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urgonnaneedabiggership · 11 months

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Host of a Ghost

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Spoilers (Miguel's backstory is mentioned). Mild violence. Very, very light mention of a foiled SA (not to reader). Some angst.

Word count: 4.1K

Short A/N: This man has become my hyperfixation since I watched the movie and I'd been wanting to write something with him and today finally the muse came to me do I deliver you this decent-sized thing I wrote. Hope you like it <3

PART II

“Unusual” wasn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your life at all. At least not until about a year ago.

It was unusual to find a spider with such an odd color palette roaming your apartment since you were used to more dull-colored typical critters. It was also unusual that you didn’t panic enough to turn the apartment upside down to look for the thing before it bit you, but there was too much work to do, and a million notes from Dr. Connors to go over. It was equally unusual that you hadn’t rushed to the hospital the minute you noticed the tiny marks on your thigh.

“I mean, if it was really dangerous, it would have hurt more.” Was your reasoning to ignore it and keep scanning the pages before you. Nobody said pursuing a Ph.D. was without sacrifice.

By the time you tried to stand up to make more coffee just to end up collapsing on your kitchen floor, it was much too late.

From then on, “unusual” was pretty much every day’s motto.

Having a nightmare that night about being suffocated and unable to escape just to wake up hanging upside down and wrapped in sticky shit was the first clue. Turns out you were actually able to produce said sticky shit at will in the shape of a thin thread, then you discovered the wall-climbing abilities, and before you knew it you were roaming the city at night trying to get comfortable threading between the tall buildings, running across rooftops and challenging yourself to climb this or that building as fast as you could. You felt indestructible, alive. It was wonderful.

You’d never forget the night of your first save either. For several reasons.

It was an ordinary night, right before returning to your apartment, when a violent shiver abruptly ran up your spine and every cell in your body commanded you to stop. When you did, a scuffle in a nearby alley caught your eye. A young girl was violently shoved against a wall by a man who pressed his hand against her mouth. The same second his hand came dangerously close to the zipper of her jacket, you practically tackled him from above and pinned him against the ground, having no clue of what to do besides throwing punches at his face until you knocked him out. A whimper coming from a dumpster behind made you realize you had an audience.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, remembering your uncovered face, the only solution at hand is to wrap your scarf around your head to try and hide as much as possible, “Oh god this feels too much like cultural appropriation for my taste,” You kept nervously rambling to yourself as you slowly approached the dumpster.

“Um…hi,” You greeted, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Being met with nothing but silence, you were about to leave when a soft voice replied.

“No. He didn’t. Thank you so much.”

“Is there…I don’t know; is there somebody you want me to call?”

“I want to call my mom.” She replied, her voice still shaking, “He took my phone.”

“Right. Phone. Okay.” You quickly made your way back to the unconscious man and pawed his clothes looking for it. He let out a groan in protest.

“Yeah it doesn’t feel right, does it asshole?” You muttered as you retrieved it from one of his pockets. Then you shoved him onto his stomach to tie his hands and legs behind his back before returning to the girl.

“Here. It still works,” You just held it over the dumpster, seeing nothing but her pale hand as it reached out to take it before you took a few steps back.

“No, wait,” She immediately pleaded, “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“Like hell I am. I’m staying right here.”

So you waited with her until the police arrived. However, the minute you saw the flickering lights and heard the approaching siren, you retreated into the dark part of the alley and climbed onto the nearest building to escape through the rooftops.

It wasn’t until you were back in your apartment that you realized you’d been smiling all the way home. Carefully shutting the window behind you, you let yourself fall onto the couch and screamed joyfully, the pillow muffling the sound.

She was okay. A person was okay because you could intervene and do something about it.

However, a new wave of shivers flooded your veins so abruptly that you sat down immediately.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Came a feminine voice from the unlit kitchen, “Being able to help, I mean.”

You scrambled to your feet and started walking backward. However, the voice didn’t remain hidden for too long. A woman emerged from the shadows, dressed in red with a yellow hairband pushing her near-afro hair back. She greeted you with a soft smile.

“Your reflexes need polishing,”

“My…?” You repeated, dumbfounded.

“And you have to learn how to fight properly. Randomly throwing punches isn’t always going to cut it,”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Why are you in my apartment? Were you following me? Do you know about…?”

“Whoa, slow down, kid. I know you have questions, and I might be able to help you with that. But you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Alright, I’ll…let me just get my car keys,”

“Oh, sweetie,” The woman said in between laughs, not malicious but truly amused, “You have so much to learn,”

You were starting to wonder why she had elongated that “o” like that until, after pressing a few buttons on the device around her wrist, something that you would’ve described as a “black hole on LSD” erupted in the middle of your living room.

That night you learned that her name was Jessica Drews and that she was completely right about you having so much to learn. With a four-second-o.

Over the following months, you became capable of things you didn’t think possible. Walls that took you a minute to climb became easy obstacles that didn’t take up more than fifteen seconds of your time, your fighting skills had also improved exponentially under Jess’s tutelage, and of course, going from a life where you could count your friends with less than one hand to being constantly surrounded by amazing (no pun intended) Spider-People who not only understood the changes you were going through but warmly welcomed you into their circle was more than you could’ve asked for.

Well, perhaps some more willingly than others. And by others you meant him.

He, who seemed to be always around, silently watching but never intervening.

He, who despite being allegedly “always locked up in his lab” always seemed to personally oversee your training since day one.

Whom you’d tried to greet as gleefully as you did the others just to receive, if anything, a vague nod of acknowledgment. In your first three months, you had spoken maybe four times. Well, you had. He only hummed, nodded, or answered in monosyllables. You knew better than to waste your energy with people like that, but for some reason you were unwilling to just accept Miguel O’Hara didn’t like you and that was that.

“For some reason” being code for “I’m one second away from fainting every time he as much as looks in my direction,”

You weren’t a child, for crying out loud. You were aware that no matter how cold, distant, and seemingly indifferent the leader of your new team was, he was an insanely attractive man. Even with the fangs…no, especially with the fangs, for some reason. His whole aura that screamed “completely-inaccessible-frighteningly-powerful-twice-my-size-man” had you harboring a huge crush on him within two months of meeting him. So painfully unrequited that it was embarrassing. Just the fact he could ignore your greetings and surely never think twice of it but you would spend the rest of the day wondering what you could’ve possibly said to make him at least say “hello” back made you want to scream into a pillow until your throat burned.

It was right up there with the time he’d muttered ‘much better’ when he saw you land a kick you’d been practicing and those three seconds kept playing on your head for the rest of the week.

The night of your first mission you decided you were going to prove your worth, not to your crush but to your team leader.

“I told him you’re ready,” Jess said with a proud smile, “He’s going to call you in sometime throughout the day to let you know where you’ll be going and with whom, probably me. How do you feel?”

“Excited, I guess,” You replied, pressing your lips together anxiously, “Also nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“With me as your mentor? That’s unlikely,” Jess replied with a wink, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder as she walked away.

However, the day continued normally. You did some assigned tasks here and there, which mostly included helping Spider-Byte to keep everything running smoothly given your background in the tech field. You grabbed lunch, then thought it would be a good idea to train some more before going away.

You were beginning to lose all hope when, as you leaned down to fix some wiring, Lyla popped right beside your head and called your name so loudly you hit your head against the metal and hissed. One year and still you hadn’t used to the way she appeared out of nowhere.

“Oops, sorry,” She promptly apologized, “Well you’ll have to walk that off, Miguel wants to see you STAT.”

“How am I supposed to walk a head injury off, Lyla?” You joked, rubbing your forehead as you rushed across the halls with the holographical figure floating after you.

“Not in my code,” She replied using her usual excuse.

When you walked into his working space, Miguel’s back was turned to you as he used a digital pen to do some annotations on what looked like blueprints of new equipment. After he didn’t react to your presence for a few seconds, you hesitantly walked closer and cleared your throat.

“That looks nice. Is it a new suit?” You asked, as always, trying to start a conversation.

“I just received an alert about the…” He stopped and sighed as if saying the silly nickname was physically painful to him, “…the Go-Home-Machine. It said there was a small power overload since we sent back that Vulture from the 192-011 Universe.”

“Yeah, but Byte and I are already working on that and it should be fully functional by tomorrow morning,” You replied, a bit confused as to what that had to do with your mission.

“Good. Let me know as soon as it’s fixed.” Miguel hastily replied, not even turning to face you until a whole minute passed and he realized you were still standing there. Even then, he just barely turned his head.

“That’s all, (Y/N). Thank you.”

That’s all? What do you mean that’s all?

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” He asked. Shit. You’d said that out loud.

“I…Jessica told me that I’m ready to go on a mission and that today you…”

“I said I would think about it, and I have.”

He fell silent again. No matter how attractive he was, you were starting to truly get pissed at his stupid theatrical antics.

“And?”

“And the answer’s no. You’re not ready yet.”

That felt like all the disappointments in your entire life added up and multiplied by ten. Especially because of how easily he dismissed you despite being aware of how hard you’d worked, how many nights you decided to forgo hours of sleep just to train and polish every movement until it was as close to flawless as you could.

“Not ready yet?” You practically hissed in a voice you almost didn’t recognize. Hell, it was enough for him to put down the pen. “Not ready yet? That kid Pavitr has been here for what? A month? And he’s already going off on missions. Alone, I might add!”

Unsurprisingly, he did not answer.

“And he’s very, very good, I’m not saying he isn’t. But I’m just as good. And more experienced, both at being here and at being a Spider-Person. I have completed every training scenario you’ve thrown my way, worked my ass off to understand every bit of information regarding interdimensional traveling, and studied the protocol to control anomalies, what is it that you still need me to prove?”

He took a deep breath. So deep that his shoulders rose, flexing the muscles of his back in such a way that if you hadn’t been so angry, you would’ve been too distracted to keep arguing. Even with your blood boiling, you couldn’t help but stare and feel your stomach tense at the sight.

“Do you like being part of this team, (Y/N)? Do you like training in our headquarters, having access to all our information, and maintaining contact with the other members of this society?”

“Of course I do,” You replied immediately. Slowly, Miguel turned around to face you completely and walked towards you, descending the two small steps that separated you until he stood towering over you. Even if your knees were about to give in to this unexpected closeness, this wasn’t the time to fold. You held his glare defiantly and folded your arms in an attempt to mentally guard yourself against him.

“Then I suggest you get in line and do as you’re told,” He said in a low voice. But it wasn’t threatening, or condescending. It was an odd, flat tone. Tired, perhaps. Almost as if…as if he was reprimanding you against his will.

He was almost unbearably close. You could feel his breath hitting your face. If right then all logic flew out of the window and you stood on your tiptoes you could…

“I’ll do that when you’ve earned my respect, and I have a policy of reciprocity when it comes to respect, Miguel. I’ve been in line for a year, I’ve listened, learned, and improved so much that if you’re still looking down on me, then it’s your problem, not mine. And no self-righteous, big-headed…”

“Just get out,” He cut you off, once again turning his back to you and walking towards the blueprints again.

“Oh no, I’m not finished…” You insisted, trying to follow him. However, as soon as you gave one step forward he turned around so violently that you stumbled backward and stared at him with something you hadn’t felt towards him up until then: fear.

“Yes, you are,” Was his only reply. As dull as the others.

While you could only see his face for a moment before he walked past you and left the room, something about his expression stuck with you even hours later, when you laid on your bed at night and combed through the scene over and over. You thought he would be fuming, maybe even shocked that you’d dared to talk to him like that. The last thing you expected was for him to look…upset. Hurt, even. The mere thought of you being able to hurt Miguel O’Hara was as ridiculous as imagining a goldfish fighting back against a shark. Still, you realized that even if you thought he was in the wrong, you felt bad about how things went down back there. You would never understand what being the leader of hundreds of super-powered people was like. Commanding each and directing their particular abilities as best as he could all while maintaining a vigilant eye on endless strings of causes and effects because he knew firsthand the consequences of being careless with them.

Even if he had made a mistake with you and of course you still wanted to address it later, right then all you wanted was to apologize.

And so, not even an hour later you were roaming the halls of the HQ, your heart beating furiously as you got closer to his quarters, wondering what you could even begin to say.

When the automatic doors slid open, you stepped inside and turned back to look as the doors closed behind you. Well, no turning back now.

“Miguel?” You called, looking around the large room, pondering whether a first-name basis was okay. After everything that had happened, going back to Mr. O’Hara sounded terribly stupid. Then your eyes landed on the row of screens where he spent most of his time. An extremely ill-timed wave of curiosity filled your chest as you approached them, taking another look at the seemingly empty room before stepping onto the platform. Getting bolder, you reached out your hand and brushed your fingertips across one of the screens. It immediately came to life with a blue glow, startling you and making you curse under your breath. You were about to look for a button to switch it off when a video started playing automatically from where he had left off. He was in it, holding a young girl. Miguel wasn’t just smiling. He was laughing. His laugh was exactly as you’d pictured it. Not particularly loud, but hearty and low. He had the kind of laugh that made you unwittingly smile as well as a newfound sympathy filled your chest as tears filled your eyes when you pictured that being taken from him just like that. How could one have a family, and then one day be completely alone and keep going?

With a renewed disposition to make things better between you, your hand reached out for the switch that would turn the screen off until a third voice piqued your interest. It belonged to whoever was holding the camera.

“Would you please stop hoarding her? I deserve some mother-daughter time too! Here, hold this thing and give her to me,” The voice said between laughs. There was something about that voice that made an extremely cold shiver run down your spine.

“Fine, you’re right. Bueno pues, mijita, ve con mamá, ¿quieres ir con mamá?”

The picture became blurry as the camera switched places with a giggling Gabriella, who could be briefly seen stretching her arms toward the third figure.

“Alright,” Came Miguel’s voice again, “But when I turn the camera towards you I want both of you to blow Daddy a kiss, can you do that for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned the camera around.

And then you found yourself staring into your own eyes. They weren’t quite the same shade as yours, and “your” hair was styled differently. And “you” had freckles. But otherwise, it was like staring into an interdimensional mirror. Then, your voice spoke.

“Okay sweetie, let’s humor him, shall we? Blow Daddy a kiss. And another one from me because now I have to use both arms to hold you, my big girl!”

Miguel laughed again at the way his daughter’s face lit up at being called a “big girl”.

“¿Saben que las amo a las dos, verdad?”

“And Gabriella loves you too. I think you’re…nice enough.”

“(Y/N), I don’t think you marry somebody for ‘nice enough’, mi amor,”

“I love you too. Against my better judgment.”

With one last interrupted laugh, the video ended, and, in a cruel irony, the once again black screen showed your actual reflection.

Except this time, it wasn’t the only one. With a loud gasp, you turned around. After seeing him in that video, it became much more evident that the Miguel in it was nothing but a memory of the past. And in a matter of seconds, everything shifted into place like a gloomy puzzle. His expression was unreadable, though he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were fixed on the empty screen.

“I wasn’t supposed to ever see that, was I?” Was the only thing that came to your mind after a lengthy, tense silence.

“What good would it have done?” He replied, almost numbly.

“So that’s why you’ve always…stared?” You kept pushing. Against your better judgment, you thought.

“It was at first,” Came his only response. Like always, it seemed like you would have to tear the answers off him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your head to look for his eyes. Even then, something warm filled your chest. Something that made your heart beat so quickly you felt as if it would stop at any moment, and it spread all over you no matter how much you tried to fend it off. Hope.

Surprisingly, this time he caved in and looked at you. Still, the answer never came. For the first time in all the time you’d known him, Miguel O’Hara was at a loss for words. And that said more than anything he could’ve come up with.

“And you expect me to believe that, by sheer chance, you happened to catch feelings for somebody who is practically your wife’s interdimensional twin?”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it like that,” Was that a hint of a smile? An attempt at a joke? One year and the only time he’d bothered to be decent to you was when you were talking about how much you looked like her?

With an annoyed look, you moved away from him and started to make your way to the exit.

“Do you think I wanted this?” He spoke rather loudly, his whispers going out of the window as he started to follow you across the room.

Miguel O’Hara following you to keep you from leaving. Just hours before you would’ve died of happiness at the mere thought of this scenario. Right now, your brain was a flurry of thoughts and emotions that you didn’t know how to handle.

“I was doing an amazing job at keeping my distance. Watching you from afar, seeing you laugh, grow, win everybody over with that awfully big heart of yours, and still I reined myself in,” He continued, “Today’s the perfect example. You thought I didn’t respect you, for fuck’s sake! I respect you so much that every single day I have ignored you and pretended you are nothing but another face in the halls. Damn it, (Y/N), I couldn’t even look you in the eye when for months you’ve been all I’ve wanted. All because I didn’t know if I loved you or what was left of her. And I didn’t want you to get involved in shit that’s mine to figure out.”

Hearing him not only withdraw his previous statement of you not being capable of doing things and accepting the problem was his and not yours made you stop in your tracks.

Fine, the sudden (though odd) love declaration had something to do with it too.

“So you don’t think I’m not ready?” You asked, turning around and even taking some steps towards him.

“Are you serious? I’ve watched you closely all these months. You learn in days what others do in weeks. You push yourself way more than so many of our members and yet I’ve never, ever seen you become overconfident. Today you never said you knew everything. You said you knew enough.”

This time, it was you who remained silent. There was something else you wanted him to elaborate on, and from the look in his eyes, you realized he knew damn well what it was.

“You were right. The problem wasn’t yours. It was mine all along. I could manage to push you away and keep my feelings at bay. But knowing that you were eventually going to go out there and take so many risks...worst case scenario, you could get hurt or not come back at all. That was too much for me to handle, s’all.”

“Were you afraid of losing me…?” You started to ask just for him to interrupt you.

“Yes. Very much.” However, you lifted a hand to stop him. You weren’t finished.

“Were you afraid of losing me, or were you afraid of losing her again, Miguel?”

