was a warrant out for your arrest?”

“Well, yes, but—” This time Tony does cut you off by a million cuss words, but you continue over top of him. “I thought they gave up!”

“You knew they were looking for you and you walked in here instead. I should turn you in right now. In fact, I don’t know why I haven’t called the police yet.” He’s waving his arms wildly, no doubt trying to control his anger at the absurdity of this situation.

You cross your arms over your chest. “They have no proof.”

“Clearly they have something or there wouldn’t be a warrant.”

“They don’t have shit, Tony. I wasn’t even near my house when it went up in flames, alright? I was a mile away.”

“Where? Where were you?”

“At a gas station.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Are you interrogating me?” Is he recording this? Your eyes search briefly for cameras before you remember he’s a tech genius, so his cameras are probably hidden.

“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of why you have a warrant and why you decided to waltz in here. Do you know how much trouble this could get me in?”

“I’m sure you could pay your way out of it.”

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers at you, “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” you snap your fingers back at him, too fed up with him to care, “Mr. Billionaire.”

The two of you stare at one another, unblinking, unflinching, anger seeping through your skin. Tony has realized quickly that no matter how hard he pushes your buttons, you’ll push his right back, just as much if not more.

Maybe you are his.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Tony starts. “Did you start that fire?”

“I was too busy getting stabbed to start a fucking fire, okay?”

This has Tony reeling in shock instead of anger. “Stabbed? Are you fucking nuts? What do you mean you were getting stabbed?”

“I mean I was getting stabbed. What else do you think that means?”

Tony sighs tiredly, frustration making him clench his jaw. “Where?”

You gesture to your abdomen. “Just in a couple places.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “A couple— Alright, you know what, we can finish this later, because right now,” he points his index finger at you, “you need to get to MedBay.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about getting stabbed, munchkin. It can cause internal damage. And if you never went to the hospital—”

“I stitched myself up, it was fine—”

“Uh-uh, shut it,” he snaps. “Come on. Come with me.”

+++

You run into Bucky once again when you get off the elevator at MedBay. He’s talking with Steve who is checking on Natasha who is a little bruised, and all three of their heads turn when they see you dragging your feet behind Tony.

Bucky gives you a questioning look while Steve and Natasha look plain confused, both having not met you until now.

“FRIDAY,” Tony calls out. “I need a full body scan on Y/N.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

You roll your eyes as Tony gestures you into a room. You can still see everyone through the glass walls as you step on a small circle in the floor, presuming it’s where you need to stand for the scan.

Steve asks the million dollar question. “What’s going on?”

“Got stabbed,” you reply with a shrug, making Tony’s blood boil even faster.

Natasha snorts at your nonchalance, Steve gives Tony a baffled look, but Bucky seems weirdly concerned. “You what?”

“It was a long time ago,” you tell Bucky.

“No, it was a few months ago. And she never went to a hospital,” Tony adds, right as FRIDAY finishes the scan. “What have we got FRIDAY?”

“Evidence of internal bleeding that has since stopped, but nothing else. Everything has healed properly.”

“Well thank god for that,” Tony deadpans.

You nearly flip him off right there, but you settle on a glare. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “But we’re not done.”

“For fuck’s sake, I did not start the fire!”

“Oh no, I believe you there,” Tony says. “I wanna know who stabbed you.”

“Some random idiots,” you shrug, walking out of the room and past Tony, back toward Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. “Leave me the hell alone about it. Goddamn.”

Tony lets you walk this time, watching you storm off toward the elevator. Meanwhile, he has two super soldiers and a spy staring at him like they just found out his darkest secret.

“So...that’s Y/N,” Natasha comments. “She’s got fire.”

“She’s also got an attitude,” Tony retorts.

“It’s just like yours,” Steve fires back, raising an eyebrow.

Tony ignores him.

“Here’s my question,” Natasha says. “If she was stabbed that many times in that many places— How did it heal? That’s not normal.” And when Tony gives her a confused look, she adds, “You know what I mean.”

“Wait,” Steve catches on. “You don’t think she’s…” He looks over at Bucky.

“She knew I was standing behind the wall earlier,” Bucky says, a realization crossing his face. “She could sense me. I heard her, but I was too far away for any normal person to hear me.”

“Okay, let’s not jump to these conclusions right now,” Tony interjects. “It’s bad enough she has an arrest warrant and a habit of getting stabbed. I don’t need to worry about her being like you two knuckleheads.”

