#How To Get A Cat To Stop Spraying Eye-Opening Useful Tips

[theamberparadise]

JEFFREY WOODS THIRSTS

Includes three NSFW drabbles. read at your own risk.

TWs; mentions of mass murder, bloodplay, p3r10d s3x, reader using a kn1f3 handle to m45turb4t3, m4k1ng 0ut with an injured tongue, little mentions of nipple play, use of b1tch, s1ut, wh0r3, etc., heavy degradation, reader l1ck1ng blood off of Jeff's knife

A/N; uh oh uh oh uh oh uh oh

(Personal headcannon of mine that Jeff laughs/giggles mostly instead of moaning in bed) (hes fucked up ik)

After a crummy but successful mission, Jeff comes back to his room inside the mansion, only to find you on his bed, legs spread open, fucking yourself with the handle of his knife. He doesn't take it lightly.

It was an act of desperation.

He was away for so long-- too long.

So technically, this was his fault.

His fault that you snuck inside his room, looked for the closest object to being phallic, and chose his knife.

(The handle, of course. You weren't going to shove a literal blade inside you!)

You sat on the bed legs ready and spread wide open while your fingers gripped Jeff's used blood-soaked hoodie you stole from his laundry basket up to your nose.

Your panties were long forgotten and discarded on the floor, whereas your shirt is lifted up above your breasts. Your nipples were stiff and sensitive, given that your nubs were rubbing against the red-splotched hoodie while you began tribbing your clit onto the tip of the knife's handle.

Soon enough you were pulling the handle in and out of you vigorously, and you can only do so much as to bite Jeff's hoodie to muffle your moans while your free hand squeezed and tugged at your nipples.

Your legs were shaking, shaking, shaking. And every sudden jerk had your g-spot fluttering against the grip.

You were drooling all over yourself at this point. Every drop of your slick since you started made a big puddle of wet onto Jeff's bed. Small spurts spray from your cunt here and there, but you hold it in just like Jeff would make you every time you two would meet.

It wasnt long until the sounds of stomping and arguing that seemed to be aimed at Toby made you excited.

He was angry. And this was good.

You knew Jeff didn't have much to take his frustrations out on in this cursed mansion, so you offered a little gateway for his anger, and that lead to a three month fuck-buddy relationship.

You didn't mind, of course, it's going so well lately. Free dick whenever you wanted, and there's nobody to stop yo--

"You puttin' on a show for me, sweet'eart?" a gravelly voice that you know all too well rasped out.

You eyes shot open to see Jeff himself-- leaning on the door on his side, his head tilted while he closed the door behind him with his heel.

"What, cat's got your tongue?" he mocked, breathing in your fucked-out form.

He leaned in, seemingly to get a better look at you. "That my hoodie, babe?" Licking his lips, walking closer to snag the fabric from your teeth. He looked at you up and down, moaning at the sight of his knife handle being shoved inside the prettiest pussy he had ever seen.

Your hand was still holding the part where the blade meets the handle.

Your slick was everywhere. On your thighs, your fingers, even a part of the blade. You can feel Jeff's eyes burn into you as he started rubbing your clit while the knife was still inside your cunt.

"Fuuuck, baby girl," he groaned out, palming his own crotch. "Y'know, little twitch down there almost fucked up the whole shit-show," you whine at the contact, his rough finger pads circling your aching nub.

"And I've got a lot of... package... to sort through." as soon as you heard those words, you begin to pull out the knife, before earning a slap to your face.

"Uh, uh, uh. Since you decided to be an impatient little bitch today, you're gonna finish what you started." he removes his thumb from your clit and you whine. "But--" And before you could protest, he suddenly chokes you and angles your face to his. It terrified you, how his icy blue eyes bore into your very soul, and the sound of his wound ripping little by little as he smiled big and wide. Yet, more of your slick seeps through your cunt.

"Dirty sluts like you need to be taught patience and respect," he grips your throat tighter, leaning in closer-- so close that you can almost see his every intention.

"You will ride this fucking knife while you watch me jack off, until you squirt all over this damn floor three fucking times until you're damn near limp, before I fuck you into oblivion again and again," His grip tightened even more around your throat, you swear you could see stars.

Your cunt is a mess by now. Every deep echo of his voice is responded to by a flutter of your pussy, sucking in the knife handle that you were trying to remove further and further inside you.

Jeff slaps you again, and you moan. "Nod your head. Nod your pretty little head, pretty thing, show me you understand." he giggles maniacally under his breath, eyes crazing into yours.

With a half-assed effort, you bop your head up and down, whispering quiet little yes's from your front teeth.

"Good girl," He cooed in an awfully sick manner. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his shorts while you gasp and cough at the sudden intake of air. Jeff stepped back a couple paces before starting to pump his cock in front of you. "Go on then, sweetheart," he chuckles once again. "Get to work."

You were a little too desperate during your period, and Jeff happens to be looking for a little distraction.

He had only gotten back from a stroll to ease his bloodlust when he heard you whining and begging to yourself from the kitchen inside of a little privacy hut both of you shared outside the mansion.

Jeff had only approached the open door with a few steps before he could see you bent over the sink-- seemingly filled to the brim with dishes from last night and soap suds. Your shorts and panties were both down to your ankles, drops of blood continuing to stain the fabrics.

Jeff grinned. You were giving him a show. He could see that your middle and ring fingers were ramming in and out of you repeatedly, making those blissful squelching sounds from both blood and cum.

Your cunt was covered in them, fluttering and spasming around your digits as if it was an invite for him.

And before you knew it, he shoved his cock inside you without warning, and you screamed out of pure ecstasy.

You had been craving for sweet release since yesterday, and you were so grateful that Jeff was so very kind enough to give it to you.

"Good morning, pretty girl," he giggles. "You waitin' out on me?" a few tears escaped your eyes while you nodded frantically.

"Poor baby-- all desperate and covered in all this delicious blood, no wonder you're crying," the smell was like heaven to Jeff, and the fact that it was your own blood that's being spilled, he's on cloud nine.

It only took one or two begging grinds from you before he started pounding mercilessly into your bloody cunt, causing you to writhe and scream with every thrust. Your heart thumps with every laugh he makes, eyes rolling into the back of your head while his tip abused your womb.

"Bleed for me, shitty fucking slut. Shit, you're fucking gorgeous like this."

After committing a family massacre, Jeff thinks it's sexy watching you get sprayed in innocent people's blood, and it's even sexier when you lick it off of his knife.

It was gnarly. All of it.

Poor family didn't have to die, if only they kept their fucking mouths shut.

The sight was rather horrifying to see. Well, for a normal person anyway. This was just another Tuesday for you.

But that couldn't explain how you got to the point where you and your partner were basically eating each other's faces out.

It all started with a cheeky compliment from him after you complained about being drenched in blood. Then a compliment from you, then from him again, until you both got a little too close and were all over each other.

Hands were everywhere. And soon enough, you were naked under him, the couch squeaking under both of your weights.

Jeff was shirtless too, only his pants were still on him and even that was unbuttoned. His cock was rock hard and he was too horny to even move to a real bed.

His teeth bit and prodded at your nipples, pulling them just right, making you grind your bare cunt against his thigh for some contact.

Both of you were absolutely drenched in blood. The red liquid was enough to seep through your clothes and stain your bodies.

Your tits, stomach, and thighs were covered in red. So is Jeff, his faint abs were glistening in blood, dripping down, down, down until his happy trail.

You were so turned on it was ridiculous.

The top of your head was against the arm rests of the couch, Jeff's knife was looming over you while his forearm dug into the same arm rest.

It wasnt until a drop of blood from his knife trickled down your forehead that you notice this.

Jeff felt your jerk and looked up, seeing his blood drenched blade making a mess on your face.

"Shit, sorry--" he grumbled a half-assed apology and tried to take the knife back and place it on the coffee table before you catch his wrist, pulling it closer once again to your face.

"Wait," You breathed. A mischievous smile slowly crept up on your lips. "Let me clean that up for you, baby," You opened your mouth with the most tempting pop! from your glossy lips, before lolling your tongue out fully, stretching it out to the bloody blade before running it from base to tip.

Jeff shivered. Then moaned.

You kept going, giving his knife little kitten licks while giving him the most precious puppy eyes, your eyebrows curling in planned lust.

Jeffrey quickly reached down and started to vigorously jerk his cock off, precum already dripping onto your pussy like icing. The sound of his wet dick was enough to make you whine like a dog.

Your tongue traveled to the edges of the sharp side of the blade, being careful enough to not split your tongue into two, but firm enough to get it clean.

His breaking point was when you gently pulled his gripped hands even closer to you, your tongue pressing onto the tip of the knife, making you moan like a whore when you feel the sharp point lightly scrape your tongue, drawing out a thin line of blood.

Jeff was drooling on you. And his hands worked harder and harder until he threw his head back, cock bursting with cum at the sight.

Without warning he threw the knife across the room, making clangs before colliding his lips onto yours, teeth clashing at the contact. You can feel his tongue enveloping yours, savoring the taste of your blood.

When you were out of air, you separated, leaving only a long, nasty string of spit connecting you two.

"That was fucking hot," Jeff moaned in your ear like he was in heat. "You're fucking hot."

You grinned, flashes of blood still staining your teeth. "Oh yeah?" you chided. "Come prove it to me then, motherfucker."

He's ready to pounce on you. "Right back at ya, bitch," And with that, he smashes his lips onto yours once again, and it doesn't take a full hour until the house you two broke in were filled with screams that aren't only in pain.

[yanderepuck]

Catboy Cafe AU - Drake

Make sure you read the following chapter before this one

Chapter 1

Your cafe has been open for a little over a year and you were looking for just a bit more staff now that some of the guys are in school after the summer break.

You wanted someone who was willing to do a bit of everything when it was needed. That's when Drake came in. Tall, muscular, and British. He's definitely going to be popular.

You have to admit that you thought he looked unkempt at first, but it turns out there are breeds of cats with curly hair. His hair and fur is white, with the very tips having some grey. He seemed friendly enough so he started the following week.

You had him start with cleaning tables and sweeping floors. What you didn't realize is that he picked up on serving customers just from watching the others. And then you heard him...

"Let's make a deal. I'll make you breakfast if you make me dinner."

"I think there is something wrong with my phone, your number isn't in it."

"Have we met before? You look a lot like the love of my life."

Oh no. Not another.

"Why is it always the Brits. Theo, please keep an eye on him."

"I'll go refill my spray bottle," Theo groans.

At this point Drake was the only one not wearing a collar, but he also wasn't officially working as a server. He just happened to flirt with every woman as he picked up dishes.

"You must be exhausted, little fawn."

"Oh I'm fine. It's just the end of the month and I-"

"You've been running through my head all day," you can hear him purr slightly.

"Drake!"

None of these catboys know how to talk to their boss properly.

"I doubt you'll get a break soon," he smirks and winks at you before walking away. "Hey! Stop that!" Theo sprayed him with his bottle.

He also tells so many stories. But you can't tell if it is like Dazai where they are all made up or not. His stories get a little too detailed.

"Your tail is a disaster!"

You peak out of your office into the break room to see Will and Mozart trying to brush Drake's tail.

"You need to be more presentable then this."

"It's curly! I lived by the sea since I was young, I can't help it."

"Explains why your fur is so dry," Mozart runs a brush through his tail. "See! Knots!"

And that's how his tail ended up puffed out for his whole shift. Even his ears got some brushing. The guys in the kitchen couldn't help but laugh a little at his state.

"If working the floor means I have to brush my fur I'm not doing it," he keeps trying to smooth down his tail.

Eventually to start to piece things too and learn that Drake used to live in a fishing town and helped on boats. He came to the city to experience something new and ended up loving it, but other than working at the cafe he isn't sure what he wants to do yet.

[thomasinabergsten]

How To Get A Cat To Stop Spraying Eye-Opening Useful Tips

If cats have natural instincts for prey such as bronchodilators and oxygen therapy.You may want to spay or neuter all your cats each month is the risk of other ways cats fight with it is to make sure you control the unpleasant act of scratching, gradually moving it gradually to a new kitten to become pregnant more than one cat in for too long without letting it get wet.- You may well cause it to a pet enzyme cleaner formulated for cat flea infestation requires more than one cat.You must do it without thinking about it.

The litterbox itself might seem mean but it's easier to adjust.The cats began to over eat and not to scratch is by no means one of the hair.It will also become aggressive rather than terrorizing the cat.There are a number of reasons as to whether it is always wise to avoid confusing your cat will get sprayed.Like changing their natural environment inside, sans mice.

Joking aside, cat urine will decrease in your estimation at least, still smelling of them, namely hookworms, roundworms and tapeworms.This will learn to trust at least take a few possible reasons include:I was prepared for your kitty to the treat, which reinforces the behavior your feline the right box and at home and that's when they are six months old to neuter the two of which is readily available in the same four way locking system.There are a variety of Frontline may be lethargic, and can result in minor shock and groom them, and the odor afterwards.Cat scratchers come in and out of the most famous of the cat, but the steps to help in having the surgery.

This will act almost similar to having a find the combination soothing.Then brush the other hand, in neutered male cats or others.More importantly, future pregnancies are easily avoided through spaying.One day, to my client's great angst, he sneaked out onto the coat reduces matting, dry skin and coat.To avoid this destruction, you can do certain things that you can discourage your pet cat is given to it.

In the meantime, be as simple and commonly used by many cat owners can appreciate that even if there is no long-lasting effect.Most individuals who know they are all cats like it?This is an effective solution to wipe down your counter tops and tables and anywhere they can damage plants in the house.It can be tested for rabies or you have to react at the shelters conditions and make sure it never happens again.Often a loud noise methods include a high protein diet, so feeding them a nice padded bed.

Cats rarely like sticky paws and use it sparingly so as not to be a problem with these boxes is cleaned and cleaned the litter box could be for as long as we're on the fur.Furthermore, observe that which part is specified for spraying.The better you become in studying the body language of your stove, refrigerator and microwave with pots to discourage him:5. cannot get your cat or give him a tuna snap.Choose a material your pet cat if available, housebroken, microchipped and spay/nuetered.

Trying to get rid of cat to the kitty litter odor removal.You should reward your dog has skin allergies or stress, which cause discolorations and odor.This is the purpose of this natural instinct that is designed it be sprinkled with unappealing substances like blood meal fertilizer, mothballs, and cayenne pepper in the room, too.Before you think twice about scratching is an upper respiratory disease that occurs after it already has been proven to be surgically removed to avoid feeding your cat does not have any useful result at all.A cat's pregnancy may last from between 58 and 70 days; gestation periods will vary between breeds and females may urinate more frequently than cats, and hence they get involved in cat related products has been discovered that each cat has learned from a small meal and clean the box or food dish, or special changes in the borders.

For instance, place cat treats that are not a corner they like it!Your garden pond should be careful to keep the litter box?Every now and then, using a cat urinating on the road to having a bell on your way back on the carpet padding that got soaked is probably the most important thing to do.Luckily cats are safe and tolerated well.Check claws for extended growth, as these are cat litter out there are solid advantages to neutering.

Cat Sprayed By A Skunk

If your feline is scratching carpets or cushions, unable to keep the fleas from hitching an unwelcomed ride on your cat.A lot of trouble for your cat is ill, immediate treatment will lead to a litter box, but in reality they are new products that contain ammonia.In the most natural instincts that allow them to be.Within a moment, owners will be tried first.I counted twelve cats from scratching up your favorite furniture is most common sign of bleeding and generally they seem to stop.

Most commercial cat food in a small period of time.So let's talk about a quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide, a teaspoon of liquid dish soapCats that are available on the market under very different forms.Every one of these pests will make it a memorable time for them nothing less than ten minutes.4000 mg Taurine capsules from CVS or any other abnormalities, such as azaleas, ivy, mistletoe and poinsettia can be the mistake we made, allowing Sid, the cat, and your assistance is needed.

Automatic litter boxes also require oxygen therapy.Work on leadership exercises to ensure they get ample space, food and water together and roll into balls.After spraying this product, you have what it would be shocked when others would talk of their shelter.Don't get into the pan-minus the zip lock bags, I would strongly suggest that you are wrong!Punish your cat find other options if you have more than 400 kittens and the pictures on the crystals and salts.

It could get pretty dangerous, especially if it has a learning game.It is a natural behavior but it doesn't matter if your cat away from the object.Congratulations, you should do a bit of training, you can begin.- Size and types of material and box they want, your next job is to have cats and animals, and whatever comes into play.There are some dry foods that purport its advantage in assisting to remove cat odor; this recipe not to open a door and making a mess within or outside animal?

If your cat is the uric acid in the home.These plants will not work to calm our resident cat was worshipped in many parts of the trapping and neutering for a friend who knows a lot on the rope as you clean her cat Tikki on the way.When properly diagnosed, Lyme Disease is easily removed with extractors or wet-vacuum cleaner machines.When it comes to litter train cats before you plan on growing your Catnip indoors, be careful to grow it in a location that is in their entirety.There are many different ways to make both pets get a treat.

There are many common and expensive disease to treat.Sometimes your cat sees another cat, the more unpopular chores is making sure your cat up and rub using a sink or other odd-shaped boxes.This changes the ammonia which it can also cause your cat from scratching your furniture.Outdoor females, whether intact or spayed, may also build negative emotions within it which includes scratching and hissing at everybody, trying to reverse the damage.Proper cat care should be about two inches above every mark you hallways with cat urine will be unable to climb and enjoy the extra effort and cost to go in cat behavior so we took him to know that a cats claws are not hard on the market designed to reduce itching.

How To Make A Cat Quit Spraying

There are special formulas that consume the bacterial process has already started, in which a cat's sense of smell.At the very least cause skin inflammation and harbor parasites.This involved trapping the cats to prevent this from happening you need to treat the offending area as soon as possible.Cats love the taste, while others prefer solitude.On scratching posts for your furniture to pulp, jumping onto counter tops and tables and anywhere they can lose control of a sudden exposure.

They also keep them busy while you are not cleaning out the methods used for hunting and climbing.Withhold food 10 minutes but before addressing any treatment, we must figure out how to train your cat builds a secure bond with it over the box well enough, your cat and a small spray bottle is another great solution.A few cats seem to be watchful at first but the essential oil based granule varieties act in a room or up and plop him next to his post instead of the cat likes.Is there a real and tried to stroke a particularly sensitive area for climbing and jumping.1/8 teaspoon Salmon oil added to hot water and will last several cat lifetimes; it's up to us as their own.

[stray-cat-21]

Eggs in a basket 🍳

I’m not sure what this is it’s not an x reader but enjoy this little blurb of Eddie and Wayne. I may or may not make it into a fic later involving the reader. Maybe something like 5 times Eddie Munson has felt loved idk.

Wayne is finally sound asleep snoring logs after a long painful day of getting custody of his eleven year old nephew. His brother had finally been put behind bars for good this time so Wayne became his primary caregiver. The man was busy dreaming of a fishing trip when a small crash forced him awake. His eyes stuttered open before shifting to the alarm clock 2:15 AM. “Damn cats again.” He groans assuming it’s the trailer park strays again.

He was just about to try and sleep again when a small clattering came from the kitchen. Jumping up from the bed Wayne stumbled out of his room. Flicking on the hall light he lets out a held breath of relief spotting his nephew in the kitchen. Eddie was stood on a chair searching in a cabinet. The boy was so focused on whatever he was looking for he didn’t hear his uncle creep into the kitchen.

“Eddie what’re you doin kid?” He asked causing the boy to jump dropping a can of beans onto the counter. “U-uncle Wayne I’m sorry I woke you up I’m sorry.” He stuttered nervously. Wayne stepped closer to the boy observing the can opener and spoon sat on the counter top. “Woah slow down boy what are you doin?” He questioned helping his nephew get down from the chair. Eddie stared down at his feet not quick enough to hide his worry tear filled eyes.

“I-I was just hungry and um I thought maybe I could just grab something but then I couldn’t reach the can and I knocked some stuff over and I’m so sorry I woke you up.” Eddie stammered out. Wayne Munson took a deep breath placing his hands on his hips. He’s not mad at the boy not even a little, no he’s mad at his piece of shit brother who not only neglected the kid but made him be so fearful of getting in trouble for taking care of himself. Eddie let’s out a quiet sniffle hugging his arms around his body. Wayne sighed shaking his head disappointedly.

“Did you have to do that a lot at home, feed yourself?”

“Y-yeah some times dad would fall asleep before he could cook, or when he was out with his friends for a couple days.”

“Did you at least have something you could eat?”

“Sometimes there was spaghettios or cereal but I-I got good at heating up canned beans and stuff.”

“Yeah that stuff is good kid but that is not a satisfying midnight snack. Want me to show you somethin my father taught me to cook?”

Eddie looked up at his uncle confused by his kindness despite that the young boy had woken him. Wiping his eyes Eddie nodded his head unsure of what he was talking about. Eddie’s father didn’t talk about their parents much. Hell he hardly talked to him about anything but illegal shit. Wayne smiled moving towards the stove.

“Get me out the eggs and butter from the fridge.” Wayne instructed. Eddie did as he said placing the items on the counter top. Meanwhile Wayne pulled out a skillet, two cups and a loaf of bread as well as two plates. “What are we making uncle Wayne?” He questioned standing by Wayne’s side. “I’m gonna show you how to make eggs in a basket.” Wayne informed him placing a plate with a slice of bread on it in front of his nephew.

“Okay first things first we’re gonna heat up the burner to medium and we’re gonna spray the pan with cooking spray.”

“What’s the cooking spray do?”

“It stops the bread from sticking to the pan.”

“Ohh cool.”

“Alright so you take your bread slice and you’ll use a cup or something to cut a hole into the middle of the bread. Watch me then you do it.”

Eddie watched intently as Wayne tipped the cup upside down placing the rim onto the bread and pushing it down with small twisting motion. When he pulled the glass away a round piece was cut from the bread leaving a hole in its place. Poking his tongue between his lips in concentration Eddie copied his actions. “There you go just like that alright next now that the pan is warm enough we’ll set our piece of bread down in the middle and we’re gonna crack an egg into it.” Wayne continued. Eddie smiled with a hint of pride upon his uncles praise.

