#and the enemies down on the lower floors. boring

[booperbeanv3]

p4... well, i like the battles/dungeons and i like the days where you can just fuck around and do as you please, but the actual murder plot does nothing for me. maybe it’s bc i was spoiled and already know all the twists? i had a similar deal with danganronpa where i liked the class trials but i hated the actual mystery since i played the games long ago. damnit, maybe i shouldn’t have spoiled myself for a mystery game......... the whole reason i enjoyed dgs in the first place was bc the spoilers i got were minimal [just kzm stuff] and i could run through things without getting impatient

kanji has been thrown into the TV. i think the more i look at everything around [esp kanji and naoto] i just get reminded on how dated p4 is in terms of that stuff. in the grand scheme of things p4 isn’t that old, i know, but like, no way was 2008 progressive in any way lol. and tbh, i don’t care if a game is all hoemoephoebic or w/e if it fits the setting and makes sense to me. but... eh. doesn’t sit right with me

[secret-sturniolo]

trouble in paradise - matt sturniolo

-one bed/enemies to lovers trope. CONTAINS SMUT! (1.9k words)

warnings - lowkey asshole!matt, arguing, unprotected p in v (pull out method not recommended), pussy eating, fingering

a/n - will this be my writing comeback?

tillies33ssss

"Y/n, please! We're gonna have so much fun, I promise!"

I was laying in Nick's bed as he desperately tried to convince me to come on this trip. The boys go to Hawaii every year, and this year he wanted me to tag along. Of course I was skeptical. Being stuck on a tropical island for a week with my best friend didn't seem so bad, but when one of his brothers hated me? I wasn't so sure. After a few days of convincing though, I made up my mind. How bad could it be, right?

(time skip - 10pm @ the hotel)

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

While in a particularly good mood, I agreed to room with Matt. At least we would each have our own bed, we didn't even have to talk to each other. Until we scanned the card to unlock our room, revealing the single king bed against the wall.

My heart dropped. "This has to be a sick joke." I say, my eyes wide.

After calling both Nick and Chris and the front desk, it was revealed that there had been a mix up with the reservations. The cherry on top, though? The hotel was fully booked. Not a single extra room was available we could switch to, leaving reality to sink in.

I try to keep a level head, knowing Matt was on edge. I move around the room silently so as not to give him any reason to be angry. I watch as he flops onto the bed.

"Have fun sleeping on the floor." He says, expressionless.

I scoff. "You're not serious, right? There's no way you're making me sleep on the dirty hotel floor."

He relaxes his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. He was clearly ignoring me. I let out a small laugh in disbelief.

"Matt, come on. Now you're just being childish."

He opens his eyes, not moving. "Oh, I'm being childish? You're the one who throws a fit every time something doesn't go your way!" He shoots back at me.

"I didn't come to Hawaii to sleep on the floor!" I say, my frustration growing.

Matt sits up harshly, his eyes boring into mine. "You shouldn't even be here at all!" He yells, his words sharp as a knife.

My jaw drops as I take a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Why were you even invited on this trip?" he continues. "Seriously, I'd like to know. Because it sure as hell wasn't by me!"

I feel my chest tighten, tears welling in my eyes as he yells. I begin to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Oh, are you gonna cry now?" he taunts. "Grow up."

I clench my jaw, grabbing a room key and my phone as I walk toward the door.

"Let me know when you're done being an asshole." I say before slamming the door behind me.

I wander down the hotel hallways like a labyrinth before finding the elevator. I ride down the the first floor, the lobby was empty as most people were sleeping already. I sign on the wall points to an exit. I follow the path, leading me to a small outdoor spa area. Underwater lights lit up the hot tub, curls of steam rising into the cool night air. I slip off my shoes, sitting on the edge of the tub as my feet dangle into the water.

"What is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, letting a tear slip from my eye. Was he right, should I really not have come? I think about texting Nick, but I figured he was asleep, tired from the jet-lag. I sit in silence as time slips by, letting my thoughts and doubts spiral.

I open my phone, typing a search into google. The screen displays a list of flights, my eyes scanning down the page. There was one flight tomorrow morning, showing 3 seats left. My finger lowers to tap the purchase button before my phone is swiped out of my hand.

"What?!" I jump, looking up. "Matt? What the fuck are you doing?" I say harshly.

He frowns at my screen. "You're leaving." He says, more of a statement than a question.

I reach for my phone back. "Yeah, I was trying to!" I shoot back, clearly annoyed.

Matt's eyes widen slightly at my serious tone. "You're actually serious?" He still holds my phone away from me.

I stare at him, not trying to hide the hurt on my face. "I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I was overwhelmed and tired, and I took it out on whoever happened to be near me."

I sit quietly, not buying his excuse. I hear him sigh as he slips his own shoes off, sitting down next to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I blurt out.

I hear him take a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.

"I never hated you, y/n." he pauses. "It's actually kinda the opposite."

I look over at him, confused. "What?"

He kicks the water, sending ripples of small waves into the hot tub.

"You make me feel things I'm scared to feel."

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "Like what...?" I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. "Like... attraction."

My heart beats faster as I nod slowly, acknowledging his words. My thoughts race, as everything I thought I knew was suddenly changing. He speaks again, nervously.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm just scared that if I let myself feel those things, I'll lose you." He looks down into the water.

I let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand softly as I intertwine our fingers. "I've stuck around this long. I don't think that would change anything."

I watch as he looks down at our hands that rest on his thigh, smiling softly with a small breath of relief.

"I don't want us to hate each other anymore, y/n." He says honestly.

I squeeze his hand. "I don't think we ever did."

A warm blush spreads to his cheeks as he meets my gaze. He leans in closer, pausing briefly to gauge my reaction. I close the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Our lips seem to fit together like a mold. Matt brings hi hands up to cup my cheek, my own hands resting on his shoulders as we get lost in each other. Desire surges through us before I pull away, my lips slightly parted.

Matt smiles softly, still blushing. " We should probably get out of here, right?" He stands, offering me his hand.

I nod, giggling softly as I take his hand. I let him lead me back through the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. He pulls me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. He smiles softly at me before pulling me back in, his lips meeting mine once again, passionate and needy.

His hands wander from my cheeks to my waist, down to my ass, and back up. I sense his desire as I pull away slightly to slide my t-shirt over my head, revealing my simple, black lace bra. His head immediately ducks down, planting wet kisses on my exposed skin. I sigh at the feeling, before urgently tugging at the hem of his own shirt, which was quickly discarded. He tugs down his sweats before walking me backwards to the bed, laying me down gently.

He makes quick work of slipping my shorts down, tossing them away. His eyes rake over my body hungrily.

"God, you're beautiful." He mumbles loud enough for me to hear, causing my cheeks to redden.

He leans over me, his fingers hooked into my underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks gently.

I nod quickly, desperate for his touch. He pulls them down my legs teasingly slow. I lean up, simultaneously unclasping my bra, leaving me bare before him. His thumb reaches down to rub slow, tentative circles over my clit.

"Matt, please!" I beg, causing him to smirk.

He grabs my legs, sliding my body to the edge of the bed as he brings his mouth down to my core. I feel his hot breath against me as he teasingly kisses my sensitive nub. Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks back and forth, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

He takes this as a signal to continue, thrusting his tongue into me. He groans as he finally tastes me, sending pleasant vibrations into me. I throw my head back, tangling my fingers in his hair, giving it a tug when it feels especially good.

"Oh, fuck!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly enters a finger into me, thrusting it while he continues to lick my clit.

My legs shake, squeezing against him as my orgasm bubbles in my stomach. I let out a loud moan, a string of curses leaving my mouth as I come undone. Matt continues for a few moments, letting me ride out my high before pulling away, licking his lips with a sly smile. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips are back on mine before I get the chance.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel him reach down to pull his boxers up. I hear a faint slapping sound as his erection hits his stomach. I pull away, looking between us at his dick, dripping pre-cum.

"Do you want this...?" He asks me, seriously.

"More than anything." I reply honestly.

He smiles, sitting back as me pulls my legs once again, letting them rest on his shoulders. I places his hand under my chin.

"Spit."

I give him a confused look, but I quickly oblige as his eyes pierce mine. He uses my spit as a lubricant, slowly stroking his dick as he looks into my eyes.

"Matt..." I urge him.

He nods knowingly, lining himself up with my entrance. He doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he pushes into me, giving me a chance to get used to the stretch. After a few seconds, I give him the okay to move.

His pace starts off slow and sensual, attaching his lips to my neck. Upon my request, he picks up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. His forehead rests against mine as he thrusts into me, our lips meeting every once in a while in a quick kiss.

The only sounds leaving our mouths are soft, breathy moans. We didn't need to use words, it was like we could reach each other like a book. Matt changes the angle slightly, causing his tip to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yes, Matt. Right there!" I feel myself getting close once again, my walls squeezing around him.

"Come for me, baby." Matt breathes against my neck.

After a couple more thrusts, my second orgasm comes crashing over me like a wave. Matt isn't far behind me, quickly pulling out and cumming on my stomach with a grunt.

He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and tired. After a few minutes, he props himself up on either side of me, smiling down at me in adoration.

"You're incredible." He tells me, causing me to giggle slightly.

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again."

He kisses me, and in that moment I knew I was right. This was only the beginning.

[jeonlicious]

MASQUERADE I ; jeongguk

pairing: prince!jk x princess!reader

synopsis: “You love me,” — “Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming loser.”

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 1,8k

warnings: enemies to lovers (idk), y/n gets SAd but jungkook comes to rescue, angry kook, jungkook takes care of y/n in the best way possible, needy!kook, he’s also shy shy shy, y/n is a total angel (pls i love her, my poor soul), oral (m receiving)

author’s note: i didn’t expect this to have 1,8k words but 🤷‍♀️, I hope you enjoy reading this!! (english is not my first language)

series masterlist | chapter two

“Miss Y/N you need to hurry up, your father is waiting for you at the ballroom.” Currently you were getting ready for another boring masquerade ball. Your father planes them every Halloween, it's been a tradition in your family for years.

Every year hundreds of people come to your castle. You don't know most of them, except for one family. The Jeon’s. Mr. Jeon is a very well-known king in a kingdom not far from yours, he's a great friend of your father. He and his wife are very nice people, well you can’t say that about their son.

Jeon Jeongguk, the motherfucker has been annoying you the second you were born. He is two years older than you but still acts like a toddler. Of course, there are moments when you enjoy his presence. Like the one time 4 years ago on your 16th birthday, he came to your rescue when he saw prince Han getting way too close to you.

After 40 minutes you were finally ready. Red ball gown, and a matching red mask with black rhinestones. Your hair was down with a little black tiara decorating your head. You looked stunning. When you walked into the ballroom all eyes were on you, people showering you with compliments. Well most of them were mothers of the princes that were here, all they wanted was just to get their sons to be your future husband so they could steal money from your father.

“Ah Y/N, you're finally here!” Your father cheered as he came to you and gave you a small peck on your forehead. “Yeah, the maids wanted to do their best.” You chuckled and walked away to the buffet. Different types of drinks and desserts on display. While you were deciding between wine or liquor a familiar voice rang through your ears.

“Y/NN.” Jeongguk whined putting his head on your shoulder. “You're out here drinking without me? How rude.” He continued. “Good to see you too.” You lowered your shoulder so his chin almost fell on the ground. “You love me,” He teased as he continued to walk by your side. “Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming loser.”