Three seconds later, when no answer came out of his mouth, you were about to turn around once again when he rushed and stood in front of you. For a second, you thought he was going to grab your shoulders to keep you in place. Not wanting to come off as if he was forcing you to stay, his hands just hovered on both sides of your shoulders without touching you.

“Listen, she wasn’t a picky eater like you are. But I swear that woman never drank enough water and every time I see you there’s either a bottle in your hand or laying around. And she was so, so messy. It took us at least ten minutes to find the keys every single time…and Spider-Byte said you sort your tools by size and color. Color. (Y/N), I don’t think even I…”

“Are you getting somewhere with this?”

“You’re not her, (Y/N). You have never been, and you never will, I know that. I want you to know that I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. I love you.”

After that, he moved out of the way and folded his arms.

“If you want to go back to your dimension and stay there for a while…or for good, I don’t know, I completely…”

“I love you too, you know?” You cut him off, pressing your lips together after blurting out the three words that’d been haunting you for the past months. Words that up until now you were sure would never leave your chest. When you turned to look at him, you saw in his eyes what minutes ago had filled yours. Hope.

God, his face was so hauntingly beautiful when his features softened.

“What do you want from me?” You finally asked him, your voice shaky from the effect you knew his answer would have regardless of what it was.

Miguel moved closer to you almost hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. When he was close enough, he reached out with both his hands and slid them up the back of your neck, his thumbs tucked in front of your ears as his warm palms engulfed the back of your head so he could hold you while he brought his face down to press his forehead against yours.

“Mi amor, I’d give you all I am and be happy with whatever you’re willing to give me for now,”

You knew it would take some time for you to get used to hearing him say things like that without wondering if you were the only one in his mind when he did. It would be a while until you felt completely certain that you were made of flesh and bone and not just a ghost in his eyes, but it would happen. You saw his eyes as he drew his face closer to yours and when your lips touched, you knew that it would definitely happen sooner or later. Until then, you thought as you stood on your tiptoes when he almost desperately pressed his lips onto yours, he was very much worth the wait.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Artist - John "Soap" McTavish x gn!reader (fluff)

Quick drabble because i can't tell if the guy I like is sending me messages so if you want to comment please comment me advice im going fucking crazy im too socially inept to understand his messages

Johnny found that the world was his muse, his friends, his experiences, everything.

Catching himself drawing you over and over in his notebook, he knew he was too far gone.

Your eyelashes, the slight jiggle of your arms as you walk, the way your cheeks could give away a blush no matter how much or little melanin you possessed.

It was harmless. Just practice he told himself.

Entering your room, stiffening at the sight of you wearing nothing but casual attire...god he's done. Say this shit to the guys at the pub, and he's sure he'd die fom embarrassment. Gunfire, explosives, his lieutenant's testing attitude, his captains questionable ethics, he could handle it.

But choosing between gluing his eyes at the sight of you or avoiding his gaze from you completely was probably asking him to choose between a million dollars or causing the destruction of the world.

He allowed himself in.

He was goofy, charming, he was a social butterfly. You entertained him of course, how could you not? Johnny Soap Mactavish was bright. He brightened up a room.

And if you only knew how bright you smiled with him around.

He sat you down on your bed, and pulled a chair across from you, silently sketching your features. Gently holding your chin in one hand to tilt you to the side to get a better view of your jaw, his thumb seeming to idly rub across your lips momentarily, before he stopped himself.

Don't ruin a good friendship.

Sketching you; he thanked you with a hug, no matter how badly he wanted to tackle you to the bed and tell you over and over he was infatuated with everything about you, to the most irrelevant iota of your being.

Slowly...he started slipping little doodles of you at meetings. Walking past and allowing the touch of his gloved hands on your shoulder linger, a singular sticky note showing a little doodle of you unapologetically smiling.

He found himself in a room, giggling, but always glancing at you, to make sure his joke even landed. He could make a room of millions laugh, but your opinion would be the only to matter.

A drive back from the pub one night, he was sat beside you, and god bonnie you're exhausted. Laying your head on his bulky shoulder, he idly started to scratch at your scalp, stroking your hair aswell.

Internally he was nervous. He could pick up a girl with ease, hell, he's been able to get some handsome blokes into his bed before. But you? You were probably his greatest fear. And here you were.

You were comfortable with him. Him of all people. A man who's known strife early on, a man who doubts you'd care to hear him bitch about his past, as you fell in and out of sleep on his shoulder.

He became bolder after that. Sitting next to you, holding your hand around, arm around your shoulder as he entered a room, standing by you even if you didn't do anything.

He entered your room one day, exhausted; stressed. He doesn't know why he chose this room today of all days.

But he did.

Laying his head on your tummy as you both laid down, scrolling idly on his phone, before he feels your fingers gently thread through his mohawk.

"It's gettin' long, huh?" He mumbles against your stomach, looking at his phone still as you nod.

He sighs, leaning up, looking at the being in front of him.

"I'm gonna kiss you. I've wanted to for a while." He blurts out, looking at you deadpanned.

"John," You giggle. That goddamn smile, makes him weak every time,

"What?" You say

"You heard me."

"Oh."

"You wan' tha'?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles, pressing his lips softly onto yours for a peck, leaning his hands down to hold your sides, before deepening the kiss.

If only you weren't too dazed to realize you'r little artist was tracing little hearts as he held your sides.

Projecting with fanfiction instead of communicating with them is my favorite thing

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nsfwhao · 2 years

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req ?? making out with minghao when he knows you're stressed and gives u oral,, haha 🤤

answering some old asks & this got a little longer than intended hehe also this is high key relatable bc i’m stressed about my exams and i’d love to get my puthy ate by this man rn

wc ✩ 641

warnings ✩ smut below the cut, female reader, minghao’s love language is eating ur pussy, that’s it tbh. also barely edited

minghao, ever the observer, is always quick to notice when something’s wrong – he knows it when he comes home and sees you hunched over your laptop, tapping away wordlessly at your assignment. it’s no unusual sight for you to be working hard, but it’s clear to him that you’re overdoing it: when you get up to greet him, you can barely manage a smile, and you say little before going back to your report (and if that wasn’t obvious enough, your dark, tired eyes were a blatant giveaway anyway).

it becomes clearer when you climb into bed that night. a few chaste goodnight kisses turn hot and breathless, and he feels how you’re pressing your body against him, hears how your breath shakes at even the slightest touch, how you moan quietly into his mouth.

you need to be taken care of, minghao muses, letting his tongue trace your bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth.

“minghao…” you whisper against his lips.

“yeah, baby,” he replies between your open-mouthed kisses. “i’m right here.”

“my poor baby – you’re all tense,” he says, hands resting on your waist. you feel hot, suddenly, letting his heavy kisses take your mind somewhere far away.

something about the way minghao handles you makes you totally weak, makes you abandon your lab report even though those 2,000 words won’t write themselves, you think. he’s so gentle but so assertive at the same time that you can’t even find it in you to protest him laying you down and snaking his hand beneath your nightgown.

you whimper when he starts to tug your panties down your legs, but he just shushes you, kisses your tummy. “it’s okay,” he whispers, spreading your legs with his big palms. “don’t need to think, baby. just let me take care of this pussy.”

at first, it’s too much – his mouth is hot against you, his touch is burning into your skin, and his tongue is laving over your clit over and over and over. your thighs try to close around his head, and he pulls away from your core, tutting.

you just whine again. “minghao,” you whimper. “please, please…”

“shh, baby,” he soothes your cries. “you’re too tense. i got you, just let me relax you, baby, that’s it…”

he buries face back into your core then, nose nudging your clit as he licks up your wetness. his tongue flattens wide against you, like he’s trying to taste all of you, savour you. his mouth is careful and calculated, licking back and forth, lips closing around your clit and sucking firmly. all you can do is sigh in delight, grip the bedsheets in your fists, say “haah, oh my god, minghao”, to which he responds with a muffled “mhmm” as he drags his tongue through your pussy.

when he finally parts from your pussy, his lips are sticky and bright pink, glimmering with your slick. the sight alone elicits a moan, which becomes a cry as his thumb replaces his mouth, rubbing firm circles onto your clit.

“fuck,” you arch your back with a broken sob, and he just watches, eyes hazy. “that’s a good girl, just let it out,” he coos, his thumb starts to flick your clit, fast and messy. “relax for me, baby, that’s it.”

you can’t stop moaning, fuck – “ahh, minghao, minghao,” you babble, like you’re losing your mind. every one of your nerves are tingling, like they’re on fire. mindlessly, you thread your fingers through his locks, grinding yourself against his face, and he just lets you.

“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he mutters against your pussy. “get it all out, there you go.”

you can’t even think, let alone form coherent words. his tongue turns your brain to static. certainly by now your lab report is long forgotten – knowing this, minghao smiles proudly to himself.

#minghao smut #the8 smut #seventeen smut #minghao imagine #minghao imagines #minghao scenario #minghao scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #req #anon #the8 imagine #the8 imagines #the8 scenario #the8 scenarios

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atths--twice · 1 month

Text

Planning and Planting

Mulder comes to Scully with an idea to make some changes at their little unremarkable house.

For my bestie, on her birthday. 💓

March 4th

Mid morning

“Hey,” Mulder said, stepping into Scully’s home office.

“Hey back,” she said, glancing up from her laptop with a smile.

“I wanted to run something past you. Are you at a place where you could stop for a few minutes?”

She turned her head and stopped typing, frowning slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

“More than okay,” he said with a grin. “It’s just that, what I want to run past you, I need to show you.”

“Mulder… is it in our bedroom?” she asked, one eyebrow raising up.

“No. Not that,” he laughed and then sobered. “I mean if you were interested, what I want to show you could wait. I’ll never say no to that.” He pumped his eyebrows at her and she shook her head.

“Appreciate the offer, but not at the moment,” she said, smiling before she turned back to the laptop. “Let me finish this last email and I can stop for a few minutes.”

“Great. Would you like a cup of coffee or something to be ready for you when you’re finished?”

She swiveled in her chair and narrowed her eyes at him.

“It’s not in the bedroom, right? You’re not trying to butter me up?”

“Oh… that would be messy,” he mused, shaking his head, his eyebrows raised as he moved his hands back and forth like a scale. “Good for the skin, perhaps? As opposed to whipped cream or chocolate sauce? Although, not as tasty to lick off. No, I don’t think butter would be good. Definitely not as sexy...”

She smiled as he continued to talk to himself, shaking her head at how easy it was for him to go off on a tangent.

“Mulder,” she said.

“Of course there’s always honey, but that one time… it was so sticky. And while enjoyable, it was also a huge mess. But on the other hand…” He grinned, his eyes far away in the past.

“Mulder,” she said again, tapping his leg with her foot.

“Hmm, yeah. What?” He worked at focusing on her and she laughed.

“No butter. No honey,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to finish this before I leave for my meeting.”

“No. Nothing like that,” he said, clearing his throat. Smiling, he stepped closer and towered over her, causing her to lean back. Placing his hands on the arms of her chair, he moved even closer. “But the honey was fun. Once we got the amount of usage correct.”

“It was,” she agreed, threading her arms around his neck. “And the whipped cream.”

“Hmm, yes,” he breathed, pressing his lips to hers, his tongue teasing hers briefly before pulling back. She leaned forward, still holding onto him, her eyes closed and heart racing.

Damn, but he was good at that.

“Coffee will be waiting, Doc,” he said and he extracted himself from her with a grin as she opened her eyes. “Unless you want something else.”

She let out a deep breath and shook her head, knowing he knew how certain kisses affected her.

“Coffee it is,” he said, pointing both index fingers at her and then leaving the room.

“That man,” she muttered, turning back to finish her email so she could find out what he wanted to run past her.

Ten minutes later, email and other work finished, she closed the laptop and sighed. Pushing from her desk, she stood up, stretched, and walked out to find Mulder.

The front door was open and through the screen she saw him standing on the porch, looking out across the yard. Smiling, she crossed the room and pushed the screen open.

“Hey, Doc,” he said, looking at her with a smile as he handed her a travel mug of coffee. “Didn’t want it to get cold.”

“Thanks, hon,” she said, taking a small sip. “Mmm, it’s perfect.”

“I know what you like,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah,” she agreed, putting her arm around his waist and pressing her nails into his side, causing him to yelp. “Yeah, you do.”

“Okay listen,” he said, removing her arm from his waist and stepping to the side with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have time, I don’t really have time… let’s pick this up later. After Faith’s in bed and asleep. Deal?”

“Yes, honey,” she said, smiling as she took another drink.

“Oh you… you’re trouble,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped around her and started down the stairs. “So much trouble.”

She laughed as she followed him, catching up and grasping the hand he had extended back to her.

“I’m good trouble,” she said, bumping him gently.

“When you’re not bad, honey,” he retorted and she laughed again.

“So, what did you want to show me?”

“This,” he said, letting go of her hand and gesturing to the field on the other side of their fence.

“What about it?” she asked with a frown.

“I think we need to do something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s gotten a bit overgrown.”

“Agreed,” she said with a nod.

“So,” he said, taking her hand again. “Seeing as it’s just sitting there… what if we made it into a garden?”

She laughed and was about to tell him that was a crazy idea, but then she saw the expression on his face.

“You’re serious,” she said and he nodded. “You want to make a garden? Of what exactly?”

“Whatever!” he said excitedly. “Whatever fruit or vegetable will grow easily in this climate without too much fuss.”

“But we have the fence,” she said, nodding to it.

“Then we take it down or change it up a notch, adding a gate, or an archway, that would give us access to it.” He shrugged and she stared at him in amazement.

“You’re really serious,” she said again and he nodded.

“I am.”

“But why?”

“Well, a few reasons,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We have the space, and then some, as I said. Also, it will give me something to do-”

“And hyper fixate on,” she muttered.

“That too,” he laughed. “And Faith could help. It would be a learning experience for her… all of us really. What better time to start than now as spring is bearing down upon us.”

“A vegetable garden,” she said, looking out at the overgrown plot of land and imagining it lush with plants. “You want to till up the land and start a garden?”

“All that work? Christ, no,” he said and she looked at him. “The cost alone would be far too high. Then if it didn’t work out, it would be a huge mess just sitting there.”

“So what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking more like raised garden beds. Something we could plot out, build and place, and then plant what we wanted in each separate bed.”

“Fresh peas in one. Tomatoes. Zucchini maybe. Potatoes in another. Yeah. I think I like that idea.”

“Huh, well that was easier than I thought it would be,” he said, squeezing her hand again. “You know, seeing as you’re in a rather agreeable mood, I’d like to revisit the idea of chickens.”

“Mulder-”

“It was you that brought them up,” he said.

“A couple of years ago,” she said, letting go of his hand and staring at him. “And I was joking, so do not come home from that garden/pet store with a few chicks and act all innocent, telling me that they had no one to care for them and so you had to take them in. Promise me you won’t.”

“I…”

“Mulder… promise me. Now.”

“I promise,” he said with a grin and she raised her eyebrows. “I do promise, Scully. One thing at a time. Garden first. Chickens and goats next.”

“Uh no. No goats. They were never mentioned before.”

“No goats? Oh, that’s a baaaaad answer,” he said and she could not help but laugh.

“Don’t push your luck,” she said as he put his arm around her shoulders, both of them chuckling.

“Garden first, then we’ll talk,” he said and she hummed as she put her arm around his waist and took a sip of her coffee.

________

And so the garden planning began.

Mulder watched videos, read blog posts, and created a plan.

The overgrown grass was mowed and the ground plotted for where the garden would be placed. Wood markers were hammered into the ground with Faith’s help, the little hammer Mulder had bought for her placed back into the loop on the overalls when she was finished.

“We’ll have lots of vegetables right, Daddy?” she asked, pushing back a braid that had fallen over her shoulder. “Like corn?”

“I don’t think we’ll do corn this time around, love. But peas and carrots. Maybe potatoes.” He smiled at her as Scully snapped pictures of them working together, both covered in grass stains.

“Mmm. I love potatoes,” Faith said. “They’re so good.”

“They are.” He smiled at Faith and then glanced up at Scully. “And we’ll do broccoli too.” Faith made a face and they both laughed. “You like broccoli, Squatch.”

“I doooooo, but it’s not my favorite,” Faith said and Mulder tweaked her nose.

“It’s not my favorite either, but we still need to eat it.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh, as Scully captured another picture.

___________

Two days later, after dropping Faith off at school, he arrived at home with a large amount of wood in the back of the car and Scully came out and helped him unload it onto the porch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt as manly as I did ordering all this wood and asking for it to be cut to the length I needed,” he said and she laughed. “I think I’ve finally made it as a man.”

“Only took you sixty three years to get there,” she said slyly.

“Hey!” he said, placing a piece down and staring at her. “I’m only sixty two. Don’t be adding years like that until it’s time. I still have a few months to go.”

“My apologies, sweet husband,” she said, smiling as she walked closer and gave him a kiss. “Did you get all the paint as well?”

“Three different shades of pink. And three different shades of purple.”

“So manly,” she whispered, grabbing the front of his shirt and stopping anything he was going to say with another kiss.

When Faith came home, she nearly danced up the steps, seeing all the supplies on the porch.

“Can we start now, Daddy?” she asked, petting Bella who had come to greet her and looking at the cans of paint.

“Sure thing. Let’s get you changed and we can start.”

A large drop cloth was placed on the porch and the four pieces for the garden box were laid out.

“Okay, we need to line them up and nail and screw them together. Alright, my love?” Mulder asked Faith and she nodded solemnly, her hand on her hammer. Scully smiled at her look of determination and let out a contented sigh.

The wood was lined up and they all helped to make sure it was secured properly. When it was finished, it was moved out of the way and the next box was made. Once all six were complete, Faith stood in front of them, with her arms crossed and a smile on her face, her hammer hanging from the loop of her overalls again, as Scully took her picture.