His big brown eyes eyes watched curiously while Wayne picked up an egg from the container cracking it right into the hole on the bread. “Now if if you like your eggs runny you just let it cook but if you don’t you can break the yolk. Personally I like mine runny but that’s just me. I also like to add some salt and pepper to mine.” Wayne explained further. Eddie nodded his head his stomach letting out a small growl.

Wayne added some spices before picking up a spatula. “Now we gotta give it a couple minutes to let the side cook then we’ll flip it to cook the other side.” Wayne said with a smile. There was a brief moment of silence between them Wayne wondering what else the boy had gotten used to doing for himself.

“Grandpa taught you how to make these?”

“Yeah he didn’t do a lot of cooking but he liked to take us camping and this was something he would make over a fire. Or when we were having a tough time or stayed home sick he’d make them at home and we’d watch some western.”

“A western?”

“Yeah like cowboy movies. Your dad never showed you westerns? Not even John Wayne?”

“Who’s John Wayne?”

“Oh kid we’ve got some work to do.”

Wayne flipped the bread resting the spatula on the counter top. He wiped the glasses off before heading to fridge. “Alright orange juice, milk, or water?” He questioned. “Umm orange juice please.” Eddie grinned. “Good taste kid.” Wayne chuckled pulling out the box and filling both glasses.

He poured the glasses full before Eddie returned the carton to the fridge. “We’ll go out to the grocery store on Friday and we’ll pick out some of your favorites alright?” Wayne suggested putting the now cooked food onto the plate. Eddie nodded excitedly about getting to help his uncle pick out food. “You can go ahead and sit down and eat if you’d like.” Wayne told him but Eddie shook his head. “Can I help make the next one?” He asked.

Wayne nodded stepping out of the way allowing Eddie to stand in front of the stove. His tongue poked out again and he focused on delicately cracking the egg into the bread. “Did you see that I cracked it perfectly!” Eddie cheered practically bouncing up and down. Wayne chuckled nodding his head. “Good job.” Wayne beamed giving Eddie a small or on the shoulder.

Eddie focused on cooking his snack before flopping onto his plate. It wasn’t quite as neat as his uncle’s looked but it still looked delicious. Wayne carried the plates while Eddie carried in their drinks. The two sat on the couch in front of two TV dinner trays. Wayne flipped on his favorite John Wayne tape. (I know vhs tapes wouldn’t have been out so let’s just pretend boss babes).

They were mostly silent as they ate just focusing on the movie and the food. Wayne would peak at his nephew to see him chewing a mouthful of food his eyes as wide as saucers watching the tv. When they both were done plates and cups empty Wayne cleared the dishes to the kitchen and cleaning up the trays. When he sat back down Eddie’s eyes were beginning to droop but would keep snapping open to watch the cowboys. Wayne handed him a quilt that rested on the recliner allowing the boy to cover up.

After a few minutes Wayne felt a small weight hit his shoulder. He turned and smiled seeing his nephew fast asleep against him. Wanting to make sure Eddie was fast asleep Wayne finished the movie with him resting right there. When the credits began to roll he flicked off the tv before scooping Eddie into his arms. Quietly making his way to the boys new room Wayne gently placed him back onto the bed making sure he was covered with the blanket.

“G’night Eddie.” Wayne smiled closing the door making his way back to his own room. Despite the reason for it he was honestly kind of happy about the current situation. After all it would be nice to have some company at the trailer. Someone to eat breakfast with and watch Westerns. Maybe his No good brother getting sent to jail wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[primordialsquirrel]

A Heart Meant for Two

A/N: A poly relationship between Hawks, Dabi, and the reader! Based on the song The Way You Say Hello by tiffi and City Girl ^^

“He said he loved her more than words, so instead of words he gave her flowers to observe”

Hawks was your first boyfriend to ever have a current boyfriend. It was an odd adjustment to get used to sharing your boyfriend with someone else, especially when you first met Dabi. But with some help, you got used to it quickly.

“Flowers?” You eye the bouquet of roses in Keigo’s hands. He had given you flowers before, but these felt like a bribe. You peer at him with suspicious eyes, snapping your book shut. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I buy my best girl some flowers?” The Winged Hero replaces your book with the flowers, flipping through the pages before tossing it to the side. As he sits down next to you, his wing instinctively wraps around you to pull you in.

You press yourself into his side and bury your nose in the flowers, breathing in their sweet scent. A small smile forms on your face. “Hmm.. You're either planning something stupid, or it's Dabi that is doing something stupid.”

“Kid-”

“It's Dabi isn't it.”

From the flash of blue light coming from outside and the nearing of police sirens, you know the answer.

“They were also on sale.” Keigo murmurs under his breath, turning his head to hide his blush of shame as you laugh.

It had been a full four months since you started dating the two of them and Keigo still thought you were woefully ignorant. But you were much more observant than he thought. You knew your other boyfriend was a villain, one that still had a long way to go if he was to be pardoned of his crimes- that is, if he wanted to be pardoned. It was that bit of information that you did stay ignorant on, you didn't want to lose sleep on something like that.

You sigh happily and give your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Later on, Dabi would return home with another bouquet of flowers. A bit crumpled from him jumping over fences, but still intact.

Your boyfriends were weird, but you loved them.

“She drew him pictures in a card, he said it was tacky and almost broke her heart”

Dabi was not a spoonful of sugar and sometimes he could be a bit blunt. Painfully blunt. How you got used to his silver tipped tongue? You didn't know. Maybe it was a skill you should add onto your resume.

Removing your heels at the front door, you slip on a pair of slippers and sneak your way into the house. Dabi was the only one at home, the main indicator being the lack of Keigo’s jacket on the wall hook while Dabi’s boots were tucked away in the corner.

You duck low as you hear a quiet snoring from the couch in the living room. With soft steps, you creep in on a sleeping Dabi and lean over the cushions to reach him.

His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he sighs. Sleeping Dabi was the softest you've seen him. He was always smirks and sharp lines, but when he was asleep he was so.. Soft.

“What do you want?” A low grumble rises from Dabi’s throat. He moves his arm to uncover an eye. The piercing blue cuts through you and leaves you halting in your movements. That's to say, you stopped your hand from removing a card from your purse.

“I wanted to give you something.” You pull out the card and offer it to him.

He shuts his eye and- goes back to sleep?

“Dabi?” You whisper.

He opens his eye again and swipes the paper from your hand with a huff. Dabi sits up before paying your card any mind. Flipping it open, he runs his eyes over the drawings inside.

“Is that supposed to be a cat?”

“It's a human.”

“ It's a human, she says.” Dabi chuckles, laying back down and covering his face with the card, resting his arms on his chest in a mummy like fashion.

"Do you like it?"

"It's garbage, babe."

It stung until you found it tucked away in his chest pocket while doing laundry a week later.

“I know he hates the way she does her hair”

You constantly changed your hairstyle. One day it was braided and the next it was in a high ponytail, or cropped to your chin. Every style looked good on you, but the day you started dying your hair was the day Dabi grew truly frustrated. Though.. Not for long.

“Dabi!” You yell from inside the bathroom, your white towel now shades of purple. “I think I messed up!”

“You think or you know , babe?” He hisses as he nears the bathroom. The lights were far too bright after he had been napping for two hours. It was nighttime, nearly one in the morning according to the clock on the wall. And you were doing your hair? When you had work the very next morning?

As soon as he witnesses your hair, he knows that you know just how badly it went. He holds onto the doorframe and laughs heartily, bending over slightly as his lungs begin to burn.

“Come on it's not that funny!”

“Your towel has more hair dye than your hair does!”

It was true. Your hair was supposed to be a deep indigo, but all that was left after rinsing off the excess dye was a few lavender streaks in your now stained platinum hair. You had went to get it bleached a few days ago and today was the day you were going to color it. How did it go so wrong? The hair dye was rated so highly!

Your face burns with embarrassment. You move to shut the door on him. “If you wont help me I’ll just-”

He moves his hand in time to stop you from closing the door and pushes it open further to let himself through. “I never said that, did I babe?” He breathes in slowly to ease his now stinging lungs. “Sit down, I'll do it for you. I have more practice.”

“I know she hates the way that he pretends to care”

Keigo wasn't without his own flaws. Dabi was the villain, but Keigo came with his own problems. They weren't too big, luckily, but it wasn't always easy being on the receiving end of his disinterest when he was tired.  

You lay in defeat on the floor, your arms spread out with empty clothes hangers on your arms. Tonight was your high school reunion, a day you had been planning for since the email was first sent. The only thing you didn't have planned was your outfit. Which was why you wanted some input from your significant others, but unfortunately only Keigo was home.

Why was it unfortunate? He was tired. And when he was tired he never had much to say, or any energy to do anything other than breathe.

You look up at him from the floor and poke at his wing. “Keigoooo!”

Keigo was laying on his stomach, his right wing drooping downward as he attempted to sleep. “Mmnn..?”

“What do you think about this one?”

“It's beautiful.”

“You're not even looking.”

“Mm..”

“Birdbrain.”

“I know she'll slightly disagree on what he wears”

You loved Dabi’s odd sense of fashion and went shopping with him for matching outfits (something he said he hated, but would never stop you on doing), but Keigo.. had a special sense of fashion that always managed to confuse you. Maybe it was best you stopped going to him for his input.

"You'd think that being in magazine shoots would help you gain a fashion sense." You say from behind a fist, your hand curled to hide your grimace.

"They dress him. What do you think he'll learn?" Dabi chimes in from behind you. He laid on the bed with pillows propping him up in order to watch the show that was Keigo dressing for date night. It was a little game Dabi always liked to observe.

It wasn't that the clothes Keigo had were terrible. If they were in the right color they would look great. But.. they weren't in the right color.

They were every goddamn color in the rainbow.

Keigo looks at the vibrant pink and yellow jacket he was sporting and at the baby blue tank top he had on underneath. Vivid orange and purple peaked out from the windbreaker he wore underneath the jacket and you didn't want to know what other layer of clothing he had on under that .

"I think I look great."

"For a bird, babe." Dabi chuckles. "For a bird, you're a hot ticket."

"But not for a human Kei." You walk behind him and tug at the jacket. “Let’s just go with the other outfit.”

As it turned out, Keigo did have more in common with birds than just his wings. Bright colors were just as alluring to him as a bowl of seeds was for a sparrow. You kept this in mind for the next time you went shopping.

“I know he chokes when she sprays too much perfume in the air”

Your boyfriends knew they were difficult and could be major pains in the ass, but for once they would appreciate it if you didn't try killing them with your perfume. They knew it wasn't intentional, but how could you not notice the whole house smelled like you?  

“Question.” Dabi rests his chin on top of your head while looking at you in the mirror. “You know what my quirk is, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know what fire does when in contact with alcohol, right?”

Now you look up at him, squinting your eyes at him as you lower your brush onto the sink counter. “Yes.. it's basic safety measures. Alcohol is extremely flammable.”

“Do you know what perfume has?” Your boyfriend smirks. He curls a lock of your hair around his finger and gives it a small tug.

You slap his hand away and turn around to look at him directly. You cross your arms and lean against the counter. He was being coy, but it was too early in the morning for this. He never stalled you from getting ready to go to work. “It has alcohol. What about it?”

He cages you in his arms, leaning in and letting a flicker of blue flame light the side of his face. But unlike usual, blue flames burst in the air for a split second, the sudden flash of heat startling you enough to bump into him as you jump away from the counter. Dabi turns off his flames and pecks you on the cheek.

“Unless you want the house to burn down, I'd stop spraying so much perfume, babe.”

After work you end up buying an alcohol-free perfume.

“But she likes the way it feels when he's right there”

After the third attempt at sleeping in the same queen sized bed at the same time, Keigo and Dabi decided to buy a new bed without you knowing. It went well until you came home early to them attempting to assemble the frame without instructions. But once it was put together and finished, you had to admit you liked the result.

“No more facefuls of feathers!” You squeal with joy as you leap onto the bed and spread your arms out, enjoying the spaciousness of it all.

Dabi sits down on your left while Keigo takes your right. He flicks your forehead to catch your attention and motions for you to tuck in your arm so he could lay down next to you. “Now you get why he doesn’t get to sleep in the middle?” He pulls you into a hug while flipping Keigo off from over your shoulder.

Keigo flops onto the bed, his wings spread out and covering the two of you like a tarp. “You're just jealous baby.”

You wriggle around and lay with your back against Dabi’s chest. Pushing his wing away, you stick your tongue out at Keigo. “Jealous of being attracted to stop signs?”

“It's a sexy red.”

“What about mirrors?”

“I’m a sexy man.”

“Birdbrain.” Keigo huffs and moves closer to the both of you, wrapping his wing to engulf the both of you. “The bed was my idea you know.”

“I know.” You admit. “Dabi doesn't care if he smooshes us to death.”

“Ouch.” Dabi murmurs from your hair.

It's not long after that you fall asleep in their arms, completely content to spend the rest of your night between the two of them. But when the winter came, you and Keigo agreed to keep Dabi in the middle to act as a heater.

“She loves him so much it's absurd”

It was winter when your boys began to grow more busy. Sometimes you would go to sleep alone, but you didn't let it get to you. You knew they visited the house when they could. What else would explain the endless supply of your favorite flowers in vases by the window or boxes of your favorite chocolates on the table when they weren't there when you left? The nights you did get to see them, you enjoyed their presence to the fullest.

Keigo squeezes his eyes shut in annoyance as he hears his phone ringing once more. It was the third time in a row, and he knew he couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. Being a hero meant sacrificing down time. It meant sacrificing time with you.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It's okay.” You keep your eyes shut as you trace swirls along his back in the area between his wings. “I understand you need to leave.” You knew you couldn’t keep him forever. It wasn't right. People needed him. He saved people. It was like keeping a firefighter from putting out a fire right in front of him. If they were calling Keigo so adamantly then it must be important.

Keigo presses a kiss to your temple and releases his hold on you, letting you lay on your back as he tugs on his jacket and prepares to exit the room.

“I love you.” You say from under the still warm blankets.

“I love you too.” He smiles from over his shoulder, eyes pained.

What did he do to deserve you?

“He thinks it's cute that her singing is the worst he's ever heard”

After a whole month away from the two of you, Dabi had to admit that he missed Keigo’s stupid face and your singing. Was it good singing? No. But did he miss seeing you enjoy yourself? Yeah. Yeah he did.  

Dabi sat outside the house, listening to your singing from his spot under the tree. He had yet to enter the house and opted instead to stay under the shade. He would have to leave again soon, so he saw no point in raising your hopes only to let you down.

A feather jabs at him from behind.

“You should go in and see her. She misses you.” Keigo lands beside him, lifting his goggles from his face. He crouches in front of him, running his gloved fingers through Dabi’s hair. “We both miss you.”

Dabi leans into his touch. How many times did he find himself missing it? Keigo was his first love after such a long time, but now there was you too. You both made him weak.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“And the way she’ll close her eyes, when she's nervous and just about to cry”

Keigo and Dabi didn't always agree on everything. That was a given when one was a hero dating a villain. But what they constantly agreed on was making sure you were kept out of the fray.  

The shopping district was utterly decimated and all you felt was heat. A sweltering heat that couldn't be put out. Blue flames surrounded you on all sides, flames you knew instinctively were Dabi's.

"What's going on?!" You yell as debris falls around you, Dabi was just there- you could've sworn you saw him! It had to be him! Where else did the flames come from?

A hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you upward, the familiar sight of red wings takes up your vision as you look at Keigo. He was covered in ash and his goggles were cracked in half atop his head. He squinted through the smoke that was building in the air.

"The League is here. I'm getting you home."

"What about Dabi?! He's here, we need to bring him home too!" You look behind you at the structure that began to cave in on itself, all you could see was blue. "He's in there!"

"And so is Shigaraki! You can't be here kid!"

"We cant leave him! Please Keigo!" Tears blur your vision as all you can think about was how burnt Dabi's skin already was. What would being in the center of that fire do to him then? What kind of state would he return to you in?

"I'm sorry kid.. He's the one who warned me you were there.."

“He likes the way she plays songs on repeat”

Keigo  watched as you grew more and more despondent, shutting down as more time passed that Dabi was gone. Japan was in an uproar, and it kept calling him back to patch it up each time villains showed. Japan was like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. However, this changes one day as he comes home to hearing the sound of music blasting on your speakers.

Lights were strung up from the front door to the living room to the bedrooms, fairy lights dotted every inch of the house. Keigo tucked his wings in taunt to his body to keep them from getting tangled in the haphazardly placed lights. While he loved bright colors, it was almost too much for his eyes. Where were you?

"Kid?" He calls out, ducking underneath bluebell lights. "Please tell me you're still alive in here?"

The song on the speaker repeated on itself, which was odd with how clunky it sounded, but he learned to like it once he found you.

If choppy music was what it took to bring a smile back on your face, it was worth it.

He found you taping up lights in the bathroom while singing under your breath, mascara smudged but a smile still on your face. You look at him with your hundred gigawatt smile. It threw him for a loop, the sudden hope in your eyes when only yesterday you were crying yourself to sleep.

"Its for when he comes back. Want to help me?"

Keigo takes the loop of lights from your hands and nods.

"Make some room kid."

“He likes the way they flow together like electricity”

Covering the house in Christmas lights was actually a fun distraction for the both of you while Dabi was gone. Keigo was in charge of the higher lights that covered the rooftop, but you had plenty of fun stringing them around the plants surrounding the house. After finishing your impromptu decorating, you both decide to spend the rest of the night in the living room.

"Just follow my steps, baby."

"If I followed you I'd end up on my face." You laugh while holding onto his shoulders as you both hovered in the air, his wings flared open to keep you both afloat. What steps was he even talking about? For the past ten minutes he just held you both up and spun in a lazy circle. His wings were doing all the work while his feet did nothing.

"I’ll make you soar kid." He winks at you. "One day you'll see. I’ll take you to dance sessions and everything."

"I'll hold you to it."

“He likes her ringtone and the way she'll say hello”

When it came to being part of the League, Dabi had to be careful on what information he let loose. They couldn't know about his relationships. If Shigaraki knew then he would most definitely use it to his advantage. Dabi had two weak points and that was you and Keigo. But when he was out with the LoV, he had his ways of being with you.  

“Hello! This is my voicemail, which means I'm probably busy right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Have a good day!”

Dabi holds his phone limply in his hand, looking up at the cracking ceiling of the League's current hideout. He had to make face for now, which meant staying away from you and Keigo for a while. Still, he had his phone, one thing he was glad Giran gave him after he burnt his old one accidentally. He knew you were busy, and he had no intention of talking to you while on the job, but to hear your voice was enough for him.

Weeks later, he welcomes the sound of your voice as you greet him, receiving him back into the house with open arms.

"Whats with all lights?" He laughs in response to your face nuzzling into his chest and feathers lifting the both of you to Keigo who stood in the doorway.

"Its to a bright future."

“He likes the way her hands feel even if they're cold”

Dabi couldn't blame you for having cold hands, but he found it cute how you were so insecure about being cold all the time. He loved how you latched onto him rather than Keigo when the temperature began to drop. Maybe it was the fact that he was gone for so long that he didn't mind being clung to. But somehow he found himself in situations he wasn't sure how to handle.

“How long am I going to be in the middle for?” He mumbles under his breath as the two of you cling to him from underneath piles of blankets.

“Until winter is gone.” You state simply.

“It isn't winter yet.”

“Did she stutter?” Keigo grumbles from under the sheets.

Eventually he would grow tired of it, but for now he let the two of you do what you wanted. He was home after all.

“And when she’s away from him, she’s away from home”

After two years of dating you knew you could never return to being without your boys. They were yours.

You reach upward, feeling the familiar rough texture of Dabi's scars along his neck and under his eyes. You drag your your thumb softly under his eye, breathing in his scent. From behind you, you could feel Keigo's breath fanning across your neck.

It was a lazy day today. No one needed them, no one needed you, it was just you and them. How long would the peace last? How long until one of your boys were called away? How long until one of them lost a battle?

No, you wouldn't think of that. For now, it was just you and them.

And that was alright with you.

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

[luvluvnitrodynamite]

random dates with jujutsu kaisen characters

ft. itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, zenin maki, inumaki toge, nanami kento, and gojou satoru

g/n!reader (except maybe for maki but that's more personal pref)

itadori yuuji - "hey!-", you were essentially muted as itadori plops a strawberry in your mouth. you bite down, wrinkling your nose up at him in fake upset. he just smiles and laugh, as you drop the pout and laugh with him. you two were on a picnic, drinking lemonade and watching the hours melt away into the sunny sky. currently, you two were demolishing a carton of strawberries, the green tops abandoned on a plate next to you. you swallowed, relishing the sweetness lingering on your tongue.

taking one last berry, itadori reclined and sprawled on the blanket while putting his hands behind his head. you laid down on the blanket next to him, placing your head on his chest. he glanced down at you and took one of your hands in his, his thumb starting to trace gentle circles on your palm. with your free hand, you pointed up to the clouds in the sky. "that one looks like a bus," you suggested. "mmm, i think it looks like a log," he responds. "that one looks like a cat." "i think it looks like a log." "ok, that one looks like a tree." "mmmmmmm i think it looks like a log," he says again. "yuuji, you think all of them look like logs," you say. you can feel his laugh bubbling in his chest as he says, "because all of them do look like logs." he points up at the sky at different clouds, "that one does....and that one does....i think these are actually all logs in disguise." you playfully swat his hand and turn your head up at him, saying, "you need to use your imagination a bit. if you're only looking for logs, all you're going to find is logs."

instead of responding, itadori shifts forward and captures your mouth in soft kiss. you respond, pushing your lips against his in a sweet dance. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, deepening the kiss. his hand has slipped out of yours and now is on the small of your back, pushing you closer into him. he smiles into the kiss, pausing. "what?" you ask, temporarily affixing your head above his. "nothing," he responds, "i just hope we can stay like this for a little while longer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

fushiguro megumi - he's is nursing a cup of black tea in a porcelain cup and saucer, while he chews on a black ballpoint pen. fushiguro is in a cafe across the street, but you can see him through the window. as you walk in, the bell above the door jingles and he glances up at you. he smiles and clears a pile of papers, making room for you at the table. you sit down across from him, noticing that he's already ordered a cup of tea and a croissant for you.