“Oh my, Y/N you look gorgeous!” Mrs. Jeon gasped when she saw you, giving you a big hug and kissing you on the cheek. “You look gorgeous as always Miss Jeon.” You complimented her. “She’s pretty and polite, you raised her well, my friend.” Mr. Jeon said as he came to you, hugging you. “Thank you, Mr. Jeon.”

While you were enjoying your time dancing on the dance floor prince Han came to you. “Look who's here.” He chuckled as he eyed you up and down, eyes stopping at your cleavage. “Good to see you too Han.” You gave him a fake smile as you continued to slowly sway your hips to the music. “Looking alone, your prince charming isn’t here today?” He kept on coming closer to you and you started to get uncomfortable. “Firstly, Jeongguk is not my prince charming. Secondly, I already told you that I don't want to have anything with you.” You declared.

Han’s face was covered in something mixed with anger and shock. He grabbed you by the wrist and took you to the nearest room. “Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing!” You shouted as he covered your mouth with his palm. “Let me show you how you should respect a man.” He spit and his nasty fingers started to undo the strings on your corset. He was almost done undoing your corset when the door flung open.

“What the fuck is going on in here!” Jeongguk screamed, pure anger in his eyes. He looked at Han first then you, he saw your scared expression and already knew what was going on. “You son of a bitch!” Jeongguk punched Han in the face. Blood splattered across Han’s face as he fell on the ground, blacked out. “Y/N are you okay?” He came to you, a warm hand cupping your cheeks, fingertips rubbing your tears away. “N-no, can we go?” You sniffled coming closer to Jeongguk softly trembling. “Yeah, sure let me just tie your corset.”

When Jeongguk was done he gently took your hand and led you out of the room. Your lipstick was smeared and your hair was messy. But you couldn’t give two fucks about that right now, the only thing you wanted was just to be in your room with Jeongguk by your side.

“Which room is yours?” He asked as you two ran through the corridors. “The last one on the left.” You replied, feet hurting from the heels you were wearing. You and Jeongguk entered the room, the familiar scent of cinnamon hitting your nostrils.

“Take off your clothes and I'll prepare a bath for you.” He said and gave you a small peck on the lips. You were too shocked by the fact that he kissed you to even process what he was saying.

While you tried to get the massive dress off your body you heard a knocking on the closed door. “Hey, you alright in there?” Jeongguk’s muffled voice came through the door. “Yes, I just ca- fuck!” The heel of your shoe pierced through the bottom of the dress, tearing the skirt completely. “Y/N!” Jeongguk opened the door immediately covering his eyes when he saw your bare legs. “D-do you need my help, or s-should I just go?” He was too startled to even comprehend full words. “Guk it’s fine just help me out of this dress.” You assured him and peeled his hands off his eyes.

Jeongguk’s hands took off the remains of the skirt. “Guk could you maybe help me with the corset too?” Big doe eyes staring up at you. “You sure? I mean after what happened.” “Yes Jeongguk. I trust you.” Jungkook’s hands went to your back, untying the knots. The corset slid off your body showing off your black lace bra.

Jungkook’s cheeks were tinted a rosy color, his breath quickened and the bulge in his pants started to grow. “You okay Gukkie?” fuck, how could he be okay when you’re here in your laced underwear looking so fucking beautiful “Yeah I-I’m fine, I think the bath is ready.” He stuttered, quickly leaving the closet.

You weren’t stupid, you knew Jeongguk since you were kids. He always had this ‘big spoiled brat’ persona, but when it came to you he was a stuttering mess.

You have to admit, the bath is very nice. Warm water relaxing your muscles, bubbles swaying around you and muffled sounds of the tv coming from the bedroom.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water swallow you. Thinking about the previous events that happened. How could Han be such an idiot, thank God Jungkook noticed that you were gone. What if he didn’t come, would Han rape you? You knew Han for about 6 years, he was always quite shy and didn’t like being around people. That changed when his mother tragically died in a car accident and since that, he’s been acting like a total douchebag.

“Y/N?” Jeongguk’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Yes?” You turned the faucet so you could hear him properly. “Can I come in?” His voice sounded so small and fragile. “Yeah.” The doorknob turned allowing Jeongguk into the room. As soon as he saw your naked figure covered by bubbles his ears turned bloody red. “I-I think I have forgotten I- uhm m-my.” “Gukkie it’s fine don't be nervous.” you leaned against the bathtub, head resting on your forearms. You've never seen him like this, he looked as if he could crumble under your touch.

He was staring into the ground, avoiding your gaze. “What have you forgotten?” His eyes looked up at you, traveling up and down your body, stopping at your plump lips which were still a little stained with lipstick. “Uhm I can’t find my glasses, I-I thought I left them here but I guess not.” You looked at him and then snorted. “What?” “You're wearing them on your head silly.” You giggled, the bubbles moving around exposing your body. Jeongguk gulped, his bulge now fully visible.

He followed your gaze and then quickly covered his crotch area with his hands. “Fuck I'm sorry Y/N, I-I didn’t mean to, you just looked so pretty and I couldn't.” He was full-on blabbering right now. “Hey Koo, look at me.” Doe eyes find yours, nervousness leaving his body. “It’s okay, I can help you.” His lips quickly turned into a smirk. How could he look like the cutest being on this planet and then look like a total sex God.

“Y/N fuck!” Jeongguk was a whimpering mess right now. Hair messy, eyes rolling to be back of his head, thighs trembling. “Shit, if you keep sucking me off like that I'm not going to going to last- ah!” Hot spurts of cum went down your throat. “I'm so sorry, I-I didn’t mean t-” “Open.” You pushed two fingers into his mouth. Sucking them slowly, he tasted the bittersweet taste of his cum. “Good boy Jeongukkie, just like that.”

While you and Jeongguk were having the time of your lives your father called from the other side of the room. “Y/N are you okay? I heard some whimpers are you crying?” Jeongguk’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. He quickly stood up picking up his clothing. “No dad, everything’s fine.” You assured, getting dressed up too. “Alright then, and please if you see Jungkook tell him that his parents are looking for him.” And with that, your father left.

“We should go shouldn't we?” Jeongguk stared at you, cheeks pink from the orgasm. “Yeah, yeah we should.” You were done tieing the laces on your heels when you felt Jeongguk’s hands on your waist. “This will be our secret right?” “Of course bunny.” You giggled and gave him a small peck on his lips.

“Ah finally, where have you two been?” “Sorry, Mr. Jeon, we were just walking around the castle.” “I see.” He smiled and walked away. “Jeongukkie what is that red mark on your neck.” Jungkook almost shit himself, looking at you in panic. “Oh, don't worry mom it's just a scratch.” He assured her. “Oh okay then dear.” She smiled.

“‘It's just a scratch’ Really Guk, you will need to work on your lies.” You mocked and grabbed him to the dance floor. “Okay next time I'm eating out that sweet pussy of yours and then we are going straight to your father, how about that?” He snickered. “Ah that offer sounds delicious.” You giggled and started to dance to the rhythm of the music.

© 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 2022. All rights reserved.

[hsyvers]

IM IN LOVE WITH SPIDER-JEN you dont even understand 🥰😝😻 but im craving some angst... can you write yn getting attacked by one of yunjins enemies and she doesnt get there in time? my heart hurts just by requesting this 🤧

for you, i'd bleed myself dry - spiderwoman!h.yj x reader

WARNING(S); vague descriptions of death

NOTES; 1k. i hate writing angst so so much but when someone requests i'll try my best to deliver so 😭 yk atsv and like the thing abt canon events....and the last gwenter scene in tasm 2....yeah....im kinda denying that it's a pt.2 to my spiderwoman yunjin fic bc im delulu <3

"hey!" yunjin yells, her heart hammering in her chest, "y/n! i need to hear you!"

"i'm okay!" you respond shakily, standing on a tiny ledge that oversaw the whole hollow clocktower, except for a bunch of gears moving. the fall would still be able to kill, "focus on your fight!"

yunjin lets out a relieved sigh, wincing at the action. her ribs hurt the more she breathes, her vision getting blurry the more she evades her enemy's attacks.

how much has technology advanced anyway? with all the guys yunjin has had to deal with, especially the last few months, it felt like every terrible person was trying to be on par with spiderwoman.

that's how you all ended up on top of this fucking clocktower anyway. if it weren't for her insisting to give you a quick kiss, he might have thought you were just a normal civilian.

'fucking idiot,' she thinks to herself, forcing her limbs to move. once she feels her foot connect with his face, she dives down to get you.

"hold on tight," she orders, with you nodding quickly. she webs something sturdy above the both of you, but just as she pulls up, the criminal cuts it off.

all yunjin can hear is your gasp and his sickening laugh.

she grabs you with a web and sends another one to hold her up.

he seems bored of repeating the same action, jumping down to challenge yunjin to take him on again.

you see the white eyes of her mask focusing on you, and at this moment, it hurts to think of how much she loves you.

when he tries to grasp her arm, you shout a warning, and yunjin manages to kick him off again, her arm swinging to throw a punch before she holds herself up again.

then the gears meet, and your web snaps.

it happens so quickly, that, you wonder if you even screamed.

yunjin doesn't either. she just jumps.

lower, and lower, and lower.

a string chases your chest.

you hear a crack, and you feel yunjin's arms envelop you.

and you're grateful that that's the last thing you feel.

"please, please, please, oh fuck," yunjin pulls off her mask, tears streaming down her cheeks when she falls to the floor, cradling you, "please, babe, no. don't do this."

she leans her ear to your chest, and she has the urge to die herself when she hears nothing.

"honey, no, please," she begs softly, her chest wrecking with sobs when she presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

"get up, okay? tell me you're alright. scold me for being late to practice. yell at me for dropping you!"

it aches. it aches how alive you looked and how dead you felt.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry," she chants, holding you closer as she cries, "it's all my fault. i should've-...i..."

"you look so tired," you whisper, one late night.

yunjin had come home around 3 am, and she's sitting tiredly on your bed, nuzzling her face onto your chest as you stood and held her.

"everything...hurts."

you pull her mask off, expression souring when you see a cut on her lip and eyebrow.

"one day, i'll kill the people who hurt you like this," you declare quietly, after patching her up, like you always have, and you always will.

"no need," she whispers, burying her face in your hair when you lay on the bed, "i'll handle them and you handle me, okay?"

you giggle, and nod in approval, taking her hand to press gentle kisses on her battered knuckles, "i'll take care of you."

and yunjin is surprised at how much she yearns. even when you're around. and painfully more so when you're not.

"it's rotten work."

"not to me. not if it's you."

she remembers falling asleep to your voice.

she never regretted touching you, kissing you, telling you how she loved you, every single day. she never forgot your lips on her own, her cheeks, and her scars.

maybe that's why it was so utterly devastating.

because she never felt that strongly about anyone, or anything. she was the city's protector while you were hers.

she crumbles completely, and she sits there for hours.

the police can arrive, blame everything on her, arrest her, she didn't care.

the only reason why she tears herself away from your body, was so you could be buried properly. she feels as though she can't speak, her eyes red and dull when she left you.

she doesn't come out of her room for days. everyone seems to notice spiderwoman's absence. her friends try to get to her, but she refuses to respond.

she finally shows her face at your funeral, and when they ask why she did, she merely says it's all for you.

and also, she thinks, because you saved her. again, even after death. you did have a way with words, after all.

to my soulmate,

i know you warned me before we started dating, about how i might be in as much danger as you are.

if you found this, it's because you were right, and for whatever reason, i can't be with you right now.

i just want to say that i don't regret kissing you that one night after you saved me, and i certainly wouldn't take back all the love i have given you and my experiences of you giving all you have left in you to me.

in fact, i'd do it all over again, and even now, i love you, i love you, i love you.

you got this! you can pull through it. you're the strongest person i know. and don't forget to lean on our friends if you need them. i know you'll be in good hands.

i took care of you for as long as i could, and you protected me to the best of your ability. i know, because i trust you.

so please, continue to smile and laugh for me, i'll be watching from wherever i am, so don't you dare forget it!

yours forever,

the love of your life (your words, not mine, babe)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Six

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.4K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutual annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

Everyone scrambled at the sight of law enforcement, underage teens still blowing smoke from their lips as they ditched their drinks and shouldered each other through the fire exit door. 