“Send it to Raycho and Unco please. And they can show the twins,” Faith said as she looked at the picture. “They will be proud of us.”

Next came the painting of the wood, but only one box of each color was finished and left to dry before it was time for dinner, a bath, and bed.

Mulder was standing on the porch when Scully came downstairs after putting Faith to bed, cuddling her and waiting until she had fallen asleep.

“You better not be doing anything without her,” Scully warned as she stepped out to join him. He smiled as he looked at her and shook his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Just thinking. Throwing the ball for Bella. But mostly thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“How different my life turned out to be. In the very best way possible.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she laid her head on his chest and tightened her hold on him.

“One wrong turn, Scully. One thing done differently,” he whispered and she exhaled before pulling back and looking up at him.

“Yet here we are,” she said softly.

“Here we are,” he agreed with a smile. “Pink and purple garden boxes and all.”

“Especially those,” she replied, glancing over at them and then back at him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, holding her close and kissing the top of her head. “Especially those.”

_______________

Faith was off school the next day, but Scully had to work. As much as she wished to be home and help with the painting, she had to be at the hospital.

Around lunchtime, while she was in her office eating, she got a message. Opening it, she saw it was a video and she put her headphones in before pushing play. When she did, she watched with a smile the whole way through, her lunch completely forgotten.

“Hi everybody,” Faith said, waving to the camera, once more in her overalls, streaks of paint on them as well as her hands, arms, and face. “Today we finished painting our garden boxes.” She gestured to the large boxes on the drop cloth that had been moved to the grass. “Daddy moved it to the grass so the sun could help dry it faster. It does that because the sun is a source of heat. Heat warms things up and helps to dry them. They should be done soon. Then we will get the… what’s it called again, Daddy?”

“I don’t know what you mean, honey,” Mulder said, though he was not seen in the video.

“The stuff that goes in it,” Faith said, looking up at Mulder as she began twisting her fingers nervously, her expression almost worried.

“You mean the cardboard stuff we talked about?” he offered and she smiled, her hands dropping as she sighed.

“Yeah, that. Thank you, Daddy.”

Scully heard Mulder hum and tears pricked at her eyes, knowing what that hum meant because she felt it too.

“So, after the paint is dry, we’ll carry the boxes to the spot in the grass we picked already. Then we’ll put the cardboard stuff down and put the boxes on top of that. Then we had the… the…” She glanced at Mulder and let out a deep breath.

“The compost.”

“Yeah. The compost. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked down and took a deep breath, then another one. Looking back up, she smiled and Mulder hummed softly again.

“We have to smooth the compost over the cardboard and then when they are all finished, we can start planting right away.”

“That’s right,” Mulder said and Faith nodded. “What will we be planting, honey?”

“We have six, big plant boxes,” she said, showing the size with her arms. “So we’re going to grow a few things like peas and carrots. Tomatoes and basil. Broccoli. Potatoes. Strawberries and leafy lettuce.”

“And this is our first time doing this, so we’re still learning,” Mulder reminded her and she nodded.

“Right. So we’re going to try it and see how it goes.”

“But it will be a beautiful garden either way,” he said and Faith smiled at him.

“Yeah. It will be very beautiful.”

“Okay. You wanna say goodbye now? We’ll have some lunch and get back to it?”

“Bye everyone,” she said, waving at the camera. “Hope you like our garden video.”

The video ended with Mulder chuckling and Scully wiped the tears from her eyes with a smile, aching to see them but knowing she still had a few hours to go.

When she finally pulled up the road, she could see them still out in the garden area, and she stopped the car in the driveway. Leaving everything inside, she got out and walked over to join them, forgetting about the unavoidable combination of tall heels in soft grass.

“Oh,” she said as she got stuck and stumbled slightly. “Haven’t done this in awhile.”

“Ya stuck?” Mulder called out and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Just a bit,” she called back, slipping out of her shoes and then pulling them free from the grass. Walking over barefoot, her shoes dangling from her fingers, she smiled at the sight of them.

“Hey, Doc,” he said, glancing at her shoes. “Been awhile, huh?”

“It has,” she agreed, as they shared a smile. He bent his head and kissed her softly, her hand pressed to his chest.

“I’ll piggyback you out when we’re done.”

“Okay,” she laughed, kissing him once more.

“Mommy!” Faith called, running over to her. “Come and see what we’ve done!”

“Show me love,” Scully said, stepping carefully through the cool grass.

Faith showed her all the garden beds laid out along their marked spots, the cardboard sticking out the sides, with compost spread out in only two of the boxes.

“We have to do the rest later because it’s a lot of work,” Faith said, brushing pieces of hair from her face. “And also because the fence people are coming tomorrow.”

“You’ve accomplished so much today, my love. You’ve done so well.”

“Well, it was me and Daddy,” Faith said, looking at Mulder. “He did a lot of work today too. He lifted the huge bag of compost and pushed it over in the wheelbarrow and I got to sit on top of the bag as he pushed.” Faith giggled and Scully smiled.

“It’s a good thing Daddy is so strong,” Scully said, glancing at him and looking him up and down. He shook his head as she licked and then bit her bottom lip. “So very strong.”

“Yeah, he is,” Faith said, tugging on Scully’s hand and pulling her attention away from Mulder. “Look at this too, Mommy.”

It was a tired trio who entered the house twenty minutes later, Scully given the promised piggyback ride as Faith ran beside them laughing hysterically and Bella barked from within the fence line, racing back and forth excitedly.

“You’ve gotten so much done,” Scully said to Mulder as they got into bed and he yawned loudly. “Is it tiring you out?”

“A little at times, but I love it,” he said with a sleepy smile. “Good honest work. Quality time with my girl. Can’t complain about that.”

“No,” Scully agreed, snuggling close to him, his arm going around her. “No, you can’t.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and then yawned again as she closed her eyes with a smile.

________________

Scully and Faith watched from the porch with Bella, who whined behind the baby gate that was still attached to the porch, as three trucks pulled up and Mulder went to speak to the people who would be installing the garden fence.

Bella barked as she stared through the bottom of the gate, not sure what was happening.

“It’s just the fence people, Bella,” Faith said, sitting beside her and rubbing her ears. “They are going to make it safe for all of us to spend time in the garden. It’s okay, Bells.”

Bella whined and then laid with her head on Faith’s lap, as she continued petting her and soothing her as she explained what was happening.

Scully sat beside Faith, kissing the top of her head and telling her how much she loved her.

“I love you too, Mommy,” Faith said, leaning her head against Scully’s side.

Mulder returned to them, smiling as climbed over the gate and sat on the opposite side of Bella, telling them what the people would be doing.

“They will make the fence and then we can finish the garden,” Faith said as Grey ran up the steps and squeezed through the gate. “Hello, Grey. Are you going to join us?” Grey chirped a meow and laid down in Scully’s lap, purring and kneading against her leg.

At nearly six, the fence was complete and they all walked down to thank the people. Faith gave them all a lollipop from her special stash and the men and women called their thanks as they left.

A portion of the old fence had been cut away and a gate had been added, allowing easier and quicker access to the garden. The new fence was eight feet tall, a light hickory color, and it ran along the driveway, nearly to the edge of the road, and down the other side to meet the previous fence.

The new fence had twenty eight small square cutouts along the top half of each section and a picket fence along the bottom, to help keep out any small and curious animals.

And the best part was that there was only one gate in and out, keeping everyone inside safe and secure.

“It’s like a magic garden,” Faith said as she walked around. “I like it in here.” She spun with her arms out, Bella wagging her tail beside her, and Scully smiled as she watched them.

“A picket fence,” Mulder said softly and Scully quickly turned to look at him. “Remember when we talked about that? Finding a place to stop running? You said you wanted a place with a picket fence. Maybe a dog in the yard.”

“I remember,” she whispered with a nod, thinking about that night under the stars, the idea of any type of home feeling so far away and perhaps unattainable.

“It’s taken a long time. A really long time,” he said. “And it’s not exactly the way I pictured it, but…”

“It’s better,” she said, putting her arms around him. “This is better.” She looked around at the new gate, the halfway finished vegetable garden, and she smiled. “This is beautiful.”

“Only because of the company occupying it,” he said with a smile and she chuckled quietly.

“Sweet talker.”

“I love you,” he said, his expression becoming serious.

“I love you too,” she said, pushing up on tiptoes to kiss him.

“We can finish the garden boxes tomorrow?” Faith asked, her arms going around both of them.

“Absolutely,” Mulder said, pulling back and grabbing her, and then setting her up onto his shoulders.

“Daddy!” she laughed as Mulder smiled and took Scully’s hand to lead them back inside.

__________

Saturday after breakfast, compost was added to the remaining garden boxes, which was raked and leveled, readying it for planting.

Sunday morning, a large delivery truck carrying dark wood chips was delivered from a local arborist, to be used to create paths to walk on in between the garden beds. The rolls of cardboard that had been used in the garden boxes were laid onto the grass and then wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of wood chips was placed on top of it.

Faith created a game as they did, pretending to be an ice skating ninja, who must follow the path to her destiny of truth, but kept getting stuck as she waited for the wood chips to be delivered.

“I can’t go forward and must not go back. The evil villain is waiting for me. I will just have to wait here and hope the path magically appears.”

She pretended not to see Mulder as he hurried over, dumping the pile of wood chips in front of her, smoothing them down as he created her much needed path.

Scully, filling buckets at the wood chip pile, to dump into the wheelbarrow, stopped and smiled at Faith as she danced, kicked and punched the air, and skated on the chips.

“She has such a great imagination,” Mulder said as he came back, pouring the buckets into the wheelbarrow.

“She does. Just like you.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” He smiled as he poured in two more buckets and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow. “Gotta hurry. I have an ice skating ninja to save.”

Scully laughed as he ran off, hurrying through the gate and down the center of the cardboard covered path.

When the last wood chip had been laid, they all walked around the garden, looking at the job they had accomplished.

“We did it,” Mulder said. “It was a tough job, but we did it.”

“Yeah,” Faith said, nodding as she looked around. “I think it looks great.”

“I second that,” Scully said and Faith frowned as she looked at her.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I agree with you,” Scully explained with a smile. “Sometimes if an idea, or plan is suggested, it can’t happen until someone says, I second it. That means there are two votes for doing something. You said the garden looked great. And I seconded it. That means even if someone said they didn’t agree, we have two votes and they only have one.” She smiled again and Faith nodded slowly, trying to understand.

“Let me give you an example,” Mulder said as he stretched. “I think we should head inside, wash our hands, have something to eat, and then maybe some ice cream before we start planting the seeds in the garden beds. What do you think, Faithy?” He looked at her with a smile and she grinned back.

“I second it and three it!” she said, Mulder and Scully both laughing.

“Then let’s do it.”

They ate lunch inside, but had their ice cream on the porch, staring out at the new garden.

“We could get some arched trellises,” Mulder said, as he took a bite. “Maybe not for the plants to grow on, but just to look nice. Add some of that magic Faith mentioned the other day.” He glanced at Scully and she nodded with a smile. “And I was thinking of having a small storage bin in the corner. Not anything too tall or large, but something to hold the smaller things like trowels, small shovels, watering cans, gloves… whatever else we might need. That way it’s all in one spot.”

“A good idea,” Scully said, nodding as she took a bite.

“Okay. You almost done, Squatch?” he asked and Faith nodded, eating up the last of her ice cream.

“Here, Bella. You can have some too,” Faith said, setting her bowl down beside her. Bella’s tail thumped happily as she began to lick it clean. “Ready, Daddy.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

By the time the sun was setting, all the seeds had been planted, the beds were watered, and then adorned with markers Faith had made from scraps of wood from the old fence.

Tomatoes and basil were in one bed. Peas and carrots in another. Potatoes and beans in another. Strawberries were on their own. Green leafy lettuce and onions were together. And in the last bed, broccoli and oregano.

“Now we wait,” Mulder said as they walked around looking at the garden beds. “And hope the weather doesn’t get too cold.”

“It’s an experiment,” Scully said, taking his hand. “If it doesn’t work out, what do we do?”

“Try again,” called Faith, as she adjusted the marker labeled strawberries, with a picture of them drawn on it as well. “You have to always try again.”

“That’s right,” Scully agreed, smiling at Faith and squeezing Mulder’s hand as she looked at him. “We’ve never done this, as you said yourself. It’s something new and experimental. We’ll just keep trying if this doesn’t work.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It really does look good. A better use than just being an empty field.”

“Agreed,” Scully said with a nod.

“So my idea was a good one,” he said and she paused in her steps to look at him, hearing a change in his voice.

“It was,” she said, looking at him warily and letting go of his hand.

“Well, seeing as it’s done and looks nice, we can revisit the chickens and goats conversation.”

“Mulder,” she hissed, glancing at Faith who had turned her head to look at them.

“Chickens?” she asked excitedly. “Like the baby ones we saw at the garden and pet store? The little yellow and gray ones? They are soooo cute.”

“They are cute, aren’t they?” Mulder asked, smiling as he stared at Scully.

“Mulder,” she warned and he shook his head.

“Garden first, Faithy. That was the promise I made to Mommy. It’s not completely done yet, so I haven’t fulfilled my promise,” he said and Scully nodded her thanks.

“But maybe soon?” Faith asked, walking over to them, her hands in the pockets of her dirt smudged overalls.

“Maybe,” Scully replied, looking at Mulder with a nod. “But let’s give the garden time to grow before we begin clearing space for a chicken coop, okay?”

“Okay,” Mulder and Faith said at the same time, causing Scully to laugh.

“Good,” she said, looking at Mulder again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, clapping his hands and looking at Faith. “Now, we need to head inside and get you in the tub, you grub. You’re filthy.”

“I’m not a grub,” she protested, brushing her hands on her overalls. “Just my clothes are dirty.”

“So are you, Squatch,” he said, picking her up and quickly turning her to land on his back. “Your turn for a piggyback.” He whinnied as he made sure she was on properly and then he took off at a running gallop as Faith screamed happily.

Scully followed at a slower pace, looking at the pink and purple garden boxes with the markers inside them, written in Faith’s handwriting.

“Alright little seeds,” she said softly, Faith’s laughter carrying back on the evening air. “You gotta grow. We’ve given you the means and the space. Now you do your part. Goodnight.”

She closed the gate and latched it, smiling at the sight of the garden once more before she turned and followed the sound of laughter up the steps and into the house.

#xf fanfic #the x files #msr #love #family life: the story beyond the series #family #happy #gardening #family fluff #domestic life #fluff and happiness #painting #building #domestic fluff

24 notes · View notes

eggymf-archived · 9 months

Text

of paper planes and wildflowers; 13

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with feelings, peeves (again), romantically feral(?) sex, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, p in v, doggystyle, just two idiots tryna bang and ended up banging in the end (noice)

chapter summary: for the sake of preserving your newfound relationship with ominis, you devised a solution that would grant you both joys of privacy: creating a hideout within a hideout.

word count: 6.9k (eyyyy lmao)

a/n: lacking the confidence with this chapter but i guess it’s kinda cute lmao. and wow those chapter warnings look kinda boring but it is what it is

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

A life— a mere thread on its own; a crucial medium for an ongoing magnum opus. It was a fascinating concept that survived the ravages of time, representing every living being as a single thread that has been intricately woven within the never-ending textile that depicts the entire world.

Like all tales that had been woven into existence by the unrivaled artisan of this fabled fabric, your story with Ominis was no different— a testimony to divinity's versatile cunning and vie in plotting one's destiny.

It was all rather comical initially: getting involved in consecutive unsavory acts that resulted in both your voluntary separation, only to be brought back together by a sudden, random intrusive thought of sending a letter to a random person. One would never have thought of such a scenario to be the bridge that connects two souls together— to end up being in good spirits despite their initial prejudice against each other. In fact, nobody would've suspected that the two of you would fall in love in the first place.

Needless to say, despite all the stacked odds, the both of you were undoubtedly an excellent match.

Oh, but what is a seemingly perfect love story without a little bit of conflict in the mix? Two people from opposing families falling for each other in the silliest way possible? That ought to stir quite the drama— a show that Ominis would've loved to eavesdrop on while sipping a cup of tea from the finest porcelain in his possession. Alas, it was a shame that he was one of the two who were directly involved in the problem along with you.

Fortunately, the solution for your current situation was simple enough: hide now, explain later. The oath of confidentiality was the shield of your relationship temporarily— at least until the both of you find a way to navigate through this sticky situation. Regardless of luck or whatever that was smiling upon your relationship, both of you had a part to play to preserve this bond.

It was a typical day in Hogwarts for the most part: just the usual students clamoring through their academics in preparation for their respective futures. Ominis was sitting in one of the few desks within an empty circular room that contained many globes and rolls of parchment tucked away neatly in the wall's built-in shelves. His hand was flipping through a particularly thick book on Herbology, while the other was scribbling away on a piece of parchment as he awaits your arrival.

It was an optional gesture, really. In fact, he should be focusing on his own essays, not jotting down summarized notes to help you speed up your process in this assignment. But then again, it was killing two birds with one stone: it would help him recall details for their upcoming exams, while also making your life a tad bit easier during these trying times— something that he'd definitely do for the sake of both love and efficiency.

“Ominis!”

At long last, his muse finally arrives.

Ominis was jolted right out of his focus, your familiar scent of peonies and freesias lingering faintly in the air as he instinctively ran his palm through his hair to smooth out any stray flyaways.

“I have the books that we need. Goodness gracious, I've never seen the library so crowded before,” you whined, slamming a stack of books that you held on the nearby vacant chair. The first few books on your pile floated towards the lithe-framed male, putting themselves right beside his ink pot. He pointed his wand at the empty space beside his desk, conjuring another desk and chair for you to use.

You gratefully allowed yourself to sit sluggishly at the seat next to him as you instantly slumped over the desk to rest your head on its wooden surface. You were visibly perplexed— a frown etched onto your features and your eyebags were becoming rather prominent due to insufficient sleep and countless workloads.