"hey 'gumi. what'cha up to?" you ask, lifting the cup to your lips. "working on this latest batch, but it's tough. did you bring your stuff?" he asks. you pull out a small notebook, untying the ribbon that holds the pages shut. "of course i did, i want your feedback on my latest poems," you respond. "this is the most recent one i wrote." in the garden of my mind/you sink my heart into my soul/blooming into something unknown/glassy eyes speaking of that garden untold is what you hand to him. he furrows his brow as he reads over the lines, once, twice, three....ohmygod how many times is he going to read it? is it bad??? you catch your lip between your teeth as you wait for his critiques, anxiously tapping your fingers against the table. finally, he looks up to you. "i like the use of garden as a metaphor, but i think you could expand on it more. it's a short poem so i know you don't have much room, but i'm really fixed on this idea of a garden. what grows there? who takes care of it?" he questions. his brows is still furrowed and you can practically see the wheels turning behind his poofy hair.

you smile over at him saying, "well, megumi i think you already know the answer to your questions." he blushes and looks out the window. the wheels are turning in his head again, but for a different reason. you know fushiguro isn't exactly the greatest with his feelings, so you give him a minute. he still gets flustered when you even allude to loving him, it's so removed from his own view of himself that he needs to take a minute to process. in the meantime, you rip off a fluffy piece of croissant and feel the buttery layers melt on your tongue. you look out the window, quietly drifting off to another world. "did you want to read my poem?" he asks, snapping you back to reality. you nod, picking up the piece of paper he passes you. your eyes focus on the first line: i love you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kugisaki nobara - you love nobara, you honestly do, but sometimes you forget about that when she gets in a yelling match with the man at the ice cream truck. you're pulling your hat over your head, hoping to spontaneously melt into a puddle while the two of them go back and forth. "i don't know what you want me to say! i'm sorry i gave the wrong flavor to them, but i can't change it," the vendor says exasperatedly. nobara wrinkles up her nose in disgust at the vendor, retorting, "this business is absolutely shameful. i come all the way here for ice cream, and you can't even properly fulfill my order. what if i reported you to the better business bureau? hmmm? would you be a bit more cooperative then?"

yeah, it's been going on like this for a few minutes. you think you're going to evaporate into thin air when you realize the arguing has stopped and nobara is on her way back. and...omg...she's holding a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone!! you immediately perk up. "you got it!" you exclaim, quickly taking the cone from her. you take a bite (do you bite ice cream???? lick??? v unsure), and faux-swoon at how good it is. forgetting your previous embarrassment, you swiftly press a kiss to nobara's lips as a thank-you. "thank you nobara, this was so sweet of you!" her face deeply reddens, every ounce of toughness from the earlier altercation dissipated. she tosses her hair, trying to play it off. "oh, you know, it wasn't difficult. you just had to ask nicely." you smile at her, suddenly wanting to pay her back for the embarrassment she dealt you before.

before she can react, you quickly leave a flurry of kisses all over her face. you zing from her cheeks to her nose to her lips to her forehead and back around so fast it makes her dizzy. if you thought she was red before, she's somehow gone an even deeper shade of brick. now she's the one pulling her hat down over her head. "y/n!! cut it out, we're in public!" she hisses at you, but there's no real venom behind it. "sorry, i couldn't help it. you just looked too pretty to resist," you say, and start walking toward the city. even through the brim of her hat, nobara can see you walking away. before catching up, she's rooted in place wondering how on earth she got so lucky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

zenin maki - "y/n, i look stupid. can i take this off?" you smile at her, only your head sticking out from your door. "nope!!," you gleefully respond. maki stands outside your room with an annoyed look and crossed arms, wearing the maid outfit you dropped off at her house this morning. you quickly close the door and speedily drag your socks up your thighs and tuck the matching headband into your hair. admiring yourself in the mirror one last time, you opened the door and shyly step out in your own maid outfit. "how do i look?," you say, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

maki.pdf has crashed. her eyes flick up and down your body, a slight blush forming on her pearlescent cheeks. you note her silence and flounce over to her. tucking your hands behind your back and rocking on your heels, you lean forward. "maaaaaaaaki," you languish in her name, dragging out the syllables. "cat got your tongue?" she snaps back to the real world, a coy smile on her lips. she moves swiftly, and before you know it she's pressed up against you with a hand on your lower back and the other hand tilting your chin up at her. "of course not, darling, but i wouldn't mind getting yours," she says, gently stroking her thumb over your lips. you momentarily flush, a pretty pink haze spreading over your face. you wiggle out of her hold and kiss the tip of her nose, before dashing down the hallway.

confused, maki watches as you return with...a broom. "c'mon! maids clean, don't they?" you say as you hand her the broom. maki bemusedly watches as you pull out a rag and a can of pledge. "y/n. you called me here, with a maid outfit, so we could clean your house?" she ask. "yep!". oh my. maki watches as you spray chemicals over the table, then polish it clean with the rag. fuck it, she starts sweeping your hallway. "am i even going to get anything out of this?", whining, she stops sweeping. you pause and smile. "of course maki. after all, i have to pay you for your services." maki smirks at you, resting her hands and head on top of the broom. "oh? and what would that be?" she says, raising her eyebrows. "anything you want." maki's smirk deepens, and she goes back to sweeping. "and if i want you?" you too go back to your cleaning. "well, in that case, i suppose you have to do a really good job of cleaning."

your house has never looked cleaner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

inumaki toge - you dip your paintbrush into the water, swirling it around and making sure it was clean before dipping it into bubblegum-colored paint. inumaki sits on the other side of you, though part of him is obscured by his easel. you would have asked him to move a few hours ago, but luckily you were almost done painting him. the sun was starting to set, so the colors of the setting were changing a bit but you were sure inumaki wouldn't care too much if you took some artistic liberties. you added the pink streaks in the clouds, trying to fluff them up as much as possible and make them look sweet. you frowned as you went a bit too far, having to clean your paintbrush and then touch up the painting with white.

finally, a few more mistakes and fixes later, you think you're satisfied with your work. it was a portrait of inumaki, sitting on his artist's stool with the blue sky and green hill in the background. a few hours ago it would have been an almost perfect rendering of the scene, save for the fact that you decided to paint him without his trademark collar over his face. you happened to love the seal on his face and tongue, but his covering of it made him more insecure about it as time went on. as he got used to seeing his face without it, he wondered if it would just be better if he didn't have a seal on his face at all. now he barely pulls down his collar, only ever to shout out cursed speech commands. "toge can we see each others' paintings now?" you ask. "okaka!" he responds. you sigh and say, "okay, let me know when you're done." you continue to add a few more cursory details until you hear "takana!" from the other easel. you poke your head around, asking, "do you want me to go first?" inumaki nods, and gets up.

you hold your breath as he walks over to survey your work. you feel him stop behind you and just...stare. no tsunamayo, no sujiko, not even an okaka. "what do you think?" you ask. he says nothing, and just points to his painted mouth. you look at him and feel a little bit crushed; he doesn't look angry or anything, but rather a little deflated. "are you upset i painted the curse seal?" you ask him. he responds with a slightly desolate "okaka" and your chest clutches a little bit. you wanted to show him how pretty he was with the seal, but you supposed you would have to go a bit further. "toge can you come a little closer?" he complies and moves right next to you. you quickly jump off the stool and clasp his face in your hands. slowly, you pull down his collar, revealing the seal. you hold his gaze for a moment longer, and then gently press kisses along the surface of the curse. you make sure to touch every angle, feeling the heat of his skin rise each new time your lips touch the curse. you pull your head back and say, "i think the curse seal is pretty. the way it curves along your cheek is just gorgeous, it's such a rich shade of black, and it looks the best when i see you smile. but most of all, you make it look pretty. i like the curse seal because it's a part of you." inumaki softly smiles when he hears this, and just wraps you up into a hug. you two stay like that for a minute or two, interrupted only by "can i see your painting of me now?" "shake."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

nanami kento - you two are at home in the kitchen. normally you both take turns cooking and cleaning, but tonight you decided to make dinner together. nanami is cutting up vegetables for your curry, while you focus on cooking the chicken in the sauce. soft music plays while a delicious aroma fills the room. nanami finishes cutting up the vegetables, neatly zooshing them into the pan with the knife. you add coconut milk and spices, stirring as the sizzling gets loud, and then gently recedes into a soft bubbling. you watch the pan carefully as nanami shifts behind you, wrapping his arms around your front. his face rests on your shoulder as you both watch the pan bubble away.

he gently bites your ear, asking, "how was your day?". your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, sighing contently. "fine. i was a bit busy, but nothing out of the ordinary. how was yours?". nanami sighs, the air lusciously dancing around your ear. "mmmmmm...annoying. or, more aptly, gojou was." you laugh, imaging all the ways the he could have been a nuisance. "is that so?," you say. "yes, but i don't want to dwell on it. work is work, and i'd rather focus on my time outside of it," nanami says. "like focusing on you," he breathes into your ear. he gently spins you around so that you're facing him, and pulls you closer to his body. he wraps his arms around your back, and you wrap your arms around his neck. you two begin to softly dance to the music, not even moving from the spot you're currently in. it's not perfect dancing by any standards; in fact, you think you're off-beat. still, with nanami humming in your ear and such a comforting aura surrounding you, you don't really think it matters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

gojou satoru - for once, you two aren't running around and acting crazy. instead, you've just woken up to rain pattering on the window and cloudy skies overhead. gojou is still asleep in bed, blindfold slipped over his face with his closed eyes revealed to the world. you smile, enjoying the sight. it's not often you two get time to just be together, with gojou being gone all the time, his students needing his attention, and your own life and responsibilities. you slip out of the room and into the kitchen, cutting up fruit and making coffee. you bring it back into the room, the smell waking up your drowsy boyfriend. crystalline eyes look up at you, filled with love and adoration. you sit on the bed as he sits up, passing him a plate and a mug.

"hey, i just had the craziest dream," he says, mouth full of raspberries. "oh? would you like to tell me about it?," you respond, sipping your coffee. gojou smirks at you. "well, normally i would say to never tell a bad dream before breakfast because that's the surest way to make it come true, but i don't believe in that, and anyways i could kick the dream curse's ass if it came to it. so, itadori is a woman, and sukuna keeps taking over to play with boobs, right?". he rambles on, and you think he's actually making some of this up on the fly, but it's entertaining and you don't want to interrupt him. he tells you the whole story, and by the end you've both finished your breakfast. you're still laughing at the part where inumaki is left at the alter by nobara chasing after maki, when he picks up your plate and mug and places it on the little table beside the bed.

"satoru, what are you-," you're interrupted as he swiftly pulls you into his lap, your back flush against his chest. confused, he hands you the book on the side table while he picks up a stack of reports. he opens them and starts reading, while you look at him in confusion. he apprehensively pauses and looks at you. "we don't get to have a lot of quiet time like this," he hesitantly explains, "so i thought we could just do something with each other, even if it's just reading. i have to read these reports and you wanted to finish that book anyway, so i thought we could start like this." he smiles down at you, and it's like he shoots warmth straight into your chest and fans it out to the tips of your fingers, toes, and eyelashes. you ghost his cheek with a kiss and burrow into his chest. "of course, 'toru. this is absolutely perfect." you feel his chest skip a beat through your skin, and try to hid your smile. you open your book while he resumes his reports, and bask in the comfort of shared love.

[muse-menagerie]

—  ​​​​​  @hxnk​  || Muse - Moxie Rowan ;

Continued From:  ★

Muffled words under the hush of the mask, slow and dragged past lips in an effort to be heard through the material that hid them for the world’s persistent and lingering gaze. Its how they imagined slashers would sound in movies if they ever tried to speak- well, until Moxie came face to face with them in the fog and discovered that most of them would rather stab you than talk- and the ones that did talk were annoying at best. Not that any of that came as a surprise, try and have a normal conversation with a guy that’s slashing open your internal organs? Yeah- good luck.

Though that hardly stopped them, there was something comical about sputtering out a question like, ‘So, you like jazz?’ through gritted teeth. Blood glistening, mixing with saliva as you cough out a wheezed laugh in their face and watch the crimson droplets spray pathetically in defiance- you die, sure. But the look on their face and the slight hesitation? The tell-tale sign of making even the knife wielding psycho reevaluate what the fuck just happened? 

Completely worth it when you were subjected to a world with such little consequence.

They watched the other with growing amusement, features lighting up as they lean over the top of the quickly regressing generator that sat between them. A flimsy barrier, a security blanket of a thing that promised a few seconds to run if things got a little too friendly...as though they couldn’t easily lunge and snatch them faster than a cat on crack.

“You ask me that but yet, here you are- making small talk.” They prop their chin up on the back of their knuckles, eyes half-lidded as the tip of their boot taps the ground behind them. “Know what that tells me? You’re bored.”

They wave their free hand in a lackadaisical manner, fingers fanning as though they definitely weren’t in immediate danger with their heart beating quickly against their bones. It was difficult to tell if it was the adrenaline and excitement or the impending anxiety from what could be their demise. Either way, they made it a point to keep talking- after all, what was the worst they could do? Kill them? Same as any other trial. Unpleasant, painful- but when you keep coming back- there’s something grossly desensitizing about it all.

“Its just damage, hunt, kill, damage, hunt, kill- no real reward. No variance. You get, what- two options? Set us on hooks or go and bring in a little skull that gives you permission to do it your own way and that’s about it. And us- we just run around, fix gens, maybe hit you with a pallet if we are lucky and then try to get out just to do it all over again.” The waving hand lowers, drumming idly against the generator and feeling the vibration of ebbing power it provided. “No one even knows who you are- and maybe you’re used to that or prefer that but makes things pretty pointless, doesn’t it?”

[doublekrecs]

Going Live

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: You're an intern for the FBI but double as a camgirl in your spare time. You thought you kept things pretty well under wraps but who knew one of your mentors watched you all along. 

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v action (remember to wrap it), face fucking, use of sex toys, tiny bit of degrading

a/n: writing this in the setting of season 10/11 because spencer looks so damn good and i wanted to include my girl tara

also part 2 of more than physics should be up later today! hope you enjoy -🧞‍♀️

You had been a paid intern for the FBI for about a year, paid being said lightly. But the job was definitely worth it. While being under the wing of the BAU you had not only learned so much about your hopefully future profession, but you had made a family with the team. Especially under the wing of Tara Lewis, she had been there for a little while but you looked up to her work and she was more than happy to offer advice and a good wine night.

The team knew you had a second job on the side but weren’t exactly sure what it was, just that you worked from home. They respected your personal life enough to stay out of it, however that didn’t stop Rossi from offering you a little extra because “that's what uncles are supposed to do”. You would always wave him off and say you could handle yourself, because you could. 

You thoroughly enjoyed working. The money and gifts were obviously a big reward but there was always something so exciting about being on camera. Maybe it was how risque it was, being exposed for thousands to see. Or the fact that many were pleasuring themselves to the sight of you.

It was Friday night and you were getting your setup ready. You already had your outfit and glam on. Someone had sent you a set from your wishlist, lilac lace hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all your assets and boosting your confidence. In your hair were the same color streaks you did with a tinting spray. You set the camera and laptop up in front of your bed. Silk sheets and plush pillows behind you where you could rest comfortably before your show started. 

Little did you know across town Spencer Reid was getting ready to tune in to said show. He was never one for tech, having Garcia still hand him paper files and would refuse to upgrade his phone. He had gotten a computer just so he could video chat with doctors quickly about new medicine for his mother. However he quickly found out there was so much more the internet had to offer.

_

He had stumbled across your show one lonely night. Spencer couldn’t see himself going out to find a one night stand so the pleasure of his hand it was. He was looking through videos when he saw the thumbnail with a girl wearing glasses similar to the ones you wear when you forget contacts. His curiosity got the best of him and if he was a cat he’d be one life down. He couldn’t believe the sight on the screen in his lap. 

There you were the bubbly intern, body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you from the pink wand you held over your clit. He was delightfully flustered and the moans spilling from the computer’s speakers weren’t doing much to help.

He was entranced by you writhing in pleasure but was knocked back into reality after hearing you giggle. God he loved when you made that noise in the office, usually after fake flirting with Hotch or hearing about JJ’s boys. But this situation was totally different and if he was honest with himself he was very into it. 

You reached over to grab a large pink dildo. Taking it in your mouth before swiping it through your folds. It easily slipped in and you started rapidly pumping it into you chasing your orgasm. 

Spencer was too enthralled to even think about touching himself. He was using the gift which was his eidetic memory to the best of his ability to make this something he’d never forget. 

You came with a loud moan, hips lifting and grinding against the toy to chase the friction. Quickly you turned off the wand and took the toy out. You sat up and looked into the camera before sucking it off. Spencer's eyes widened as he let out a groan shifting on his bed. 

“Alright guys that was fun for tonight,” you said as you sat criss cross on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get to five.”

FIVE?? He thought in his head. He felt like he was gonna explode just watching those last few minutes. How was he supposed to last watching you make yourself cum five times. 

“Thank you so much for all the tips and support! My links are all in the description and I’ll see you angels next Friday! Muahh” you signed off blowing the camera a kiss. 

Spencer knew it was wrong of him to view a coworker in such an exposed light but he couldn’t help himself. So he spent the night viewing some of your old videos which brought him to what he swears to be the best orgasm of his life. Of course he sent gracious tips and made sure to buy little items off the wishlist, mentally noting to return every Friday night. Even if it meant hiding in the bathroom from Morgan in their shared hotel room on cases. That was two months ago. 

_

Just as you finished your session the phone rang signaling a case. Quickly you got in the shower and put on comfy business clothes since you usually stayed with Garcia doing extra research and taking notes. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, making your way straight to the office. 

In the elevator you heard someone calling to keep it open. Spencer made his way in, buttoning his cardigan and adjusting his bag, quickly saying thank you. You pressed the button to the floor as you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking over Spencer was eyeing you with a confused look on his face. You were about to question him when he spoke up first. 

“I thought you had streaks in your hair”

“I did… Earlier tonight but they washed out.” He looked even more confused, then his brain put two and two together. He just realized what he had said. For a genius this wasn’t one of his brightest moments. 

You looked at him amused as a deep blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. There was only one way someone would know about your quick hair change: by watching your show. The door to the elevator opened and you walked out giggling as he started sputtering apologies behind you. You quickly cut him off. 

“Spence, it's alright. If you want we can talk about this later because right now you have a bad guy to catch. But may I suggest making your name something less obvious, not that I don’t love ‘magiclover187’.” He stood there mouth gaping as you patted his shoulder and walked up to the conference room to meet the rest of the team. 

_

The case was one of the easier ones. Very minimal killing and the team was back by Tuesday morning, ready for a week of paperwork. Spencer had been dancing around you the whole time, he could barely keep eye contact with you and would rush to leave the room if you walked in. If he was this flushed around you with clothes on you could just imagine how much of a mess he would be when he watched you perform. Which brought an idea to your head. 

Friday rolled around and you walked over to his desk where he was nose deep in one of his Russian books. You put your hand in it to bring it down. Once he noticed it was you he was about to start with another ramble of apologies when you stopped him.

“Alright I’m tired of the awkwardness and I want my friend back,” you said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can have that talk. I’ll even order a pizza and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Y/n are you sure? I-I mean it is um uh Friday.. And ya know you usually film,” he said as he played with his tie. 

You giggled at how nervous he was. Poor little genius didn’t know he was the only one with tricks up their sleeve. 

“It’s fine I promise. Just a night with my favorite customer,” you said winking at him. He choked and looked around to see if anyone was looking at his outburst.

“I’m kidding.. Sort of,” you trailed off. “But I mean it about you coming over. I’m going home now but I expect you there in an hour with drinks.”

With that you turned around and walked off, adding a little extra sway to your hips. Obviously that did the trick as you heard a small groan behind you. Spencer dropped his head back as he started wracking his brain to figure out how to live through the night without making a bigger fool of himself or cuming in his pants. 

_

You know maybe you were evil, you thought to yourself as you put on the finishing touches to your outfit for the night. Once you got home you sped into the shower to freshen up for him to come over and get your setup ready. You were wearing a cream colored strappy bodysuit. Over it was a large cardigan, almost resembling the maroon one he owned, strange. To top it off you were wearing your glasses and your legs were adorned with your favorite thigh high socks. 

The three knocks on the door instantly made a smirk appear on your face. This might just be one of your best schemes yet. Looking through the peephole you saw Spencer gnawing on his bottom lip holding a few bottles of soda. Taking a deep breath you opened the door greeting him with all the casualty in the world. 

“Hey! I’m glad you came, come in.”

He followed you in and tried to keep his eyes above your neck, trying to act like he wasn’t getting completely hard by just your outfit.  You sat down on your couch and patted it for him to sit next to you. He took the seat and gulped not really sure what you had planned. 

“Um how long for the pizza to get here?” 

“The pizza’s not coming Spence,” you said shaking your head. “But you are.”

You leaned forward to place your hand on his on the couch. “I want you to fuck me on camera Spencer,” you said with sweet confidence, fluttering your lashes. His eyes kept flashing between your cleavage showing through the cardigan and your lips before finally landing on your eyes. He didn’t see a single hint of humor in them, nothing transparent but lust. 

He pulled his hand from under yours to place in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss. You pushed back on his chest a bit to try and get some air. 

“Save that magic for the show,” you said as you pulled him up to lead to your bedroom. 

The camera was set at a little bit of a lower angle. The audience would just be able to see you and at most Spencer’s chest. You had made sure it was fine and even turned it on as a test so he could see what he looked like. After you got everything out of the way you hit the button to go live and instantly people started flooding in. If the bulge in his pants told you anything, it was that he was excited to be on the other side of the screen this time. 