Steve was caught in the literal headlights, his eyes wide as he watched Officer Callahan clear out the party goers, tripping over abandoned bags and bottles as he went. Steve was still too close, frozen in front of you, his hand still on your leg, his face still too close to yours. Then Robin was scrambling past you both, yelling something about sacrifices, and Eddie looked downright gleeful as he stormed towards a trainee officer, ducking under his arms and running out the door, cheering.

It all happened a little too fast, the lights too bright, Steve too distracting.

Hopper was in front of you both before you knew it, tired looking, bored of it all already. He sighed, weary. “Alright, c’mon. Station, let’s go.”

 —————

The holding cell was tiny, barely used and hardly needed in a town like Hawkins, and you could see Hopper’s desk through the bars. 

You could also feel Steve’s presence behind you, still too close, the ghost of his hand still staining your leg with a warmth that wasn’t actually there anymore. 

“Christ, would you just sit down?” 

The voice came from behind you, lazy and still cocky,  like the whole situation was boring to him. It was a little past two in the morning and you were practically under arrest with Steve Harrington. 

You spun, glaring at him as if this was all his fault. And maybe it was. Not that someone called a noise complaint, no, but because you’d not been anywhere near coherent enough to turn and run like the rest of your friends, scattering out the fire exits as if the building truly had gone up in flames. 

No, you’d been far too preoccupied, your mouth brushing over Steve’s, just, barely. An almost kiss. Because Steve fucking Harrington had declared to everyone that he thought you were the prettiest girl in the room. 

Your body was still fizzing. 

“I just wanna know when we can go home,” you grumbled back, shifting uncomfortably, arms crossing over your chest to gain some heat. “I’m cold. And I need to pee.”

Steve snorted, looking up at you with amused eyes from where he sat on the cell floor, his back to the wall. His legs were stretched out and spread, taking up too much room in the tiny space, ready to trip you up if you moved back without looking. But then he was shuffling, pulling his sweater over his head by the scruff of his collar, handing it to you without really looking. 

His cheeks were pink and he was scowling, or at least trying to. 

“I can’t help you with the latter, but here.” The blue crew neck was soft and warm and you didn’t know what to do as you held it awkwardly in your hands. You stared at the boy, suspicious, and Steve rolled his eyes. “Put it on, dummy, it’s not gonna bite.”

You huffed, ready to argue, to call him an immature name back but the smell of Steve’s cologne was clinging to the cotton and it was too inviting to turn down. You turned away, as if it was too intimate a thing to let Steve watch, closing your eyes as you slipped the sweater over your head. 

It provided instant warmth and suddenly you were burning, cheeks hot as you cleared your throat and offered a soft ‘thanks.’

“S’whatever,” came Steve’s mumbled reply but you saw the way he dipped his chin, hiding his rosy cheeks, dragging the heel of his trainer over the concrete like it was more interesting than you. 

You eventually conceded, sitting down the cold, metal bench that was bolted to the wall. It put you in front of the boy, your legs between his, Steve’s head just a little lower than your own as he stayed on the floor. His eyes met yours, fleeting, as if eye contact was suddenly too much. You swore the room was getting smaller. 

Silence crept over you both with an awful unfamiliarity. Although you and Steve weren’t exactly friends, time spent together was usually filled with bickering, semi serious insults and each other's best attempts to wind the other up. The quiet was only broken by the faint ringing of a phone, somewhere behind a door, the beep of a fax machine, a one sided conversion, muffled and tired. 

“Listen—”

“About the dare—”

You both paused, waiting, wondering if the other would finish their sentence first, but silence snuck in once again. You wanted to say more, you wanted to ask why, you wanted to know if Steve really meant it when he chose you to kiss, if this was just another weird game he’d decided to play with you. A game of chicken, waiting to see who was scared enough to pull away first.

When Steve’s nose had bumped against your own, you’d had no intention of pulling away. You’d know that.

“Alright, I called your boss instead of your parents, be grateful, yeah?” Hopper strolled in, a stack of papers in his hands, no doubt another write up to add to your file. “Murray isn’t pressing charges, but he says you both gotta be there early tomorrow to clean.” Hopper flashed a grin at you both. “Ain’t he sweet?”

The lock clunked, metal on metal as the door swung open. You scrambled up, stepping over Steve’s leg and tried not to sulk as Hopper stared at you both, disapproving. 

“It wasn’t just us, you know,” Steve grumbled, singing the sheet of paper the older man handed him. “Whole team was there, we just— didn’t have a chance to run.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Harrington,” Hopper huffed, “I didn’t peg you as the mastermind, don’t worry. And I appreciate you both not playing Bonnie and Clyde, now, beat it. I’ve got better things to do than play babysitter.”

The morning was barely breaking as you and Steve left the station, the slight chill making you wrap your arms around yourself. You were still wearing Steve’s sweater, something that you were both far too aware of. The sky was still dark, pink and tangerine tinting the edges, the possibility of the sun just below the horizon and you squinted into the light, hoping for some it’s warmth as you began the walk home. 

You sighed and raised your brows at Steve, amusement gracing your features, because spending some time in a cell with the boy wasn’t how you imagined the night ending. Although, you hadn’t exactly pictured it starting with an almost kiss either. 

 Your hands caught the hem of the sweater, fingers curling, starting to pull. 

“Nah, s’fine,” Steve stopped you with a wave of his hand. “Just give me it tomorrow.”

You blinked. 

“Okay,” your voice was almost too quiet, softer than Steve usually heard it. But it matched the night, the pink clouds that were starting to roll in, candy cotton and peach. You were wary when you gazed at him, his T-shirt rolled up his shoulders, the leftover beer making his cheeks a little rosy. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

You didn’t wait for his response, eager to escape the way he was looking at you, like he was still thinking about earlier, how close you’d been, like he was wondering what your lips tasted like. But then Steve was catching at your elbow and frowning when stared at him. 

“You’re not walkin’ home alone,” he scoffed, like you were stupid for thinking such a thing. 

“What?” You almost laughed. You’d have accused of him of being gentlemanly if Steve wasn’t still making that face at you. “I live, like, ten minutes away.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I know where you live, princess. Doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.”

You did laugh then, a bright sound in the dark and your smile was wide, warm. It made Steve squirm, his frown deepening, only to hide his flush. “Wow, Harrington, you going soft on me?”

You didn’t wait for an answer as you began walking, the too long sleeves of Steve’s sweater swinging below your hands. You looked back at the boy over your shoulder, his glare still there as he followed, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“What? No,” Steve scoffed again, his nose crinkled as he did his best to pretend you weren’t getting to him. “I’m just—“

You stopped then, too sudden, spinning to grin at the boy, beaming wider when he stumbled and tried not to crash into you. “Just what? Being a gentleman?”

Steve swallowed hard as he stood too close, barely catching himself from grabbing at your waist as you turned too quick on him. His eyes were on your lips, gaze heavy, lashes lowered and his throat felt too tight. He swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

You didn’t let him answer, still having too much fun teasing him. In reality, you appreciated the boy walking you home, even with dawn breaking, the skies above were still navy and dark, the streets eerily empty, your footsteps echoing on the sidewalk. “You’re not a gentleman, are you Stevie?”

The boy’s eyes flashed at you, dangerous, even though he grinned, matching your energy, that teasing that was borderline arguing. He shrugged back at you, lazy, too confident, still too close. Steve didn’t move back. 

“Not for you, sweetheart, that’s for sure.” He flashed his teeth at you, more bite than smile. “Just makin’ sure you’re still in one piece to help clean up.” Steve took the time to let his gaze roam over you, up and down, up and down. “You’d look cute in one of those little aprons, maybe a short skirt—”

You barked out a laugh, backing away from him, admitting defeat. The air suddenly wasn’t as cool as before. “Bite me,” you told him, rolling your eyes. 

Steve caught up quickly as you made your way back down the street, walking on the empty road instead of the sidewalk. He was at your side in seconds, long legs taking big strides. You could hear the smile in his voice, the amusement there, his shoulder bumping yours as he ducked his head to whisper at your ear.  

“Told you before, princess, bend over.”

“You know, you talk a big game for a guy who was asking for a kiss earlier,” you shot back, refusing to let Steve get the upper hand. This is what you were used to, biting, snapping, picking a new fight. “Or did you forget already? You think I’m pretty, right, Harrington?”

But Steve was just as quick, snorting at your bravery, nudging his shoulder into yours as if to tell you he was still too close. “Only when you shut up.”

You spun at that, eyes narrowed, not caring that you were near your house, close to your bed and warmth and away from Steve. He was grinning at your expression, knowing he’d won. Maybe. 

If he wanted you quiet, he’d have to work harder than that.  

“You’re such a pig, you know th—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off, insults swallowed by the boy you were aiming at, his hand - almost too big and impossibly wide - catching at the nape of your neck to pull you in. He wasn’t soft about it, not really, your chest colliding with Steve’s, your hands finding his shoulders and you didn’t know whether to hold on or push away. 

Steve kissed like he argued, heated, controlled and with a clever tongue. 

His lips parted yours, heavy breaths and gasps mixing as his top lip captured yours, nose pressed hard to your cheek. And then a little softer, his tongue, licking over your own, slipping past your lips, tasting like tequila and smoke, honey and tobacco. 

Your hands curled around his shoulders, fingers twisting into his shirt. You pulled him closer, demanding, mean about it and you felt his smile in return, a smirk against your mouth that you were determined to kiss away. Steve’s other hand gripped your jaw, controlling, urging, his thumb pushing at the corner of your mouth, asking for more. 

So you kissed him deeper, a little messier, a small moan leaving your throat that made Steve squeeze his fingers into your skin a little harder. He was dizzy with it, feeling drunker kissing you than he’d ever felt before. It didn’t matter you were both in the middle of the road, not too far from your parents bedroom window. 

It didn’t matter he’d had to see you in a few hours, in the harsh light of a new day, with a hangover and a mop bucket in his hands. 

It didn’t matter that he didn’t have an excuse for this. 

It didn’t matter that he was supposed to hate you. 

It didn’t matter that you hated him. 

You kissed him like you wanted him, like he could pull you down the side of someone’s house and press you into the bricks. You licked your tongue over his like you’d let him lift you in his arms, like you’d wrap your legs around his hips and grind onto him, making pretty, pretty noises. 

Like the ones you were making now, your hands slipping to his collar, fingers tucked inside, brushing against warm skin, skimming the metal of the chain he wore underneath. You curled your grip over it, tugged, mean, demanding. 

Steve grunted, swore into your mouth, felt his eyes roll back into his head. You were something else, as cruel with your kisses as you were with your words and he was losing it, gone on you, adoring everything you gave him. You nipped at him, dragged a thumb down his chin, sucked on his bottom lip when he parted them more for you, his jeans too tight to even think properly. 

How long had it been?