“It’s still worth looking into,” Natasha comments.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “We need to know if she is, Tony.”

“Well right now, she’s being a hormonal teenager, so I don’t think I’ll be able to ask her about it,” Tony deadpans.

“She just lost her mom,” Bucky says, remembering when Steve told him, and his heart broke for you. “Give her a break.”

“If you want to talk to her Barnes, go right ahead.”

“I might,” Bucky retorts, already heading toward the exit so he can find where you went. “Just to apologize for your attitude.”

+++

It takes Bucky a full ten minutes of searching for you before he remembers he can just ask FRIDAY.

“She’s currently in her room, James, but it is on Do Not Disturb.”

“Can you override that for me?” Bucky asks the AI.

“One moment.”

Bucky has no idea why FRIDAY needs a moment, but he waits. He’s in the living area so your room is just down the hall, but knocking does no good when Do Not Disturb is live. He knows because he uses it every night. No sound gets in or out.

“Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course.

He heads down the hall to knock on your door, but you don’t respond. Because of the circumstances, Bucky goes against his better judgement and opens your door.

He’s met with a pillow hitting his chest.

“Oh,” you say immediately after. Bucky is surprised to find you sitting on the floor in front of the window, facing the city skies with a blanket over your shoulders. “Sorry. FRIDAY said Tony overrode it so I thought it was him.”

“Nope, just me,” Bucky replies, holding out his hands. He reaches down and grabs the pillow, tossing it back on your bed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking,” you shrug, turning back around to face the city.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

Bucky shuts the door. “FRIDAY, put Do Not Disturb back up please.”

“Of course, James. Do Not Disturb is now active.”

“It’s really weird,” you say. “Having an AI in this place. Doesn’t it creep you out?”

Bucky lets out a laugh when he kneels to the floor to sit a little distance away from you, putting his back to the window. “There’s a lot of tech I don’t understand. I kinda had to get used to it quick when I was in Wakanda, though, so nothing phases me anymore.”

“Right, you were...gone for a while,” you pause, not knowing how to approach the subject. “You and Steve both were, right?”

He nods. “Steve was frozen, I was brainwashed.”

He says it so bluntly that you don’t know how to respond at all.

“I’m not anymore,” Bucky continues. “But I did a lot that I’m not proud of. And I was framed for something I didn’t do.”

You half-hum, half-scoff at that. “So you know what it’s like.”

Bucky nods, leaning his head back against the window. “I do.”

“Who were you brainwashed by again?”

“HYDRA,” Bucky replies, tensing a little. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you shrug. “The name sounds familiar, though.”

Bucky lifts his head from the window. “How familiar?”

You shake your head, unsure. “I dunno. It was all over the news, though, right? That’s probably why.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky replies slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them.

“Do you know why you were stabbed?”

You don’t move a single muscle. You don’t even blink.

“Tony was an asshole,” Bucky says. “He shouldn’t force you to talk about something that recent.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you do ever wanna talk about it,” Bucky pauses, “I’m here. No pressure, though. I get it.”

You nod slowly, watching him from your peripheral vision. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just not right now,” you continue, surprising yourself and Bucky. “Maybe later.”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs. “I’ll give you some space, though. Do you uh...want your pillow back?”

You perk up a little. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky pushes himself to his feet, walking over to the bed to grab your pillow. He tosses it back to you gently.

You smile softly and hug it to your chest, but Bucky knows that once he leaves, you’ll lay down and sleep, right there in front of the window. Because your bed must be too soft.

He gets it. His is, too.

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[flowercrown-bard]

Promp idea: Jaskier finds a new born Griffin and Griffin thinks Jaskier is the mom. It starts to follow him. Like how hard it can be being a mother of a cute but deadly baby.

hello my dear <3 Ahh I am so so sorry it took me forever to get to this prompt! But better late than never, right? *laughs nervously*

word count: 1877

warnings: none

pairing: Geraskier, pre-relationship

AO3

---

Geralt spent more time than necessary brushing down Roach. If anyone had asked for the reason, he would have told a lie, or more likely just grunted noncommittally. Anything but tell the truth, which was that facing Roach allowed him to smile like an idiot without Jaskier seeing it. If the bard were to see that his ramblings made Geralt drop his mask of gruffness, Geralt would never hear the end of it.

“- really is heart-warming how much you care about Roach,” Jaskier said from where he said on the forest floor, something he would never have done when they had first met – or at least, he wouldn’t have done so without complaining about getting dirt on his breeches. “There’s nothing more charming than a man who takes care of animals, wouldn’t you agree?”