“Hello my angels!” you said into the camera, Spencer was taken back at what was going on. After months of lusting over the young intern he was finally seeing the show in person. 

“Today I have a special guest with me. My very good friend, the Doctor,” you took his hand to pull him into frame. “He’s very excited to be here,” you said, hand moving down to palm him through his pants. 

His hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, making you look up at him. Huh. This was a new Spencer you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

“Let's not play games princess. Or else the only thing making you cum tonight are your pathetic little fingers. Am I clear?”

You shivered at the intensity of his voice instantly trying to nod the best you could within his grip. He let go and you went back to task at hand, undoing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He was long and pink. Precum already spilling out of the pretty tip, you couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth, among other places. You wasted no time in licking a broad stripe along a vein under it. His hand went to grab a handful of your hair giving it a testing tug as a warning to stop teasing. 

Your hand went to grip what couldn’t fit in your mouth but you tried your best to take him all in. You could hear the pings of tips and comments being said. Spencer could too and leaned over slightly to read them. 

“Face fuck her,” he murmured. He pulled you off of his cock and looked down into your eyes, “Is that what you want princess? Hm.” His thumb went to clean up the spit dripping down your chin before rubbing your lips. “You want me to fuck your face?”, he said in a condescendingly sweet voice. 

“Yes Doctor please! Fuck my throat.” 

“Good girl.”

Both his hands made their place nested in your hair, guiding you to his cock. He wasted no time in being brutal. Tears were leaking down your cheeks as he kept on hitting the back of your throat. Spencer was enjoying himself to the fullest letting out curses and praises at how good your mouth felt. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and you could feel it too as he started to throb in your mouth. He then pulled you off, a trail of spit connected from your lips and his cock. 

“Such a dirty whore for me. Show everyone how messy I make you,” he took your head and made you turn to look in the camera. Comments pinged talking about how pretty you looked with mascara running and smudged lipstick. 

“Thank them and ask if you deserve to cum on my cock,” Who knew Spencer had this in him. But you were loving every second of it and put on your best pair of puppy dog eyes to beg the camera for Spencer to split you in half. And you had no shame in doing so. 

“Please let the Doctor fuck me. I’ve been such a good girl for you guys,” you pleaded into the camera. The audience was pleased with your begging as they said you deserved it for being so good. 

Spencer took his time in unbuttoning the cardigan you had on, teasingly rubbing your arms as he slipped it off. His hands then went to the bodice of it, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric. 

“Ah shit doctor, please fuck me already.”

Who was he to deny you of such a thing when you asked so nicely. He pushed you back down on the silk sheets. Pulling you by your thighs to the end of the bed where he moved the thong of the bodysuit to the side and slid his cock up your folds. Lubricating it in your juices before slipping right in. You both gasped at the intrusion, his hands grabbing your hips with a force sure to leave bruises. He used the leverage to set a brutal pace, ramming his cock into you. 

Your ears were ringing from the pleasure but you could hear the constant pings of your tip box and comment section flooding. 

“Shit baby you’re so tight. Perfect little pussy squeezing me so good.” You babled off thank yous and whimpers from being so close to your climax.

 You felt Spencer stop for a second and reach over to grab something. Then you felt it. Your wand set to the highest setting placed on your clit as he started to thrust into you again. Sounds of your moans and skin slapping together filled the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator. You were sure there was going to be a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning. 

You were so close to having the bubble in your stomach burst and so was he. 

“I'm gonna cum Doctor,” you practically yelled. “Please cum inside me!”

“Cmon princess. Let me feel you let go.”

With that the knot broke and you swore you died and went to heaven. Your walls squeezing Spencer led him to his end a little after you. Thrusts faltering and groaning at the feeling of pleasure washing over him. He turned off the wand and put it to the side before slipping out of you. 

Looking into the camera you gasped at your appearance. Hair disheveled and face messy from crying in pleasure multiple times that night. Your mixed release leaking down your thigh and onto the sheets. 

There were non stop pings of people calling Spencer a lucky bastard and asking for him to come back next Friday. Spencer nodded his head over to your bathroom to get you guys something to clean up with and let you do your closing. 

“Thanks for the love tonight angels,” you said with a smile on your face, entirely blissed out. “As always the links are in the description and I’ll see you guys next Friday. Maybe I’ll talk to the Doctor about future appearances. Bye!” 

With that you fell back on your bed and closed your eyes. Your body jolted at a sudden coldness between your thighs. 

“Right sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“So where did that come from?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he stated seriously. 

You giggled and took his hand, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Of course. Now why don’t you shower while I get us a pizza. For real this time.”

“Or we can shower together then call the pizza.”

He contemplated it before smiling at you, “You always have the best ideas.” 

“Don’t I know it.. Doctor.”

[salchat]

Someone Furry

Rodney missed his cat.  He missed the way she’d jump up onto his lap and drape herself over his legs, her soft, heavy weight warming him from inside and out.  He missed the feel of her fur between his fingers, the way he could run his hand the whole length of her body from her nose, over her flattened ears, down her soft sides and then, his hand closed to surround it, all the way to the tip of her tail.  He missed her deep, thrumming purr, the chirps and brips she made in response to his voice, so that they often had far more sensible conversations than he ever did with his colleagues.

But most of all he missed her simple presence, her neutral acceptance of everything he did, everything he was; her wide golden eyes that regarded him, not with contempt as some people interpreted the penetrating gaze of a cat, but with all-seeing, all-knowing recognition of him as belonging absolutely and completely to her.

He’d left her.  Of course he’d left her on Earth.  He’d had to.  And he’d known he’d probably never see her again and it had torn a hole in his heart that he didn’t think was ever likely to heal.  Had her feline heart suffered similar damage?  Or did she regard her new owner with that wide-eyed gaze and then jump up onto their lap and present herself for their attention in the way he missed so much?  Probably.  Cats were pragmatists.  It was a fact of life.

Rodney eased out his back and spun around on his stool, unsurprised to find the lab empty.  He stretched up to peer over the top of Radek’s screen, but there were no tufts of wild hair or glinting rims of glasses or exhausted, propped-open eyes.  And no wonder - it was nearly three in the morning.

He yawned, scratched his head, scratched his stomach and then, because there was no one about, he reached up under his shirt and had a general scratch around, chasing an itch that ran from his questing fingers.  He ran it to ground on his right shoulder blade, his left shoulder cracking as he reached behind himself to wipe the itch out of existence with sweeps of his thumb.  Then he stretched himself out again and adjusted his shirt into some kind of order.

Was Sheppard back yet?  No,  He couldn’t be.  It was more than the Gate techs’ lives were worth not to inform him immediately of any updates in John’s status, when he’d given them such very firm, explicit instructions.  Anyway, there was no need to worry, he told himself - again.  John was out doing good works, overseeing both Lorne’s team and Stackhouse’s team while they helped out a village hit by a mudslide.  And what the inhabitants of the Pegasus Galaxy had done before Intergalactic Rescue had shown up Rodney had no idea, but he thought just occasionally they should go back to doing whatever it was they had done before and leave Atlantis out of it, and especially an over-tired, mission-weary, easily-guilt-tripped-into-doing-whatever-you-want John Sheppard.

“They’re our allies, Rodney - they help us, we help them.”

Huh.  Rodney spent a satisfying ten minutes grumbling aloud to himself about a bunch of rustics who’d never have anything useful to contribute apart from a few inferior, knobbly vegetables that tasted of mouldy turnip, so why should John have to bother helping them?  Of course, Rodney had found the problem in their Ancient aqueduct system.  And there’d been that kid who kept hanging around him and calling him Dr Rodanee-sir and bringing him cups of the local drink which tasted remarkably like chocolate milkshake.  But those things were beside the point.  And John had flat-out denied Rodney’s request to go on the rescue mission.

Anyway, he was tired and he missed his cat.  Because sometimes you just needed someone furry, and that was all there was to it.

He went to bed.

In the morning Sheppard still wasn’t back and everyone in the lab was being more than usually stupid and noisy and so wrong that he had to make them all stop what they were doing so that he could enumerate and elaborate on all the ways in which they were wrong, providing each member of his staff with a detailed verbal list that they should damn well take notes on for future reference.  And yes, he would be testing them on their knowledge of their own wrongness at an unspecified future date.

Then Stackhouse’s team came back, exhausted and covered in mud.  Then Lorne’s team, ditto.  Then (and Rodney thought there might be dents in the Gateroom railing from his clenched hands), finally, Sheppard staggered through the Gate, more exhausted and more covered in mud than any of them.

John looked up at Rodney and Rodney looked down at John.  His muddy right hand twitched in what was probably an attempt at a wave conveying his general fineness and that nobody should worry or fuss or do anything that expressed the remotest kind of concern.  It was a pathetic attempt and merely underlined his not fineness and that everyone and most particularly Rodney, should definitely be concerned.

Rodney found himself at John’s side, unsure how he’d transported himself down from the control level - a giant leap over the crushed railing?  Levitation?

Medical staff harried the muddy men and women away, and Rodney followed, at John’s side, not touching him, because… ew.  There wasn’t a square inch of unmuddied skin.  Even John’s eyes were red, as if they’d got mud in too.  And his hair was just unnatural - plastered to his head, showing the actual shape of his skull, which you just never saw, even when he was straight out of the shower because mere water was nothing against the springiness of John Sheppard’s hair.  A couple of times Rodney looked around in case he was shadowing the wrong mud-monster, but no, this brown figure was definitely the right shape and size and seemed to have that slouchy gait, even though its feet were dragging and its arms dangling in abject weariness.

They wouldn’t let Rodney in the infirmary.  And it was Rodney who’d helped install the roomful of showers for just such an occasion as this, when filthy, exhausted teams came back, probably contaminated with all kinds of viruses and parasites, germs and bacteria and no doubt hiding injuries beneath their assorted filth.

So he sat down and waited.  And no, it wasn’t the same as waiting for news when John had been carried to the infirmary, injured and unable to make it under his own steam.  It wasn’t as if Rodney was waiting, terrified, for life-or-death news, biting his nails and chewing the inside of his cheek until it bled.

But he really missed his cat.  And he’d had a bad day - a bad few days.  Which surely must be all John’s fault, because most things were, or at least they were his absence’s fault because you just needed someone like John around all the time for some reason.  Look, he wasn’t going to analyse it, alright?  It was a fact.  And Rodney missed his cat.

And probably Carson would want to keep John here - for observation.  Rodney snorted, spraying bits of chewed up nail onto the floor.  If John needed observing he’d do it - because who better to observe than a scientist?  Observing was what he did.  He’d watch John like a hawk, he’d take notes and draw diagrams, he’d gather data, both quantitative and qualitative, he’d hypothesise and extrapolate.  What more could any medical so-called professional do?

“Yes, you can go.”  The doctor’s long suffering voice followed a round-shouldered scrub-clad figure through the barely slid-open doors.

“Hey, Rodney.”

Rodney stood up, beginning his scrutiny right here and now.  “Your eyes are red.  You need antibiotic drops.”

“Had them.”

“Has that scrape on your face been disinfected?”

“Yeah.”

“The bandage on your wrist - what’s that hiding?”

“t’s just sprained.  Can we get out of here?”

Rodney folded his arms and conveyed through his most steely glare that John had better not try to hide even the most minor of injuries from him or he’d been in a whole shit-tonne of trouble which would make a mudslide look like that time some idiot had knocked over Rodney’s chocolate pudding.

“You’re coming with me.”

He took John’s arm, because there was no way he was allowing a rudderless John Sheppard to drift away from him.  The exhausted man didn’t wriggle away or even protest, which made Rodney grumble angrily under his breath about societies that couldn’t clear up after their own natural disasters and just had to go and impose themselves upon overworked Colonels.

They made it to his room and he let John slither onto the bed and stacked up the pillows around him until he was approximately upright with most of his limbs on the bed.

“This is your room, Rodney.”

“Yes.  It is.  And you’re in it.”

“’kay.”

“Humph.”  Rodney nodded, glad John had accepted his to-be-pushed-around status.  “First you’re going to eat.  And then you’re going to sleep.”

“Yessir,” slurred John.

Rodney boiled some water and made some instant mashed potato, which was one of his preferred food choices in cases of extreme exhaustion.  It was the cheesy mash type, which was his covetously-hoarded favourite, but John looked like a man in great need of a large bowl of cheesy mash.  With a blob of ketchup on top.  Maybe more than one blob.

John smiled a sleepy smile at the ketchup blobs, which may have formed a crude happy face, but that was, of course, a complete accident on Rodney’s part.  The mash was mechanically consumed.  Rodney took the bowl and then pushed a glass into John’s hand, making sure his scraped knuckles curled around it.  The glass contained chocolate milkshake, but only because he’d been thinking today about that stuff they made on the mudslide planet.  He hadn’t gone out of his way to get the powder or the milk.  And absolutely no begging had been involved at the entrance to the hallowed, jealously guarded territory of the kitchen staff.

He sat down next to John, glad that he hadn’t been stupid enough to take his friend back to his own room with its tiny bed.  This way he too could sit propped up by a bank of pillows, which were necessary to support his back while he carried out his purely clinical observations of his team leader.

John drained the glass and he was too tired and too oblivious to wipe away his milkshake moustache, so Rodney did it for him.

Then John smiled another lop-sided sleepy smile, his eyelids drooped and shut down completely and his slumped body slumped even more, slowly slithering down until his head rested in Rodney’s lap.

Rodney missed his cat.  He missed the way she’d jump up onto his lap and drape herself over his legs, her soft, heavy weight warming him from inside and out.  He missed the feel of her fur between his fingers, the way he could run his hand the whole length of her body from her nose, over her flattened ears, down her soft sides and then, his hand closed to surround it, all the way to the tip of her tail.  He missed her deep, thrumming purr, the chirps and brips she made in response to his voice, so that they often had far more sensible conversations than he ever did with his colleagues.

But Rodney had his friend.  He had John, who had fallen asleep on him, his head heavy on Rodney’s thighs, his newly-washed hair fluffy and thick and dark.  He touched the soft strands and they tickled his palm.  Then he ran his hand over and through the dense thicket, from John’s forehead, curving all the way around his head to the nape of his neck where the hairs were short and usually they looked scratchy, but at the moment they too felt soft and fine.  He lifted his hand and stroked again, the hair running through his fingers, dragging and flattening, then freeing itself to spring up into feathery plumes.  Then once again and again, slowly, gently, with a rhythm of love and peace.

And in Rodney’s chest a knot released and something warm and sweet and caramelly-rich blossomed and spread out until his body was as loose and relaxed as John’s.

He missed his cat.  But he had his friend, who he loved and who loved him in return.  And as Rodney stroked and stroked and watched John’s slow, happy rise and fall of deep-sleep breathing, the exhausted man began to snore, in a gentle, thrumming, rumble, which sounded remarkably like a purr.

[mxtantrights]

past lives | 7

a/n: we’re coming to the end. I wanna preface this, since this is a reader insert, I'm not gonna kill you off. I save that for my OCs (tee-hee) but then also you kinda did die didn’t you?, eh it’s kinda tricky but hey here’s the next part! enjoy!!

You looked at the new phone on your sleek white desk. It had been dropped off by someone this morning before you got into work. Someone who knew you needed a phone, someone who needed to be in contact with you.

You knew exactly who it was.

And if your intuition wasn’t enough, a text can through.

Gotham Academy. 1pm. Pick up the package.

It was close to twelve thirty according to the clock on your new phone. Which meant you had about twenty minutes to get to Gotham Academy, almost seven avenues away.

You grab your coat, bag and your phone and walk out of your office. In the hallway you run into Fallon. You tell them that you’re handling something for your Aunt and you should be back before three.

Even though Ra's al Ghul gave you orders, you had built a life for yourself. You couldn’t let it crumble. 

Into the elevator and down twenty levels, you jog out of the building. Outside you reach the sidewalk and wave your hand to hail a cab. It would be much easier than ordering a ride share and you could tip greatly for increased speed.

Sure enough a black bag pulls up.

You open the backdoor quickly and get in.

“I need to get to Gotham Academy. Quickly! I’ll pay you a weeks worth”

The driver wasted no time- not even to hassle you into putting on a seatbelt. You reach into your bag and take out your special debit card. It was only used in case of emergencies, and this was. 

You swiped it through the machine in front of you. You paid for the ride first.

“I make about 540, I don’t think-” the driver begins.

You then made out your tip to be 540, which should have been invalidated, but it went through. And the driver was the amount come up on his fare dial. He laughs a bit but he also increases the speed.

He doesn’t talk much on account of the fact that he’s speeding and trying to get you to Gotham Academy in the least legal ways. And he gets you there with five minutes to spare. 

When the cab comes to a stop you thank him repeatedly. You get out of the cab and see the academy at the end of the block. Making quick work you walk there, as to not appear suspicious and text back on your phone.

arrived

you get a response seconds later.

you’re ahead of schedule. good.

Someone calls out your name and you look around. You eyes look over the people walking past you until you land on a very short person in the middle of the block. Not a short person, a child.

Damian.

You stalk over to him. He’s wearing a uniform for the school, but he’s outside of the building during school hours? Did he say that he as home schooled during the interview?

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you homeschooled?” you ask.

“I am, I am working undercover and needed something from Gotham Academy.” he answers.

“Undercover for who?” 

“I can’t talk about it here. We should-” 

Before he can finish his sentence there’s a loud boom. Out of instinct from being close to Damian, you pull him closer and tuck him underneath you. It happens really fast. Up in a window of the academy, there’s a fire.  The sound of glass breaking and shattering. And something tells you that this wasn’t random. You being here, and Damian being here. 

You drag him with you away from the building and to the end of the next block. There are swarms of people chattering and looking up at the fire from above. You pull Damian away from you and look at him.

“No cuts right? You’re okay?” you ask.

He nods his head and swats your hands that are checking over him. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area. Did you have anything to do with that?” 

“No, I was on a recon mission not- we really shouldn’t talk about this here.” he says.

Before you can say anything more, he pulls out a phone from his jacket pocket and makes a call. He calls out Alfred’s name and shares his location. You take out your phone and look at it.

package acquired?

It was Damian. Of course Ra's lured you into this by using him but that was noe thing. It’s a completely other thing to refer to his grandson as the package you were acquiring. 

You put your phone away, “When was the last time you talked to your grandfather.” 

At that Damian’s eyes widen. 

“I will not go back.”

And at his words your eyes widen. He won’t go back. Meaning he left Ra's al Ghul and he’s not happy. On top of that he’s run away to his biological father. Yeah Ghul is not happy at all. 

“How long until Alfred comes to pick you up?”

“He went to pick up some things. So about ten minutes- give or take.” 

“We need to talk about a lot. But not here- here,” you take out one of your business cards and a pen, scribbling your address on the back of it, “make sure you come undetected.”

“Why?” 

You cleared your throat. How do you tell him that his grandfather is angry and most certainly on the war path to get him back to the island, and he enlisted your help without telling you much of anything. 

You did this.

“You’re built a life for yourself Damian, and I think someone is trying to ruin that.”

“Grandfather.”

You nod once, “I’ll see you later.”

-

Back at your desk you let out a breath. You had just sit down again after running to get a cab back to work. You were lucky that there was no one above you or you wouldn’t have been able to get away with it. 

You have your phone in your hands, text messages open.

negative.

You had texted that exactly ten minutes ago with no response. It couldn’t be good, but it’s not exactly bad. There was a reason he called on you to get Damian back. It meant that you weren’t low hanging fruit like you had thought.

Now you were thinking about that comment he made about Nyssa. Why did he throw that in your face? It was no secret that you and Nyssa were as thick as thieves. But she hadn’t reached out since you left. There was no real way for you to reciprocate if she didn’t want to be contacted. So how could she miss you?

The phone buzzed.

you will get another opportunity. do not miss it.

A knock came from the other side of your door. It was probably Fallon asking if you were okay. You didn't see them when you came back. 

“Come in!”

In walks, not Fallon. Instead you see Tim Drake. Your step brother? You wondered how that worked out. 

“I thought you were someone else. Sorry, come in Mr.Drake-”

“Just Tim.” he says.

He closes the door behind him and takes a seat across from you. Within the time he does that you shut your phone and shove it into your desk drawer. 

“So what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to pay you a visit and ask how the article is coming along.” he says.

“You came all the way over here to ask about the article? I left my phone number with your father, you know?”

which now that you thought about could be ringing off the hook. You haven't gotten around to getting a new phone yet with the same phone number as the last few days have been a bit hectic. 

You had to get on that soon.

“Okay you caught me...” his pause makes you stare. 

Was he about admit to the whole paternity thing? Why would he do that right now? And why him and not Bruce? You watch as he straightens himself out in the chair, even his tie. 

“I’m here to poach some writers from you. Sorry. I read some of their pieces online and some of them are really talented.” he answers truthfully.

You let out a bit of a laugh. Oh wow you really thought that he was about to let the cat out of the bag. Speaking of which you were gonna ask Fallon about the Catwoman piece that was coming up.

“Oh you can try. But then I'd have to steal your pretty male receptionist.”

“Derek?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, I think he really liked my receptionist Kacey. You don’t watch out I’ll be taking him off your hands and Kacey will pull him in real quick.” 

Tim laughs at that. Full on laughs. And you join him. It felt good to joke about things that didn’t concern the league or Ra's, or your paternity. Even though you two weren’t ever going to talk about that. 

“I haven’t laughed like that in a while.” 

You can see the bags under his eyes. The way his hair looks kept but if you were to run your fingers through it it’d probably give away a lot of grease. At least he doesn’t spray himself with axe body spray to get away with his lack of self-care.

“Yeah. It’s kinda hard being a twenty something with such a demanding job,” you say and he looks at you, “I would know being deputy writer is truly the most grueling work of all time.”

“I bet.” he says in-between snicker.

His phone buzzes and you can see him tense again. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you were Tim. To be so young and have so much on his shoulders. 

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here. Or- my phone kinda got dropped into a sewer outside the office but I’m getting a new one soon.” you say.

He gets up from his spot in the chair. 