For the past week, the entire batch of 5th years had been plunged into the depths of academic hell alongside the other upperclassmen within the school. There had been consecutive mock exams and quizzes to prepare students for the upcoming OWLs and NEWTs along with mountains of assignments that had your wits pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

Aside from the whole ordeal affecting your sanity in terms of your studies, it has certainly been taking a toll on your personal needs as well. Despite spending copious amounts of time together as study buddies with Ominis, there was no doubt that the warm embraces and discreet little pecks from each other were sorely missed. The both of you could only grumble at the darned invisible wall of responsibility that had cruelly separated the both of you apart, giving you no choice but to behave yourselves for almost a week and counting.

And boy, was it utterly agonizing.

Your visibly frustrated eyes scanned the circular room, and much to your quiet glee, it was just you and Ominis alone.

Surely this time, there wouldn't be any interruptions, right? It was a peaceful Saturday with most students either going to Hogsmeade, staying in the library, or lounging about in the common rooms. Not a single soul was around, and there weren't any notably nosy portraits nearby that could potentially rat the both of you out.

Maybe it was time to try your luck.

The sound of quill scribbling on parchment halted the moment he felt the pads of your fingertips trace along the knuckles, seemingly in a thoughtless daze.

“... Yes, darling?”

You bid your silent farewell to your proper decorum, scooting over towards Ominis and resting your head on his shoulder. He visibly tensed upon feeling the slight shift in weight before easing up as you shift your head to a more comfortable position.

“It's just the two of us, in case you were wondering,” you mumbled. “Give me five minutes and I'll continue studying.”

It was blatantly obvious. You missed him— a lot.

He smirks at this, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Suppressing a wide grin from making its way to your face, you press your lips thinly into a line, removing your head from his shoulder briefly to stare cheekily at his visage.

“Five minutes of what exactly?” he whispers into your ear coyly, placing his quill down. “This?”

He didn't give you a chance to even answer the question properly, a soft eek escaping your lips as he turned your body to face him. His palm was placed firmly against the small of your back, slender fingers tilting your chin up to look at him. His warm breath fanned against your reddened face while you held your breath, biting back an uncharacteristic squeal that threatened to escape your lips.

Despite his calm exterior, he was, in fact, just as frustrated as you were— the only difference is that he was craving for something a bit more than mere hand-holding and butterfly kisses. And for you to fall right into his trap of agreeing to study in this desolate place? Voluntarily handing yourself over to him who desired nothing more than to savor you in every possible way?

Maybe the both of you were on the same page all this time, merely hiding each of your intentions behind a veil of innocent nonchalance. Regardless of his raging hormones, however, he prided himself as a gentleman with morals— the final decision was always yours.

He could only sigh with pure adoration, feeling the supple skin of your face and the plushness of your lips against his fingertips. Your eyelids slowly fluttered shut at his soft caress as he leaned forward, his lips slowly reaching their desired designation.

“WHEEEEEEE!”

A certain poltergeist emerged from the stone wall, immediately shattering the deliciously tense atmosphere between you and Ominis, much to Ominis’ sheer agony. The young Gaunt was absolutely seething at this point— if thoughts could kill, Peeves would've been decimated by the horrific, murderous intentions that Ominis had conjured up within his mind all in a split second despite the non-being's incapability of death.

Of course, he shan't show how miffed he truly is with that insufferable amortal. There were many different ways of expressing rage and disdain, after all.

He responds to the situation in an eerily calm manner, shutting his books and putting away his writing materials neatly, walking over to your own stack of books and tucking it under his arm alongside his own. You could only stare at him dumbfoundedly as you tail after him out of concern. Before leaving the circular room, Ominis quickly swishes his wand casually towards a very cackly Peeves, the poor poltergeist's gyrating voice immediately muffled as his tongue gets glued to the roof of his mouth by Ominis' non-verbal jinx.

Oh, he was cross, alright. Very cross. The sight of your lover’s cold fury had shivers running down your spine— whether it is out of fright, attraction, or both, you had no plans on adding fuel to his stress-induced fire.

Merlin, all he wanted was at least a damn kiss and the universe seems to be forbidding him from getting one from you. What was the bloody point of allowing him to be with you if he couldn't even give you a smooch at least once a day? Unacceptable. How utterly outrageous.

But no matter— he had a solution to this entire problem, albeit his reluctance.

Perhaps it was time to divulge one of his many secrets to you. With Skylar and Sebastian out of the castle grounds this particular weekend, he could finally bring you to his hideout where the both of you could finally have some uninterrupted time alone.

But even with his confident, anger-fueled strides, he had his own reservations when it comes to bringing you into the Undercroft. It was sure to be dusty, and messy— far from being a romantic spot since that's where he and Sebastian often practiced spells of varying kinds; specifically the more destructive and forbidden ones.

It felt rather silly of him to be in jitters knowing that you've probably been through filthier places considering your knack for spontaneous outdoor adventures during non-winter months, but it doesn't change the fact that you're his lady now. There are certain things that he'd rather not let you see out of gentlemanly respect.

It was too late for him to back out now, though— the both of you were currently standing before the allegedly dysfunctional clock beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. You tilted your head in confusion, your line of sight darting towards the blonde-haired male.

“Ominis, darling. Why exactly are we standing in front of this old clock?”

The faintest of smiles graces Ominis' lips.

“You'll see.”

He flicks his wand towards the direction of the clock, its cogwheels, and mechanisms begin to click and spin before it halts with a distinct clang. Your brows raised in surprise as its face swung wide open, revealing a concealed passageway.

“Huh, would you look at that? Another dark, ominous corridor,” you peered curiously at the dimly lit stairwell leading down to an unknown area. “I think I'm sensing a pattern here.”

“Oh shush. Just go in,” he scoffs in amusement. You gladly obliged, eyes glimmering with excitement and wonder while Ominis follows suit, the door immediately closing behind him upon his entry. With his fingers finally intertwined with yours, he led you down the dimly lit stairwell slowly with the red blinking tip of his wand guiding you both. Upon arriving at the end of the stairwell, Ominis whisks his wand once again, the metal gates rising up to reveal a large room filled with crates, training dummies, and several spare tables and small blackboards.

Hogwarts truly never fails to surprise you with its plethora of hidden locations.

“Goodness, I never would've imagined there'd be a room all the way down here,” you mused, taking in your surroundings with great interest. “Is there anyone else who knows of this place?”

“It's… A Gaunt family secret, I suppose. But only me, Sebastian, Anne, and Skylar know of it. Also, we call this the Undercroft.”

You strolled around the relatively large room, taking note of several odd things that had piqued your interest: the blackboards that had several angry scribbles and notes written in Ancient Runes, Phoenician, Greek, Cyrillic, and Aramaic, the nearby blank stone wall that has faint golden inscriptions of magic circles and runes, and a triptych with two ripped-out canvases.

“Seems like a perfect base for illicit little studies and spell-casting. I’m assuming Sallow has been studying the spellbook intensively in here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I've been staying away from this place for that very reason,” Ominis sighed, scratching his nape sheepishly. “Honestly, we haven't been talking much ever since that day in the scriptorium. He's been fixated on that book, and it feels quite rotten to linger around knowing that your own best friend is studying the dark arts.”

You instinctively reached for his hand, rubbing small circles against his pale skin.

“Understandable. I still feel quite disturbed about what happened there, and I'm sorry you can't stay here as much. But that aside, it's not like we'd get much privacy either if we have our little cuddling sessions within this place,” you lightly joked in an attempt to ease the simmering tension. “For all we know, either one of them could walk in on us. I'd rather not risk it.”

Ominis chuckles mirthfully, much to your relief.

“And I’d rather not let you sit on any of these dusty crates or the floor, actually. Not the most romantic spot for a quick little kiss either,” he hums. “But I'd rather stay here with you than pop a blood vessel out of rage at every bloody interruption that occurs out there.”

You giggled in response at his words as the both of you sauntered towards the far corner of the Undercroft that had several barrels stacked atop of one another, pondering deeply on a solution. A nice little place for the both of you to relax in was certainly an enticing notion. Your eyes wandered towards a large, empty chest in front of you.

“Hmm. I think I might have an idea.”

“Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“A hideout within a hideout. Just for us,” you replied proudly, piquing his interest. “No one’s using this chest, right?”

Ominis traces his palm against the lacquered wooden surface.

“No.”

“Good. This will do. Stand back,” you instructed. Casting a non-verbal spell, the fastenings of its metal band and any external locking mechanisms were lifted, the little bits of metal falling onto the stone floor with a distinct clink. Its dimensions began to extend slightly, making the chest slightly longer and wider.

“Capacious Extremis.”

The wooden chest began to rattle and shake as if something was moving within it. While the Extension Charm worked its effects, you cast more spells on the object: the Imperturbable Charm, Salvio Hexia, and several other security spells and additional charms. As soon as the wooden chest ceased its movements, you knocked a specific beat on the chest, prompting it to open while a flight of stairs materialized within the seemingly cramped, poorly-lit space.

“Shall we?” you grinned excitedly, clasping his hand. Anticipation was buzzing within his mind, ever so curious about what you had in store as you led him down the flight of stairs carefully.

As you had anticipated, the small, empty space was unfurnished, the only light source originating from the opening where the both of you had entered. With a flick of your wand, wall sconces materialized out of thin air to illuminate the space, placing themselves in strategic locations. Several incantations rolled out your tongue, conjuring and summoning various kinds of textiles, a lot of pillows, and a large bed frame with a cushy mattress before arranging them all at the far end of the room. The little nook now resembles a neatly-made pillow fort that could easily accommodate two people— its opening framed by thick curtains that could be utilized if its user desires more privacy.

Meanwhile, an L-shaped bookshelf with its own built-in table was slowly being pieced together on its own, and various books were floating about and sorting themselves while two chairs popped out of thin air, tucked neatly under the study table. The books that Ominis held flew out of his clutches, placing themselves atop the table. A Potions station was being constructed near the study corner: a small counter placed itself at the far corner while ingredients within glass jars lined themselves up neatly on the shelves.

You pointed your wand at the vacant space at the center of the room, a fireplace embossing itself from the blank wall, and a small loveseat sofa materialized before it. The flooring changes from stone to marble, while the ceiling morphs into a glass dome, revealing the appearance of the artificial night sky that you could change at your own will. A large window also carved itself at the wall recess at the bed area, revealing a view of the moonlit landscapes of the Highlands.

While ornaments and decorations were slowly appearing and organizing themselves according to the vision within your head, Ominis roamed around the room, taking in his newly-made surroundings through his rapidly-blinking wand. The former staleness within the enchanted space now felt warm and cozy, the faint scent and sound of the crackling fireplace flooding his senses. Pointing your wand towards the entrance, the lid of the wooden chest slams shut.

You had devised everything in a way that was both functional and convenient for him to navigate through with little to no possible accidents even without his wand: no obstructions at its designated areas for foot traffic and sufficient room for him to comfortably move around. Even the spines of the books in the study corner had bumps embossed onto its surface, the text translated conveniently for him to Braille.

Upon reaching the far end of the room, he immediately sat down on the plush bed, sighing at its comfiness as he leaned back against one of the fluffy pillows. Your eyes scanned the room as you approached Ominis, pleased with the outcome of your little impromptu project before plopping right beside him, removing your Mary Janes.

“This turned out quite well, didn’t it? A hideout within a hideout!”

Ominis chuckles. “That’s quite the understatement, my dearest. I believe you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“I’ll gladly accept that compliment, thank you very much!” you chirped.

He could only marvel at your prowess in Transfiguration and Charms: successfully creating a special little place like this just for the both of you within such a short period with little to no sweat wasn’t an easy feat for a young witch such as yourself.

“You know, I’ve actually always wanted to do something like this,” you shared, crawling towards the pillows and hugging one as you leaned against the wall. “Seems quite oddly reminiscent of typical childhood memories, no? Pillow forts, a secret base, and just the two of us. It’s as if we’re playing house.”

The fondness within your voice made his heart hammer within his chest, his unseeing milky blue eyes containing a sense of gentleness within them. Kicking off his shoes, he sits beside you, smiling wryly.

“I've never experienced those memories for myself, actually. And I certainly didn't expect to experience it right now either,” he responds softly, much to your surprise. Ominis wasn’t the type who would usually get caught up in future possibilities, but the thought of you possibly becoming his wife has undoubtedly stirred something within his soul.

He could definitely get used to the joys of domestic settings, but alas, inexperience has a nasty habit of planting the seed of doubt within wounded hearts.

“Isn't it too early to come to that conclusion?” he thought, his serene expression slowly faltering.

It wasn't a pretty notion— the intrusive thought would most likely serve as a possible topic for him to overthink about for the remainder of the day. You, however, with elation brimming from your chest, beamed at his confession.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first! Let's make the most out of it, shall we?”

And with just that, the awful din within his brain was immediately dispelled.

One thing was for certain amidst the stockpiles of unfavorable circumstances— he loves you most ardently, and that's all that truly matters at this point. He'll always choose to be with you no matter what.

“So… Do you like it? I know you can't exactly see what it looks like, but I've arranged everything in— mmmph!”

Gone were his reservations and resistance to his urges, hastily planting his eager lips onto yours with a sense of direness whilst cradling your face within his palms. Desperation was laced within every single one of his movements, his hand trailing to the small of your back and the other to the back of your head.

It was a hold that only he could pull off— an embrace that encompasses protectiveness and love all with a dash of possessiveness and lust.

All for you. Only for you.

It has been far too long since your last exchange of physical intimacy with him, and the thought of what may transpire next sends a delicious little jolt right into your aching core. Your body clearly yearned for him, easily succumbing to even the slightest of his touch.

Thus, you gave in to his unspoken request, straddling his lap whilst gazing into his eyes that rival even the most pearlescent of opals before kissing him once more, your tongues entangling themselves fervidly. He was just as needy as you were, his member throbbing and twitching beneath the fabric of his trousers, hissing at the delicious warmth that had been brought upon his most sensitive area.

The both of you soon parted, your lungs craving for oxygen after that heated exchange. Your hazy gaze drank his form, biting your lip at how gorgeous he looked.

Disheveled blonde hair, flushed cheeks, bitten-red lips, and misty blue eyes darkened with intoxicating desire— the sight of Ominis reduced to such a state made you swoon.

“You truly are quite the sight, my love,” you murmur against the side of his lips before partaking in yet another passion-ridden kiss, to which he appreciatively responds with a soft groan. “And to think that you're all mine… It is truly an honor.”

Never have you ever been so spellbindingly enamored towards a man, and the intensity of your romantic feelings only served to make you even more insatiable for him. Truth be told, he hadn't expected you to be so bold this time around either, but he relished in the thought that it was only he who is given the privy to have you in this form: greedy for his touch and deeply in love with him, just as he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

Words will never be enough to describe his precious feelings, and he intends to go the extra mile for the message to be conveyed to you with his actions.

“I hope you're ready for what awaits you, my dearest,” Ominis mutters against your ear hotly. “... Because we aren't leaving this place until you're thoroughly satisfied.”

The ribbon around your neck was slowly loosened as he tugged on its ends, followed by the unbuttoning of the first button of your blouse, then the second, teasingly halting at the third. A whine bubbled from your lips as he dove into the crook of your neck, assaulting the delicate skin with open-mouthed kisses and occasional licks.

Ominis softly croons your name, inhaling the dizzying scent of your perfume and musk that sends him into a euphoric state. You were an addiction; a drug he could never forgo— it was evident with the way he held you oh so possessively: holding you close to his torso with his mouth latched onto your slender neck, bestowing the expanse of your skin with purplish red marks all while battling the primal urge of sinking his teeth onto your flesh.

He hums with gratification upon feeling your dainty fingers raking through his scalp, your head thrown back generously to grant him better access to your neck. His sinful tongue had already disintegrated the remnants of your self-control at this point, and you wanted nothing more than to chase the desires of your own heated flesh. Your hips began to rock shamelessly, your shaky breath fanning across his ears at the pleasant stimulation. Ominis bit back a moan, his cock delightfully twitching at the sensation of your movements.

“Mmm... Yes… Keep going…” he gasps at the delicious friction of you voluntarily grinding your clothed slit against his concealed shaft. “Such a good girl for me…”

The strain in his pants was getting unbearable by the second, droplets of his precum slowly seeping through the fabric with every sigh of his name that spilled from your saccharine lips. The growl that rumbled from his chest only served as kindling for the ever-growing flames of your feminine pride, the side of your lips twitching ever so slightly into a smirk.

It was only a matter of time before he finally abandons all remaining shreds of his self-restraint. Who would’ve thought that you could be quite the little tease yourself?

You were taking your sweet time— lazily undoing his tie and unbuttoning his vest and shirt to reveal his pristine alabaster skin beneath the layers of fabric. A pleasant shudder ran through his body as you dragged your tongue along the column of his neck.

“Ominis… My dearest, Ominis…”

The way you uttered his name with such need had him whimpering, biting his lower lip as your tongue danced across the side of his neck once more. He gulped, letting out a harsh exhale through his mouth as the pads of his fingertips sank into the plushness of your bum.

“Gods... I can’t take this anymore.”

A gasp escapes your mouth as he harshly pushes you down the mattress. He was mindless at his point, panting as his hands began to haphazardly strip you from all articles of clothing— all of which ended up getting tossed randomly in the room in reckless abandon. You bit your lip as he began to shed all of his clothing one by one.

You were visibly flustered at his tasteful display, witnessing every flex of his toned muscles while your hungry eyes feasted on his bare form. He wastes no time caging you within his lithe frame, lips swooping down to meet yours in a sweet, passionate kiss. It was the calm before the storm; the stark opposite treatment of what was about to happen during the remainder of this session the longer he remains in this dangerous state of unbridled lust.