Geralt’s hand accidentally brushed against the braids Jaskier had plaited into Roach’s mane, while Geralt had been away on a hunt this morning. He faltered, but then he gripped the brush tighter, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t reacted to Jaskier’s words at all, when really, he couldn’t help but think that Jaskier was right.

Each winter, when Eskel brought Lil’ Bleater inside the keep to make sure she wouldn’t be cold, Geralt would feel a new wave of affection for his brother. When he saw a pompous lord drop all decorum and posture to bend down to pet a cat, Geralt would feel an unreasonable sort of respect for the otherwise stuffy and unlikable noble.

And when Jaskier snuck Roach treats when he thought Geralt wasn’t looking, he – well. He was glad that his travel companion was someone who got along with Roach. Her liking him was the main reason why Geralt had let Jaskier travel with them. He couldn’t break Roach’s heart by making her leave one of the few friends she made on the Path. Empathy for Roach - that was all he felt as he thought of her and Jaskier together. Definitely.

“Say, Geralt, how would you feel about getting another pet? Hypothetically speaking.”

Geralt huffed, his lips twitching up.

“I have already enough work feeding and cleaning up after you, songbird.”

“Excuse me?” Geralt didn’t need to see Jaskier’s face to know his mouth was opened with indignation. “Well – I have enough work washing and brushing your hair. Between the two of us, you’re the one who gets muck everywhere, wolf.” There was a brief pause. “But…that means you wouldn’t want another pet?”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged as he sighed and finally gave up on his pretence of brushing Roach. He turned, carelessly tossing the brush to the bags sitting on the ground next to Jaskier.

“Careful!” Jaskier squealed.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Calm down. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

“Well, no, but –“ A strange noise coming from bags made Jaskier stiffen, his eyes widening, before his smile turned painfully artificial. “As I was saying, it is very rude of you to just throw-“

“Quiet,” Geralt hissed, his eyes not leaving the bags.

Jaskier shifted his weight on the ground and it was obvious he was avoiding looking at the bags. “Now really, I know you just love complaining about my voice, but –“

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s tone made Jaskier’s mouth snap shut.

For a moment, there was utter silence. Then the strange noise returned and the bags began to move.

With slow and silent steps, Geralt crept closer, praying that Jaskier wouldn’t panic and make any sudden movements that would startle whatever was lurking in their bags and make it attack the helpless bard.

With one hand, Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. The other hand he held up in a signal for Jaskier to remain calm.

Jaskier, of course took that as a sign to do the exact opposite. The spiking of his pulse and the sudden scent of nervousness hitting Geralt’s nose were the only warning Geralt got, before Jaskier jumped up. But the bard didn’t run away from the danger into the thicket or to hide behind Geralt. No. He stood in front of the bags, holding up his own hands defensively.

“Geralt, listen. I –“

“Get away from the bags,” Geralt growled, a sudden spike of fear piercing his chest at having Jaskier so close to that unknown thing.

Jaskier only shook his head, a look of determination crossing his face.

“No. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I…uh… might have acquired a pet? While you were off fighting…that ugly thing with the deadly teeth that I wasn’t allowed to get close to.”

Geralt halted, blinking.

“A pet?” he replied incredulously, lowering his sword.

Jaskier swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to the side, revealing that he was about to lie, even before he opened his mouth.

“Yeah. It’s a cat.”

“A cat.” Geralt repeated deadpan.

Whatever Jaskier saw on his face, he must take it as Geralt believing him, for his own expression flooded with relief. “Yes! A cat.”

“And you kept it hidden from me because…?”

“Because cats don’t like witchers! Or witchers don’t like cats. I’m still not sure about that. But anyway, I thought that maybe, if I got Daisy used to your smell first and talked to you–“

Daisy chose that moment to tumble out of the pile of bags, knocking her small head against Jaskier’s shins in the process.

Geralt and Jaskier both stared dumbly down at her. For once, Geralt was the one who found his voice first.

“A cat, huh?”

“Yes?” A furious blush rose in Jaskier’s cheeks. “In my defence, when I found her I did actually think she was a cat.”

Geralt rubbed a hand over his face, while the griffin-baby that could in no way be mistaken for a cat, began climbing Jaskier’s leg until Jaskier took mercy on her and lifted her up in his arms. He groaned with the effort. The griffin was nearly big enough to obscure the sight of Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s nose scrunched up adorably – no, there was nothing adorable about an idiot who was snuggling a griffin-baby! – when the griffin’s fur tickled his nose.