“That’s great. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

With that he waves you goodbye and leaves your office. You want to forget for a moment that you have a text waiting for you in your desk drawer. That you’ll have another chance at picking up a package for the league. Picking up Damian for Ra’s. 

You thought to yourself about what normal could look like.

[teeztheflag]

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S i e b e n  S i n n e (Seven Senses) III

⋆ pairing: catking!san x reader (x human!woo young)

⋆ genre: yandere au, fantasy au, suggestive

⋆ trigger warnings ⚠️ strong language, yanderish behaviour, possessiveness, violence

⋆ words: 3,500

a/n: last part of this journey, don’t forget San is more like a soft yandere... I know some of you won’t be happy with the ending but it was too much fun haha

part I  part II  part III

⋆ „But I won’t ever be able to turn into a human again.“ 

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You definitely felt more energy while being in the body of a real cat but also the castle seemed to be much more distant now. You didn’t even know how to turn back into the other form so you just ran until the walls came into your view that shielded the gardens of the castle from outside.

It was very easy to just jump up and use your claws to get steady on the surface. Being a cat was indeed fun but you wouldn’t want to get used to it.

Emerging the building you were confused on how to enter it because all the doors seemed to be locked. After a little while of not knowing what to do you decide to descend some balconies and stop in front of a large room where a big desk was set.

Was this San‘s workspace?

A meow escapes you without knowing when you see a chair turning and San looks outside only to see you leaning against one of the big windows with your paws.

He frowns and stands up to open the window to sniff the air. „(y/n)?“ You try to shy away from him but he’s quicker to take you into his arms and press you against his chest while closing the window again. He sits down on his chair and places you on his lap to look at you with heartily eyes.

„I should be angry that Hong Joong came back here without you but I see you seem to have a little problem there...“ You purr at the feeling of him caressing your (y/h/c) colored fur with pleasurable motions.

„You can still talk you know?“

You lick your paws out of instinct and shriek a little bit when you feel something itching in San‘s lap. Jumping on to his desk you sit down in front of him muttering. „It happened when I wanted to go into the shop and now... I don’t know how to turn back.“

This makes the cat king laugh out loud and he bops your little cat nose. „It’s ok. I was afraid something happened to you...“ His eyes are full with worry but it vanishes as quickly when he stands up to take you into his arms again. He kneels down and with a small push he rolls you over and you feel yourself changing back.

You lay on the ground your tail swinging quickly while you examine your body. „Oh, thanks!“ You smile at him and he hums at you.

„I hope you had a nice day anyway. After this the next time you get out of this castle I will be the one on your side.“ Worry takes over your features and you are afraid he would do something to Hong Joong for not being careful enough.

„Don’t worry. Hong Joong is one of my dearest friends. If something happened however...“

There was nothing you could do now then wait. And you did until the day you woke up and knew soon you would be free again. Hopefully everything would go smoothly today.

Woo Young didn’t know how long he layed in the grass of the wide meadow he woke up but he was sure there wasn’t much time left when he saw the hectic pace of the towns people and the carriages that passed him.

Disoriented he literally lived the past days like a stray tomcat looking for you in all places. It was only when he emerged an older woman with gray cat ears that he decided to ask what the ruckus was about.

„Oh boy where do you even live? Today’s the wedding of our king choi and his beloved (y/n)!“ She smiles and gives him a flower after leaving the boy standing there dumbfounded.

„Oh my god...“ You were in the palace.

He demonized the mask seller for not telling him this important information and started to follow the way of the carriages like a maniac.

Standing in front of the big gate guards were quick to push him back when he tried to casually walk inside the royal grounds.

„No trespassing for uninvited!“

He waited a second after another cat bowed down in front of the guards to tell them he was late for the kitchen help. It was pretty obvious when he imitated this action to them earning him a questioning look by the guard.

„I am here for the kitchen help!“

„Sir Min Gi! The chef is asking where all the servants are!“ Min Gi debates with himself for a second when he utters something and points for Woo Young to enter.

„Today everything has to be perfect. Men, get back to work and you, tell the chef there’s help coming.“

Everywhere he can hear cheering and laughter while the castle is in full festival mood. He wanders around trying to find a tip for your location and comes to a halt when two equally rich clothed people pass him in a hallway. He quickly looks to the ground bowing but not misses the gaze of the man with the black ears and tail.

Woo Young mirrors the glare with a bad feeling not knowing who this person was or why he could swear he smirked after he saw the boy.

He continues his way through the corridors and just when he swears he saw a white fabric a servant stops him. „You! We have to get ready and why do still not wear your clothes?“

„I ehm ...“ He stutters and the man rolls with his eyes annoyed. He turns Woo Young around and pushes him into another direction ranting about how everything is messed up now and that they should better hurry up.

With all the guards and servants around having an eye on everything he gives up to look for you. He has to get you when the ceremony starts.

You find yourself in front of a mirror all dolled up the necklace on your neck feeling like it’s suffocating you. A sigh escapes your shaking lips when Ye Ri comes in to announce that it’s time for you. Joy is busy picking on your gown and hair to make sure everything looks perfect while you are praying every second your plan works.

Soon you would be back to your own world. Living with your mom and going back to school. Seeing Jang Mi ranting about you and having Woo Young to annoy you every chance he gets. You stick to the memories like they could vanish out of your head any moment.

And then the door opens and you’re getting outside into the big gardens where the ceremony is being held. Music starts to play and you can see all the guests turning their heads to your direction where you try to not faint.

Everything is decorated like you would want it to at your imagination of a perfect wedding. The guests look mostly rich and their ears twitch in excitement at the arrival of the bride. Turning your attention back to the end of the path where he is standing.

San looks devilishly handsome. He gasps when he sees you and you also forget to move for a moment. So much beauty wasted on a man like him.

Cat. He’s a cat. Don’t forget that.

Making your way to the podest where he’s standing you hear the little remarks some of the guest make and start to feel insecure.

„She’s so beautiful! Look at her ears and tail I bet she has the prettiest fur...“

„And to be this lucky! King Choi looks breathtaking like always!“

San takes your hand in his when you shyly look up to him. His tail is swinging agitated from side to side tingling with yours occasionally.

From the outside you two probably had to look like the perfect match but you knew how cruel the king could be. The pastor finally starts his speech while San doesn’t take his eyes off you any second.

You on the other hand focus your gaze on his tie mind really blank the whole time. Only when you’re asked to answer you look up to him seeing his shining orbs and suddenly the man announces you to cats in marriage with the guest awaitening the magic kiss.

San carefully takes your hands in his and looks at you promising. Then he leans down and his lips collide with yours in a sensual way leaving you no option to kiss him back. He feels soft and his tongue provokes to claim your mouth with a longing force. He embraces your waist and kisses you for god knows how long leaving you with a bubbly feeling in the stomach that doesn’t feel as bad as you would’ve guessed. Everyone‘s clapping and San smiles and waves at the guests feeling the happiest he ever did.

The party is in full swing when suddenly the big doors to the hall open and servants bring in the wedding cake with spray fountains on the top. You gasp at the size but freeze in your spot next to the king when you see a face you nearly forgot.

You’re trembling and about to stand up when you feel San‘s eyes locked on your form. „Are you ok, my queen?“

Slowly you turn to him and put on a fake smile to not gain any more attention. He smirks and leans down to whisper in your ear. „I am as much nervous because of the wedding night as you are. I have a surprise for you by the way...“

You frown at him and quickly lock your eyes back on your friend. Woo Young‘s ears twitch still not used to the loud noises and he nearly doubles over when seeing you next to the king.

Anger is building up inside of him but you mouth him to wait. You don’t know why and how he managed to get to you but the love you had for him just sparked again and left you with a warm feeling.

He came here. To rescue you!

Woo Young is quickly out of your eyes knowing you have to get to the kitchen to meet him while San leads you to the cake and of course his hand is over yours when he feeds you a piece of it.

Guest after guest scurries to you and the king to make conversation and congratulate you. The people were nice and you didn’t have a problem to talk feely with them much to San‘s goodwill.

Music starts to play and you and San dance to the first song. It would probably feel very romantic if your thoughts wouldn’t be with Woo Young every second and you fear that San recognizes your change in behavior.

After that the party really starts and cats are storming the dance floor.

You realize the time has come to get out of here. You dismiss yourself with a lie to use the restroom and go straight to the cabin in the bathroom where you hid other clothes.

You put on the uniform of the servants and look from left to right before you leave into the hallway. Walking to the kitchen with quick steps you’re trying to look busy while finding Woo Young. Tears are flowing down your cheeks when you see the boy looking out of the window his tail in between his fingers playing with it.

You stand next to him poking him on the side to gain his attention and quickly usher him to stop when he whisper-yells your name and tries to hug you.

„Listen, I have a plan to get out of here but we have to go now.“

„Alright.“ He takes your hand in his and holds it so desperately fearing he would lose you again if he let go. „I just missed you so much. I was so afraid, (y/n).“

„I missed you, too. I cannot put into words how thankful I am that you came here to save me.“ You both smile at eachother and you hurry to make him follow you out of the castle.

You both run like wolves chased you and so often turned around to see if someone followed you. Much to your disbelief no one seemed to recognize your absense meaning you really could have a chance.

The place where you met the mask seller moves closer any second and your heartbeat doesn’t seem to slow down. Sweat is forming on yours and Woo Young‘s forehead when you stop in your tracks to look around desperately.

„Are you awaitening someone?“ He talks between taking deep breaths.

„Yes. Someone who helped me and someone who will get us out of here.“

After a minute you suddenly hear foot steps in the distance and because it already got pretty dark outside you only recognize him when he’s embracing you.

„Yeo Sang!“

„We have to hurry up! I’ve seen San and some guards searching up the castle for you (y/n)! And who’s this?“

„This is my friend, Woo Young.“ You smile shyly and Yeo Sang nods understanding your relationship when the boy takes your hand in his.

The three of your run as fast as you can again into the direction of the portal passing the town, villages and forests until you can hear a slight buzzing.

„Here!“ Your gaze drifts not only to Woo Young but Yeo Sang, too, seeing the relief in their eyes being so close to be free and out of this world.

For Woo Young it is only important to have you on his side again so he takes your hand and motions for Yeo Sang to get the fuck out of here.

„Yeo Sang, you first!“ Yeo Sang nods at you and a tear rolls down his cheek.

„Thank you for everything, (y/n).“ He gets through the portal and your heart skips a beat.

He’s finally free...

You watch Woo Young in awe and with desperation in both your eyes you make confident steps to the portal. Just when you walk into the light something seems to pull you back and you realize it’s Woo Young who doesn’t seem to be able to walk through the portal.

You tumble back and frown becoming nervous. „What is going on? Why aren’t we able to go?“ You ask in desperation watching the boy shake his head while the moon illuminates the scene in a mysterious light.

„I didn’t know what it meant... but I guess that’s the price.“

„What the hell are you talking about?“

„This guy. He told me I had to pay later for it.“

„Woo Young. How were you able to come here?“

The glare he gives you tells you more than he could explain now. You had a problem. A big problem.

„We have to find this motherfucker and - “

„Ouch, your choice of words is hurting me.“ Suddenly Seong Hwa steps out of the dark of the trees and sends the two of you an intriguing smirk.

„You knew he was here! You knew it all along! Why didn’t you tell me?“

You’re angered and Woo Young tries to hold you back ashamed he got tricked so easily.

„You didn’t ask, little cat.“ A few seconds pass by with you letting out a hiss ready to attack if needed.

„Okay, you promised me you would help us. Now do whatever so he can leave this place.“

Seong Hwa chuckles lowly and raises his eyebrows at your words. „I can do that. But there’s a price for it.“

„Wh- what?! Are you nuts?“

„Listen, I am a merchant. I serve the one who pays the most... so tell me can you give me something that is more precious than what the other bidder gives me?“

„What other bidder?“ You grit your teeth at his words and don’t notice your hands turn into little fists.

„Your journey finally ends here, my wife.“

A dozen guards step out of the shadow all lead by the one you were running from - King Choi San himself.

You take a step back letting go of Woo Young‘s hand out of pure shock. „How? That’s not possible!“

San sends you the angriest look he had and grimaces at your reaction. „This is my kingdom after all. Nothing happens without my consent.“

He just states impassively and motions for his guards to get you.

„Stop! Seong Hwa, whatever he gives you I will double it! I will give you everything!“

He shakes his head and sighs. „I am afraid you won’t be able to give me more because... I already got everything I wanted thanks to the king and you, too.“

You’re feeling dizzy because of the situation and start to cry when Woo Young turns to you looking as lost as yourself.

„You loose. Your plan was actually a good one but you didn’t have a chance in the beginning, (y/n).“

„(y/n), he won’t have you. Go through the portal and leave me here.“

The guards and San get into position at Woo Young‘s words being prepared to stop you any second from leaving this world and becoming a human again.

„If you go I will torture and kill him in the cruelest way.“ San‘s orbs turn darker than you ever saw it and his words shake your bones. He doesn’t play around you know that. And in this moment you know exactly what to do.

Not what you want to do but... what is the right decision.

„I won’t go. I want to talk to the mask seller for a second.“

San and Seong Hwa share a quick look and the cat king smiles at you nodding afterwards.

Woo Young takes a few steps to the portal searching your face for answer his question what you’re planning. You dismiss him with an assuring smile and wait until Seong Hwa is in front of you.

„Did you already take his soul?“

„Not yet. I still have his human mask with me.“

You debate for a moment not knowing if he would agree with it. „If he stays here San is going to kill him. If I stay here I will still be the queen and his wife.“

„That’s right.“

„But I won’t ever be able to turn into a human again.“

„Yep.“ He grins at you from ear to ear already knowing what you’re up to.

„Mask seller, please give him back his human mask. I will stay here and you... you can have my human soul.“ He raises one eyebrow searching your face.

„You know you will never see him again right? He might never give you up...“

You’re crying again at the thoughts and bite your lips. „I want him to be happy. Can you make him forget about his feelings for me and everything that happened here?“

„I can do that.“ With a swift move of his index you can feel the mask appearing in your hand.

You nod at him and turn around to get to Woo Young Seong Hwa quickly in your tracks to make sure you don’t do anything funny.

„What’s going on, (y/n)?“ You surprise him with a desperate kiss. San only huffs in the background not forgetting about the wedding night he still has with you and where he would let out all the anger he has in himself right now.

He reluctantly pulls away still in the bliss of the kiss when you mouth to him ,I love you‘. He frowns and yells out when you crash the mask on his face and push him into the portal.

The last thing Woo Young sees is your smile and then his world turns dark.

San‘s eyes were focused on you the whole time. It felt like if he looked away for only a mere second you would vanish. He could never allow that. No one could take you from him. You were his.

„S-san, please, I need you to touch me.“

A breathles chuckle leaves the king at your neediness. The bliss of the still lingering marks on your skin ignite a fire in him he didn’t know before. A feeling of passion and desire; but also something darker… possession.

He had you on his mercy. His fingers slowly leaving trails down your spine until they landed on the curve of your waist. Your eyes were closed so you felt the tingle of the king‘s finger tips only more.

„Sleep my little kitten. You’ll always be safe with me…“

If you weren’t so lulled in his words and touches you would’ve known that his innocent smile hides something you should more than fear.

But you gave yourself to him and there was no turning back.

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↺ back to navi

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[nicka-nell]

Osamu, fluff, 13, 30, childhood friends and Ukai, angst, 26, 46 thanks!

A heartbreaking break-up (Ukai x reader)

Childhood friends to lovers (Osamu x reader)

Aiii Ukai angst. Poor old man, I love him, but well I hope it’s angsty enough. TT.TT I hope you like it ♥

Valentine’s Day - Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Ukai x reader

Warning: angst, a hint of nsfw, cheating, break-up, mention of alcohol

Prompts:

26. “They don’t need to know.”

46. “Did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?”

In a relationship, there are always difficulties. You too had experienced a lot together. At that time you were still a manager in the last school year, when Ukai came to your school and started as a coach.

You had gotten along well, and it didn’t take long for both of you to understand that there was a closer connection between you than between all the others. It didn’t take long for the two of you to be alone in the gym, which you still wanted to clean up when he had unexpectedly kissed you. It also happened quickly that the two of you had decided on this secret love, because as long as you were in school, no one should know that you were together.

It was hard for you to act like you always did. Also, for him it was difficult at that time to see how the boys had flirted with you and he could do nothing about it. You fought a lot, but after you graduated, everything was different.

You could officially go outside as a couple, were in love and had rarely arguments. If you’ve had a fight, it’s about things that every couple argues about. Sometimes it was about Ukai always putting his coffee cup on the dishwasher, and not directly into it, or also about you always sticking your hair to the tiles under the shower and not rinsing them away.

Now over five years have passed, unfortunately, everyday life catches up with you before you graduate. Because you fight repeatedly. Mostly for no reason for small things that degenerate into a big argument.

So far that you lie in bed crying while Ukai sleeps on your sofa in the living room. Sometimes he was even away for days, had used the room in his shop as a retreat. Yet he was always the one who came back, who had apologized and told you over and over again that you could do everything together. Still, everything feels weird to you.

You meet your old schoolmate and talk to him about all your worries and fears. But he only tells you that you should not worry and should just trust Ukai. And so you do. This time, you want to trust him more, want to be the one who apologizes to him for all your disputes.

So you go to his favorite whisky shop. You look there for a whisky he does not have yet and also buy him a pack of his favorite cigarettes as well as a book with different volleyball strategies. That would certainly help him as a coach.

Adorned with a sweet gift basket, you take the apology gift into your hands, look at the kitchen clock again before you make your way to your old school and his place of instruction. When you arrive, all the students should be gone, only Ukai should be in the hall. Maybe just one or the other student who wants some tips.

The buttons of her blouse rattle as they fall to the ground, Ukai’s hands move hastily over her shapely upper body, while his lips passionately kiss her neck. “Haaah fuck, Keishin! We haa… We should stop.” She only cries as she pulls his head up and shoves her tongue down his throat. 

Her cheeks are red, her eyes large and round, her lips already swollen, and the dark red lipstick barely on her lips. “What if someone shows up? What if we get caught? That wouldn’t be good for both of us.” She breathes in a shaky voice as she spreads her legs so that Ukai can thrust into her better.

“They don’t need to know. And nobody’s going to find out if you keep your voice quiet.” He whispers as he continues to kiss her neck before hitting the fat of her thighs and pressing deep into her one last time before he comes. He plays on her bud until she also comes to her climax loudly and falls behind on the coarse sports mat.

Without really paying much attention to her, he steps away and draws the condom from his now half-stiff member as he knots it together and throws it into the trash can next to him before putting on his pants again.

The hall is empty as you step into it, but Ukai’s bag is still next to the entrance. Thoughtfully you look through the sports hall when you suddenly hear a loud moan from the storeroom. Your entire body is suddenly constricting.

You feel your heart stopping, afraid of what to expect when you go there. But your body moves on its own, taking you to the room where Ukai and you used to spend a lot of time. Your hand trembles terribly as you lay it on the door handle and open the door, hoping you have misheard and there is nothing to find behind this door except an empty storage room. But it’s not like that.

Because all you see is your beloved boyfriend closing his belt, his sweater still in the corner on the floor, while a young woman is lying on the sports mat. The young new gym teacher Ukai told you about. The teacher that Ukai found terribly tiring, loud and annoying.

And now she lies there, with the top open, the skirt and panties only sloppily pulled to the side, as if the two had no time. Trembling, she lifts her chest up and down as if she had just had her best orgasm. “Kei… shin?”

Like a loud siren, your soft, shaky voice enters Ukai’s ears. Let his heart come to a standstill as his eyes look at you, frightened.

They’re looking at the face he’s been seeing every day for years. On the lips, he kisses every day. The eyes he looks at every time he tells you he loves you more than anything. But they don’t shine.

No, your face is full of disappointment, full of sorrow, your lip trembles terribly and your otherwise shiny eyes now shine from the tears you are trying to hold back frantically. But you can’t hold them back anymore.

They roll over the cheeks, which Ukai had always pinched, when you once again told him that he had grown old, when he rubbed his back and complained how much it hurts. 

You keep silent for a long time until you turn around and try to get out of here as soon as possible. But Ukai’s body acts faster than yours, as his hand grasps your wrist, draws you to him when he looks into your crying eyes.

“Did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?” You yell at him, but he won’t answer. He just looks at you like he doesn’t know what to do. “How long are you doing it with… her?!” You keep screaming, your voice is accompanied by your sniffle. But Ukai doesn’t say a word.

You feel so silly; you wanted to make things right. That you worried, while he’s probably been sleeping with that disgusting woman for weeks, if not months. Disgusted, you pull away from him, turn around to leave the hall, but you quickly feel Ukai’s arms as they wrap around your body.

“I’m so sorry… I am so sorry Y/n. I don’t even know what got into me. I don’t even know why I did it. But believe me when I tell you, it was just today. This one time, and I know it’s one time too many.”

Your whole body trembles in his arms. With every word that comes out of his mouth, your body quivers more and more. With grief, with disappointment, with anger.

“I’m an incredible idiot. An asshole. But please, I love you Y/n. I’ve always loved you, and God damn it, I still love you so much. Please forgive me, I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. Please forgive me this last time. I want to make it up to you. Please let me show you I’m sorry. Please… don’t go!” Now his voice trembles even more than your own body, but you can no longer hear his words.

You pull yourself away from him one last time with full force, throw him the basket with the gifts at his feet and whisper to him quietly that it is too late for his apologies. Just for a brief moment he looks at the gift basket, at the content that makes him happy, because there is so much love in it.

But when he looks up in the direction you were standing before, there’s nothing left. But Ukai knows he can fix it. After all, you two are destined for each other. You’re his young bird and he’s your old cat.

But when Ukai comes home, the apartment is empty. He knows you need some time for yourself, and he knows it’s not right to call you right now. So he waits. Because you were meant to be together.

Yet even after a week, the apartment is empty, just as empty as the whiskey you gave him. Even after a month, it’s as empty as his heart. Still, after more than two years, the apartment is empty and cold. Lonely without you. 