The overall experience so far was absolutely divine on his end: caressing your supple skin that was smooth to the touch, inhaling your heady scent as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, all while hearing your breathy moans as he slides his long fingers oh so languidly against your folds.

“So fucking drenched for me…” he hisses softly, before sitting up to lick his honeyed appendages clean.

“Mine… All mine.”

He grabbed a hold of your ankles, pushing your spread-out legs up before pressing his palm against the back of your thigh to secure you in place. He loved it all— feeling his lips glide across your delicious skin before stopping at your entrance, his shaky breath fanning over your leaking pussy.

It was an obscene position— your legs pried wide open by his palms with your knees close to your chest. You were completely exposed to him, and his mouth was hovering dangerously close to your tight little hole. The scent of your honeypot worsened his unbearable urge to viscerally please you with his tongue; preferably until you were a screaming, quivering mess. He already knew you were going to squirm once his wet muscle landed upon your delicate flower, which prompts him to grasp your thighs harder.

“Stay still for me, will you?” he rasps with pure arousal. “I need to devour you right now.”

A tremor racked through your thighs at the lewdness of his request. Without hesitation, he licks an experimental stripe along your drenched slit, moaning at your delectable taste while you cry in delight, your pelvis bucking up to his face instinctively.

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting him to be this ravenous— delving his tongue into your folds to collect as much of your juices as possible. But feeling the actual texture of his tongue once again had your brain turning into mush. He felt your thighs attempt to close themselves shut, but your resistance only spurred his mouth to do far more atrocious deeds upon your most sensitive area.

He yanks you closer to him, draping your legs over his shoulders, his lips never parting from your core as it closes in at your little pearl. Air ceased to exist within your lungs as he flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, attacking it with gentle suckles and teasing little prods. Your hands were clawing haplessly against the sheets, gripping whatever it could land itself on as molten fire surged within your veins, your mouth running dry as you gasped for air. You were helpless, given no choice but to keep taking all that he was bringing upon your body, and you loved every single second of it.

It felt too good— how forceful he is, the merciless flicks of his talented tongue, and his fingers that pistons itself in and out of your twitching hole. A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he felt your thighs slowly breaking into tiny little quivers: a tell-tale sign that you were nearing your release.

You were so close. So fucking close.

Until he stopped, ripping his mouth away from you.

“W…Why did you— ah!”

He flips you over harshly, his palms hoisting you up by your hips: face down and ass up— just like how he had initially wanted. You felt yourself flush a deep shade of red at yet another provocative position, letting out a surprised mewl as he gave you one final lick from the tip of your nerve bundles all the way up to your dripping folds.

His cock was so painfully stiff: pulsating and leaking beads of clear liquid at the tip. Ominis guides the head of his hardened length on your entrance, teasingly swiping the tip along your well-lubricated slit before easing his way into you, gritting his teeth at the mind-numbing warmth of your slick walls.

“Ohhh, gods… That's it… Gods, you feel incredible…” he drunkenly moaned softly as he bottomed out, indulging in the velvety hold of your fluttering walls. The grip on your waist only tightens as he motions you to the rhythm of his thrusts. It was just like how he remembered— you being oh so utterly pliant to his debauchery and providing him the best sensations that he could ever dream of.

But this time, it was different. Never had he felt such an array of emotions towards any other person in his entire life. He was young, yes— but he was positively sure that he had been ruined for anyone else. He could never want any other person after all of this. It will always be you. Only you.

The soft groans of your name sounded like a longing prayer as he murmured it onto your flesh, your mind buzzing out of sheer elation as he peppered your nape and shoulders with a flurry of kisses. You propped yourself up on top of the pillows, and you felt him hug your body closer to his. His lips trailed from your shoulder blade all the way to the back of your ear, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.

Feeling you arch your back against him, he encases your neck into a gentle grasp, humming in satisfaction as you rub your nose affectionately against his cheek.

“Gods, I love you. I love you so much…”

You sighed fondly at his profession, claiming his lips with yours, whispering your response amidst the breathy exchange of heated kisses.

“I love you more.”

He couldn't have been happier, nuzzling a ticklish spot on your neck which you responded with a burst of giggles while smiling from ear to ear.

Ominis resumes his movements, his shaft gliding slowly and deeply within you in short strokes. Letting out a soft whine, you began to move your hips to meet his. He took this as a sign, and soon enough, his sense of restraint was thrown out the window once more.

Your stuttered moans were like music to his ears as he gradually started to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting more prominent within the quaint little space that the both of you shared. Puffs of warm breath in accompaniment with whispered praises fanned across your ears while you mewled in response in a heady daze. His hands danced along your sides in silent worship; as if he's committing every dip and curve to memory within this moment— that it was he who had reduced you into nothing but a moaning mess.

Ominis grunted, feeling your gummy walls clench as soon as he finally hit the spot that had your eyes rolling out of sinful indulgence. Squelches were soon added to the ongoing symphony of concupiscence, clear slick trickling down your inner thighs as his thrusts quickened. Your head was thrown back, jaw slackened, heaving out gasps of intoxicated, broken pleas.

“Right there… Please, don't stop… Oh, fuck!”

You were close to the edge, and he felt it with his own body— the shudders that racked through you out of your own sensitivity, and the tantalizing constriction of your tight little pussy. This time, he would be more than glad to grant your sweet release.

A cry of surprise bubbled from your lips, the pad of his fingertips swirling around your pert nipples before twisting and pinching them gently as he continued to snap his hips against you. Electrifying shocks of pleasure flowed from your chest to the entirety of your body in a matter of seconds, your heated core gripping his pulsating cock. Your own trembling fingers reach for your swollen clit, rubbing languid circles as your mind slowly blanks out into oblivion.

“Fuck, I'm close…” he spoke through gritted teeth, achingly trying to prolong his release. “Where do you want it, my love?”

You could only smile at the question deliriously, rubbing your pearl faster as you inched closer to your own high. “Inside… Please, cum inside me. Please…”

How could he ever say no to that?

Every single rock of his pelvis resulted in a delicious moan, spurring him to drive himself deeper and faster within your core to quell the ever-growing, scalding desire that pooled within his loins. The both of you were a complete mess— bodies clad in sweat, hair sticking onto damp skin, and your own juices trickling down your quivering legs. But regardless of this filth, it was all highly addictive— and the both of you would do it over and over again for as long as your bodies permitted.

“Yes… Take it…! Take it! Oh, fuuuuck...” he hissed, his fingertips sinking onto the flesh of your waist almost painfully as he aggressively pumped himself within you.

You let out a whimper, shutting your eyes tightly while clutching the pillows, feeling your walls throb around his eager cock. With a final thrust, his pelvis stilled, ropes of his virile seed spurting within your insides as your hole convulsed and clamped around him, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest.

He embraced you against his damp skin as he was milked dry before pulling out, his cloudy, viscous liquid oozing out of you slowly. The both of you collapsed on the bed, heavily panting whilst being in a completely mindless daze.

“That was…” you trailed off.

“...Amazing,” he heaved out while you weakly glanced at him, a lazy grin upon your features after hearing his response.

It was a precious moment— just you and him within your own little bubble of pure happiness, basking in the comfortable silence together as the rush from your prior activities slowly dwindled from your system. Ominis drapes his arm around you while you reciprocate his tenderness, gazing upon his baby-blue eyes with your thumb trailing along the moles on his cheek.

As you were playing with the tips of his currently disheveled blonde hair, realization soon dawned upon you— your forgotten assignments. Your once serene expression morphed into one of sheer mortification, sitting up briefly and shoving a very confused Ominis off you out of panic.

“Oh no…” you whispered.

Ominis' eyebrows furrowed, sitting up immediately upon hearing your despaired tone.

“What's wrong?”

“We were supposed to be studying, you know! My Herbology essay—”

Ominis couldn’t help but snort in response, biting his lips as he tried to suppress his laughter.

Merlin, you truly are adorable.

“Stop laughing! This is serious— an academic crisis!”

That agitated, Ravenclaw-like statement only prompted him to chortle out teasingly of pure amusement, much to your chagrin. He yanks you back into his embrace as he plops right back into bed, your head resting atop his chest. Slender fingers combed through your currently messy locks in an attempt to soothe your worries.

“Don't worry about it. I wrote out the summarized notes for you,” he chuckles. “I'm pretty sure you'll be able to finish it easily with that.”

You turned pink at this, both flustered and flattered that he would willingly go out of his way to help voluntarily.

“Thank you…” you mumbled as he gave a peck on your forehead.

Ominis hums relaxedly, his warm palm thoughtlessly placing itself on your bum, giving it a firm squeeze. Your eyes widened as you felt a certain warm appendage turn stiff, twitching slightly against your lower belly. While softly groaning your name, you were suddenly pinned right back onto the mattress, your wrists pinned at the sides of your head as he swoops down to your neck.

“W…Wait! At least let me drink the potion first!”

It was during the early hours of the morning, the enchanted window by the bed depicted the scenery of the sun almost peering out from the horizon. You had woken up hours earlier than usual to finish the remnants of your tasks while Ominis was on the bed, still sleeping soundly as you scribbled the last few words for your darn Herbology essay.

“And done!” you softly cheered, placing your quill back into its holder. You tucked the piece of parchment safely between your textbook along with Ominis’ notes gingerly, heaving a sigh of relief. Ominis was an absolute lifesaver this time, and you made a mental note to reciprocate his gesture as soon as you could.

You glanced at your slumbering lover before scampering towards the bed, placing a tiny note beside his wand.

Grabbed some food for us. I’ll be back soon. I love you.

You gave him a quick smooch on his unsuspecting cheek, adjusting the blankets slightly before creeping to the entrance of your little base. As a precautionary measure, you slowly opened the lid of the wooden chest, peering through the narrow gap.

You were about to push the lid completely wide open, only for a soft gasp of utter disbelief to escape your lips as you witness a certain Slytherin and Hufflepuff duo walk through the gold-inscribed stone wall, heading right towards the triptych.

It seems that you and Ominis weren't the only ones that had some sort of secret going on within the Undercroft after all.

“...And now, for the moment of truth…” Sebastian spoke out while Skylar mounted a piece of canvas on one of the panels. You attempted to listen more closely, only to be halted as soon as you heard the muffled calls of your name, prompting you to quickly shut the lid soundlessly, descending down to the enchanted space once again.

Ominis was sitting up groggily, his blonde hair sticking out wildly at odd places. You quietly giggled at the sight, scuttering towards the bed and sitting beside his rather adorable state.

“You're up already? Blast, I was planning to surprise you with some breakfast,” you chuckled nervously, only to be tugged back into bed by him, who was obviously still very drowsy.

“... No… Stay here with me…” he babbles. “... Need more sleep… You sleep too…”

A kiss was planted on his forehead, which caused him to grin cutely before slipping back into his dreamland within seconds. You smiled cheerfully, unclasping your shoes and letting them fall with a thump against the floor. You melded your body against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

But alas, you were unable to completely succumb to that pleasant state of ignorant bliss— not after you’ve witnessed two of your classmates walk through a bloody wall. The triptych, the wall, the Undercroft, a mysterious 5th year student with otherworldly magical abilities, and a young lad seeking the cure of an unknown curse— it was all a jumbled mess that even your mind was incapable of deciphering. You stared at Ominis’ peaceful face, thoughts running through your head before sighing in defeat.

“Oh well. I’ll find out about it soon enough.”

By the nameless artisan's own divine will, they have done it once again, weaving yet another fable within this realm with their own purposeful hands— a story born from an old tale that has yet to find its true ending: to end a recurring cycle of tragedy that has spanned for centuries.

< chapter 12: the art of subtlety

chapter 14: in plain sight >

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anonymousewrites · 7 months

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One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Fourteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: One Hell of a Dress

Summary: Sebastian fights Claude and learns why Claude is interested in (Y/N), and the tension of Sebastian and (Y/N)'s relationship is increasing.

Mouse Note: Just gonna give a quick warning that from here on out Claude is pretty much a giant creep so some things he said might be uncomfortable

The moon hung high and full over the forested lake. Sebastian and Claude stood on the pier, Sebastian looking at Claude as the spider demon looked out over the lake, all facades of politeness abandoned as they faced each other as demons more than as butlers. Without their masters present, they had no need to hide any words or thoughts.

“You are persistent,” said Sebastian. “You continue the pursue the Young Master.” And now (Y/N).

“ ‘Steal Ciel Phantomhive from Sebastian Michaelis,’ ” said Claude. “Those were my Master’s orders.”

“He is my Young Master,” said Sebastian. The mere thought that someone other than me touched the Young Master makes me sick. “You sullied it with your sticky, white spider threads; his soul.”

“Sully…” mused Claude. “The only being I have considered sullying lately is (Y/N).”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Claude’s desires included carnal lust. The idea of the spider demon touching (Y/N) inflamed the possessive nature of the raven demon.

Claude continued speaking, far less reserved in his lecherous nature than the respectable Sebastian. “That dress was simply tantalizing. It practically begged for me to tear it off of them to see what lay underneath. And the lipstick, red as blood. The image of them with that red staining their skin lying beneath me in a mess…” He was unable to finish as fantasy overtook him.

Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuchsia. He would not hear of Claude taking (Y/N), sullying (Y/N) in any manner of the words. If Sebastian had his way, he’d cut off Claude’s hand and send him straight back to hell for even considering the idea of bedding (Y/N).

“They are not yours. You would do well to remember that,” said Sebastian, a dark threat lacing the words.

“No, not yet…But they will be. I have a talent for getting what I want, and gaining a—well, servant is a tame word, but it will do—gaining a servant is something I’ve desired for millennia.” Claude’s gaze was predatory as he fantasized over (Y/N). “I wanted the best, and here they are delivered to me.”

“I will not allow you to have them,” said Sebastian, leaping at Claude.

He struck, and Claude dodged behind him. They jumped into the air, kicking, punching, and blocking with demonic skill.

“You sought my Master’s soul, but you needed the body. Now you seek (Y/N), too.” Sebastian narrowed his eyes, landing on the water of the lake lightly. “I will not let you have them.”

“And yet they will be mine,” said Claude.

He kicked the water, and a column of water flew towards Sebastian.

“They will not,” said Sebastian.

He kicked the water, and a similar column collided with the first. The collision splashed water over Sebastian and Claude, and they were plunged underwater for a moment. The surface of the lake calmed.

Sebastian stood from the water, eyes narrowed. “I raised Ciel’s soul.”

Claude emerged from the water, and he pulled Sebastian to him by the neck, looking over his shoulder at Sebastian. “You want a soul that’s found its revenge. You are so attached that you’re willing to find Ciel’s revenge a second time.”

“My Young Master’s soul is worth it,” said Sebastian. “I simply need someone to take revenge on.”

“Yes. Only a complete Ciel Phantomhive is worthy of being stolen,” agreed Claude. “That is what will please my own Master.”

“Then we are in agreement?” said Sebastian, looking at Claude, still leering over him.

“In regards to Ciel Phantomhive,” said Claude. They could come to a deal with Ciel. Claude’s grip on Sebastian’s neck tightened. “But (Y/N)…I have longed to see the human-born demon broken down as mine for too many millennia to give up now. And they are no soul. They do not need to be complete; they are sublime already. I knew from the moment I saw them that I wanted them to be mine. I would take that human-born demon reeking of life and a full soul, and I would break them to serve me like a good little apprentice.”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuchsia. “(Y/N) is not yours. I will not allow you to take them.”

Claude’s hand traced over Sebastian’s front. “Interesting. You are quite possessive of them yourself.” His golden eyes met Sebastian’s scarlet. “I wonder, did you intend to groom Felis to be yours from the beginning, or was your attachment an accident when you stole Felis from me to mentor?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he made the connection. Claude, Aranea, had been called upon to mentor a younger demon at the same time Sebastian had. Aranea had mentioned that some of the newly formed demons were “simply…delicious.” Claude had sought to manipulate (Y/N) as a young demon, but Sebastian had chosen them instead.

Equally important, Claude could tell Sebastian was attached to (Y/N). Perhaps due to his own obsession he was unable to see that love was Sebastian’s true feeling for (Y/N), but Claude could see the attachment, and that meant he would use that to his advantage over Sebastian.

“Felis is a powerful demon,” said Sebastian simply, pushing away from Claude and facing him. “No one will ever own them.”

“We shall see.” Claude put his glasses back on neatly.

“How about a deal?” said Sebastian. He didn’t want Claude to have a chance to get to (Y/N).

“I have already acquiesced to a deal for Ciel Phantomhive’s soul in accordance my Master’s orders,” said Claude. “But (Y/N) is a personal interest. You cannot protect them.”

No deal for them. Claude would be hunting them. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. How he would enjoy tearing Claude apart as soon as he was unnecessary.

(Y/N) relaxed as people danced calmly once more in the ballroom. It seemed now that Alois himself had arrived, the only drama he intended on creating was dancing with Elizabeth before Ciel could. Their eyes narrowed as Sebastian and Claude reentered the ballroom. Each butler had a dark rose pinned to their suit—a blood pact. (Y/N) would have to ask Sebastian what the terms were. It was likely to do with Ciel if Sebastian would create a deal with the likes of Claude.

They watched and listened with their advanced hearing as Sebastian handed a stack of papers to Ciel. The Earl read them and clutched them tightly. He glared at Alois across the ballroom with equal intensity to when he had wanted Ash-Angela killed. It was vengeful.

Aha.

Claude and Sebastian both wanted Ciel’s soul complete for themselves. The Trancy family was now the target for Ciel’s revenge. That was the deal.

(Y/N)’s nose twitched. It felt far too risky to use Claude’s Master as the target. It meant that Claude would be around Ciel, and (Y/N) didn’t trust him at all.

“Excuse me.” Speak of the, quite literal, demon.

(Y/N) turned to find Claude standing behind them. Golden eyes met (E/C). “Yes?” said (Y/N), words on the edge of polite and sharp.