When he opened his eyes, would it be light? Would the sun have come? Would the sky be lavender? Would it look as pretty as you? 

You whispered Steve’s name into his lips and he moaned. He was gone. Fucked. Done. 

Then Mr and Mrs Cooke’s sprinklers came on and it was over. You both parted, chests heaving, pupils blown wide, a flush over both of you that couldn’t be ignored. 

Steve’s lips were glossy from you, pink and kiss swollen, all bitten and shining. His eyes were too dark, heavy lidded and hair a mess, even though you weren’t sure you’d grabbed at it. Maybe you had. You couldn’t really remember anything but his tongue on yours. 

“I’ll see you later,” you managed to breathe out, voice wrecked, words a huff. 

You didn’t wait for a reply. 

PSA: LEVEL 7 WILL BE POSTED 22/5! we'll be skipping a week so i can sail around france and spain thank u <3

[plsdonttakemyname]

You dont have to feel like you gotta do this, bc i know sm ppl r too out of their comfort zone with it, but would you consider:

Poly!Soukoku? Like Dazai / reader / chuuya?

Fluff HCs?

Ig if you wanted more fun stuff (pls dont do it this is too much!) What do you think would be a good ability for an S/O of them to have?? :0

I have this one idea where their just a sort of puppet master and have strings that they can latch onto ppl and physically move them around, or even mess with memories (the non-passionate/deep seated ones) bc i thought Dazai would like the different ways it could be applied, and Chuuya would think it's badass to watch you just, lower the glowing strings coming out of fingertips attached to like a group of armed enemies and they just like, drop their guns and bow.

Feel free to have fun with this however you want, or delete the request if its too much!

Also the ability i talked abt doesnt have to be readers ability, and these could just be chill headcanons abt their relationship! Whatever works!

Hope youre having a great weekend so far, and I really like your writing!!

Cheers,

Poly Anon ☢️

Poly!Soukoku X G!n Reader

— — — — — — — —

A/n; Hi Anon! Tysm I really appreciate it! I'm glad you like my writing! I hope you're having a great weekend so far too :D

— — — — — — — —

Genre; Fluff, Hcs

Pairings; Chuuya X Dazai X Reader

Warnings; Mentions of Suicide(Dazai), my bad writing, Might has some grammar mistakes 😭

Now how do I start with this chaotic relationship...

Chuuya would try to kill Dazai from time to time and you have to be there to stop them because of it 😭

I feel like s/o would toy with their opponents with the use of their ability

Mori had assigned you three on another mission together even though one was already enough since the three of you were strong enough but who knows why he assigned you three on a mission like this

Chuuya would be surprised and amazed at the same time when he first saw your ability with his own eyes, sure he has heard about this ability before but he’s never actually seen it for himself before.

Chuuya thinks that his s/o is so badass when they puppet the enemies, making them bow down and drop all of the weapons carried to the battle.

Dazai on the other hand would not really get surprised since this is his first time actually seeing this ability with his own eyes and not hearing it from some stupid book, but he still knew from the beginning

But when the three of you are all bored and out of missions to carry out, you'll all hangout in a bar to spend some time with each other

It's either one of yall ended up drunk OR you all ended up drunk and passed out in the bar 😭

The three of you will always go out to the mall or on expensive dinner dates

You all share the same apartment and that's where things are starting to get really wild

When getting into bed, there is never peace...The three of you would be kicking each other off the bed and slapping each other in the middle of the night 💔

"GODDAMN CHUUYA STOP KICKING ME" *SNORES*

Chuuya Is the kicker,Dazai is the pusher and you're the one that's suffering 😢

Just imagine this, suddenly you woke up at an ungodly hour because you felt a hand slapping your face just to find out it was Dazai slapping you in his sleep and Chuuya is almost on the floor still dead asleep after a long day in the Port Mafia.

You had enough one night and decided to kick them both off the bed and acted as if you're still asleep 😭

It's legit 4am and suddenly you just kick them off the bed "OW" "what...the..fuck..." *Y/n fake snoring noises*

Besides that when it's really peaceful it's either they're both on a long mission or they're ACTUALLY not kicking or pushing each other off the bed.

The three of you likes to cuddle and fall asleep in each other's warmth

"Will you,Y/N L/n, Come double suicide with me?" "no." "OI MACKEREL IF YOU WANNA DIE I CAN KILL YOU NOW STOP ASKING Y/N TO SUICIDE WITH YOU JACKASS" "YOU HURT MY FEELINGS CHIBI.." while you're just busy typing up a report and also trying to calm down

When one of you are on a mission alone you all definitely give each other a goodbye and goodluck kiss before heading out

Besides all of those chaotic stuff happening in your relationship, You all are an unbreakable trio

— — — — — — — — —

That's all I hope you like it </3

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.” 

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!” 

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.” 

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“ 

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?” 

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[b-yeonder]

Their Reaction To You Attacking Them With A Toy Weapon (Brothers)

↬ Genre/Content Warnings: Fluff/Crack. Just something silly I cooked up~

LUCIFER:

Steady now...aim...aaaand...FIRE! ping! The toy arrow flew from your bow and landed straight in the middle of Lucifer's forehead just as he looked up from his paperwork.

"Oh shit--" You slap a hand over your mouth as the demon stares at you unblinkingly. The silence stretches for a good few minutes before he finally blinks. Once.

"You have five seconds to get out of my sight."

You were gone within one. But wait--

You peek your head back round his door. "Hey any chance I could have tha--"

"Three."

"I'll take that as a no..." 

"Two."

Gone like the wind. Try again later maybe?

MAMMON:

Laughs. You? Take him on? The GREAT Mammon!? Come off it. But when you launch yourself at him he's taken by surprise and falls over.

"And he's down!" You start attacking him with the foam club in your hands, smacking him upside the head as he tries to push you off to no avail. His cheeks are already on fire from being caught off guard like this but when he sees Lucifer watching the two of you with raised eyebrows he wants to die. 

"Having fun?" 

"Yessir, very much so." You finish him off with a flourish - a bonk on the forehead - before raising your weapon above your head in victory. "The Great Mammon has been vanquished!" 

"Oh good, it's about time." 

"OI!"

LEVIATHAN:

Fights back, whipping out his own weapon. Lightsabers? Cue epic battle with self-made lightsaber sounds. You lose, dropping to the floor with an anguished cry. 

"My mortal enemy, who is also my lover....how could you do this to meeeee." 

"Wait, your what now--!?"

"Play along dumbass, jeez."

SATAN:

Raises his eyebrow at the threat. "Oh really?"

"Engarde!" You stab him in the chest like a fencer, but he doesn't move. You stab him again. He just stares at you. 

"Are you done?"

"Dammit Satan can't you play along just once, such a borin' old--" He yanks the sword, pulling you to him with a yelp. You practically headbutt him but he holds you steady with one arm, the other busy holding the sword. To your throat.

"A boring old what now?"

"A uh...boring old...lovely...man. Please don't kill me."

"Tsk, tsk." His lips tug into a toothy grin as he lowers the sword from your throat, letting go of you at the same time and quickly offering the toy back to you. 

ASMODEUS:

Dramatically feigns his own death, the two of you end up acting out a whole drama-worthy scene with tears and...well a couple of groping attempts but overall it was an A* performance.

"Oh, why must this be!? Felled by a poison blade! You are the cruelest creature I have ever met... To douse the flame of my life this way! A deathly pallor ill suits me! Oh woe is me!"

BEELZEBUB:

Watches you in mild confusion and amusement as you pepper his torso with sucker-tipped bullets. Probably in the middle of eating something.

"Yes! Bulls-eye, right on the NIP!"

Beel blinks down at his new nipple accessory. You're a strange one but as long as you're enjoying yourself... 

He continues munching away.

BELPHEGOR:

You attack him with twin daggers, murdering him in his cozy cocoon. But wait. The lump beneath you is still moving! In a flash Belphie is on you, pinning you to the bed.

"Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Uh...an assassin...coming to...murder...and stuff..."

"Oh, is that it huh? Well then."

Proceeds to pummel the shit out of you with a pillow until you're a cowering giggling screaming mess on his bed, arms up in defense as he kneels over you beating you to death before collapsing on you.

"I win, loser is tonight's pillow."

"Belphie noooo..."

"Belphie yeees." Is curled on top of you cutely, legs straddling yours and his arms around you. 

~ Obey Me! Masterlist ~

~ The Grand Masterlist ~

[pherelesytsia]

Meet me in Doom

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Beaten and bruised, Thomas finds his wife in the safe-house, unresponsive and broken, surrounded by death.

Warning: little bit of fluff, guns, death, mices

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n:.This is following there-goes-thefighter❤️ for the lovely´s @zablife's story share. you can find the rest of the story HERE with all the previous parts and I am passing the story onto my dear @cillmequick❤️

The receiver was dangling on the wire. The enemy's blood, darkened and cold, clung to the soles of his polished shoes freckled by mud and grime. A deep voice, nearly mirroring his called out, called him by his name, faint and barely audible, but Thomas Shelby did not answer.

Creatures escaped the rising shadows, ran into the house, rats and mice, screeching and giggling, gnawing at the rotting bodies, drinking blood and feasting on pale skin, screaming for the friends to hasten and feast.

The man stiffened. Swallowing, Thomas loosened the tie around his neck and lowered his gaze to the remains of the dinner on the plate with blueish tendrils on the round notched table with rounded corners and sanded edges. Tears clouded his eyes and pain numbed his senses. He flexed his hand. The first tear fell as the sobs grew louder, pulling him back into reality, realised it was not a dream and the man cruel as the northern wind, dreaded like a wolf failed to stay strong for the woman he loved. Thomas put the loaded pistol away, realised he had pulled it out, knew the men in tattered clothing with outflung arms and broken limbs lying beyond the thick walls bore lifeless eyes.

His eyes had seen much and his ears had heard gruesome news, but he found himself unable to count the soulless shells, the holes in the walls and the wooden floor but a sense of pride filled Thomas at the sight of his wife, the warrior who had raised her weapon against the intruders.

Slowly, as if he feared the sight, the truth, a child fearing the cabinet, the monster under the bed, Thomas turned and faced his sobbing wife. He dried his damp palms on the trousers. He clenched his hands into fists, regretting he had not been at her side, had failed to protect the woman. The question of how she was, did not fall again.

The gashes painting her skin, darkening marks snaking like ivy around her neck and arms, told a tale of death and struggle he did not want to read. The hem of her dress was tattered, the hair dishevelled and Thomas guessed it was dirt and grime, hoped it was not crimson.

Relief flooded his body. His shoulders slumped forward, and he gave her a weak, encouraging smile and walked towards Y/N, paralysed by pain and fear. The last wall of defence crumbled and the last dam broke free and released raging torrents down on the town. Thomas ran, jumped over the destroyed table and fallen chairs. Wood creaked under his shoes. His arms wrapped around her trembling body. Unintelligible, Thomas cried out, uttered a silent prayer, breathed soft promises, too good to be true into her ear and plastered featherlight kisses on her bruised cheek. Shaking fingers sank into her hair, hugged her tighter as the weight of the world, the entire universe, settled on her shoulders and forced her to fall like a star.

            "Everything is alright," Thomas mumbled into her ear.

It was a fact, but it sounded like a question as if he had to convince himself of the sincerity of his own words. Lowering her eyes in shame, Y/N lifted her hands and clawed her fingers into the button down. Gently his battered fingers slid over her exposed arms, back and hips, ribs and neck, on the endless search for a wound, crimson seeping through the fabric, for pain dimmed by adrenaline but apart from trivial yet painful abrasions, bruises of various sizes, the Shelby could find nothing.