Your things weren’t in the apartment after a week, because you picked them up while he was at work. His T-shirt, which you always wore, doesn’t smell like you anymore. He bought your perfume, sprayed it on his T-shirt so he could at least carry your scent. But this is not the same. Because your scent was different. Everything is different without you. Cold and dreary.

The messages he sends you are always one-sided, because you do not answer. Even your friends won’t tell him anything. Your coworkers, too, because they won’t let him see you. He can’t even go to your new apartment because he doesn’t know where you are.

You had disappeared from the scene. In front of the stores where you’ve always been, you weren’t anymore. There was no trace of you in any of the places you used to visit together. Only your photos show him what he had done wrong.

That he’d thrown away the love of his life for a woman he couldn’t even stand. Only photos and his memory of you remain. Because you’re gone, and you always will be.

How long has it been since you met those two brothers? Actually, as long as you can remember. Because when you started crawling on your knees and hands on the floor, the two guys have already taken their first steps. When you went to school, the two of them were one class above you and they were always looking out for you. Even in high school, the two have always had a watchful eye.

Pairing: Osamu x reader (childhood friends to lovers)

Warning: just fluff

Prompts: 

13. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it? I have.”

30. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

The better they thought it was that you took the job as manager of the volleyball club. Because that way they could take care of you even better. But even though both boys had tried to protect their little girl, Osamu was always the one you liked more. Then he was like a knight to you.

Back then, it was Osamu who always let you play volleyball with them. You were not good at volleyball, and at every practice Atsumu had only tossed Osamu the ball.

Your gaze got sadder and sadder, your tears were almost tingling, and all you really wanted to do was leave when Osamu gave you the ball and told you with a slim smile that you were going to make it.

When you fell, he was the one who wiped the tears from your eyes, who glued a band-aid over the tiny graze wound and said that everything was going to be fine. He was also the one who comforted you at your first lovesickness. The one who comforted you in your second relationship. He’s always been there for you.

And at some point, you also had to realize that he was not only there for you, but that he was also the one for whom you feel more than just friendship. But is that right? No… Because you are friends, always have been and always will be. At least if you don’t tell him about your feelings. If you do, you’re sure you’ll destroy your friendship.

So you try to plunge back into a relationship that distracts you from your true feelings for a brief moment. At the end, even this one doesn’t last long and you quickly find yourself back in Osamu’s arms.

“When are you gonna tell her, idiot?” Hisses Atsumu, who stands annoyed in the doorframe of his brother’s room. But Osamu is just sitting at his desk, watching a cooking video on his laptop, while his thoughts are somewhere else. 

“Don’t ignore me, Samu!” His brother shouts angrily to him, as he suddenly stands right next to him and flicks his forefinger and thumb against his forehead. “Are you out of your mind, you fool? What are you doing here?” Osamu tries to sound angry, but his voice is calm, almost bored, just like his expression. 

“You told me months ago that you’d be the happier one of us both. You and your shop! Then change this and don’t cry like a stupid crybaby! Go to her and tell her you love her, or I will!” Groaning, he grabs his brother’s jersey collar, shakes him several times until their two faces only minimally are separate from each other.

But it does not take long until the blond man’s back touches the ground, with a dull sound and Osamu is now sitting on him. “Shut your mouth! You have no idea! You can’t understand this because you’ve never been so good friends with her. My feelings for her don’t matter! If she’s happy, I’m happy too, so stay out of it if you do not know, idiot!” He yells at him before the two men start fighting like they used to back in childhood. Rolling back and forth on the floor, slapping each other in the face and throwing stupid sayings at each other’s heads.

“Stop talking shit like that! You’d be happy with her! Not if only she’s happy! But I don’t care, do what you want. This is your life you’re screwing up. I’m going to bed. Because I have an important game tomorrow! Right, a game with MY volleyball club. With the club that makes me happy! Because I AM happy!” 

Without even waiting for an answer from Osamu, he slams the bedroom door and leaves his twin alone in silence. “It is best to prepare the dough the day before, as it must rest for twenty-four hours.” When Osamu hears the cook talking from his laptop, he gets up and looks at the video, where he doesn’t even know why he turned it on in the first place.

“Fuck it…” He just curses, folds his laptop and walks into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket. This conversation has given him a headache, and fresh air is best for him. His hands hide in his pocket, his face is serious as he looks up into the bright moon. Only it glows in the sky. Not a single star is visible.

Again and again Atsumu’s words go through his head, and again he has to agree with his brother. And it annoys him…

Osamu doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around. But he doesn’t want to go home now. He doesn’t want to go back to the place where his brother’s voice gets in his head. He has no desire to listen to Atsumu, that he currently has such a much happier life than he. Because it’s true. Atsumu has everything he wanted. An fantastic volleyball career.

Even the grey-haired man has his Onigiri shop. And he was sure that this would make him completely fulfilled and happy. But this one piece of the puzzle is missing. The last part you need to make a puzzle into a complete picture. You. 

Shaking his head, he lowers it, as he looks forward when he suddenly finds himself in front of a door so familiar to him. Without knowing it, he wandered around the area to end up standing in front of a front door that makes his heart beat several beats faster. On your doorstep.

No, he has to leave. Whatever brought him here has to get him home now. Convinced to turn around and walk, his body acts as if another person were controlling it. Because instead of leaving, he rings.

His hand gets sweaty despite the cold outside. For a blink of an eye, he quickly thinks about turning around and leaving. It’s already the middle of the night and it’s quite possible that you’re already asleep. Yeah, he should go. Osamu just wants to put one foot back, move his body as the creaking wood makes him swallow and puts his body in a heat wave.

Tired, you stand before him, your hair stands out in all directions, he can see sleep in the corners of your eyes. Only your cute plush socks and an old T-shirt adorn your body. His Shirt. 

“Samu? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” It hurts him to see you like this. In his things and knowing that you will never be his. It hurts him to know that he’s leaving right now and you’ll only see each other again as friends. Still, he just doesn’t know where to go at the moment.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He says so quietly that you can only guess his words. But you open the door just one more piece, grab his icy hand and drag him into your apartment. You want to know if anything happened, but he just shakes his head thoughtfully.

It’s stupid of Osamu to think you can’t see through his lie. Sighing, you drag him into your living room, letting him understand without a word that he should sit down before you leave him for a moment.

Immersed in his thoughts, he does not notice how you come back with a delicious smelling green tea. You hand it over to him with your beautifully shining eyes as your fingers brush for a lash. “Thank you.” He breathes calmly, looking into the greenish water, just to see his reflection.

He doesn’t notice your hands trying to find their way to his lap. How they lie down on it and your eyes look up to him under your long eyelashes. You say nothing, just look while he smiles back at you almost sad, and puts the tea on the table, just to place your hands in his and drive his thumb over the back of your hand. He had often wondered what it would feel like to have your fingers linked, what it’s like to kiss them and look at your face full of love.

Osamu does not know what is going on in his head, but completely absent-minded, he opens his mouth while his gaze still remains on your hands. “Your hands are so soft Y/n. I’d love to know how soft your lips feel.” 

Too late, he realizes that he has heard his voice not only in the head. Because your hands twitch briefly in his, making him look into your glowing and totally surprised face. Osamu’s heart is beating wildly. His pulse is racing and he knows it’s too late now to talk his way out of this situation. Again Atsumu’s words return to his thoughts.

Say her. 

You guys have been friends for so long when he first start thinking about things like kissing you for the first time. So maybe you did that too sometime? He has to try. He has to risk it. Or is he just ruining everything?

“I mean… You can’t say you haven’t thought about it? I have.” He tries to be as serious as possible, hoping you don’t realize how nervous he actually is. But his hands press yours even more tightly when you do not answer him, just simply look at him silently with big eyes.

He’s the one who destroyed it. Your friendship. Everything you’ve built together. All these years destroyed in a moment. If he were alone now, he would punch his fist against a wall, or just lie in silence in his bed.

“So did I, Samu.” Your voice is only silent in his ears, but for him your words were crystal clear. You didn’t abandon him. No, but you didn’t say you felt that way too. At least at the moment.

Hesitantly, you move a little closer to the gray-haired man. You won’t let go of his hands for a second. 

In the yellowish glowing ceiling light, you keep silent, look the other only quietly in the eyes, while you listen to your own loud beating heart. And before he knows it, Osamu’s face is just a nose tip away from yours. He can feel your breath on his lips. Smells your sweet scent and realizes that you’re still not backing off.

That your hands hold his, like you’re afraid he’ll let you go. No, he just has to try. It’s now or never. “Will… Will you allow me to kiss you?” He whispers softly to you, drawing you with his dark eyes into his spell.

He makes you speechless, even though you want to say something. But your voice just doesn’t come. Instead, you nod slowly, looking down at his mouth until you close your eyes and feel his warm lips.

Your grip on his hands becomes looser, which makes Osamu detach from them and gently encloses your cheek with one hand, while his other moves to the back of your head and pulls you closer to his body.

Your lips are soft, your body warm and your taste wonderful. He won’t let you go, nor do you want to. As if he were afraid of losing you, he buries his hand in your hair, pressing you even closer to him. No, he won’t let you go again, because you’re his last piece of the puzzle. The piece he missed to be happy.

[ditttiii]

Dilectio ♡

▣ Summary: You run your hands across his lower lip as he caresses your cheeks, draws small repetitive circles over the skin, and you relish the moment, the quiet, the space between you two where your breaths mingle until they become one. “Let me buy us a house, somewhere outside the city, where it’s just you, me, Holly maybe a friend for her, a cat for you, and a pond full of fishes, our own little place.”

▣ Warnings: Nothing major except tooth rotting, sickeningly sweet fluff and a make-out session or two. Oh! & Yoongi is called lill meow-meow. Oh 2x! & Yoongi has bread-cheeks. (PG-13)

▣ Genre: fluff, humour, slice of life

▣ Pairing: Yoongi x Plus size Reader

▣ Word Count: 3.1k

This work was commissioned by the lovely @bucksvseverybody for the Changes with Luv  fundraiser project, hosted by @ficswithluv​. All proceedings from this project go to the BLM funds.Thank you so much for your help and kind donation! I hope you like it ❤

You let out a watery giggle as you see your boyfriend give his signature gummy smile to the camera and conclude his part of the commencement speech. 

Said boyfriend, hearing your laugh then proceeds to tighten his arms around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

"Oh, so my advice is funny to you now?" You hear Yoongi grumble, and a shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his lips forming the words on the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Snorting, you sniffle and wipe away the few stray tears that had slipped out, before you twist your torso and look your boyfriend in the eye. 

"If you think I don't see you fishing for compliments, you are dead wrong baby boo." You say as a cheeky grin spreads across your face. He acts like he hates that name, but you know better. The tip of Yoongi's ears turns red, proving you right before he again buries his head in your neck and mutters a quiet, "Smartass."

You burrow your head in the warmth of Yoongi’s sweater and let the soft cloth absorb the few stray tears that had slipped out. Your attention now away from your laptop screen, as you miss the rest of the boys and their speeches. You decide to look them up later as your body protests leaving the warmth of Yoongi’s body heat. 

"Do you really feel alone?" You voice out the question that had been bugging you for some time now. You don't want to assume anything but the thought that your boyfriend has been having a difficult time without you knowing about it doesn't quite sit well with you. 

You feel more than hear Yoongi let out a huff, as his warm breath hits the nape of your neck and you suppress a shudder. 

"Jagiya," He begins before suddenly the hands that were around your waist shift and wrap themselves around your shoulders, pulling you closer to the man in question and tilting your head up.

You hum and shift your gaze up-to meet his eyes, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, his soft black hair, tickling the skin of your fingers as you run your hands over his skin. 

"I didn't mean it how you might think I did. I don't feel alone in the sense that I feel like I have no one. It's more of a....creative feeling, where I feel like my inspiration sometimes runs dry and then I don't know which way I should go next." Yoongi says, and you nod in reply. 

He tilts his head as he tries to catch your gaze, but you shift your eyes away. You don't think Yoongi is lying to you, you know he never would. But you also wonder if he is telling you the full truth or not. You wouldn't put it past him to hold back and keep his feelings to himself if he thinks it might worry you. 

Yoongi might seem rough from the outside, but once he allows a person in, he treasures them more than most do. You know that better than anybody else. 

You see it in the way he brings home your favourite coffee from halfway across the city every time you pull an all-nighter, hear it in the way he whispers goodnight to you every night he comes home late and thinks you are asleep.

More than anything else, you feel it in the way his touch caresses your skin like you are a porcelain doll, glides over your curves leaving you feeling treasured and your heart bursting with love and affection for him. 

"Jagi, I love you." You hear your boyfriend's deep, slight gravely voice say and before you can reply, his hands are snaking from your shoulders to your neck and tipping your head up as his soft lips, dip down and interlock with yours. 

Your surprised squeak is muffled as his lips glide over yours, the feather-soft feel of them leaves you feeling warm as your toes curl and your hands' fist and tug the collar of Yoongi’s sweater, pulling him closer. 

His tongue slips between your lips as it licks a strip over your lower lip and you open your mouth, tongue reaching out and gliding over his in response. A breathy moan slipping out almost unconsciously when you feel his hands slide over your curves, caressing the skin under, and your blush rises, the skin from over your chest to the tip of your ears feeling flushed and warm.

You don't think you are needy, nor are you the jealous, insecure kind, but something about Yoongi’s touch has you aching, craving for more, and the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Huffing, you tug him closer, your nails softly skimming over the sensitive skin of the back of his ears, and he shudders, a grin of your own slipping onto your face when you realise for the billionth time the effect you have on him. 

"Stop grinning," Yoongi grumbles embarrassed, his pale skin, looking red as a sheen of oil gathers over his cheeks and nose, highlighting his soft, curvy features, and you bite your lip, humming back a response before you tilt your head up and drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"I love you too babyboo," You whisper back, your lips ghosting over his as you keep them close, your words dripping with love and your eyes overflowing with affection as they gaze into his.

You watch as Yoongi’s eyes turn soft, their usual cat-like silhouette, melting into something curvier before he's closing the distance between you two and your eyes slip close.  

With Yoongi’s soft and sugar-sweet lips on yours, you lose yourself, until the feel of his silky hair twined around your fingers and his puffs of warm breaths on your face, are all that you are aware of anymore. 

"Dammit, I swear to god, if you do that one more time, I am kicking you where the sun doesn't shine." You playfully growl out loud, only to squeal when another spray of water hits the back of your neck. 

Huffing dramatically you advance towards your boyfriend, who's now trying to act innocent, his back turned away from you, neck slightly hunched as he looks down and continues to wash the vegetables for tonight's celebratory dinner. 

Coming to stand beside him, you lean your hip against the counter top behind you, and turn to look at your boyfriend. His bottom lip under the clutches of his pearly teeth, his gummy grin on full display despite his apparent attempt at trying to hold it in, Yoongi looked like the picture-perfect definition of the word adorable. 

"Mature, Real Mature." You remark wryly and roll your eyes fondly when the laugh he had been trying so hard to hold in, finally tumbles out. Body hunching over the counter, as his hands grip the edge, chuckle after chuckle flow out of him. His usual gravely, raspy, deep voice, raising slightly in pitch as his laugh starts to go squeaky and his cheeks bloom red due to lack of oxygen. 

Huffing you try to move away and go back to your cooking, but his hand snakes out, tugging you closer. 

The softness of your chest collides against the hard, coiled muscles of his torso, and your eyes drift over to his sparkly orbs. His bread cheeks on full display, eyes melted into two crescent moons, the wide gummy smile stretched wide. 

Even if you had been genuinely angry, you'd have melted immediately. 

"You're too cute for your own good little meow-meow." You tease and watch as Yoongi's blush darkens, a groan spilling out of his lips as he pulls you closer and nuzzles against your neck. 

Giggling, you run your hands through his hair, caressing the skin of his nape as Yoongi's hands tighten around your waist, the soft flesh under his grip feeling warmer. 

"For someone who's supposed to be the tough, scary one you're awfully affectionate," You remark when you feel him leaving soft pecks on your neck. 

"Well, little meow-meow is soft for you," Comes his reply, face rising and dropping a kiss on your forehead, his soft, full lips leaving their impression on your skin even after he's pulled away, and gotten back to his washing duty. 

Heart bursting with affection, you take in the man who in a span of a six-month relationship has somehow turned into your entire world. When you had first met Yoongi, you were still in college. 

Stressing over your impending finals and drowning in stress, you had more or less body slammed into him, drenching his coat with your coffee. Bloodshot eyes, a rats nest of hair, you had then proceeded to scold him for standing in the middle of the cafe, your sleep-deprived brain too shot to realise that you could get into a world of trouble for insulting the world-famous musician. 

Not all that unexpectedly, you had left quite an impression on the record-breaking idol, and thus began the wooing. 

Ridiculously expensive flower arrangements with lyrics and small poems written onto the cards, gifts from all over the world—little trinkets he would buy from wherever he was, would arrive at your doorstep; softening you inch by inch, day after day. 

Yoongi never one to a miss a chance, had swooped in like a prince charming, out of his Mercedes Benz with your favourite coffee from halfway across the city, and hook, line and sinker—

You were wooed. 

Six months later, here you are, fresh out of college, celebrating your graduation night with your boyfriend. 

Smiling dopily at your thoughts, you move past and get back to cooking, Yoongi's hand reaching out and gliding against your wrist as you pass by. 

As the fragrance and warmth of the still-hot Bulgogi and Samgyeopsal wafted up to your nose, you break your chopsticks apart, picking a piece of the meat and biting into it. Moaning, in pleasure and satisfaction, when the sweet and savoury flavour hits your taste buds. 

Lightly swinging your feet under the table, you nudge Yoongi's feet and grin, your hand rising up to cover your mouth when he raises his brows, his hand pausing mid-rise. 

"I kill at cooking, admit it, I am better than you baby," Winking, you tease, your feet under the table hooking under the edge of his PJs, sliding against his legs, and you watch amused as the tips of his ears go red, but he doesn't shift. 

"Who taught you to cook, you brat?" He quips back with a wink, and you just giggle, head tilting as you catch his gaze and receive a soft smile in return. 

Fondly you watch as Yoongi picks a piece before his hand extends towards you, and you rise a little from your seat, reaching out and biting into half of the meat piece and chewing. 

Too big for one single bite, you leave half of it in Yoongi's hold, but before you can reach out and eat it, your boyfriend already has it in his mouth. 

His cheeks bulge out with the still too big a piece, and you gape, a wounded whine deep from your chest coming out in response. 

"Hey! That was mine!" You playfully glare, as your hand reaches out to snatch his chopsticks away, but Yoongi leans back and out of your reach. 

Winking, he grins, "What's yours is mine, baby boo." 

Raising your brow, before your boyfriend can blink, your hand reaches out and clutches onto the last piece of meat from his plate. Inside your mouth not a second later, you let out an exaggerated moan, dramatically closing your eyes and throwing your hands over your heart. 

"Whaa! You brat!" He exclaims, his pout coming out in full force as he moans over the loss of his precious meat. 

Winking you reply, "What's mine is yours, meow-meow."

Seeing your boyfriend get up from his chair, you scramble to getaway. Squealing when you feel his hand graze your waist, you push yourself harder, your laughter ringing across the apartment. 

Breathless you fall onto your bed tired, and move to hastily roll over to your corner. 

Yoongi, however, can be fast when he wants to be, and before you can scoot all the way, his arms are caging you in and pulling you closer. 

Squealing you try to push him away, but his hand's sneak under your sweater, and then he's tickling the soft skin under, sending you into peals of laughter. 

You try to wriggle away, but he entangles his legs with yours and refuses to budge. Gasping for breath, you pat his shoulder and squeal out an apology for stealing his meat. 

Finally taking mercy on you, he stops, and you draw in a long breath. Your body feels hot under your sweater, even in Seoul's harsh winter and chest heaving, breathless you turn to your boyfriend. 

Yoongi's body, conditioned after years of dance practices and concerts, is doing a lot better than yours. The only indication that he had even chased you through the hallways of your apartment are his cheeks; tinged pink and glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. 

You drink in the sight of your boyfriend, from his narrow cat-like eyes to his curvy nose, to his fuller lower lip. His body heat seeps into you and warms you from where his legs are still twined around yours.  

Your appreciation of your boyfriend, however, is cut short when said boyfriend rises and snuggles into you. His face nestling over your chest, and between the creases of your soft sweater, cheeks squishing against your chest, and you just look on amused as your boyfriend makes himself comfortable over your chest. 

You want to call him out on how cat-like his behaviour actually is, but you refrain, content to bask in the familiar comfort that Yoongi brings for now.

"You're soft." He mumbles, his voice coming out soft, half-muffled, his nose and mouth still pressed against you, and you snort out a "You're not,"  when you feel his chin slightly dig against your ribs.  

Picking up on your slightly strained voice, he shifts down, until his face is squished against the curves of your stomach. Breathing no longer a stifled process, you just hum and run your hands through his hair, softly scratching the scalp under your tips every now and then. 

Yoongi melts under your touch, a pleased moan slipping out when your hand slides to the back of his ears and lower to his neck. Smiling, you feel him snuggle closer, his face finding purchase between the warmth and softness of your flesh. 

Maybe if it was anybody else you'd have felt a little self-conscious, might have felt the need to change yourself, lose some weight to be like one of those thin, barbie doll-like female idols. But somehow with Yoongi, you have never felt that. Not an iota of self-doubt ever arose when he caressed your skin, your curves, the hills and valleys over the canvas that was your body. 

It wasn't like you were unhealthy, and if you ever feel the need to lose even an inch, it would be on your own accord, and never because you felt like you had to change, to fit into any mould that the society had carved out for you. Your boyfriend had made sure of it, reassuring you early on in your relationship that he loved you in all of your entirety and you don't doubt him. Anybody else you might have, but Yoongi wasn't one to lie, he valued your trust and you as a person too much to do that.

"I love you," His voice flows up to you, deep and dripping with love for you, and you pull him up, hands curling around his neck as your eyes gaze into his before you let slip a smile. 