“What the fuck made you think that was a cat? Was it the beak?” Geralt lifted a brow, shooting a pointed look at the wiggling beast. “Or maybe the wings?”

Jaskier gave him a decidedly unimpressed look. “It was dark in that cave you left me in! Not all of us have witcher-eyes. And she was alone and happy to keep me company while you were gone on your hunt.”

“Yes,” Geralt said slowly, so that Jaskier couldn’t possibly miss the ‘I-think-you’re-an-idiot’-tone of his voice. “I go on hunts. Where I kill monsters like her.”

Jaskier squawked in outrage, pressing the griffin protectively against his chest. The griffin made a noise not dissimilar to the one Jaskier had just made, but after the shock of being nearly squashed receded, the griffin snuggled contently against Jaskier, chewing happily on the fabric of his doublet.

“She is not a monster! Daisy is a baby and an adorable little darling that would never do anything wrong ever!”

The sound of fabric tearing and a triumphant griffin-shriek disproved Jaskier’s words instantly.

Geralt groaned. He did that far more often since he had started travelling with Jaskier. Life had been so much easier when it had been just him and Roach. No bard who had made it his life’s mission to get in as much easily avoidable trouble as possible.

Life had also been much more boring and lonely without Jaskier. Still.

“She won’t stay a baby forever. Give it two months and she will do more than just tear holes into your clothes.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “So I can keep her for another two months?”

“I – that’s not – “

“Besides, did you just imply that Daisy tearing holes into my clothes isn’t a bad thing?”

Geralt didn’t dignify that with a response, which Jaskier apparently took as a victory on his side, for he came closer to Geralt, holding Daisy out to him.

“Look at her, Geralt. Look into these eyes and tell me, she isn’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Geralt didn’t need to look at her to know that that was objectively untrue. It couldn’t be true, not while Jaskier was standing right in front of him. Still, he indulged Jaskier and reluctantly stared into the little monster’s eyes, glaring at her in the most intimidating way he could. His own eyes reflected back to him from the dark griffin eyes.

An excited noise that almost sounded like purring left the griffin and with her beak, she snapped at Geralt’s hair that had fallen into his face when he had bent down to look at her.

“She likes you!” Jaskier cooed, while Geralt quickly straightened his back and put some distance between his hair and the beak and claws of the griffin. Still, she tried to snatch the strands, not unlike a cat would. Alright, so maybe Jaskier had had a point with that comparison.

That didn’t change the fact that the bard was holding a damn griffin in his arms.

“She’s already practicing hunting,” Geralt said.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “She’s only playing. Tiny adorable griffins are allowed to play, aren’t they?”

“She won’t stay tiny! Don’t you listen to anything I told you about monsters?”

“Of course I do.” Jaskier lifted his chin in a challenge. “Which is why I know for a fact that we have to keep Daisy.” The narrowing of Jaskier’s eyes stood in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he stroked the griffin’s feathers and fur. “Griffins are reliant on their parents’ care until they learn how to fly. And!” Jaskier added, before Geralt could so much as open his mouth to protest, “You can’t leave me to take care of her on my own, because I also know that griffins mate for life and a griffin baby needs both parents to survive.”

A triumphant grin spread across Jaskier’s lips.

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I am not letting you rope me into becoming that griffin’s parent.”

Jaskier huffed. “Oh please, don’t be silly. Of course you’re not her second parent.”

Small mercies. Geralt was already about to release a sigh of relief, when Jaskier added, “That position’s already filled. Her other parent is Roach.”

And Roach, the traitor, took that as her cue to trod over to them and nose at the little creature in Jaskier’s arms that returned the mare’s greeting.

Geralt stared incredulously at the bard and Jaskier…Jaskier’s eyes softened as he watched that display. His fingers buried into the soft fur of the griffin and he pressed his cheek against the griffin’s head, nuzzling into her. He looked…happy.

Something twisted inside Geralt’s chest. He looked at Roach – a last hope of getting the moral support he needed to keep him from making a very very stupid decision.

But Roach payed him no attention. She huffed some warm breath into the griffin’s face, before nibbling on Jaskier’s already ruined doublet affectionately.

Just like that, Geralt’s fate was sealed. After all, Roach seemed to like Daisy and he couldn’t break her heart.

And…well, Jaskier had been right. There were few things more attractive than a man who liked animals.