            "You are a strong woman. I saw what you did. I don't know many men who could do something like that. I am proud of you," Thomas continued, praising the breaking woman.

Y/N laughed out, chuckled bitterly, and braced herself to answer.

            "It doesn't feel like something I could be proud of. I had to do it. I feel guilty about it." she cawed, the voice faint and roughened by screaming.

Freeing himself from the suit jacket, keeping one hand on her body, he threw the jacket on the floor and lowered Y/N onto the warming fabric. Groaning, Y/N slowly sank to the floor.

            "The men stormed the house. I heard them. I thought I would never see you again, that I will die. I took the gun and killed them all. I had to do it." she sobbed into his shoulders, slurred, but Thomas understood every syllable.

Almost healed wounds tore open. Blood oozed. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Copper spilt in her mouth. She wanted to scream and curse, cursed the deceased like a witch, but only a croak emitted from her throat.

            "Careful. Slowly. Hold on to me. I won't let you go. I will take you to the hospital, the doctors will take care of you and I will do the rest." he reassured.

His thumb stroked her bruised cheek, wiping away tears and worry.

            "Are you hit?" Thomas questioned.

Y/N shook her head.

            "Please, talk to me." he continued, needed to hear the answer, her voice.

            "Grazed. My arms hurt. One tackled me, tried to knock me out and probably broke my nose." Y/N whispered and pointed to the door, the corridor, to the men facing the other side of the wall.

Thomas nodded with glassy eyes.

            "Your nose is still beautiful. It won't take away from your beauty." Thomas complimented her.

He looked at her as if nothing had happened, as if he had forgotten everything as if she had never disappeared without a word, looked at her like a goddess, a fallen angel.

He pulled an ironed handkerchief out of the pocket, twitched it back and forth, opened it and moistened the almost transparent dark blue material with red decorations with his initials on his tongue, moistened it and washed away the traces of struggle from cheeks and forehead, danced over her skin and Y/N did not flinch in disgust or contorted her face and allowed it.

            "I've called Arthur. You don't have to worry anymore. I will take care of everything. No one will dare to touch you again.", "You're going to leave me?" Y/N questioned with widened eyes.

His heart twitched; the arrow struck his heart and buried deeper and deeper. His lips did not touch, wanting to start a sentence. Soft footsteps echoed through the deserted house. Thomas freed himself from the tight embrace, turned and his right hand found itself on the trigger of the pistol. The footsteps came closer. Shaking, Y/N slid back, heard commotion and cursed like a banshee. Her eyes dilated searched for her pistol, clutched it, breathed a bloody murder as she noticed there was no round in it.

Running, John stepped into his field of vision, gun drawn, ready to kill, and Thomas saw relief in his brother's eyes wandering back and forth from him to the whimpering woman. Sweat dripped down his forehead and carried away the fear and anger boiling in his body. Heaving John leant against the frame, relieved, filled his lungs with air and almost let go of the gun.

Quickly Thomas turned to his wife, jumped back, threatened to fall like a soldier struck by a bullet, put his hand on her body and supported Y/N. Carefully he removed the gun from her, fearing she would injure herself, and shoved it aside. His warm breath brushed her cheek, breathed into her ear that she need not fear, that it was John who had followed him and no one had woken from the deathly sleep.

            "Take care of the bodies. Take them away. Burn them, do with them whatever you want, throw them into the streets." Thomas commanded gruffly, a king sitting on the throne and ruling with iron first over the kingdom.

Nodding, John backed away, turned his back on the pair, put away his gun and did as his brother demanded, saw the seething anger in his eyes, nodded again, and sped away. Thomas watched after his brother and pressed the panting woman closer to his heart. Hushing vows in her ear, Thomas placed his lips between hushed words of love and adoration on her temple while his hand clasped her shaking fingers. Dangerously his eyes darkened, and vengeance, was clouding his senses.

[holylulusworld]

G & CSP (1) - Worst minions ever

Title: Worst minions ever 

Rating: Mature

Summary: You are the villain in this story. Right?

Square 15 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo​: Arson

Square N3 filled for @allcapsbingo​: Free Space - Villain Reader

Square 5 filled for @howbadcanitbebingo​: Emoticons in fic

Pairing/Ship: Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Warnings: language, villain reader, mentions of crimes/arson, hurt Steve, kidnapped Steve, awful minions

Goddess & Captain Sassypants masterlist

Villain. Number one enemy. The outcast. Undefeatable. Badass.

Being the villain in someone‘s story isn’t easy. You always have to come up with an evil plan to show the world you are on top of the food chain. Or at least better than the golden boy you try to bring down.

It’s also not easy when the so-called hero ruins all of your detailed plans. One after another. There is not a day you do not come up with another evil master plan. Only for Captain Sassypants to ruin them again.

Sometimes you got the feeling Captain America chose to be your nemesis. He’s a little too cheerful whenever you have a face-off with the golden boy. Damn that man. Steve getting on your nerves Rogers always tries to talk you into becoming a hero. Or at least not to commit crimes.

Like hell. Captain Rogers may have mopped the floor with you more than once. But you will not give in. Not for him. Not for your family. Not for anything in the world.

He’s strong, you give him that.

Last time he threw you through the wall, bruising more than your ego. Your lower back and ass hurt for over a week. It sucks that villains don’t have health insurance.

You huff as you remember your last encounter with him. He tried to talk you into giving up. Steve Rogers put his hands on his belt, puffed his chest, and gave yet another boring speech about giving up on the dark side.

As if that motherfucker knows anything about you, your past, and the shit you have been through. Villains aren’t born darling; they are made. You had no choice but to turn dark.

“Boss!” you groan as one of your minions. Let’s call him Eager Beaver No. 1 (you just don’t have the time to keep up with names) into your office. Or rather your fortress of solitude.

Take that, Superman. I just stole your favorite place. What do you want to do? Burn my ass with your eyes. 😐

“What is it? I told you not to disturb me unless the world ends, or you come up with a better plan than burning the Avengers tower down. Arson is my favorite tool to create destruction," you grin. “So, what is it?”

“We got him!” Eager Beaver No. 2 eagerly tells you, much to Eager Beaver No. 1’s dismay. “I captured Captain America!”

You choke on the air. “What?”

“We captured Captain America!”

“Don’t fuck with me,” you grunt. “If you try to be funny, you're not. I got better things to do than listen to your nonsense again, Eager Beaver No. 2. You’ll not get dinner if you lie to me again.”

“Boss, we got him,” entrance Eager Beaver No. 3. “Did the others already tell you? It’s done. Your nemesis is in our hands.”

You watch your minions look at you. Where did you find them again? On a rummage table for useless minions? You swear on all that’s holy to you, they are the worst minions ever.

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“We brought him to the dungeon,” Eager Beaver No. 3 gets his phone out to show you a picture of Steve Rogers restrained on the wall. “See, I sent it to all of your rivals too.”

“Wait-what?” you snatch the phone out of your minion’s hands. “Why is there a 💩shit emoji on Captain America’s face? No one will recognize him, you idiot.”

“Sorry, boss. But you said his hairstyle looks like shit last time,” your minion defends his creative work. “We still got him. Right?”

“How did you even get your hands on him?” you wonder aloud. It can’t be that your minions got hold of Captain America while you failed every time. “Did you use one of my weapons? Maybe the incredible stunner…”

“No. He was distracted. Captain America fought a new villain and—”

You jerk your head toward Eager Beaver No. 1. “He fought a new villain,” you growl. “How dare he! I’m the villain he must fight. Not some wannabe bitch.”

You storm toward the door, huffing as your minions follow you hot on your heels.

 “Boss, I think the villain started this. Captain America just fought back.”

“I don’t care! Captain America is my nemesis. No bitch comes to my town and steals my nemesis. They can get in line or look for someone else. Who do they think they are?”

“They call themselves Minerva or something,” Eager Beaver No. 2 points out. “She wears all gold and uh—her costume is very…nice...and sexy.”

“I don't care," you snap at your minion. “She can run around naked. Captain Sassypants is my nemesis. Period. If anyone kills him, it’s me.”

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. This is the moment you have been waiting for for so long.

“Boss, do you want us to-“ you jerk your head toward your minion. “Uh-we are going to wait upstairs. Holler if you need us.”

“Sure. Take a day off. You did a good job.”

“Thanks…boss…” your minions run off when you unlock the door to the dungeon.

You put on your biggest grin as you enter the dungeon to watch Captain America sit on the floor. He has his long legs stretched out. He leans his back against the wall as you step toward him.

“Aw, look what the cat dragged into my house,” you crouch down to get a better look at the captain haunting your dreams. "You're hurt.”

You gape at Captain America. His left cheek is bruised, his lips are split, and his neck looks like someone attempted to strangle him. “I thought no human could hurt you like this.”

His silence is unusual as you reach out to touch his forehead. You didn’t even make him bleed during all of your encounters and now there is a cut on his forehead.

“You need to let me go. War is taking place out there. They need me. We can settle our score later,” he coughs. It almost sounds like he’s having trouble breathing properly.

“Who is fucking with our town again, Cappy?” you mutter. “Where is your shield?”

“They broke it,” he says. His voice sounds broken. It’s the first time you hear him so…hopeless. “I never thought someone could be able to do so.”

“Well, lucky you,” you snap your fingers, using your powers to free Steve off the chains holding him to the ground. You offer your hand to him to help Steve up. “I got a brand-new shield for you, Captain.”

“Why?”

When Steve takes your hand, you ask, "Why what?"

“Why are you helping me?” he asks. “You’re my nemesis.”

“I don’t,” you grin. “I will beat that bitch coming to my town to steal my nemesis into a pulp and later, we will settle our score.”

“Of course, we will,” he jumps up, taking you by surprise. “You’re all too eager to get your hands on me again, huh?”

Ah. There he is. Captain Sassypants.

“Let’s find you a new shield and fix the mess you call your face. I’ll send some of my robots to help your friends in the meantime."

“You would make such an excellent hero." You press your index finger to his lips, making him grunt as you are not in the mood for one of his speeches.

“Don’t. I’m a villain for a reason, Captain. As you roughly grip his chin, you say, "I'm neither your friend nor your ally. We will never be on the same side. I just don’t like people coming to my town to claim they are the biggest badass. That’s my job.”

He grins now. “I expect you to try to kill me on Monday, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am or you won’t make it out of this dungeon alive…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

A day later, the brief respite from the tumultuous events shattered as Dowager Queen Alicent burst into Aemond and Maera's shared chambers. Distress etched across her face, her tearful brown eyes pleaded for assistance, revealing the gravity of the situation she carried with her. Responding to the urgent summons, Maera swiftly made her way to Queen Helaena's chambers. Once a refuge where her friend withdrew from the world, now it bore witness to a different kind of crisis. The maids, who had entered that morning to serve breakfast, discovered bloodstained sheets and Queen Helaena, doubled over in pain and in desperate need for help.

As Maera entered the chamber, the distressing reality unfolded before her eyes. A group of midwives stood clustered around, pleading with Helaena to allow them to assist, their faces etched with concern and worry. The urgency in their voices mirrored the gravity of the situation. Nearby, Maester Orwyle, resolute in his efforts, unpacked various vials of medicine and unsightly tools, which made Maera’s stomach churn with uncertainty.

The stone floor bore splatters of blood, a grim trail leading to Helaena, who was in the corner in her once-white nightgown, now stained with blood. Her hair, matted with sweat, framed a face etched with knowing anguish- she was losing the child in her womb. Angrily mumbling to herself, Helaena’s distress echoed in the chamber, a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the turmoil that gripped the room.