Claude extended a hand. “I would like to invite you to dance.”

(Y/N)’s nose twitched. He was trying to trap them in propriety and make them accept to keep the good reputation of the Phantomhive Household. “Isn’t your Lord in need of your service?” Two could play at that game.

“He ordered me to enjoy myself at the ball,” said Claude. He smiled, and any human would see it as pleasing, but (Y/N) could see the lecherous nature hidden within. His eyes flitted over their body, clinging to each exposed piece of skin hungrily.

(Y/N) narrowed their eyes. Trapped by human propriety. How infuriating. (Y/N)’s eyes were dark with annoyance and promise of murder if Claude tried anything. Unfortunately, they had to raise their hand to take his.

“Apologies, but they have a partner for this dance.”

Sebastian’s hand took (Y/N)’s before Claude could touch them. He smiled pleasantly, but his eyes revealed his true feelings towards Claude as he stepped away and drew (Y/N) with him. Claude’s gaze hardened at being interrupted.

“Yes, I do,” said (Y/N), smirking as Claude’s plans were impeded.

The pair turned away from the spider demon and moved onto the dancefloor as the music started up. Sebastian’s eyes met Claude’s over (Y/N)’s shoulder, and the hand on their waist pulled them closer.

“So, you made a deal with him,” said (Y/N) plainly.

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “You noticed the Young Lord.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Dealing with the Trancys is a risk. We’ll have to keep an eye on them.”

“Of course,” said Sebastian. His hand smoothed over their waist, tracing over their figure. Claude’s words about them echoed in his mind, and he wanted to destroy even the fantasy touch of Claude on (Y/N)’s skin. “We both will.”

At the edge of the room, Claude watched Sebastian dance with (Y/N), clearly showing him that (Y/N) was not available to him. Claude would not be dissuaded, though. Something as simple as Sebastian desiring (Y/N) was nothing. It was a simple obstacle for Claude to overcome. He had wanted them for so long, he could plan to wait a little longer. Claude would have everything he had fantasized about.

Claude wanted to break them, mold them into a demon to serve him. He remembered when they first appeared in Hell, life and ambition and a purely satisfied soul still clinging to them like a tantalizing perfume. He wanted to take that power and mold it to his desires. He wanted to own (Y/N), force all that power to its knees before him.

Claude licked his lips. He wanted them. (Y/N) would satisfy his every desire, body and non-existent soul.

Sebastian bowed to Ciel before leaving the Earl to his rest. It had been difficult to get Ciel to sleep, especially after the boy learned that Alois was the subject of his revenge (at least, that was the new story to get his soul to be complete). However, Sebastian had convinced him that revenge could be dealt with the following day when Alois wasn’t expecting it as much and Ciel had some time to plan.

Now, Sebastian walked through the halls to the servants’ quarters. He paused before (Y/N)’s room. He resisted but a moment before he knocked.

(Y/N) opened the door, and Sebastian’s thoughts stopped. Their gloves were gone, and their hair was undone, but that sinful dress still clung to their body, and that blood red still painted their lips.

All of Sebastian’s fantasies returned to him. He pushed into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. (Y/N) back up and sat on their bed as he approached. Sebastian leaned over them, eyes dark as one hand landed on the bed beside them, the other on their knee.

“Sebastian?” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, confused but unafraid of his movements. They trusted him not to hurt them.

Sebastian could have grinned at the trust (Y/N) had in him. But his thoughts…they weren’t exactly innocent. No, he wasn’t considering hurting them, but he was considering everything else. Sebastian’s hand moved up their knee, onto their thigh. It was just like his fantasies. Just slide up a bit farther, show them what they mean to me, show them they are temptation itself, show them they are the sin of lust incarnate that I wish to partake in.

“Do you know how much you tempt those around you?” murmured Sebastian, making eye contact with (Y/N).

“Isn’t that what you taught me?” (Y/N) cocked their head and raised an eyebrow. “Draw humans in with their desires?”

Sebastian’s mind flashed at the mention of desires. His hand slid up the slit of their dress, nearing the lacing at the top. “The problem is not humans.” Sebastian raised his hand, and his thumb traced over their bottom lip. Blood red lipstick was left on his pale thumb, and the image of that color patterning his skin (his neck, his chest, lower) flitted through his head.

(Y/N)’s breath caught as their own thoughts ran away from them. Sebastian leaned over them. If he just moved a little closer, his lips could be on theirs. Dear Satan, they wanted him to lean closer (to kiss them, to hold them, to touch, to take off their dress and show them if they tempted him).

“What is the problem, then?” they said, eyes lidded as they glanced at his lips and then his eyes.

“The problem is demons,” said Sebastian. Claude’s fantasies flitted into his mind. His eyes darkened at the image of Claude touching (Y/N).

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Demons?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked to their lips. “I don’t want demons to be tempted by you.”

“You don’t want them to be?” (Y/N) leaned forward.

“No. You are my friend. You are…dear to me,” said Sebastian. His eyes returned to meet their gaze. “And I don’t take kindly to other demons thinking they can have you.”

“Ah. Claude.” (Y/N) read his mind, knowing his tells far more than Sebastian realized.

Sebastian nearly growled at the mention of the demon. “He will not have you.”

“I wouldn’t want him to.” (Y/N) reached up and covered Sebastian’s hand on their face with their own. “I do not want him.” Not when I want you.

(Y/N)’s touch was too soft, too gentle when Sebastian’s head thrummed with thoughts of lust. Sebastian straightened and looked down at them as they sat on their bed.

“Good. Good,” said Sebastian. And before any more thoughts could flood through him, he turned and left (Y/N)’s bedroom.

Until Claude was unable to even think of coming near (Y/N), he was going to remain on edge. Not when another demon thought he could take them from Sebastian.

Inside their room, (Y/N)’s hand raised to their lips where he had traced them. They had been so close to getting what they wanted. Was it just his annoyance at Claude or was Sebastian really tempted? (Y/N) hoped it was the second.

After all, they had dressed up just for him—just for him to hopefully undress them.

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seeingteacupsindragons · 1 year

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Today, I bring you meta on a recurring motif in Yuukoku no Moriarty that is somewhat less heavy-handed than the Christ metaphors and the religion and the darkness and the light and the fire and the water.

Today, I bring you discussion about threads.

I’ll be honest, this one is hugely impacted by my desire to incorporate something similar into my current writing projects with intention, and thus I wanted to explore it. I suspect a lot of the things this discussion will touch on were unintentional, and some were not, and it’s a bit tangled up trying to figure out what was what. But it’s also true that I don’t know the authors, so I don’t know what was intentional and what they were hoping we’d noticed that they never commented on. I also think the fact that it appears to be in there anyway is interesting and thus worth commenting on it.

I suspect reading that this was about threads, most of your minds jumped to the red string of fate Sherlock says ties him to William. But the series uses it in a lot of pretty versatile ways, as it does with most things—the manga really likes reusing and repurposing elements, and I like that a lot. In fact, I think the series plays up the concept of reusing and repurposing things for new meanings.

So let’s start

There’s a recurring theme in the series of what, and who, is tied to what and who, connected to what, what beginning leads to what ending. We see it in Sherlock’s mind maps of crimes and the way he refers to being led to and led by William. We see Moran’s chains to his past being replaced wholly by William’s ties to him. We see discussions of who started what and what that lead to, and whether it was fate or something they caused and we see them being tied to their own past in atonement. We see thorny rose vines entangling characters up with each other.

The ties are causal, but they’re primarily relational: they’re what people feel stuck in and trapped by, and what they feel led by.

Most of these threads are tied, shall we say, to William. While he and his brothers are all represented as spiders in their family heraldry, William is certainly the master weaver at the center of it all who builds their web. And as he builds his plan and web throughout the London underground, he’s also creating his home and tying himself to his family: a spider’s web is more than just a trap for victims, and William’s plan is more than just self-sacrifice and murder.

So William attaches his sticky catching threads to all his beloved ones to keep them close to him, and at the same time freeing people from their chains to other people and ideas—and okay, chains aren’t threads, but they’re long tangly things, so close enough, okay?

And his spidery, webby threads turn into the curtain tassels to pull on for his play to reveal what he wants. They turn into puppet strings to lead people where he wants to dance for him as he pleases. He uses them as trick wires as the Lord of Crime to complete his purposes.

He uses them to lead, connect, bind, to control—but he doesn’t use them to kill.

William never hangs anyone. Never uses a garotte. He never kills anyone with string, a rope, thread, any of it. Yes, you could argue that those things are so hard to pass off as an accident…but so is beheading Baskervilles. So is bringing a gun to shoot Milverton. That doesn’t appear to be what strings are for to him. The strings seem to be more…well…him.

Sherlock sees that thread in William a lot.

When the image of spider webs and their prey tend to crop up, it’s usually in Sherlock’s musing about The Lord of Crime. He’s the first one to mention a thread leading him to William—that Red String of Fate. And, when he’s afraid that thread has snapped, he manages to snap the string of his violin. It’s a fun visual detail to ground the whole scene and bring it back to reality from his musing. It connects William’s play wires to Sherlock’s own artistic performances, in a way.

I also like that the snap brings an end to his playing, his musing, his song, his fun. Without that thread connecting him to William, everything sounds off and doesn’t work properly, and he’s not happy about it. Obviously, a violin string can be replaced, but the thread between two people can’t be so easily. But shortly after this, Sherlock and William get to revive their connection, too, and prove it still strong and the game still on and the dance still playing.

And, when Sherlock speaks to William at Milverton’s mansion, he vows to unravel William—like a spool of so much thread. Like the threads he uses to connect William’s crimes and mysteries to each other on a wall, like the threads that he brackets the Moriarty brothers together with. But William himself is caught in his own spiderweb, and Sherlock is going to free him from it, and in the process, unravel the core of who William is and what’s there underneath all the puffery and stage makeup.

Miyoshi did a “birthday” art piece for William the year that was all coming out that showed William with a red thread wrapped around his own neck, dangerous as anything else, and a motif in the first time it was confirmed by one of the creators themselves that it’s his false birthday and part of his Plan. I like that piece a lot for a lot of reasons, but that thread did look rather like a noose—a weapon he’s never used, but was about to strangle himself.

Sherlock’s statement to unravel William also a signifier that Sherlock has followed that red thread that connected them and realized he found a horrific knot strangling William up in it. Sherlock is no longer excited by the strings and threads: he wants them gone.

I think it’s interesting that in New York, when William finally feels ready to confront all these things about himself, he finally unwraps the last ties, the last thread on him—the bandages over his eye—and proceeds to tie himself to Sherlock metaphorically instead. His heart is finally untangled from the mess he trapped it in and he can bind it again properly, healthily, and with new purpose.

William and Sherlock’s new promise to each other doesn’t come with any discussion of threads or ties. William has left that behind now, and his bonds to other don’t need to be tangled up and restrictive. When Bond renamed themself, they didn’t have any images of threads, either, because their relationships with their friends and Sherlock’s side of the team was not caught up in such a complicated mess. And now, William finally has that freedom, too.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot #I feel like I mighta pulled some of this out of my ass this time #I tried not to

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 1 year

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Your Face Is Red (It's Not the Sunburn)

Summary: It's Summer, and you know what that means! Wearing your swimsuits to the lake, road trips with your classmates, and being trapped on top of your mortified crush's hard-on. I hope you packed an outfit that says 'sorry for making you accidentally cum'!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags/Themes: , Nagito Komaeda/Reader, Extra Shy and Nervous Komaeda, Mega-Virgin Komaeda, Humiliation Kink, Sub!Nagito, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Reader's Kind of Mean but Girlboss, Slight Exhibitionism, Roadtrip!, Non-Despair!AU

Content Warnings: Accidental Orgasm/Sex, Female Anatomy on Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Public Sex, Under-Negotiated/Accidental Kink, Accidental Sex

A/N: I can't stop writing bitchy, femdom reader and horny, nervous Nagito it's an affliction. Also, I came up with this in one night, this was supposed to be a drabble and I lost control like Two Bros lol. Also, I love mom friend Mahiru and dad friend Hajime *mwah*

Also (last one I promise) here are some more titles I came up with. They get worse as they go on:

Road Trip Travails (and Other Reasons to Pack Sunblock/Thank God for Sunscreen),

You're Really Hot (It's 90, Lose the Jacket),

Forecast Calls for Sunny Skies (And Bumpy Roads)

Get Your White, Sticky Cream on Me (I Forgot My Sunblock)

READ ON AO3

Nobody else had even wanted to sit next to Komaeda, much less on top of him. Being in half-heartedly concealed swimsuits only made it worse. The luggage overflowed onto the seat next to it, all the way in the back, so it meant that someone had to draw sticks. Whoever got the shortest would have to sit in the back next to it all. Nagito drew it with a rueful smile. However, by the time all the supplies were in, you all realized that you were short one more seat.

“We can’t have any more people up front, that’s way too dangerous.” Mahiru frowned.

“We’ve already got four people in the middle seats.” Hajime sighed.

“The back seats are pretty spacious.” Kazuichi shrugged, and it seemed everyone seemed to know what that meant within the same split second. You all turned to look at Komaeda. He was already looking at the floor, picking at a loose thread on the sleeves of his jacket he insisted on taking despite the baking summer sun. It had begun to slip off of him, slumping around his elbows like his bare shoulders in his underconfident stance.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. Kazuichi scoffed audibly. You all knew he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a sort of class trip, and you were urged by Chiaki. However, you were secretly grateful. You knew you’d be just as much of a pariah if you admitted the many friendly moments you had shared with him after classes and in empty hallways. Or how badly you were hoping he’d take off the shirt and let you rub sunscreen on him when you got there. You’d even caved and brought an extra bottle of the lotion kind with you. Just in case.

Around you, everyone had begun to squabble about who would be sitting in Komaeda’s lap. Hajime and Mahiru were already splitting the drive, Akane and Kazuichi were arguing about who between them was smaller (it was definitely Kazuichi), and Ibuki and Sonia weren’t much help. After a moment of this, you realized you were tired already, and the drive hadn’t even begun.

“Everybody shut the fuck up!” You shouted over them. “It’s fine, Komaeda can sit in my lap, can we just hurry up already!”

“Wh- wh- what?” Ibuki gasped, like some sort of DJ. “But Nagi-chan will totally crush you!”

“It’s true, you’re probably better off the other way around.” Hajime mused, clearly sizing you two up. You felt weirdly pleased about the admission.

“I know it must be disgusting to be so near me already,” Komaeda said. He couldn’t even meet your eye. You couldn’t tell if that pink flush on his face was from the sun, or the prospect of it all. ‘Mega-virg.’ You thought to yourself. “I wouldn’t want to be an encumbrance to top it off.”

“I literally don’t care! Just get in!” You groaned, shoving him towards the car. He gave a small yelp and clambered into the back ungracefully, your insistent hands forcing him forwards. He ended up wedged between the middle seats and luggage, stuck between them until you pulled him out with a massive sigh. You couldn’t have anyone think you were too eager for this, after all, least of all Komaeda. He was totally red by the time he was in, but now you knew it was from embarrassment. You slid in after him and sat down on his lap with no fanfare.

As you suspected, Komaeda’s legs were bony and slightly uncomfortable. You shifted, trying to find a spot where he didn’t dig into you, until you realized what you were doing.

“Sorry.” You shrugged, turning to glance back at him.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. He managed to continue to avert his gaze, even this close to you. As everyone else got in and got settled, he began to tug the seatbelt down.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” You caught his wrist and stopped him in the air. ‘It’s… pretty small.’ You couldn’t help thinking. “We’re already crammed in back here, I’m not having this thing choke me on top of it.”

“I understand, but, ah- my luck-” He stammered. He didn’t even move to free his hand. You decided to take pity on him.

“Fine, whatever. But we gotta adjust so this thing isn’t bothering me the whole time.” You didn’t wait for a response before you were pulling the seatbelt on, and moving around on his lap trying to find a better spot. You ended up pressed front to back, his chin having to rest on your shoulder as you leaned against him. ‘At least this is comfy. I wonder if he’ll say anything? Pfft, yeah, right. Human doormat Komaeda Nagito complaining about getting cozy with an Ultimate. I’m surprised he hasn’t creamed his pants yet.’ “There, that’s better.” Sure enough, when you looked back up at him, his eyes were wide and nervous but he didn’t seem unhappy.

“I- um-”

“Alright, everybody ready to head out?” Mahiru asked from the front seat. Akane and Kazuichi cheered way too loud for such a confined space. “Cool, let’s hit the road then.” She nudged Hajime and he pulled out of the parking space.

In front of you, they rolled the windows down as they sang along to the radio, chatted, and laughed away. You and Komaeda, on the other hand, were quiet. He seemed content looking out the window and listening, though you supposed it wasn’t like he could do much else. You put in your earbuds and listen to your own music while you scrolled through your phone.

You didn’t notice the road becoming progressively bumpier until one jolt caused you to knock one of your earbuds out.

“What the fuck guys, where are we driving? Pre-civilization?” You groused.

“I told Hinata to take the regular road.” Mahiru half-sang. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the focused scowl on Hajime’s face everyone knew him by.

“This ways a short cut! I’ve taken it a million times! We’ll get there thirty minutes earlier-” Another bump cut him off.

“Woah!” Ibuiki giggled. “It’s like a roller-coaster!”

“It’s not that bad!” Hajime protested. The bumps eventually calmed down, but the road was still rough. As you drove along it, you could feel the way the uneven path jostled the car. Soon you had to put down your phone and quiet your earbuds so you wouldn’t get carsick.

Everyone else had similarly calmed down. While they still chatted within the rows, the whipping air and hum of the drive were too loud to hear much between them at all. You could barely make out the pop song from the speakers in the middle row. Only twenty minutes into the hour-long drive, but you resigned yourself to looking out the window as time passed.

It was at the next larger bump that you realized something was up with Komaeda.