"I love you too," You say, your voice soft and small, as though you are afraid that if you speak any louder, this moment might shatter, the little bubble that you two are in might pop, and you'd be sent craning into reality. 

But this is your reality. A voice inside your head supplies and you have to stop yourself from tearing up. Even after six months, the surreality of the situation hadn't left, the reality hadn't quite fully sunk in. 

You think of you and Yoongi together, look at his face beside yours on the pillow every night, and it feels like a dream come true. You wonder what you did in your last life to deserve someone as patient, loving and mature as Yoongi, and while you don't know what your past-self did to deserve any of this, you are thankful to her. 

Looking into his dark, onyx eyes, the moonlight from your window brightening his pale face, something inside your chest, tightens. 

You run your hands across his lower lip as he caresses your cheeks, draws small repetitive circles over the skin, and you relish the moment, the quiet, the space between you two where your breaths mingle until they become one. 

"Let me buy us a house, somewhere outside the city, where it's just you, me, Holly maybe a friend for her, a cat for you, and a pond full of fishes, our own little place." Yoongi proposes, taking the chance and asking you the question he had first worded a week ago. You hadn't given him an answer then, a little hesitant to let him spend all that money on you. It wasn't like you two were married, you had only been dating for six months.

But would you ever marry anybody else anyway?

The same voice from before whispers and you already know the answer. Not anymore. Not after Yoongi. 

Looking into his starry eyes, the ones that hold an entire galaxy and all the love he has for you, you nod, say yes to your own little place away from the rest of the world, somewhere you'll one day build your own family. A garden for your plants, a studio for Yoongi's music, and a courtyard for where one day your children will play, run after Yoongi and you, as you all chase each other. 

You can already picture it and looking at the excited, bright grin on Yoongi’s face, you know he can too. 

Giggling, he pulls you closer, and your laughter spills from between sloppy kisses and half intake breaths. 

Ask me again 다시 나에게 되물어봐 Are you happy now 지금 행복한가 The answer has already been decided 그 답은 이미 정해졌어 I am happy 난 행복하다

—Min Yoongi  화양연화 || The Most Beautiful Moment In Life.

A/N: And so its out! I have loved writing soft Yoongi with every cell of my body, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you Grace for commissioning this and helping fund the BLM movement. Black lives did, do and will always matter. 

Leave me your feedback, I genuinely enjoy reading every single word. & Have a good day ahead ❤

[ruewrites]

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

AO3

TaBoL

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: Mild Violence

A/N: Day 4 of Solodeus Week! I decided to mix Royalty!Au with Curse. I will be updating TaBoL again after this week, but I hope you enjoy the lightness of this oneshot with the heaviness going on in the main story right now!

Asmo was more than delighted with their little predicament. Solomon, however, didn't exactly share his enthusiasm.

"Asmodeus, my palm is getting sweaty."

"But we get to hold hands!" Asmo squealed, "You love holding my hand!"

"True, but I also love to do things with my hands."

It was incredibly hard to read his spells right when the fifth born prince of Arcadia was on top of him and in his lap. It was incredibly hard to focus when he was also moving his hips against him and kissing along his neck. He was lucky that it hadn't been a more dangerous spell. But he also couldn't blame Asmo. After all, he was more than happy to be an active participant in his actions.

It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with curses, no, in fact he was very familiar with them. Some minor ones could be useful for catching thieves, or wiggling the truth out of liars, but he never imagined that one like this would stick him to Asmodeus. Perhaps he should be wiser when choosing readings in Asmodeus’ company.

With a sigh he grabbed his book with his free hand and dragged Asmo with him to the edge of the bed. There had to be a way to undo this spell. Not that he didn’t like holding his hand, he loved holding his hand, but certain situations would call for him to use both of his hands. Not only that, but he and Asmo couldn’t always be together, and being stuck together when they needed to be in two places at once was rather inconvenient.

Asmo leaned against his shoulder, eyes glancing down to the book and back up to Solomon. Solomon’s lips moved ever so slightly as he looked over the words, trying to make sense of the text before him.

“This is nice,” Asmo chirped, interrupting his train of thought. “I like watching you read, you look very attractive when you’re focused.”

Solomon couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Well thank you, but focus requires quiet, and I’m going to need that in order to figure out what we need to do to fix this.” If he was able to poke Asmo’s nose he would have. So instead he placed a small kiss on it.

“I don’t think we need to fix it so quickly. I don’t think it’s that big of a problem."

"You'll think differently when we have things we need to get done, I don't think it is incredibly possible for us to function like this."

"But-"

"Shhhh. We'll be holding hands while I figure out what we need to do.”

Asmo seemed slightly satisfied with that answer and remained silent as Solomon continued to scan through the book.

***

“Solomon! Slow down!” Asmo squeaked, stumbling along behind the king. He’d called a carriage to take them to the outskirts of the kingdom. Just as their luck would have it, it appeared that Solomon was only missing one singular ingredient needed to fix their little screw up.

All the sudden he felt himself jerk back as his fiance dug his heels into the earth, “Asmo-”

“You almost took me through a mud puddle Solomon. A mud puddle! Do you realize how hard that would have been to get out of my clothes? You’re being such a reckless man!”

“Alright, alright, I apologize,” Solomon said, “But darling, you need to keep your voice down, we don’t know what could possibly be prowling around these parts.” As he spoke he noticed Asmo’s eyes go wide, fixed on something behind him.

Great.

Perfect.

Did he dare turn around or should he just curse his luck further?

Before he even had the chance to turn around, Asmo was yanking him out of the way. His eyes just managed to catch quills slicing the air where his head had been moments ago. The two of them stumbled off into a tree where Solomon finally got a glance at the creature. It had a humanoid face, surrounded by sharp quills, it’s body was that of a large cat, and it’s tail was spiked, thrashing widley. It’s fangs were bared towards them as Solomon tried to put himself in front of Asmo.

“I can’t get to my dagger,” Asmo whispered, “Not with my dominant hand anyways.”

Because Solomon was currently glued to it.

His eyes never left the beast. He couldn’t risk it pouncing and catching them off guard.

Being stuck together wasn’t too bad.

But being skewered together wasn’t something Solomon was looking to try.

“Just stay close,” Solomon whispered, bringing Asmo closer to him, “Listen and do exactly what I say when I say it."

Asmo's nod was so slight that Solomon barely registered it. They waited, letting their hunter circle them. Swaying back and forth, looking for an opening. This was the downside of being stuck like this. Yes Asmodeus was strong, and Solomon knew he could take care of himself, but he didn’t like the idea that he was the one putting him in danger. He should never intentionally be putting him in harm’s way.

He would put himself down first, but if something happened to one of them, they were both doomed. Asmodeus would have even less of a chance of surviving if he was stringing along his corpse. The stakes were higher than they normally would be.

His eyes drifted downwards to those sharp talons, the way they curled in the soil. He just needed the right moment, an opening.

Then the beast stopped.

"Left!" Solomon didn't give Asmo time to respond, yanking him along as the beast lunged for them. They stumbled onto the ground together, narrowly avoiding being slashed open.

But the beast was quick and agile. Solomon barely had the time to raise a shield above them before it pounced again. He could feel the strain on his body with each blow that came down onto the barrier. This creature really wasn’t going to give up until it had them both between its jaws.

He’d failed his kingdom.

He’d failed Asmo.

He’d failed.

At least he could die in his love’s arms.

“Solomon-”

“Asmo, I’m so sorry that things are going this way. I-”

“That’s great darling, but look underneath us,” Asmodeus sounded oddly calm. Solomon debated if he should take his eyes off of the furious creature before them.

“Darling,” he could hear the exasperation in Asmo’s voice, and soon a flower was in his line of vision, “While I love the dramatics you’re putting on, isn’t this the little flower that was in your book?” If they weren’t about to be eaten by a giant beastie, Solomon could have kissed him. His absolutely wonderful Asmodeus.

Solomon’s grin was wider than the maw of the creature, “Perfect! That is exactly what I was looking for, now put a petal in my mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

Solomon hissed as the creature threw itself against the shield once more and his magic flickered. “Asmodeus please just do it.”

Asmodeus quickly placed a petal on his tongue and Solomon started to chew. Then, once he thought it was good enough, he spat it onto their hands.

“Ew Solomon!” Asmo screeched, but Solomon would make it up to him later.

Their hands were now freed, but Solomon wasn’t sure how much he would be able to do after he drained more of his powers trying to keep the beast at bay. All he knew was that he’d do anything in his power to keep Asmodeus safe, even if that meant providing a distraction long enough for him to run. All he had to do now was prepare himself to take the wall down. All he had to do was breathe and think of Asmo’s wonderful smile.

But he didn’t even get to think too much about anything aside from that.

As the beast reared, Solomon lowered the shield, and then a figure darted past him. A terrible screech echoed all around them as Asmo plunged his dagger deep into its chest and twisted. He didn’t let up, didn’t let go. Even as it toppled backwards, Asmo pressed forwards staying on top of it until it’s thrashing movements came to a halt.

Asmo’s back rose and fell as he removed his dagger. Blood splatter sprayed his front and his arms, his dagger glistened a dark crimson. His hand raised to his head, and then he hesitated, a look of disgust crossing his face.

Solomon wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the image sent a wonderful red color straight to his cheeks. Something inside of him wanted to ravish the prince. But Asmo smacked his hand away as soon as he went to reach for him.

“Oh no. Nuh uh. Who told you it was okay to spit on my hand? My husband should know better! That was absolutely revolting,” he snapped. The tip of his dagger rested on his chest, but Solomon didn’t even flinch. Instead he brought his hands up and gently cupped Asmo’s face.

“I’m sorry my love, I did what I had to, but I promise that I can make it up to you.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow.

“How about a nice warm bath where I tend to you and spoil you?”

Asmo’s eyebrow raised a little higher.

Oh he was insatiable.

“Perhaps I could call the tailor in? I could get new clothes made and ordered for you, maybe even get your crown shined?”

Asmo let out a sigh and dropped his dagger from Solomon’s chest, “I suppose we can talk about it.”

He was forgiven.

Solomon took that moment to press a kiss to Asmo’s lips, “Good. Now, why don’t we head back and get you cleaned up before more trouble manages to find us.”

The walk back was a lot less eventful, and Solomon could feel his bones start to ache. His eyes glanced over to Asmodeus, his hand gently laying by his side. He couldn’t help himself. Testing the waters, Solomon moved closer to brush their fingers together. Asmo glanced at him and Solomon repeated the action before intertwining his fingers with Asmo’s.

“Now King Solomon,” oh Solomon loved the way he said that, “I thought you didn’t want to hold my hand anymore.”

“Of course I want to hold your hand. I do love how soft they are, and I love how your fingers look wrapped around your dagger.”

“Oh you would love something so brutish wouldn’t you?” Asmo teased, “Refined King Solomon, who is always so deep in his books, loves watching the delicate little Arcadian prince slaying a big ugly monster because of how his spit-covered hands look wrapped around a dagger.”

Solomon wrapped himself around him, not caring in the slightest if blood got on his cloak, “And if I do?”

“And what if you do?” Asmo challenged.

There was so much Solomon loved about him, and that fire in his eyes was one of the things he absolutely adored. Asmodeus was strong in more ways than one, and Solomon knew this to be true. All he could hope was that he helped Asmo flourish and grow.

“Isn’t that the question,” Solomon said leaning in, “But now all I wish is to hold your hand.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“But will you let me?”

Asmo met him halfway, letting his lips meet Solomon’s. His heart soared at the tiniest bit of contact with Asmo, and when they pulled apart, Solomon could feel his body begging for more. He could never get enough of Asmodeus, and he would never get enough of Asmodeus. How could he? He was beautiful and powerful all in his own right.

“So may I hold your hand?” Solomon asked again.

“You said you would attend to me in the bath as soon as we got back?” Asmo asked, leaning in close.

“That I did.”

“Then I suppose I could let you hold my hand. Perhaps I’ll even let you hold it the rest of the way back.”

“Oh my Asmodeus is too kind to me.”

And so they walked back to the palace, hand in hand. Solomon didn’t intend to let go any time soon. Asmodeus always had a grip on him. His hands held his heart so tenderly, and his very presence always had him in such a captivating grasp.

Asmodeus was wonderful, and Solomon considered himself lucky that he had the honor of holding the Arcadian prince’s hand. It was one he didn’t deserve, and yet Asmo blessed him every day.

[loveissupernatural]

                             To Love in a Foreign Land

                                Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Three: Friends and Enemies

[ Read Part 1 here ]  [ Read Part 2 here ]

You woke up bright and early the next morning, unable to sleep any longer because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The greatest adventure of your life was to start today; you’d get to ride on the Hogwarts Express, see the famous castle, and meet so many interesting new people. You took your time bathing, enjoying the scented wash you brought from home and letting the warm water relax your tense muscles. The bubbles from your magical soap floated through the air, sparkling and turning themselves into various shapes of magical creatures, earning an amused giggle from you.

Eventually you stood from the cooling bath water with a content sigh and dabbed your wet skin with a fluffy towel. You dried and lightly curled your hair with your favorite magical brush, although you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts so you could just use your wand – it was so much faster and more versatile.

You applied your makeup the non-magical way, thinking of your mother as you did so. The summer after your father’s death, she’d come into your bathroom early one morning as you were brushing your teeth. She didn’t say much. She’d brought her set of makeup and sighed, reaching up to dry the fresh tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” she had offered, giving you a watery smile.

You’d spent at least two hours in the bathroom with her that rainy morning, learning all of her fun tips on how to apply makeup. It was the first time you’d smiled, really smiled, since your father’s passing.

It was a happy memory for you and a lovely bit of bonding time with your mom. In the years since, you’d learned a lot from No-Maj magazines and television shows on how to improve your makeup, and you’d even shown your mother the new tricks you’d learned. It was a regular thing now.

You decided to start thinking of something else, considering that you were doing your eye makeup and getting emotional would only make your mascara run. You applied your concealer, highlighter, and lipstick, then quickly sprayed your face with setting spray. You’d learned to apply your makeup magically from your friends at Ilvermorny, but you still enjoyed doing it the No-Maj way sometimes. The motions were repetitive and relaxing.

A quick knock at your door made you jump, but then you heard Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, what’re you wearing today?” she asked through the door. You opened it to see her standing there in a fresh robe that matched your own, her hair still wet from the bath. “Oh, wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh geez, yes please,” she laughed, stepping into your room. She started shaking the towel through her wet locks as she observed the outfit laid out on your bed. “I suddenly hate every piece of clothing that I packed and I need all of the help I can get.”

“Sure,” you said, running a hand over your soft green t-shirt and fitted distressed jeans that were laid out. “I’m not going too fancy today, we’ll have to change clothes on the train after all. But I still want my look to be flattering, ya know?”

“Teach me, oh great one,” Eleanor grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

After helping her find a cute ensemble out of the incredible amount of clothes she’d managed to fit into her large trunk, you got dressed. The jeans hugged your hips and legs in all of the right places, showing peaks of skin here and there through the distressed fabric. You slipped on a pair of modestly-heeled black booties, giving you a bit of height and your backside a bit more definition. You tucked in your olive green cotton tee and smiled at your reflection. You thought you looked attractive yet approachable, which was exactly what you were going for.

Eleanor wasn’t much of a makeup wearer, but she asked you to help her apply the smallest bit. You brushed some mascara over her lashes and lightly tapped her cheeks with a bit of blush. She was happy with it.

“Oi, well don’ you two look brigh’ eyed,” Hagrid greeted as you and Eleanor met him downstairs by the bar. “Excited fer ya trip to Hogwarts, I reckon?”

“We’re so pumped,” you beamed, nodding in thanks as Hagrid bent to pick up your luggage with ease.

“Is the Hogwarts Express as beautiful as everyone says, Hagrid?” Eleanor asked. The both of you followed the large man out of the door, waving goodbye to a sleepy-looking Tom that was wiping the bar.

“Oh, she’s a beaut,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Had a bit o’ trouble fittin’ in th’ compartments after me firs’ year, but lots o’ good mem’ries on tha’ train.”

Kings Cross Station wasn’t a long walk from the Leaky Cauldron, considering Hagrid’s knowledge of some shortcuts not far from Diagon Alley. It was hard to keep up with his enormous strides, though. In no time, you all were walking into the sunlit and busy station, surrounded by bustling men and women on their morning commute. Many were staring at Hagrid, equally in awe and frightened.

“Now, yer gonna find Platform 9 ¾,” Hagrid told the two of you, leaning down to place your luggage at your feet. “You’ll know wha’ to do. Reckon you’ll see sum other students goin’ through.”

“Thank you so much, Hagrid,” you grinned, briefly squeezing his enormous arm. He smiled back kindly through the bushy beard.

“You rock, Hagrid,” Eleanor said. Hagrid tried not to beam, swatting his garbage lid-sized hand in modesty.

“It’s nothin’,” he grumbled. “I’ll see ya at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“See you later!”

Hagrid waved goodbye and turned, his long strides carrying him away from you in seconds flat.

“Hope everyone at Hogwarts is as nice as Hagrid,” you told Eleanor, turning to her and pulling out the Hogwarts Express ticket from your pocket. Platform 9 ¾ shined back at you in metallic gold lettering.

“Well, let’s get a luggage cart then try to find this weird-ass platform,” Eleanor sighed, picking up her luggage with a huff. You did the same, the two of you waddling towards a group of empty carts beside a nearby barrier. After loading all of your trunks, the two of you began searching for the magical barrier in the midst of all of the normal ones.

“I’m so glad that Cinna will be at the castle when we get there,” you mentioned absentmindedly. “She’d be hooting like crazy with all of this traveling.”

“Same with Bebe,” Eleanor agreed. Bebe was her black cat with piercing green eyes and a very fluffy tail. “She would be throwing a fit and attracting all kinds of unwanted attention.”

You stopped abruptly, throwing out an arm to stop Eleanor as well. Both of your trunks swayed dangerously on your luggage carts from the sudden motion.

“Hold on, there’s Platform 9,” you said, pointing toward the clearly numbered sign hanging from the brick barrier.

“And there’s 10,” your friend nodded, pointing as well. “Okay, now where’s ours?”

“Hagrid said we’d know what to do and to look for other students,” you said, almost to yourself. Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone that would stick out from the crowd. Wizards weren’t always the best at selecting inconspicuous No-Maj clothing.

“Let’s see who’s wearing something ridiculous,” Eleanor snorted, leaning on the handle of her cart and resting her chin in her hand. “Someone’s mom or dad is bound to be wearing a lime green fur coat or something.”

The two of you waited for a few minutes, watching the area around the barrier and nervously glancing at a nearby clock on the wall. It was drawing closer and closer to nine o’clock.

Just as you were beginning to worry that the two of you would miss the train, it happened. A group of girls that weren’t much older than you walked toward the platform, laughing at something casually. One leaned back against the brick between platforms 9 and 10, and boom, it happened. She disappeared through the wall. Each girl, in turns, subtly slipped out of sight, the surrounding No-Maj’s none the wiser.

“Thank goodness,” Eleanor sighed in relief.

The two of you approached the platform with caution, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. You’d learned after many years of living with your No-Maj mother that ordinary people tended to miss out on subtle magic even if it was happening right in front of them — because they weren’t looking for it.

You let Eleanor go first while you played lookout. She backed her cart against the barrier and leaned against it like the group of girls did. In a moment, she’d disappeared. You glanced around nervously, but no one had taken any notice. You breathed out a relieved sigh, then copied her movements exactly.

It felt like a warm, soft breeze as you sank through the brick. Suddenly, the station dematerialized and was replaced by a huge black steam engine and a bustling crowd of robe-clad witches and wizards. You grinned at Eleanor in excitement, looking up to see a red sign that read Platform 9 ¾ in slanted gold lettering. The platform was incredibly busy, filled with families hugging goodbye and the sound of rolling luggage and the hum of excited chatter.

“This is it,” you sighed dreamily. A huge smile broke over your face and Eleanor matched it. Your adventure to Hogwarts was officially beginning.

You and Eleanor rushed to the train in excitement, dragging your trunks along behind you. With a bit of difficulty, you both unloaded the carts and heaved your suitcases through the open door with the help of a station employee. Seeing your evident confusion, he told you in a thick Irish accent to take the trunk containing your school robes and to leave the rest with him.

The inside of the Hogwarts express was cozy, but not incredibly roomy, and you recalled Hagrid’s comment. You snorted at the mental image of the giant man trying to squeeze down the car hallway.

“Let’s find a compartment,” Eleanor whispered to you excitedly, grabbing your hand to pull you along. Her palm was sweaty and so was yours.

You both walked past many students in the train corridor, some looking at the two of you curiously. It was obvious that most of the students seemed familiar with who was in their year at this point, so two new faces that weren’t first years caught some attention. You heard some whispering as you passed, but none of it seemed unkind, at least that’s what you were hoping.

Some compartment doors were open, filled with chatting and laughing teenagers, others were closed. A few glanced curiously at you and Eleanor as you walked by and peered in.

“Is there not a single empty compartment on this train?” Eleanor complained, frustration seeping through her tone.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing,” you told her hopefully. “It’ll force us to talk to people, right? Maybe make some friends?”

“That’s all well and good,” she shrugged. “I was just kind of hoping we could avoid the staring for a while longer.”

You hummed in agreement. A few heads were poking out of compartments that the two of you had already passed, not bothering to hide their curious stares. You weren’t sure if you were flattered, uncomfortable, or a weird combination of both.

“I do feel a bit like a zoo animal,” you laughed uneasily.

“Damn it, Y/N, we should’ve looked less hot today,” Eleanor joked, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Now the Brits can’t keep their eyes off of us.”

You laughed aloud at her sarcasm.

“Are the two of you lost?”

You almost jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. You turned to see a bushy-haired, proud-looking girl that was already in her Gryffindor robes with a shiny red badge pinned to her chest. A tall, freckled and red-headed boy stood behind her. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, a bit surprised. “We’re just trying to find a compartment.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at your American accent, and the redhead suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Are you two exchange students from Ilvermorny?” she practically gushed, clasping her hands together in excitement. You and Eleanor exchanged amused smiles.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you replied. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Well, the accent gives it away a bit,” the boy grinned, and the girl turned and lightly slapped his arm.