Careful not to make things worse, Maera knelt a few feet away from Helaena, acutely aware of the Queen’s heightened sensitivity during times of stress. The air in the room crackled with tension, the collective breaths held in anticipation of the impending ordeal.

“I’m here, Helaena. It’s okay,” Maera whispered, hoping her words could offer even a moment’s respite.

Through painful cries, Helaena vehemently replied, “It’s not okay. It’s happening too soon, much too soon.” The horror etched on her face mirrored the pain and loss she was enduring. The knowledge of losing another child, combined with the excruciating physical agony, painted a portrait of grief.

Maera, witnessing the depth of Helaena's suffering, held an empathetic gaze as she scooted slightly closer, the cold floor beneath her knees. “I know it is. But the babe is coming, your Grace,” she offered, her tone filled with pity.

With a groan of pain and sweat on her brow, Helaena shifted into a more comfortable position, moving from sitting to kneeling, causing Maera to move right in front of her to provide more physical support. In the midst of her distress, the Queen grasped at Maera's shoulders with a tight grip, her nails digging in as if seeking a lifeline in the storm of pain.

“Nobody listened to me,” Helaena yelled, tears of frustration pouring down her face. “About this babe. About Jaehaerys.”

The rat catcher drops a silver coin on the floor

Maera's heart resonated with the raw emotions that permeated the room, bridging the gap between them in the face of an inevitable and heart-wrenching loss.“I am so sorry, sister. I’m sorry you’re going through any of this,” Maera cried, her green eyes reflecting the shared weight of their sorrow.

Having seen many labours previously, she noticed Helaena’s behaviour changing. The Queen began to hold her lower back and exhibit primal groans through gritted teeth. Subtly signaling to one of the midwives, she communicated the need for a progress check. As the woman situated herself behind the Queen and lifted her bloodied nightgown, Helaena attempted to protest. But Maera gently turned her face back, coaxing her to focus on her breathing through the agonizing contractions and invasive examination.

The chamber, filled with the sounds of labored breaths and the quiet desperation of childbirth, became a battleground of emotions. Brushing Helaena’s matted silver curls from her face in an attempt to distract her as she was checked by the midwife, Maera offered words of sympathy to her sister-in-law.

“I wish we could have stopped it, Helaena,” Maera sniffled through her tears.

In a moment of heightened agony, Helaena grasped Maera tightly by the face, her fingers digging into the flesh. “No one could stop it, Maera. It is fate. Foretold by the Gods,” Helaena uttered ominously, causing Maera’s brows to furrow in confusion. She knew these words, she had heard them before. But could not pinpoint where or when she had heard them.

With a quiet nod from the midwife, who remained behind Helaena, the Queen was encouraged to start pushing. Maera pressed her forehead to Helaena’s as the Targaryen Queen strained with all of her might, yelling out in turmoil as her body began to expel the child. A child that was coming five moons too soon. A child that would not survive the process.

The same haunted look remained on Helaena’s face as her purple gaze bore into Maera’s with such intensity that Maera thought she would burst into flames. The Queen shouted out to Maera through her last few pushes. “It is happening to me. It happened to your mother. And it will happen to you. One flower to bloom, two buds cut down, one seedling unearthed-Oh Gods!”

The words hung in the air like a spectral echo, shrouded in an unsettling premonition, through the sounds of agony and effort. Amidst the intense atmosphere, the chilling sound of liquid hitting the floor punctuated the chamber. The midwife, tears in her eyes, caught something small in a cloth between Helaena’s legs. The absence of cries underscored the somber reality- the child had not lived, as expected.

As Helaena, exhausted from the taxing birth, finally allowed the remaining midwives to assist her onto her bed, a collective sense of relief filled the room. The midwives, with careful hands, removed her bloodied nightgown and began the tender task of bathing her with wet cloths. Meanwhile, Maester Orwyle, administering pain remedies, found a more receptive Queen, now willing to accept the relief the medication could offer.

Amidst the subdued aftermath, Maera, horrified and in shock from the ordeal, moved to the table where the midwife had placed the fetus. With a sense of careful reverence, she lifted the cloth, revealing the tiny form. It reminded her of the countless kittens that had been born at Rain House. The babe was of similar size and looked as if it were made of glass, too delicate for this world.

The shock and confusion from the harrowing ordeal left Maera in a state of emotional disarray. Helaena's cryptic prophecy lingered in her mind, a puzzle she struggled to solve, while the graphic loss witnessed had an almost surreal quality, causing Maera to feel detached from her own body.

Approaching Helaena, who lay in her bed with a vacant look, Maera couldn't help but feel a profound sympathy for the friend who had endured such tragic events in a short space of time. Pressing a kiss onto Helaena's hair, she muttered words of solace, a small offering of comfort in the aftermath of such profound loss, before leaving the chambers.

Walking through the doors, Maera passed Dowager Queen Alicent, who bombarded her with questions. However, Maera, still in shock, seemed oblivious to the inquiries, as if submerged underwater. Alicent, sensing the futility, eventually gave up and rushed into Helaena's chambers, leaving Maera to wander the corridors like a ghost, completely debilitated by the weight of the traumatic event.

Finally alone, the weight of shock and grief became too much for Maera to bear. The guttural sobbing intensified, echoing through the empty halls like a haunting lament. As the waves of sorrow crashed over her, Maera's stomach twisted in knots, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil. In a desperate search for reprieve, she stumbled toward a nearby window. Overwhelmed by the shock, her body rebelled, and with a violent lurch, she vomited intensely. After a while, it stopped, and after wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she pushed on through the corridors.

In a daze, Maera found herself in the solemn expanse of the Throne Room within the Red Keep. The weight of recent tragedy lingered in the air, casting a somber atmosphere over the grandeur that once defined the space. The absence of courtly activity, the stillness that replaced the usual bustling energy, reflected the collective mourning that had befallen the castle. The heavy silence seemed to echo with the weight of recent events, as if the very walls mourned the tragedy that had unfolded within the heart of the Red Keep.

Maera’s green eyes fixated on the imposing Iron Throne, a simmering anger in her gaze. The gleaming seat of power seemed to mock her, and in the hallowed silence, she couldn't help but wonder how much more blood would need to be spilled in the relentless pursuit of dominion.As she stared at the seat made of swords, a myriad of emotions welled within her, each one a sharp pang of grief.

The memory of murdered Jaehaerys weighed heavily on her heart, and now, the loss of the unborn child expelled from Helaena's body added another layer of sorrow. It was not just the mourning of the present but the mourning of a future unknown, a potential extinguished before it could blossom.

The weight of impending tragedy settled upon her, and in the midst of grandeur and power, she stood as a solitary figure, grieving for the past, the present, and the uncertain future that lay ahead. The echoes of her silent lament mingled with the shadows cast by the Iron Throne, a symbol of both aspiration and despair in the tumultuous landscape of Westerosi politics.

Lost in her own thoughts, Maera remained unaware of the approaching footsteps until she felt a presence near her. Standing before her was King Aegon, his face hollowed and fatigued, tired eyes reflecting the weight of recent events. His disheveled hair spoke of the turmoil that echoed in his visage. The dark green dragon-patterned tunic he wore seemed not quite right on his body, emphasizing the disarray that mirrored the chaos within.

The Conqueror’s crown, forged from Valyrian steel and adorned with rubies, sat atop his head, a regal emblem that contrasted starkly with the haunted expression he bore. His presence, much like Maera's, exuded a distant and haunted aura.If it were anyone else, Maera might have felt a pang of sympathy, but she knew Aegon's tears were reserved solely for himself. Wiping away a tear, Maera reluctantly curtsied to Aegon, her gaze avoiding his face. The weight of sorrow hung between them, a silent acknowledgment of the shared grief that bound them.

“What was it? The babe?” Aegon’s voice cut through the heavy silence. Maera met his violet gaze, searching for signs of genuine concern or mere curiosity. Images of the gruesome birth flashed before Maera's eyes – the blood, the sweat, the agonized screams, the small delicate body beneath the cloth. She shook her head, attempting to dispel the haunting memories, before finally responding to Aegon. “A girl.”

“A girl,” Aegon repeated, the weight of that revelation hanging in the air. Maera nodded in confirmation, her green eyes reflecting a deep sadness as they remained cast downward.

The exchange between them carried the weight of unspoken sorrow, a shared acknowledgment of the profound losses they had individually suffered. After a moment, Aegon’s expression shifted, carrying a tinge of despair. “It seems I have not only lost a son, but now a daughter.”

Maera, grappling with her own grief, found herself at a loss for words. She observed in silence as Aegon ascended the steps, a seemingly reluctant approach to the imposing Iron Throne. The weight of recent events echoed in the solemn atmosphere as he seated himself on the seat of power, a symbol of both authority and the burdens it carried. For a brief moment, Maera watched on, the silence between them pregnant with unspoken thoughts. In her black and gold dress, a sign of mourning, she curtsied before turning to leave, her steps echoing against the hallowed halls.

Just as she was about to depart, Aegon's voice cut through the stillness, a croak that held a peculiar urgency. “She was rather insistent, my wife, about naming the babe after you.” Startled, Maera turned back to face him, uncertainty etched into her expression.

“I would have allowed it…given the circumstances as to how it got there,” Aegon continued quietly as he slumped further into the chair. Maera simply stared at him, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. Cautiously, Maera glanced around the room, her eyes scanning for any signs of vulnerability. Aegon, in her eyes, was a monster, and she was keen not to expose herself to undue risk.

Her gaze noted the presence of four guards stationed strategically at different corners of the room. She hoped that it meant that Aegon would not try anything in this moment, being so heavily watched by others. Maera fixed her eyes back onto the King, taking a few steps forward and granted him a subtle nod, showing him that she was paying attention to his words.

“‘Maela’ was the name she picked. It matched Maelor. As Jaehaera’s name matched…Jaehaerys’.” As he mentioned the name of his murdered son, his expression changed, the lines on his face mirroring the heaviness in the room. Maera then began to delicately ascend a few of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne, positioning herself closer to the King so they could continue their conversation.

Standing in front him, she was reminded that Aegon had never been an active father-figure to his children- he didn’t play with them, dine with them, or even spend significant time in the same room as them. Maera could not help but releasing all of the anger she had felt the last few days, the bitterness spilling out of her as she said, “Did you even truly know your son?”

Aegon scoffed, a weariness in his reddened eyes as he conceded, “Truthfully, no. But my mother told me that he was quite confident, adventurous.”

Maera smiled to herself, picturing in her mind the little boy who made her laugh, and was persistent in his claims to riding the blue giant, Ēbrion. “He was.”

In an almost dismissive gesture, Aegon clapped his hands, summoning a maid who appeared as if from nowhere, bearing a jug of wine and two goblets. His gaze didn’t linger on the serving girl as he snatched the goblets from the tray, handing one to Maera. Wearily, she accepted it, allowing the King to fill her cup as she sat on the step beside him.

The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken grievances and shared sorrows, as Aegon and Maera sought solace in the numbing embrace of wine, each grappling with the consequences of their actions and the emotional toll exacted by the recent tragedies. The silver-haired King, in a desperate bid to drown his sorrows, quickly finished his cup of wine, downing it with a determined swiftness. Without hesitation, he refilled it and repeated the process. Maera observed, concern etching her expression, though not surprised at how Aegon was dealing with his emotions.