As you bounced a bit on his lap, you could have sworn you heard the smallest whimper come from him, more a squeak than anything. It sounded pained, and you almost apologized, until a thought crossed your mind. You gave no hint you’d noticed anything as you stretched and shifted on his lap, scooting your hips closer to his-

It was just as you’d suspected. At some point, Komaeda had gotten completely hard.

You almost moaned out loud with the realization. The rush of arousal was so sudden it almost stunned you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you forced yourself not to move at all on top of it, no matter how badly you wanted to begin grinding against him. ‘Holy fuck, he’s hard, he’s hard, he’s hard. What do I do? Do I say something? Would that make it more awkward? What a pervert! Is he getting off on this?’ You looked at his expression out of the corner of your eye, expecting to find him looking down at you already, that filthy look he got on his face when he began to ramble or something similar. But he was staring quite hard out the window at nothing in particular. The muscles in his jaw were clenched. You finally noticed how rigid he was under you, and realized you hadn’t heard Komaeda be silent for this long ever. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

‘Aww, poor thing. He’s hoping I won’t notice. Too bad.’ With no further hesitation, you arched your hips back into him hard, leaning your torso onto the backs of the seats in front of you. You had positioned your pussy right against his dick, knowing he’d feel even more heat now through the thin layers of your swimsuits. Komaeda gasped, the pretty noise torn from his lips with the move. The car’s ride made the seat practically vibrate, and each second bounced you on his lap even as you sat completely still. You could feel his cock twitch and throb with the new feeling. You were glad nobody could see your face, because you worried you’d start drooling soon.

“You okay?” You asked casually, taking the opportunity to look directly at him. His hand was by his mouth. You were sure he’d begun to bite down on it.

“Mhm.” He managed a shaky smile despite his heavy breathing. He even gave a weak thumbs up. You noticed the bite marks in the flesh between his thumb and pointer finger at once. He was so preoccupied with hiding his… condition that he didn’t even seem to notice you’d already found out, or suspect your teasing at all.

“Mmkay. Let me know if anything gets uncomfy.” You turned back to the front and dropped the calm mask at once. The position had him grinding just as hard against your clit. You knew your bottoms were going to be soaked through. You continued in the same silence, though now you had something new to focus on: keeping your breath even as you noticed every move he made. His other hand was curled into a fist by his thigh so tight his knuckles had gone white. His foot was tapping rapidly against the floor. After just a couple more minutes, he had begun to let out a choked sort of sigh with every turn, shift, or movement. For all the hums and nonverbal noises he usually made, it was clear he was doing his best to be completely silent and not disturb you. The idea of him trying to be so good while he was hard and probably aching and humiliated under you almost made you give yourself up.

When your back got tired, you leaned back up against him. Your bodies were now flush with each other. You felt his heart hammering against his chest. Each labored breath of his was now right against your ear. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder and watched his fingers sort of spasm. You had to give it to him, if you weren’t so busy thinking about each new dirty item that had replaced your previous mental vacation itinerary during the ride, you would have certainly given yourself away. If you had been distracted the whole time, or maybe didn’t know what a hard-on felt like, you likely wouldn’t have noticed the weird behavior.

“Ah- um- (F/N)?” His trembling hands tapped your thigh gently. ‘Look at how bad he’s forgotten himself! Addressing me by my first name- he’d never do that. How absolutely precious!’ “I- I- Could, um, could you-”

“Hmm? Oh, do you want me to-” You shifted on your seat once more. This time, you turned yourself to the side as much as you could, your knees pressed up against the luggage. His hard on pressed into your bare thigh. You could see his face like this, petrified and desperate. He’d begun to sweat just a bit. ‘He’s so gross.’ You thought lovingly, your eyes tracing a bead of it down his too-prominent Adam’s apple and past his sharp, pale collarbones. He held his hands up, as if terrified to touch you anymore. “It’s alright.” You lowered them for him, one onto the seat by his leg and your ass, the other on your leg. “There, that better?”

His expression made it clear that the answer was yes, and he wanted to die about it.

“Well, I, uh-” His nose scrunched with another bump. One hand was now pulling at your clothes, the other gripping your upper thigh. He didn’t even seem to notice anymore. You finally gave in. He looked like he was going to combust or faint. Your careful mask melted at once into a knowing smile as you shushed him softly. He seemed entranced as you straightened up to bring your mouth as close to his ear as you could get it.

“You don’t want them to know too, do you?” You murmured. A strangled moan caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” He mewled, giving up all pretenses at once. He squirmed under you, hips stuttering up as he ground against you in pathetic, jerky, inexperienced movements. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” His voice spilled from his swollen, bitten lips, and his eyes were shut tight. Even his torso curled into yours, his head bowed down by yours. There was no warning but a deep inhale before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and his cock twitched against you in time with his hummingbird heartbeat as he spilled his orgasm into his shorts.

He shuddered as you began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly, cradling him against yourself. You wanted to shush his remaining noises, to tell him he did a good job, to call him yours and coo at how pretty he was, but the moment felt too delicate, too precarious-

The blaring sound of the horn made you both jump at once.

“CHIAKI-CHAN!” Mahiru shouted out the open window at the cabin you approached. “WE’RE HERE!”

Akane and Ibuki cheered. Kazuichi hopped over several laps in his rush to get out, holding his stomach like he was going to be sick. Sonia clapped and thanked Hajime like he was her personal driver before sliding out delicately. Hajime yawned and shook his head to clear his drowsiness as he got out. Mahiru folded up the map they hadn’t used and tucked it into the dashboard. Before you knew it, they had forgotten both the two of you and the luggage as they greeted everyone else there.

“They left the seats up.” You scowled out the window to no avail.

“Oh, I, uh, think I can do it from here!” Komaeda said, too eager to be of help. He unbuckled the seat belt and began to reach over you.

“Wait, no let me just-” You tried to get off of him the best you could to give him room to pull the latch that would lower the seats and let you out.

“Sorry! I think I can-”

“It’s okay, but you-”

“Do you think you could-”

“Ow! Your jacket is caught-”

“Ah!”

“Fuck!”

In a tumble of limbs, the seats came down all at once and the two of you fell back onto them and into each other painfully. You had just opened your eyes again after the crash as the door opened, blinding you once more with the bright sun.

“Hey! What were you two doing back there?” Kazuichi squawked. When you could see again, you realized the position the two of you had landed in. One of Komaeda’s arms was trapped under your back, pressing your faces just inches away from each other’s, and your foot had gotten caught in the handle of a suitcase behind you, wrapping your leg around his waist. Komaeda was only holding himself up with the arm he’d caught himself with, the rest of him pressed up against you.

“I- It’s not-” You stammered as more and more eyes of your classmates had turned towards you at Kazuichi’s accusatory voice.

“How shameful my luck must be for you.” Komaeda sighed, already pulling himself up. “Don’t be silly, Soda-kun, nobody would allow me to disgrace them in such a way.” He chuckled and shook his head at the prospect as he got out. “I’m just too incompetent to even get us out of the car. Such a simple task, and yet-”

“Ugh, god, shut up! You’re right, I’d be an idiot to think anyone would do that sort of thing with you.” Kazuichi looked disgusted.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” You snapped at him, grateful for the new target Komaeda had supplied you with. “You’re such a pervert, Soda!” You made sure to say it louder than necessary, making everyone’s gaze turn toward him instead.

“Eewww, Pervuichi’s at it again!” Hiyoko cried, always happy to pull out one of her nicknames.

“They wouldn’t have been trapped like that if you’d remembered to let them out!” Mahiru scolded him. “You were in the middle, you should have been the last one out!”

“Huh? What? Wait!”

As squabbling picked up once more, reminding you of how you had entered the car, Komaeda extended his hand with a smile. His other hand held his jacket by his stomach, over his front. You felt much more grateful for the eyesore. Nobody noticed as you rummaged around for your backpack or when you finally tugged a surprised Komaeda away with a mischievous smile.

“C’mon, let’s head down to the lake already. We’re gonna need an excuse for being all wet already.” You laughed as he nodded quickly in response, until his face fell.

“We’ll have to be quick, unfortunately, my skin burns quite easily-”

“Whoo-hoo!” To his confusion, you gave a cheer at that. ‘Thank you Summer gods! Thank you SPF 100+!’ “Don’t even worry, you have no idea how prepared I am for this. Best vacation ever!”

#nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #dr #dr2 #your face is red #its not the sunburn #i should make a better tagging system #oh well #bunnywrites

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not-that-dillinger · 2 years

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[🔪:] Alan stared at Ed, his face pale. He staggered backwards, jot sure if he should call the police or try and hear the younger programmer out. His hands trembled, and he could hear his heart thrumming in his head.

He should've screamed. He should've called for help. Instead he stared into Ed's eyes, desperate for an answer.

"Why?"

[From the "send 🔪 to encounter my muse after they've just killed someone" meme. Doesn't need to be a thread if you dont want it to be, I just thought the angst would be spicey]

Ed stared at the corpse. He felt... nothing. Not... vindication, not anger, not grief or... anything.

His eyes flicked first toward the child backing away down the alley into the dark street, curly blonde hair sticking out from under a plastic viking helmet. Ed dropped the shard of glass that had been digging into his hand. He didn't even remember picking it up, but there were several other bottles littering the street, so he must have grabbed one.

Was that his blood or...

The glass shattered loudly in the too silent street.

"Beo, I..." Ed started weakly. He'd promised both of them he would never expose Beo to violence. Not after everything e'd already endured.

The child turned and ran, disappearing into the dark.

Ed didn't dare chase after Beowulf. E wasn't safe with him anymore. He had no right to take care of Petra's child after what he'd done.

Ed sank to the ground, his body aching from the abuse he'd endured in the fight. He wasn't a fighter, he had no experience or training in martial arts or street fighting, but when he'd seem that man, drunk and pinning Beo to the wall with a predatory look in his eyes, when he heard the things he said he'd do... Ed snapped.

Ed could feel the gash in his side, his shirt sticky-hot and plastered to his side. That would need stitches, if not surgery.

The state was going to take custody of Beo since Ed was clearly violent and unfit to take care of a child. Or at the very least while the investigation was going on.

He turned to Alan, finally registering that he was there. He knew he could trust Alan to take care of Beowulf, even if he hated the idea of burdening Alan with a kid he probably didn't want. He turned to him with a desperate look on his face. "Please... Look after Beowulf for me. E has no other place to go right now..."

#tw death #tw child abuse implied #tw csa implied #the last one didn't actually get to that point but it's implied that was the intent #OUCH SORRY #...I was about to send you this one ;D #Guess you beat me too it

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gunpowdersyrup · 1 year

Text

aditi hilli's musings about her son and the moment he might have died

Your son is a beautiful wonder, a mess of eagerness and curiosity. His hands shape whatever you give him with awe, over and over again. Metal gives way like clay, sunset dyes stain stubby fingers. He laughs until his breath runs out and lets you coax it back for him with starry-eyed love. He leaves fruit-sticky prints on your skirts and gifts you lumpy buttons made of wire. When the world grows too quiet for him and his hands start to flutter like panicked birds, you steady them around the handle of a gun and listen to him talk until his voice is nothing but a happy, croaking mess.

You love him dearly, with every bit that he mirrors you, with every way that he mirrors his father. You love him wholly, mess and noise and blessings and all.

Your son isn’t awake when you breathe your last. You run one final caress over his cheek, one final kiss to his forehead where his head rests by cold hands. Your husband weeps, and you leave to dance amidst cherry and jurda blossoms.

Sometimes, you weave through stones to brush at spilling tears in the shade of your tree. Sometimes you laugh and hope that it carries to the kneeling figures above your grave. Sometimes, you watch your husband and son in the fields, their cracks full of festering grief and their hands infecting each other with rotting fear.

It hurts, so you never watch them for long—just long enough to feel your own grief at the way your two loves lock all your favourite parts of them up until their insides resemble a tomb; until they become grey shadows, broken and bent out of shape things in a house far too silent. It hurts, so you make sure not to add yourself to the ghosts they make of themselves.

Instead, you turn your eyes to the weave of fate spun out all around you. You brush curious hands over it. You let yourself drift.

Then, your son chokes. Your son chokes and your chest aches with phantom pain. No, you think, hands already wrapping themselves in the fabric of the universe to pull it apart. No. Your son chokes and his breath stutters. There is a poisonous thread wrapped around his lungs, pulling tight enough that you feel your own death for the first time in years. No.

He will not suffer your fate. He is a small, beautiful, broken thing, even now that he would stand as tall, if not taller, than you. He is beautiful, broken, a wonder, and you won’t let him find his way back into your arms like this. Not like this.

He chokes on the floor in a land he’s never stepped foot in before. You reach out and pull.

When it’s all done, when your words have painted his face with tears and his heart has cracked open between your palms, something that is not poison pulls at his back. His lips stain with blue dust. He clings to you like he used to, on the farm whose phantom image you both stand in. Your skirt stains with fruit, with gunpowder, with shifting dyes beneath a child’s desperate fingers. He clings, with grief and fury and so much goodness. So much love. You smile at him, press your lips to his forehead one final time, reach out and push.

He wakes, gags. His breath returns. Metal shifts beneath his frantic hands, and eventually gives way.

He’s alive.

Your son is a beautiful, broken thing. He is noisy, a mess that leaves stains with little care. He is a wonder.

He is alive to fill his cracks up with new clay, and you trust him that he will.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #aditi hilli #jesper fahey #soc #on aditi hilli grabbing her son at the moment where their dying moments intersect #on aditi hilli making the universe give her one moment with her dying son #yeah so im still thinking about jesper's hallucination what about it <3 #atlaswriting #poetry #spilled ink #writerblr

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marslovesdaisies · 1 year

Text

Look what you made me do || P.S.H

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Minors do not interact.

WC: 2.6k

Pairing: Mafia! Seonghwa x Mafia!OC

Warnings: Death, murder, violence, gaslighting, manipulation, mafia themes, weapons, angst, gore, eventual smut.

A/N: The question isn't am I late or am I late. It's what are you gonna do about it?

Chapter 3

2 years ago:

I had blood on my hands.

I could vaguely feel its stickiness gently running down my fingertips, like some sort of forgotten, korean version of lady macbeth. Though I didn't know who hated it more, me or her. A small voice inside me said it had to be her, she most likely did not know just how heavy the price of a life is. As if I did, I mused. I had thought I had. I had paid it regardless.

I numbly walked out of the hotel room and brought myself to find the bathroom ensuite. Purely mechanical movements got the water running. I washed the pigment off, rubbing my skin till it was redder than the blood. I registered feet shuffling outside the door and a knock. "Boss, should we clear out? The work here is done." I let a second pass. "Yes." "As you wish." With that, he walked off and muffled orders were now audible, no doubt to the others outside. The words as you wish kept playing in my head like a broken record, an irony that refused to leave me alone. As you wish. It really was as I wished it in this city, wasn't it? I had always loved to play god. I got off on the thrill of infallibility it brought me. Of course, my fall was long. And if matters were any indication, I was yet to hit the ground. I hardly tried to stop the shudder that went through me at the thought. Images of crashed skulls and swollen bones kept flashing through my mind, but the face wasn't mine. I retracted my hands, the automatic tap turning off. I dried them and opened the door.

The room was empty save for the smell of disinfectant. I walked to the entrance, my uncle's men all waiting for me to exit. None of them spoke a word to each other as I marched on and out of the suite, them following some distance behind. "Jihun." I called out his name without looking back. "Keep this under the covers. Exclude it out of your report to my uncle or father. If he asks, I was out moping." "Whatever you say." And there it was again. Words that usually stroked my fragile ego into contentment had the opposite effect today. They made my hackles rise, if anything. "Leave the twins behind with me." Jihun, the man this group of people answered to grunted his acknowledgement. We parted ways at the main foyer of the hotel, Jihun's group heading to the parking lot and my steps turning towards the main entrance, the twins following.

I threaded through the throng silently, the buzzing nightlife of the city greeting me and the two men accompanying behind. The twins, Daesung and Daewon tailed me often, so my asking for them to stay wouldn't increase my father's already uncountable worries. They were both lithe, dressed casually to blend in.

"Get two cars. I'm driving myself back later." I got along well with the twins. They were battle hardened, years of military service and habit of discipline obvious. Both specialized in close range combat, but were decent marksmen too. Physically, they were in their late twenties but death had aged their mind. They moved silently, didn't ask questions and had no issue omitting things I asked from their reports to my family. Unlike Jihun, who I was sure would last a week before his sense of loyalty made him confess everything he previously hadn't once shit hit the roof. The twins moved as a unit, and anyone hardly ever used their individual names. They were simply the twins.

Two minutes later, I heard heard two cars coming towards me. I got into the first without looking. It was Daesung. He kept his eyes on the road, the radio connected to his younger brother's car 2 metres behind. "Where to?" Daewon asked, the red blink of the radio coming to life. I thought the question over. Where did I want to be now? Definitely not home. Not in my penthouse either. Currently silence scared me more than my mother did. "Wherever there's life." I sighed.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing in front of a party. Some daddy's princess was having her 21st birthday bash, and the noise was almost deafening. I knew this bar and I knew the girl, though only barely. I had no intentions of gatecrashing, so I entered the gates without attaching my tab to her bill. I didn't drink either way.

The lone chairs were scarce, and lone tables nonexistent. The twins followed suit, getting to keep their weapons after a hushed discussion with the security and pointing a finger at me. Understanding the situation, he let them in.

The bar, Perles D'argent was a rare french investment on this road otherwise lined up with buildings owned by various Korean families from the underworld. The investors and owners both had formal relations with all of us, which made it a neutral venue. Both Daesung and Daewon took their places in the crowd, seemingly deciding to enjoy their nights because I sure as hell wasn't in the mood. They immediately turned heads in their direction as they went, their height and build drawing attention to them. I gave Daewon a knowing look, and he just shrugged with a half smile. I shook my head in return. My mother had always liked the twins, especially the younger one. She had once tried to set us up. Daewon had been horrified, not used to my mother's matchmaking endeavors. He had avoided me for a week later. I hardly felt sorry for him though.