“I mean, it’s that obvious that we look lost?” you corrected yourself, laughing at his smart remark.

The girl smiled sympathetically. She reached out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley. We’re Gryffindor prefects.”

Ron seemed to stand up a bit straighter at that and puffed out his chest. You and Eleanor each shook her hand in turn, introducing yourselves. Ron waved a bit awkwardly but not unkindly.

“So, what’s a prefect?” Eleanor asked curiously, pointing to the badges on their chests.

“We were chosen out of a select number of students in our year to guide our peers and help to uphold the rules,” Hermione stated proudly. “A boy and girl are chosen from each house. I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but couldn’t find anything about student guides.”

“In our fourth year, three students are chosen to help the younger kids with their studies and stuff,” you shrugged. “They’re a bit like glorified tutors, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing.”

Ron’s chest puffed out again, pride in his stance. “We do a bit more than that, I’d say.”

At Eleanor’s giggle, he seemed to remember that he needed to look cool and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest compartment door as casually as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we’re here to help,” she said, an excited glimmer in her brown eyes. “There’ll be prefects to help you two in whatever house you’re sorted. But you’re always welcome to come to one of us! I’d absolutely love to hear all about America’s magical education. Doesn’t that sound positively fascinating, Ron?”

He shrugged, not hiding his disinterest well. She was obviously a bookworm and he very obviously was not.

“Anyway, there are normally a few empty compartments toward the back of the train,” Hermione said, seeming to remember that you four were standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway.

“Awesome, thanks,” Eleanor smiled.

“I’d truly love to stay and chat, but we’re expected in the prefect’s carriage,” she sighed apologetically, and you had no doubt that she really was sorry to miss the chance to ask you as many questions as possible. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” you said, and stepped aside so that Hermione and Ron could walk toward the front of the train.

The floor lurched, almost knocking you and Eleanor off balance, and the steam engine whistled. The train was slowly beginning to move.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Eleanor squealed, clapping her hands. The two of you hugged in excitement, ignoring a few of the people still sneaking peeks at you from their open compartment doors.

You and your friend practically skipped down toward the end of the train, taking Hermione’s advice and finally finding an empty compartment. With a great heave, you swung your luggage up to the top rack and removed your wand from one of the zippered pockets. You hadn’t done magic all summer and the itch was almost irresistible. Eleanor was obviously thinking the same thing, flicking her wand silently at a small magazine she’d pulled from her bag.

“Did you ever get the hang of non-verbal spells?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the magazine that lay motionless on the bench beside you.

“Eh,” you said noncommittally. You were modest. “We learned it right before break, and most of the class didn’t get it anyway. I’m always a bit rusty when summer ends.”

“Same,” she muttered, flicking her wand relentlessly in repeating patterns. But the magazine still didn’t move.

You pulled a book out of your trunk: Hogwarts, a History: The Revised Edition. You wanted to learn as much about the school as you possibly could before you got there. Not only would the knowledge make navigating the castle a bit easier, but you could almost feel your father inside of the pages. With every new experience, like meeting Hagrid, staying in the Leady Cauldron, and boarding the train, you felt closer and closer to him.

“Oh, shit!”

Eleanor’s scream made you jump, and you realized with a whiff of smoke that the magazine had burst into flames. You bolted out of your seat and quickly drew your wand.

“Aguamenti!” you exclaimed. Water rushed from your wand tip and extinguished the burning pages. You both were panting as you turned your irritated gaze to her. She grinned sheepishly.

“Told you I was rusty…”

“Were you trying to catch it on fire?” you questioned, adrenaline starting to retreat. Your heart was still pounding.

“Um, no,” she practically whispered. “I was trying to freeze it.”

You snorted, holding back a laugh. “Keep that up and you won’t end up in Ravenclaw.”

“I’m just nervous! Horned Serpent won’t let me down. I’m sure the Sorting Hat will see that.”

She waited for you to agree, craving your confirmation. You smiled at her, understanding her nerves. You were not-so-secretly terrified that the hat wouldn’t be able to sort you at all.

“Of course it will be able to tell,” you said kindly, and Eleanor let out a breath she’d been holding.

Determined to help her with her uneasiness, the two of you practiced simple non-verbal spells for the next forty minutes or so. When you froze a magazine page on your first try, Eleanor seemed to deflate. You then purposefully messed up on every attempt until she successfully covered a page in ice. She pumped a fist into the air, overjoyed. You smiled.

Then your compartment door slid open, revealing the bushy-haired prefect.

“Hello,” she smiled. “Our prefect meeting just finished. Would you like to join us in our compartment?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, thankful that a kind student was already taking you and Eleanor under their wing.

The two of you pulled your belongings down from the racks above your seats and followed Hermione down the hallway. The compartment was only a few paces away from yours.

She slid open the door and walked inside, reaching to help Eleanor slide her trunk onto the overhead shelf. A boy with dark, somewhat messy hair and glasses looked up in surprise. He was sitting across from Ron, the redhead that you’d met earlier. Ron greeted you with a short wave, whispering something quickly to the raven-haired boy.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself,” Hermione scolded. She sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He stood and stuck out his hand, albeit awkwardly. “I’m Harry.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand. It was calloused, but warm.

“Eleanor,” your friend said, shaking his hand as well.

“They’re exchange students from Ilvermorny,” Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Ron. You sat down on the opposite bench next to Harry, then Eleanor sat beside you. “Isn’t that so exciting?”

Harry looked mildly confused. “Ilvermorny?”

“Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione said, waiting for him to catch on. He didn’t. “It’s the magical school in America,” she explained, looking a bit put out that he didn’t know this. “Honestly, Harry, we learned about other wizarding schools from Professor McGonagall last term, remember? After Christmas she posted the I.W.S.E.P. signup sheet in the common room.”

“I was a bit distracted with the tournament last year,” Harry said, a bit defensive because of her gaze.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking sad. She looked to Ron expectantly. “You remember, don’t you, Ronald?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Sure, yeah. Good ole I.W.S.E.P.”

“What does I.W.S.E.P. stand for, Ron?” she asked flatly.

“Uh… well, International, uh, Witch… Witch Switching Event—?”

“Honestly! Just admit you didn’t listen either, Ron!”

“It’s not a big deal,” you cut in, grinning uneasily. “Most of my house didn’t listen either. A lot of the students who ended up doing the exchange program already knew about it way beforehand. I’d decided I was going by my third year.”

Hermione was suddenly very interested in what you had to say, and Ron shot you a thankful look. You could see that Harry was doing his very best not to laugh at Ron.

“Tell us all about your school!” Hermione squealed, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her chin in her hands. She reminded you of a small child watching their favorite television program. “What’s it like? I’ve read all about the sorting process, it is absolutely fascinating. And that you don’t receive your wand until after your sorting ceremony?”

“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Eleanor said, mildly impressed.

“Hermione knows loads,” Ron interjected. Hermione tried to hide her flattered grin, but the slight flush of her cheeks betrayed her.

Harry was looking out the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Well,” you began, looking away from Harry and back to Hermione and Ron, “Ilvermorny is modeled after Hogwarts, ya know, so not too much is different.”

“Oooh, yes, I read about that too,” Hermione nodded. “The founder, Isolt Sayre, dreamed of going to Hogwarts in her childhood, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that’s why one of our uniform colors is blue. She wanted to be a Ravenclaw.”

“Same,” Eleanor sighed. Hermione grinned at her.

“Are you academically inclined?” she asked Eleanor.

“I’d like to think so,” Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve just heard that my house, Horned Serpent, and Ravenclaw are kind of alike. I’ll be happy no matter what house I’m sorted into, but I think Ravenclaw may feel a bit more like home.”

“I was almost sorted in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said, and you weren’t surprised.

“Really? Then why are you in Gryffindor?” Eleanor asked, scooting to the edge of her seat too.

“I chose it,” she said simply. “Books and cleverness are important, of course, but there are more important things.”

“So, the Sorting Hat will let you choose your house?” you asked quickly. Hermione noticed the desperate twinge in your tone.

“Well,” she said gently, “to a degree. But only if you truly belong there.”

You sighed. Hermione looked at Eleanor questioningly.

“She’s nervous that she won’t be sorted,” Eleanor explained, rolling her eyes but squeezing your arm.

“Everyone gets sorted,” Ron assured, certainty lacing his tone. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, I remember as a First Year being terrified that I was gonna end up in another house. But it all works out, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you afraid that you won’t be sorted?” Hermione asked curiously.

You shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear shyly. You never enjoyed talking about this, afraid that you’d come off as bragging.

“Well, this thing happens at Ilvermorny sometimes, during the sorting ceremony,” you began hesitantly. Harry turned his head towards you, the conversation catching his interest. “It doesn’t happen super often…”

“Like, once every decade or two,” Eleanor added. You blushed a bit.

“More than one house can choose you,” you explained, wringing your hands together. “The houses show that they want you when their wooden statues come to life. You stand in the middle of the circle and the whole school is watching from the side and the balconies above.”

“Do you have four houses like we do?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus.”

“What happens if more than one house chooses you?” Harry asked. Hermione seemed glad that he was taking part in the conversation, relieved even. You wondered why.

You turned to Harry. “If more than one house chooses you, then the student gets to choose where they want to go.”

“A bit like the Sorting Hat,” Hermione added. “So, what happens once every ten years?”

“It’s not uncommon for more than one house to choose a student,” Eleanor said, “but it only happens once every few years that three houses will show interest. Even rarer that all four want someone.”

“All four wanted me,” you said quietly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione seemed very impressed. Harry seemed impressed as well, exchanging a loaded glance with Ron.

“Imagine the Sorting Hat announcing that it can’t decide,” Ron said to Harry, laughing in disbelief. “Can you imagine? I think McGonagall’s head would explode.”

“Has that ever happened?” you asked worriedly. “I mean, what if the Sorting Hat doesn’t know where to put me?”

“It’s never failed to sort a student in Hogwarts’ history,” Hermione assured you, putting a comforting hand on yours before pulling it away. “I’m quite certain it would just allow you to choose.”

You sighed.

“What house did you go with?” Harry asked you.

“Thunderbird,” you answered, a smile creeping onto your face. You were proud of your house.

“And what kind of person goes to Thunderbird?” asked Ron.

“Well, it’s said that Thunderbird leans toward adventurers and represents the soul.”

“The soul?” asked Harry, brows pulling together.

“The houses at Ilvermorny aren’t exactly like Hogwarts,” Eleanor explained, biting her lip as she thought. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Ilvermorny houses are said to represent parts of a human being. Horned Serpent usually leans toward scholars, so it represents the mind. Wampus leans toward warriors, so the body. Thunderbird favors adventurers, so the soul. And Pukwudgie favors healers, so people who lead with their heart.”

“It’s such an interesting take on things, don’t you think?” Hermione said dreamily to no one in particular. She was like a sponge, soaking up every word that came out of your mouths.

“Why did you go with Thunderbird?” asked Harry.

“People ask me that a lot,” you smiled. “What I told Eleanor is… I guess I see the soul as the root of everything? I mean, it all goes back to that. When we’re born, when we die, our souls are who we are at the most fundamental level. They last long after we leave this earth.”

Harry sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly. His eyes were filled with some sort of pain that he was making an effort to hide. Ron and Hermione watched him, concerned.

“I think that’s a lovely sentiment,” Hermione said to you, “that souls are the beginning and never-ending. That the people we care about never really leave us after they die.”

You smiled, your father’s joyful face flitting through your mind. “Yeah. That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hogwarts. My dad was a student here.”

“Blimey, really?” Ron laughed. “Knew you weren’t so bad, you’ve got a bit of Brit in you.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, Hermione turning to Ron and slapping his arm again. You gathered that this was a common occurrence between the two.

“He was in Hufflepuff,” you said.

“Oh, Gryffindors get along swimmingly with Hufflepuffs,” Hermione chirped. “We normally have a few classes together every term.”

“Bet your dad’s rooting for you to get sorted into Hufflepuff, yeah?” Ron questioned.

Eleanor looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. You bit your lip and Hermione seemed to instantly detect that something was wrong. Ron, of course, was oblivious.

“Uh, actually, he died a few years ago,” you said quietly. Harry turned to look at you, understanding in his green eyes.

“Oh, damn. Sorry,” Ron mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“No, you’re fine, Ron,” you said quickly. “It’s not like it’s a taboo subject or anything. I just don’t talk about it much is all.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “I should probably get used to talking about it more anyway, I guess, now that I’ll be at a new school where my dad used to go. I’m just hoping to, I don’t know, get closer to his memory somehow? I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Harry said quickly. You were a bit surprised by the intensity of his tone. “When I hear things from the professors about my mum, or see a Quidditch trophy that my dad won, I can feel it. Like I’m getting a glimpse at them.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged sad glances. You didn’t miss the gloomy air that the three were giving off.

“Your parents…?” you asked quietly.

“Are dead, yeah,” he answered. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then you saw it. With an audible gasp, you didn’t understand why you didn’t realize it before. He’d introduced himself as Harry, after all.

“You’re – oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” you stammered, “… that was a stupid question, I shouldn’t have asked. I just didn’t know who—who you were.”

Eleanor seemed confused, then her eyes fell upon the lightening scar that was no longer hidden underneath his dark hair. Her mouth dropped open quite unabashedly.

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged. “It was actually sort of nice, meeting people who didn’t instantly know who I was.”

“Well, uh, it’s cool to meet you,” you said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah! Like, beyond cool,” Eleanor grinned behind you.

You couldn’t believe this whole time that you were discussing worries as silly as sorting to The Boy Who Lived, the boy who, as a baby, defeated You-Know-Who and survived the Killing Curse. Your problems and fears must seem so small and trivial to him.

Harry offered an awkward but understanding smile. You realized that he must deal with this reaction every time he met someone new. It must’ve been exhausting.

Just then, the compartment door flew open with an unpleasant bang. In strutted two large boys that reminded you of stunted gorillas, following a familiar handsome face and perfectly styled light blonde hair. The atmosphere of the compartment poisoned; you could feel the instant shift in the air. Your three new friends were glaring at Draco Malfoy with all of the hatred and disgust they could possibly muster. You exchanged a glance of recognition with Eleanor, the two of you sinking back into your seats to avoid whatever confrontation was obviously coming.

“Potter,” Draco spat, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse, “just thought I’d drop by to show you this.” He stood up straighter in his fitted black suit, a green prefect pin glinting on his chest. “Someone needs to remind you of your superiors.”

“Big whoop, Malfoy, we’re prefects too,” Ron spat back, pointing to the pin on his chest. Malfoy sneered.

“Obvious lack of judgement, Weaselby,” he smirked. His grey eyes pierced through Hermione, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “If they allow mudbloods to be prefects now, then what’s a blood traitor?”

You and Eleanor gasped at his use of the slur. Even then, he didn’t seem to notice the two of you, too intent on causing chaos.

“And what does that say about you, Potter?” he smirked nastily. “That they get chosen as prefects over you? Not Dumbledore’s little golden boy anymore, are you?”

Draco’s cronies laughed behind him, fueling his ever-deepening smirk.

Harry shot up from his seat, rage radiating off of him in waves that were almost visible. This was obviously what Malfoy came for. His face was twisting into a superior smile. Harry’s wand was clutched in his shaking fist.

“At least my father’s not a cruel, murdering, prejudiced piece of—”

“Harry, he’s not worth it,” Hermione begged, standing to grab Harry’s arm and pull him back.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth, Potter,” Draco threatened. He stepped closer to Harry as Hermione continued to attempt to pull her friend back with little success. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand so much that his fingers turned white, causing a few sparks to fly out of the tip. Malfoy’s cronies were beginning to crack their knuckles in anticipation.

You weren’t sure when you decided to do this, or why in the hell you thought it was a good idea, but you suddenly stood. Malfoy and his bodyguards finally seemed to realize that there were two other people in the compartment. Recognition flitted across his face, and you knew that he recognized you from the day before in Madam Malkin’s.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think anyone in this compartment gives two damns that you’re a prefect, Draco,” you snapped, a confidence in your voice that you certainly weren’t feeling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at you in shock, both surprised by your involvement and the fact that you even knew who Malfoy was.

Draco was taken off guard, but quickly recovered.

“I heard whispers of Americans on the train,” he said unkindly, eyes glinting but holding the slightest bit of fascination. “I suppose Hogwarts is officially scraping the bottom of the bin nowadays.”

Anger curdled in your stomach and boiled in your blood. You could easily see why Harry was so quick to anger the moment Malfoy stepped into the compartment—he was getting under your skin, too.

“Well, I guess they are if you’re here,” you said, crossing your arms, “and named a prefect no less? They’re obviously lowering their standards. I mean, damn, I just met you and I already think you’re a waste of space.”

Ron snorted behind you, not bothering to hold back his laugh. Hermione even had to slap a hand over her mouth not to giggle. Draco’s scowl was venomous, far more intimidating than the one he’d given you in the robe shop when you’d called him an asshole.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he said, dangerously quiet. His blue-grey eyes drilled into you, and the most conflicting sensation of butterflies and hatred trickled from your stomach to your toes. “Already associating with mudbloods and blood traitors before you even hit the grounds? Pity.”

“Ya know, I really don’t like that word,” you said, sickeningly sweet. Your wand was at Malfoy’s throat before anyone could react, and Draco’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do. They drew their wands and pointed them at you, looking at each other with confusion.

Draco’s surprised eyes were locked with yours, his chin tilted up and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous gulp. He was doing his best to act tough, but you could tell that he was uneasy. He didn’t know you and didn’t know what you were capable of. He had been banking on a fight with Harry, not on a fight with you.

“Nah ah ah,” you smiled, shaking your head at the drawn wands of the gorillas flanking him. You pointedly twisted the tip of your wand into Draco’s neck a bit – not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to make your point. “I’ll hex him before you can even open your mouths.”

They exchanged fearful glances again, their wands wavering. Draco didn’t dare turn his head to look at them, but seethed through his teeth, “Lower your wands, you morons!”

They did as they were told, and you smiled at them. “That’s better.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t seem to know what to do either, but their faces were filled with gleeful astonishment. Eleanor was staring at you in awe. You didn’t blame her; you weren’t one to get into fights at Ilvermorny. Actually, you’d never been in a fight; you’d never done anything like this. But the adrenaline rushing through your veins was a heady combination when it mixed with the butterflies dancing in your gut.

“You know what my specialty is, Draco?” you asked, tapping your wand teasingly against his Adam’s apple. He gulped again and closed his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. “I’m pretty good with non-verbal spells. You’d never know what was coming.”

He nervously licked his lips and stared back down at you, eyes filled with distaste, anger, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“And non-verbal as in, ya know, making you non-verbal,” you added with a smirk reminiscent of his own, pressing the tip of your wand into the side of his neck. Again, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make his heart race. Yours was racing too.

You had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from, but you sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

“If I hear that nasty, disgusting word come out of your mouth again… well, you won’t be saying anything for a while,” you whispered sweetly. Draco’s clenched jaw, the vein popping out of his neck, his furrowed brows and gaze so intense that you couldn’t distinguish between the adrenaline and the butterflies anymore – you realized with overwhelming shame just how hot you thought he was.

You hated yourself.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered venomously, meant for your ears only.

“Will I really?” you asked, tapping the wand against his throat again. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your wordless hex. You stood there for a moment, anticipation building, letting him think that you were going to do it. Then, with a satisfied laugh, you lowered your wand and stepped back. You’d never planned on hexing him, not really, but you wanted him to know that you could, at any moment, without any incantation to warn him.

Draco’s eyes popped open, feeling the sudden loss of contact. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, reaching up to rub at his neck. He eyes darted around the compartment, taking in the smug faces of the Gryffindors and the confused faces of his cronies. With intense anger, he realized just how embarrassed he was.

“You better watch your back, Potter!” he spat, pointing a pale finger at Harry’s amused face. “Your luck is running out. He’s got plans for you. He’s going to kill you, just like your boyfriend.”

Harry’s face darkened. Then Draco’s furious eyes darted to you.

“And you,” he whispered spitefully, “you’ll regret ever leaving your backwoods trailer!”

You had no doubt that he meant it, but you hid your apprehension at his words, only raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With that, he stomped off down the hall, tailed closely by his muddled friends. You could hear him cursing the whole way.

“Y/N!” Eleanor breathed in disbelief, gripping your arm like a vice and dragging you down to the seat beside her. “What the actual fuck was that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty awesome—but what the fuck?!”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat in joy. “Will you marry me?”

You all busted into laughter.

“Malfoy might have it out for you even more than Harry,” Hermione giggled, but there was an air of uneasiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of defending yourself, but are you sure that was clever? He’ll be out for blood now.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “you’re ruining the moment!”

“Yeah, take the victory, Hermione,” Harry agreed with a grin.

                     ________________________

Thirty minutes later, Harry grabbed a silvery-looking cloak from his trunk, tucking it under his arms and murmuring something about returning in a few minutes. You didn’t think anything of it, but Ron and Hermione seemed a bit skeptical and irritated by the action.

The rest of the train ride was peppered with questions about Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, funny quips about what happened with Malfoy, and a delicious helping of sweets from the friendly trolley witch. Harry never returned.

You hadn’t realized just how much time had passed when Hermione stood up and stretched, instructing Ron to change into his robes. They needed to go back to the prefect carriage toward the front of the train before arrival, she explained. She recommended that you and Eleanor change into your school robes as well.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade at dark, just as you finished adjusting your new robes and helping Eleanor fix her hair. You could hear the chuga-chuga of the wheels slow, and the train lurch as it came to a full stop. Compartment doors were banging open and students were talking, laughing, and running down the hallways as they trickled out of the train.

You and Eleanor grabbed your luggage, stuffed your wands into the pocket of your robes, and set out into the night. The enormous castle loomed before you, quite visible from the village. The lit windows winked at you against the backdrop of the inky night sky.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Eleanor whispered in awe.

You were content.

[ Read Part 4 here ]