Coming to the end of his third cup, Aegon began a self-pitying monologue. “I never wanted this. Any of this. I did not want to marry Helaena. I did not want to be a father. I did not want to be King.”

Maera, however, rolled her eyes at Aegon’s display. The weight of his self-indulgent lamentations proved too much for her patience. Unable to tolerate his whining any longer, she looked at him with a mix of disdain and exasperation, a silent reproach for a king wallowing in his own perceived misfortunes.“Do you expect me to sit here and feel sorry for you, goodbrother?”

Aegon looked at Maera with a confused expression as she berated him for indulging in self-pity. His eyes, clouded by the effects of both grief and wine, reflected a mix of perplexity and a hint of wounded pride.

“Your wife lies exhausted having just birthed a dead child. She is about to bury another, her firstborn. You should be with her, comforting her for all she’s been through,” Maera chided him, taking a slow swig of the wine in her goblet, the smooth red liquid soothing her anger ever so slightly.

Yet, in response to Maera’s scolding, Aegon simply shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the turmoil within. “We both know that I am the last person she would want there.”

“Even so, some show of sympathy would be better than you sitting here drowning in your cups,” she replied to him gruffly, causing him to scoff as he drank, the liquid spilling down his chin, and he casually wiped it away with a dismissive swipe of his sleeve.

Maera, undeterred and frankly sick of being in Aegon’s company, slammed her half-full goblet down on the steps and stood up defiantly. The air between them crackled with tension as she faced Aegon, her gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in her eyes.

“You may not have wanted this, but the conqueror’s crown is on your head, Aegon. It is your responsibility to serve the Realm justly,” she sneered at him. The weariness in her eyes reflected a profound exasperation that had built over time. She had grown tired of Aegon’s self-indulgent behavior, his incessant whining, and the way he seemed to revel in his own suffering. There was a war, children dear to her had died. And it seemed things were only going to get worse.

Maera continued on, the Throne room becoming a stage for her frustration. “And if this is how Rhaenyra plans to win the Realm, with the blood of your children, she does not deserve the throne either.”

Aegon looked at Maera crossly, his anger evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. His frustration stemmed from a collision of pride and vulnerability, an internal struggle manifesting in his expression. Maera knew he resented being scolded, especially by someone who had witnessed his weaknesses and perceived failings.

Yet, in a fleeting moment, the anger seemed to melt away from Aegon’s face. Perhaps realizing the futility of his previous stance, he earnestly looked at Maera, a hint of vulnerability breaking through the façade. In a voice that carried a weight of genuine need, he asked her, “What would you have me do?”

Maera, well-versed in the nuances of Aegon's demeanor, initially squinted at him, attempting to discern if his request for counsel was laced with sarcasm. Given their history and the frequent clashes, she couldn't help but approach the situation with a guarded skepticism.

However, as she studied his expression and the earnestness in his eyes, a realization dawned upon her. Aegon was, in fact, being serious. The weight of sincerity in his request cut through the layers of their complicated relationship, revealing a vulnerability that transcended the usual dynamics between them.

In that moment, Maera's skepticism gave way to a genuine acknowledgment of Aegon's sincerity. Setting aside her initial skepticism, she opted for straightforwardness and honesty in her advice. “Use the people around you. You have trusted advisors on your council that can guide you. My husband, and the Lord commander…they know what they are doing.”

Aegon listened intently to Maera’s advice, nodding in acknowledgment as he absorbed the counsel she offered. The weight of her words seemed to resonate in the air, their significance echoing in the solemn Throne Room.

As Maera concluded her guidance, she curtsied gracefully, a gesture that marked the end of their conversation. The exhaustion from the events of the day weighed heavily on her, evident in the lines of weariness etched on her face. With a final glance back at Aegon, she left him with one last piece of counsel.

“Protect your people, Aegon. Your House, your Family. Be a King.” Maera turned to leave the Throne Room, the echoes of their shared struggles lingering in the space they occupied.

Maera closed the heavy doors of her chambers, shutting out the echoes of the day’s tribulations. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she took a moment to collect herself. The soft glow of early evening light spilled into the room, casting a gentle ambiance on the space.Her gaze fell upon Aemond, seated at his writing desk, diligently sharpening his dagger. His long silver hair framed his face, and the violet of his eye gleamed without the usual concealment of his eye patch. The meticulousness of his actions conveyed a sense of focus and control amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

Aemond looked up as Maera entered, the corners of his usually stoic face softening into a slight, almost relieved smile. His sapphire eye met hers, and the unspoken connection between them hung in the air. Aemond, in his usual dry manner, attempted to lighten the atmosphere.

“I can smell the wine from here.” However, as his gaze met Maera's, he could discern the depth of emotional exhaustion that lingered in her eyes.

Maera, overwhelmed by the weight of the day's events, finally found solace in the company of her husband. The façade of strength she had maintained for days crumbled, and she broke down. In the safety of her chambers, she felt the freedom to release the emotions that had been pent up.

Sobbing into her hands, Maera's cries resonated in the room. The vulnerability she had shielded from the world now poured out, a raw expression of the grief and turmoil that had plagued her. In Aemond's presence, she allowed herself the release she desperately needed, finding comfort in the shared vulnerability that bound them together.

Amidst the echoes of her cries, Maera heard the familiar sound of a chair squeaking, and then she felt herself being enveloped in a strong embrace. Aemond, in a rare display of tenderness, drew her close, creating a sanctuary within his arms.

As Maera continued to cry, she found solace in the comforting hold of her husband. In the warmth of his embrace, she breathed in his familiar scent, feeling a sense of security. Aemond, tenderly tucking her underneath his chin, gently stroked her back. The rhythmic motion became a soothing cadence, offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of her emotional storm.

Though her tears continued to flow, Maera found a measure of comfort in being held by her husband. In the warmth of his embrace, she breathed in his familiar scent and felt herself tucked underneath his chin. Aemond's gentle strokes on her back became a soothing rhythm, a silent reassurance that conveyed a depth of understanding and shared sorrow.

Notes: Merry Christmas bitches. Have some trauma 😅

Tags: @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @blue-serendipity @shesjustanothergeek @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[gatitties]

Who 's the villain?

─JoFoes x gn!teen!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You wanted to have a less boring life, what you didn't expect was a kidnapping and ten villains older than the sun trying to take care of you, and not by choice.

─Warnings: none

OKAY, I'm currently finishing watching the part 4, HOWEVER, I always end up getting spoilers, I found some books on wattpad and here about this theme with the villains and I really liked it, so here I am writing this to please myself for the lack of content 😔, I'm sorry if the villains between parts 5-6 are not as faithful to their personalities, I am guided by other writings I also plan to write more parts, however not as long as this one (I just got a little excited 🙂)

You were wallowing in your misery, you angrily threw the notebook with messily written notes across your room, letting an exasperated sigh escape your lips, you wish you had an invention that would make you remember all the contents of the exam, but alas, Doraemon did not exist.

You rubbed your temples, noticing how the sun had completely hidden, you decided to go out to get something for dinner, knowing that your parents weren't big fans of dinner, they would just let you get what you wanted or if it was something more elaborate you would ask them to do whatever just for you, you settled for something simple today.

You took the food to your room, closing the door and clearing your desk full of sheets, opening your computer to put something on the background because there was no way you were going to eat without seeing something, you moved restlessly in your chair, turning it as time passed ridiculously slow, one of the wheels got stuck with something and made you stumble to the ground, luckily you had already finished your meal and didn't stain anything.

"Damn, why is there always a random pencil on the floor?"

You grabbed the green pencil, looking at it as if it were your worst enemy and threw it towards the desk, it bounced and returned to the floor, but you didn't realize it, you lay down looking at the ceiling, your mind completely empty without wanting to be conscious of your responsibilities, couldn't you skip the entire phase of adolescence? Or at least, do something more entertaining? Your days were spent stuck at home without much to do because all your friends were too busy or it was difficult to agree on a date to go out together.

You got up from the floor, closing the window of your room because it started to get cold, looking at the stars, you wished you had some interesting change in the rhythm of your life, as if destiny itself had planned it, something tugged at the collar of your pajamas, you coughed from the sudden grip, struggling to free yourself from whatever was holding you, it had more strength than you and ended up dragging you out of your house, you screamed when you saw that you were falling from the second floor, but you barely had time to react when some arms picked you up and put a cloth over your mouth.

Now, when you thought about having a little more interesting life… you weren't referring to this, voices that were distant became increasingly clear as did your consciousness, it seemed that several men were arguing about something that you still didn't understand, your body shook when you opened your eyes finding several imposing people, luckily no one seemed to have noticed that you stood up so you decided to use that to your advantage.

You moved slowly along the sofa, you were about to put your foot on the floor when you felt an intense gaze on you, you exchanged glances with a tall, muscular man with barely any clothes, his hair was very pretty, but you weren't going to stop and flatter him right now.

"The little human has finally woken up, maybe they have some answers about this situation."

"Little human? My God, I've been kidnapped by aliens…"

You mumbled, swallowing hard as you saw that now all eyes were on you, you laughed awkwardly, lowering your other foot to the ground, everything remained in an awkward silence until you decided to use your legs to run wherever as fast as you could.

You went up a flight of stairs, hearing footsteps behind you, you went crazy when you saw the magnitude of the house you were in, you could easily get lost in the maze of hallways and rooms, you managed to avoid the arms of another tall and strong guy, luckily you were elusive, you turned into a hallway and hid in a closet watching as a blonde with fangs and some kind of priest were looking for you, once they left your vision you ran down again hoping to get out the door.

You were startled when another blonde man in a purple suit grabbed your shoulder before you could reach the living room where you woke up, sending a quick kick to his shin you ran towards the door, unfortunately another person grabbed you to stop you, this time you didn't hold back and screamed when he approached you, latching onto your waist in a strange hug.

The strange thing is that he started to scream just as scared as you, you slowed down your scream while the pink haired boy continued to have a commotion, the strange situation left you confused, but the presence of the others entering the room made you react, looking at the windows of the living room, you made the new plan, and before anyone reacted or guessed your thoughts you ran to the windows, or tried to.

"Ack-! What the hell…?"

Your head began to hurt because you fell directly to the ground, frowning when you saw a damn green pencil rolling on the ground, you groaned in pain and trembled when you saw how everyone surrounded your body, apparently you had nothing more than to accept your fate .

"Oh Father who art in heaven, forgive me for having insulted all those people while playing Roblox and Minecraft, forgive my sins and let my body rest in-

"Hey kid, you're not dying, cut that shit."

You frowned at the blonde who interrupted you, he had a stupid helmet with the word 'Dio' on it, before you could complain the priest spoke.

"No, it's good for young people to pray, continue."

You looked blankly at the guy, did he really think you were seriously praying? Someone picked you up by grabbing your ankle, you tried to look at the redhead who had picked you up and was looking at you with big eyes analyzing every movement, but your neck started to hurt trying to get a good look.

"Santana, that's not how you hold people."

Another giant snatched you up, now holding you with his arm on your legs, instinctively your arms went around one of his shoulders to keep you upright.

"Now then… I think you have something to explain to us, don't you?"

You blinked a couple of times in bewilderment, looking at all the men in the room, you pointed at yourself in confusion, exchanging awkward glances with everyone.

"Excuse me, I did what, exactly?"

"Don't play dumb! As much as I would like to live again to reign in this world, I, Dio, remember exactly that I died and now I am here."

One of the blondes pointed at you accusingly as if you had caused him to come back to life, a shiver ran through your entire body, pushing your body further against the man who was still holding you.