In reality, I had asked the twins to follow only because I knew that would buy me more time till Jihun ran his mouth. He trusted his two subordinates and probably thought I was sleeping with one of the brothers. It usually played into my favor as people didn't enquire further when I asked for the twins, and both of them knew it.

I snagged an empty stool from a leaving patron and dumped myself unceremoniously on it. My mind had stopped registering my surroundings hours ago, the static of numbness the only sound I heard. My head was pounding. A lone shake of my head had the bartender look elsewhere. The day had been tough and my body ached without actually feeling pain. I was completely content with silently shutting every thought out and ignoring everything going wrong in my life, when I took a fleeting glance at the bar's occupants.

I saw him then.

Lee Jong In, sitting at a corner table, surrounded by two blondes and a brunette with his head resting in the blonde's lap. Completely oblivious to what was taking place in our city. There must have been a world record for the speed with which one could see red, and it must have had my name on it.

I was off the stool and walking in his direction without second thought. A hand grabbed me from nowhere and my temper soared, already having slipped twice in eight hours. It was one of the twins, who had followed my gaze and figured out where I was going.

"Leave me." I seethed at Daewon. His grip only tightened in response, dragging me out of the noise and into a less crowded place. " Let me go, soldier. You do not call the shots here." The younger twin didn't even blink.

"Iseul. You're far from in your right mind. Don't do something you'll regret in a week." A laugh escaped my throat at that, cruel and mirthless. "We're 72 hours too late for that, don't you agree?" His jaw tightened and he let go of my hand.

"Will it make you feel better?"

"Absolutely."

His expression said he knew I was lying, but he didn't say it. Instead, a snap of his fingers and Daesung was with us, looking at his brother and then at me, then back to his brother and finally towards the man that had started this conversation, now lapping at the brunette's shoulder. It clearly disgusted Daesung as well, because his expression soured instantly.

"What do you want to do?" "I want him to suffer," I looked at my hand, ghosts of the blood I had washed off still making it feel warm. "And I want him gone."

"That is hardly a call in your paygrade, Iseul." "Gone." I repeated with finality. The twins sighed in exasperation, Daewon running a hand through his dark hair. Daesung pulled his brother aside, clearing a path for me. "You know we have your back, right?" I nodded my head. What people didn't know was that I was friends with these two. Their loyalty was primarily with me, and my uncle or father second.

"We'll clean up after you. Just don't dig a bigger hole than you already have, Lin." He didn't need to remind me just how big a mess I had orchestrated, I wasn't forgetting it anytime soon. Still, with that warning echoing between the three of us, I made my way towards the shitty excuse of a man and a shittier father whose innocent son's blood I could still feel on my hands even hours later. And it was all his fault.

My mess could be dealt with tomorrow.

4 hours later:

I unlocked my car and got in. The party had long since finished, and I was far from the city. Lee Jong In was gone, a wet, soggy bed he had made for himself. The twins were gearing up to leave, their shared car behind mine.

A screen lighting up had me reaching inside the cup holder, my phone showing a power low reminder. I hadn't checked it for more than a day, I realized. I unlocked it, simply because I had nothing else to do. I had a series of texts that I ignored, but the latest two names were the only ones that actually mattered.

Wooyoung: Iseul call me back. [today, 2:02pm]

Wooyoung: WHAT THE HELL LIN [today, 1:32pm]

Wooyoung: Lin this better be a fucking joke [today, 1:29pm]

Few from San, minutes prior to his friend's texts.

San: You're. fucking. dead. [today, 1:23pm]

San: SHOW YOUR FACE. I DARE YOU. [today, 1:23pm]

San: Iseul, I am going to ask once. Where is she. [today, 1:17pm]

San: You're sick in the head. Fucking sick. You and your fucking need to control everything like the self-absorbed shit you act like [yesterday, 11:30pm]

Wooyoung: WHAT KIND OF A SHITTY PERSON ARE YOU??!!? [yesterday, 3:45pm]

Wooyoung: YOU BURIED HER??? [yesterday, 3:44pm]

Wooyoung: You have 23 missed call(s) from this user [received yesterday, 12:24pm]

San: You have 87 missed call(s) from this user [received today, 9:40 pm]

Wooyoung: Last call(s)- today, 6:14pm

San: Last call(s)-today, 9:00am

Every text was more desperate than the last, and my heart ached some more with every word I read. I didn't know if she would have forgiven me. The one person I had done all of this for. Someone whose secret I would die protecting, especially from Choi San. And someone she had now left behind, someone I would love enough for both of us.

Distractedly, I scrolled up some more. The older messages didn't even make sense, gibberish strung together by no doubt shaking hands. I closed the chat midway, not wanting to read further. It was no use anyway. Choi San may have loved my best friend, but this was my call to make. I switched the device off and threw it back in the cup holder. The gates of the cemetery outside glinted like a sharp knife, and I was tempted to get out of my car to see if it actually did draw blood. I deserved that pain at least. It would serve as a good reminder of my mortality.

My head leaned against the steering wheel, eyes closing for some time. The thought of the incident which had started these three days of absolute horror refusing to now stay suppressed in my head. My hands had started shaking on the sides of the steering wheel and I could feel the salty tears lining my eyelids as I opened them again, now freely flowing which I had held in for a long time.

Mirah was my gentle half. My closest friend. My confidante. The only one who kept me in line, my everything. And now she was gone.

I had buried my now dead best friend less than 24 hours ago.

Present:

"Then why don't we start by you telling us what exactly happened between you and Lee Jong In's son two years ago?"

Seonghwa's question echoed through the room as he himself lounged on the chair, relaxed and looking totally in control.

"Why do you care?"

"Answer the question, Lin. I am not a patient man."

I gritted my teeth. Who did he think he was? "Listen, Park. I don't know what you want. I don't want to know what you want. I don't know what Lee Jong In wanted when he sent me that invitation. I have no idea what happened to his son," I took a look at everyone in the room. "And I am not going to speak a single word or answer any further questions before I get out of this chair. So spare me this stupid display of power. I want no part in whatever game you are trying to start."

He stared me dead in the eye for what felt like an eternity. "Twenty minutes. I will give you twenty minutes to gather your bearings before my man escorts you."

"The way I see it, you want information that only I can provide. So, Mr. Park," I leaned forward, tone completely serious. "I would be far more accommodating to me than you are currently being. "

He didn't even dignify my outburst with a response, he gracefully got up from his chair like it was some throne, buttoned his suit and left the room without a glance in long strides. I watched him go with hooded eyes, massaging my wrists and running my hands through my hair in an effort to civilize them. Yunho and Mingi left next, the latter saying something in a hushed voice.

I got up on shaky legs, steadying myself against the chair as I buttoned my shirt, the hints of a tattoo on my torso that Seonghwa had been staring at vanishing underneath as I finished dressing. San's furious expression had turned into unreadable, Wooyoung nudging him to move with his own jaw clenched. Kang's face was closed off as usual as he averted his eyes to give me privacy. I scoffed internally. He had my phone casually in his pocket while he offered slivers of mercy to me, acting like some Victorian gentleman.

"Iseul."

Kim Hongjoong was still inside, his expression one of contemplation. I raised my brow at him.

"Have you met Seonghwa before?" Huh. I met his question with silence as I started to walk out. His extended hand stopped me, but his expression was what made me want to find out more. "I know who he is." I said to him after a pause, not understanding what he meant by his question. He nodded, making way for me to leave.

Hongjoong fell into some silent discussion with Yeosang, and I took the opportunity to get out of the room. The guard near the door immediately fell into step ahead of me.

With a forlorn sigh and resignation in my bones, I followed the man to whatever grave I had dug for myself with this man.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: This is shorter than I would have liked, but I didn't want to end it on some lame note. Happy reading!

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lgcmanager · 7 months

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TRAINEE MISSION 015

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER ( PART 1 OUT OF 1 ) SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: Cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise. for reference as to whether your muse is eligible for this event, please click over HERE.

on MONDAY, OCTOBER 9, all of the trainees congregated to the auditorium where they met with SEO YOUNGJAE and KWON SOYI once again. “hello everyone,” the coach greeted all of them. “with the year coming to an end, many of your fellow colleagues and sunbaes will be busy with all of their schedules which leaves me with all of you.” YOUNGJAE stares at them momentarily before proceeding to talk more about this term’s mission. “and during chuseok, i had an idea that we’re hoping will help all of you. to educate many of you in korean culture, we’ve decided that we will be modifying the training schedule to teach you this. not having any bit of knowledge in this area can lead one into sticky situations and we don’t want that happening here.”

the two coaches then explain in-depth the changes to their training schedule. every SATURDAY until the end of the year, their SATURDAY schedule will be replaced with something different.

for the months of OCTOBER and NOVEMBER, half of their SATURDAY will be spent learning the history of some of the traditional korean games while the latter half will be playing those said games in smaller groups. listed below would be what the trainees will be learning each week:

OCTOBER 14: YUTNORI

OCTOBER 21: TUHO

OCTOBER 28: TOP-SPINNING

NOVEMBER 4: JEGICHAGI

NOVEMBER 11: JULDARIGI

NOVEMBER 18: SSEIREUM

NOVEMBER 25: KITE FLYING

then on DECEMBER 2, everyone will be split into smaller groups ( female junior group, female senior group, male junior group, male senior group ) where they will be filmed educational videos teaching viewers ( both domestic and international ) the history behind these games and how to play them.

here are the groups and who will be teaching what game:

FEMALE JUNIOR GROUP: TOP-SPINNING

FEMALE SENIOR GROUP: JEGICHAGI

MALE JUNIOR GROUP: SSEIREUM

MALE SENIOR GROUP: KITE FLYING

all of the videos will be posted on the tourism korea youtube channel and will be released starting from DECEMBER 23 to JANUARY 2.

WRITING REQUIREMENTS

TRADITIONAL KOREAN GAMES: write a 300+ word solo or 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines ) thread with another trainee about anything related to the saturday schedule assigned to them ( ex. learning the history behind the games, playing the games, etc. ) for +8 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +2 NOTORIETY ! ** can be done up to two times as long as it is with different partners. if you choose to do this up to two times and want to write a solo, only one of them can be a solo. the other one must be a thread **

EDUCATIONAL VIDEOS: write a 4 replies ( minimum 8 lines ) thread with another trainee from the same training group about filming the video about the game that they’re assigned to for +6 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +4 NOTORIETY !

REFLECTION: write a 250+ headcanon post about your muse and what they’ve learned during this experience. for this post, it must include at least one game that they would have enjoyed playing ( or was their strength ) and one game that they enjoyed the least and reasons behind both of those choices ( you can include more games or describe how your muse was with all of the games listed ). completing this will earn you +5 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE !

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:traineemission for the tasks. you have until JANUARY 6, 2024 at 11:59PM EST to complete the requirements and validate your points. please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog.

MUSE NAME ∙ TRAINEE MISSION 015 - TRADITIONAL KOREAN GAMES: +8 ( skill points distribution ), +2 notoriety [ LINK ] ** can be done up to two times ** - EDUCATIONAL VIDEOS: +6 ( skill points distribution ), +4 notoriety [ LINK ] - REFLECTION: +5 ( skill points distribution ) [ LINK ]

#lgc:event #lgc:traineemission #lgc:q42023

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morgansmornings · 11 days

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SHIPPING INFO /

/ Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. Don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

@brooklynislandgirl While I have gone on to the point of endless circles about how Jayden loves Beth. It is more than a love of being friends. There is such a deep connection, may be not soul-mate status, but close enough that if it were true, then I would have no reason to argue against it. They are a close as they can get as friends, as family, and more. Beth and Jay were created, on paper with pens and pencils, sticky notes and yarn to connect the dots. Looking a lot like a conspiracy board to outsiders. But Turtle and I spent a solid six months, if not more, working out details of the girls' lives and how they fit together with each other. Across different verse and timelines. How they know that the other will be there when all hope is lost and there is nothing left but each other.

All of my ships are near and dear to me. To know that there are those out there that are putting in the time and effort like I am to make the Ship, no matter what shape it takes, to work. I can't give specifics as to why one is greater than another when the reality is that I see them all as stars in my night sky of written words.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

It would be easier to state what I will not write when it comes to shipping. Meaning I will NOT write things like Non-Con, Age Play, Daddy/Mommy Kinks and closely related themes to the listed ones. I refuse for many reasons that do not need explanation further than I'm just not going to do it.

The Following are Available if the Muns are friends for at least Six Months and are consenting to: Dub-Con could only come up as a suggested plot if I have written with you over a regular basis and that we talk near constant OOC. Toxic and Negative Ships can be brought up provided that we the Muns have a healthy understanding and plot it out over several weeks.

Sex and BDSM topics can be talked about after two months of OOC of conversation. Or if we the Muns feel comfortable enough with each other to talk about such things. But that is a preference of mine.

That being said, I am open to most types of shipping from romantic, to friendship, to familial, and even frenemies. With the clear statement being that, and let me say it loudly for those in the back of the auditorium, COMMUNICATION IS KEY!

For me to be able to write out certain things, I need to know where my partner is at. I will check in with them at every reply, ask questions to the point it might feel like an interrogation to the outside the thread. If it becomes clear that the ship is starting to harm or make my RP Partner uncomfortable, I need them to be honest with me and I will terminate that specific ship and all threads relating to it.

I am not here to get my jollies at the risk of my partner's; mental, emotional, and physical health. Nothing is worth hurting another human being for.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

Age gaps do not really bother me so long as again, We Communicate. I do prefer the Muse in question to be over 21 as I am not going to even pretend to enter the Underage thing. It honestly creeps me out now that I am older in real life. I get a few years, but after they are approaching being about five years younger than Jay is where I draw a hard line.

Are you selective when shipping?

I have to say that I am to a certain point. I like the semi-realism of watching Muses meet, grow and interact. Seeing that relationship develop and blossom gives the Ship a certain fondness for me. Something I can look back on and go "Yeah, that was the moment it became something real." I have stated that I am a slow-burn kind of girl, but that doesn't mean we can't plot the past and jump into an established friendship.

I am open to figuring out pre-established romantic relationships, so long as it is not fresh following each other. I need to know you a bit more than a name and a "hey baby, how you doin'" if that's okay.

I will be honest, unless I have known the Mun for a spell and it is something that we have plotted for, Jayden is not going to just drop her panties and say please within the first ten minutes. That is something that I don't feel right about as I think it betrays who she is as a person. Yes, she is an OC of canon characters from a show. But she is more than her parents. She belongs to no one, except maybe Beth and even then Jay does not always listen. She can make her own choices.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

Personally, I like to stick to T.V. standards. If it would be considered rate R, then of course I am going to tag it as such. But for me, I like to take it somewhere more private if the Scene goes to Third Base. Mostly because A) I do not have a lot of experience with writing for the public, and B) It takes days if not weeks to make sure that I am follow where my fellow Mun wants to take things.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

I have several ships that I will go down with. But I understand that life happens. To list them all would keep us here for several hours. And even then I would feel like it wouldn't do the Ships justice. Because I love them all in different ways.

For those standing Ships, it takes a weight off my soul to know that my mutual Muns have taken the time to chip away the near indestructible wall of Jayden's exterior personality to get to that soft gooey center. That they can see she has flaws and still choose to love her on purpose. No matter what that love is.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?,

Don't get me wrong, I would like a head's up that it is something you, the Mun asking, is interested in. If it happens by accident, that is awesome. I'll be fair and honest, unlike my Muse, I am in real life oblivious to people flirting and the associated actions. So if you are subtle about it, I won't see it. And my goal is to not intentionally hurt someone because I was "Madam Not Getting the Hint."

And if I am asked, then I have a better grasp of what direction we want these stories to go. And yes it will change how my Muse interacts with yours.

How often do you like to ship?

I am not looking to force anyone into anything. As it has been a very large Issue in the RPC. Only getting followed for sex and nothing else just isn't my cup of tea. Not to say that you can't do that, I'm just respectfully bowing out of that.

I want us to know each other, to be able to be friends before putting a label on what our Muses are. But I would like to hope that our Muses could have at least and "I tolerate you" and "I would save you from being on fire" kind of ship.

Are you multiship?

I am. Each ship is in their own bubble pocket universes and timelines. Think of them as Pants of Time. There are two choices, and each one taken changes that timeline differently.

That is not to say that I can't enjoy watching other relationships come into being. Even if there are multiple crossover verses with several Muns, UNLESS TALKED ABOUT BEFORE HAND, there is very little butting into someone else's relationships. There is no "Oh my God, Becky you're dating my man! How Dare?!" Honestly cheating plots are not something I am all that interested in? But that is just me.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I mean, kind of More or Less. If one happens I am here for it. But even if one never comes up, that is okay too! Sometimes you just see Bob Joe at the park when you walk your dog and exchange a "Still breathing?" in passing.

I have had a standing Mutual that at first our Muses would just annoy the shit out of each other for like a year's worth of multiple threads. And we as Muns were fucking tickled pink by it. To this day I am not sure if He considers Jayden His friend or that woman the bane of His existence. I am looking at you my feathered friend.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

I have so many that it is silly and that there is very little time to explain them and why I will die on their respective hills.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Talk to me. Be honest with what you want to see and I will do my damn best to make it happen for you. I sadly cannot read minds from my desk chair. SO in order for us to write something we are both enjoying, I need to have a head start and a map to get to the right path we want to take our stories into.

Tagged by: @brooklynislandgirl

Tagging: Look over there. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a Meme you are now tagged in!

#More Memes for the Meme Gods | Meme #About the Stoat of Sarcasm l Mun Things #OOC | Notes from the Stoat

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