Each one expressed their displeasure against an entire lineage, all apparently dead on another occasion or timeline, leaving you even more confused, how did these crunchy old fossils think a teenager brought them back to life if you seem even more confused than them? Apparently everyone woke up before you and started an argument, accusations flew between them but they came to the conclusion that none of them knew anything, so that's why you were the last accused, the last to wake up.

"Well eh- I'm sorry to disappoint you but I have nothing to do with it, the last time I checked I wasn't doing any ritual to bring back dead people…"

Everyone seemed ready to discuss the topic again, but the television in the living room suddenly turned on, the guy who was still holding you, crushed you against his broad chest, scared by the electronic device, while the majority watched expectantly.

A video from a certain 'Speedwagon foundation' began to play explaining some things about a social reintegration program, something about a second chance in an alternate universe and things that you couldn't understand, apparently the others seemed to understand most of the references about some things called stands and their weakening, throughout the entire explanation you looked with your eyes blank, not knowing that you were painting with what seemed to be villains from another universe, apparently the video coincided with your thoughts when you heard your name come out from the person speaking in the screen.

"And another thing that will show that you are capable of returning to society as rational people is being able to take care of the teenager that you have at your side, we hope that they can also provide you with some reasoning and kindness."

"I don't think I gave my consent for this… isn't this considered kidnapping?"

The television was turned off, leaving now a very silent room, apparently that foundation had enough power to do anything, they fulfilled your wish to change your pace of life, but at what cost? Everyone looked at you again.

"So we just have to not kill people for a while and make sure the human doesn't die? That will be an easy task."

Everyone seemed to nod at what one of the giants said, you looked at them nervously, you weren't sure if they really understood what this was all about, but at least it ensured your life in some way.

Wamuu put you down once the whole situation became somewhat clearer, and your next move was to find your room and hide under the covers in hopes that this was a weird dream.

It was not.

You woke up suddenly when the door to your room flew to the floor, splintering in several places, well, goodbye to your privilege of privacy, the first thing you saw was the tail of a dinosaur moving slowly, which you recognized as Diego complained about the blow while Valentine ─if you remembered correctly─ looked at him with fury, the fight continued down the hallway, deciding not to intervene, your stomach asked for food.

The living room seemed a little messier than the night before, apparently some people couldn't get along with each other, you shrugged and entered the kitchen, finding a nervous Doppio being watched by Santana.

"Hello…"

You greeted, receiving a small nervous smile from the pinkette and a silent look from the pillar man, Doppio seemed to escape once Santana's eyes watched you move around the kitchen, conveniently full of food, since you were not a cook and your skills were limited, you opted for some simple toast.

"What is that thing?"

You stifled a scream when the redhead spoke, pointing to the toaster, you briefly explained how it worked as he nodded, what you didn't expect was that when the buns jumped he got scared and broke the toaster, you looked at each other in silence for a second, your buns at least landed on the counter safe and sound.

"That thing tried to attack me."

"Sure… hey, don't worry, it scared me too even when I know they're going to jump."

You'll think about how to get a new toaster later, you sat at the table that had been cleared by Kira, who seemed to be the only one to make himself something decent for breakfast, it was the only half normal at least at first glance.

The first days passed in a blur, a new toaster appeared at the entrance of the house, the arguments continued, and your routine was based on locking yourself in your room and dying of boredom, sometimes Santana followed you around the house asking about the electronics devices, of course he wasn't the only one to ask about how things worked, but your interactions were brief.

You also took charge of tidying up the house a bit, since these men seemed to have no sense of cleanliness except for Pucci, Valentine, and Kira. Your door was not yet repaired, you used a blanket to cover the opening, but you decided that today you would try to fix it, after walking around the house you found a room with tools, you didn't know what you were going to need so you grabbed a box with several heavy things.

You looked blankly at your old door, starting to glue the parts together with super glue and stapling them with a staple gun, it was good enough as it held together without falling apart again, the problem was that when trying to frame the door in place you stubbed your finger too strong.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Teenagers should not swear."

Pucci looked at you seriously as if you had committed a war crime, you could only dry a mischievous tear that escaped due to the pain in your battered finger, ignoring the priest you returned to work under his gaze.

"What are you doing here, huh? Watching the puny human?"

The last thing you needed was eyes on you, Dio's presence gave you chills and caused you to stub your fingers more than you would have liked while you finished fixing your door.

"Oh my! How can you just watch while a teen does all the work? An exemplary family man would be the one who should take care of these things."

The hammer was snatched from your hand, when you looked up you saw Valentine, who finished your poor job, the other two had disappeared seconds later.

"Thank you."

"No problem dear, you should treat those battered hands."

You nodded looking at the redness on your bruised fingers, either you had really bad aim or you were really shit at carpentry, but whatever.

You were mostly ignored as no one really cared about your existence because you seemed to be able to take care of yourself, however Doppio found himself attached to you, you didn't know if it was because he was just as fearful as you in some ways or because he found comfort in you because you seemed less tougher on him than the others, they weren't especially friendly or at least their appearance was scary enough not to be around.

But you started to lose your mind, you wished you could do something with your boring life, however your routine was to spend your days watching fights break out, considering that all your electronic devices were gone, it drove you crazy by not being able to do anything fun.

Then you entered your villain arc, you were supposed to have some immunity to these geezers, so you decided that what would reign in the house would be chaos. Everyone started to really rethink whether taking care of you was going to be that easy. You didn't even try to make things chaotic, your mere existence was, it was just something you kept to yourself, so as not to embarrass yourself or stand out too much for your clumsiness.

Kira found out that your cooking skills sucked to the point where you could burn water somehow, the pillar men would be confused as to why they can't use the TV like you told them to, and there's only a background video of some guy singing 'never gonna give you up' on a loop, Dio will find everywhere a pink diary with glitter and some red letters 'vampire diary' where there are poorly made drawings of him and Pucci with hearts, casually your tongue will rant with the words most barbarians in front of Pucci and occasionally inciting fights between Valentine and Diego, you discovered the identity problems of Doppio and his alter ego Diavolo and decided that your best option was to gaslight him to annoy.

They also discovered that you have some kind of power ─you don't─ because they find colored pencils lying randomly on the floor that they usually trip over, although you are not free from your curse either. Since you discovered all that about the stands after doing a little research on your own you started punching the air in the hope of hitting one of them.

You are only making their existence more complicated and they were already dead in other universe, do they have to take care of you? Well, you'd run around juggling knives in shoes twice your size to see how long it would take them to realize that you'd accidentally stabbed yourself, hopefully if they failed in their mission to take care of you they would return to their graves and you back to your normal life, which now seemed be much more fun than being trapped with pangea survivors.

At least now you have their attention, they will prevent you from tripping down the stairs, from burning yourself trying to cook, they will even go to the point of scolding you if you stay up late, indeed, none of them ─except for Kira─ knew what it was like to deny doing things to a teenager, so you moved on to your disobedience phase, you weren't that much of a brat, at this point you were doing it just to annoy these guys, although your real problem was with the Speedwagon foundation, since they were the ones who deemed you "fit" to show them empathy and a new way of seeing life peacefully.

The foundation definitely didn't take a psychological test before making that decision, they think you are a psychologist, and you are the one who needs a psychologist, you are definitely not the person who can fix them.

At first you thought you were locked in with them, but in truth, they are the ones locked in with you.

[siriannatan]

Ice and Blood

After some thought I decided to start putting my dragon!Scott propaganda in one place, hope you enjoy :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55694242

It would seem like ever since Xornoth has been sealed away, peace settled between the Empires. Old conflicts forgotten, old alliances drifted apart and mingled with their former enemies until they'd been formally dissolved over a cup of tea. Peace and quiet. Even Sausage and Jimmy stopped quarreling over their quite obvious border in the form of a massive hole.

Well, it was certainly peaceful for a time. Until fWhip got bored and became a menace. Arguing and threatening war at the slightest insult or joke. Even Gem couldn't control her twin’s temper. Leading to tensions being high whenever anyone even just heard his cane from a distance.

After a couple months of that Gem decided enough was enough and grabbed volunteers - Sausage, Jimmy and Scott - to represent everyone in trying to talk sense to him. An hour into the talks it didn't seem to be working too well.

“Come on fWhip, just cut the nonsense threats,” Jimmy signed and the count just laughed.

“Sorry, don't feel like it. And this ganking up certainly isn't helping convince me,” fWhip shrugged. Ever since they came he sat casually on his throne, crown askew on his head, mocking smirk on his lips. He didn't even get up to greet them. What a menace. He was lucky he was pretty or Scott would have frozen him to his stupid chair.

“Why won't we talk alone then? Just you and me?” Scott offered knowing none of his companions, especially Gem, would ever agree.

“Scott you can't be…” Gem started in a hushed whisper.

“Why not, that certainly sounds better than this,” fWhip nodded with a laugh. The pompous prick.

Gem and Jimmy tried to protest but Sausage was smart enough to practically drag them out. Much to fWhip's amusement.

“Finally some peace and quiet, won't you agree?” fWhip smirked, and finally got up from his stupid chair. The clicking of his cane on the hardwood floor had Scott's scales itching from nerves. Maybe being alone with fWhip was a bad idea considering their history.

“Why have you decided to be a nuisance as of late?” Scott asked, suppressing the urge to step back as fWhip circled him. He could not shake off the feeling of being looked up and down.

“Oh, that's very simple, I was waiting for you to come to me. Alone. And now I have you right where I want,” fWhip grinned, stopping in front of Scott, just inches separating the two of them.

“You could have sent a letter,” Scott huffed, holding fWhip's mischievous stare.

“But, darling, wouldn't that be terribly boring?” fWhip's head tilted as his smirk grew, exposing just a hint of his fangs. Since when did fWhip have those? “And I got you here anyway, didn't I?”

“What do you want with me?” Scott asked, lowering the room's temperature by a few degrees. He was not going to be intimidated by fWhip's antics.

“Well, you see, shortly after we dealt with your dear brother I had a little dream. A vision really. Haven't been the same since. You just seem like the kind of person to not be turned away by small things like… blood,” fWhip explained, leaning closer and closer until his face was practically in Scott's neck. He for sure didn't imagine the sharp fangs grazing free of scales skin.

fWhip was of course damn right. Him being a vampire wasn't in the slightest an issue for Scott. Anyone else might have gone looking for a solution not involving biting anyone or a cure. Scott? Scott could not deny how exciting he found the idea. “You might be right…”

Scott barely finished the sentence before he was pulled and pushed to sit in fWhip's throne. “Ouch, watch the wings,” Scott hissed as fWhip clambered into his lap.

“Can I take that as a permission?” fWhip seemed to be present enough to ask.

“What? You never bit anyone before?” Scott could not help but tease him. It was just the two of them there, he didn't need to behave like a proper ruler. fWhip shook his head as he trembled in Scott'sap. “Aww, you've been saving yourself for me? How cute,” teasing fWhip was never this fun.

“Sure, whatever you want to think. Can I bite you?” fWhip grumbled, clearly starving.

“Go ahead but I'll push you off if you drink too much,” Scott agreed but felt the need to have an out.

“You can stay the night if you feel too unwell after,” fWhip breathed out a very tempting offer before sinking his fangs into Scott's neck.

Scott instantly wasn't sure if he could ever push fWhip off. The feeling was simply too good. He could barely hear himself moan from behind the pleasant fog that settled around his mind. Was it fWhip's doing? Some vampire poison to keep pray from struggling? Not that Scott particularly cared at the moment.

After what felt like forever fWhip pulled back. And maybe seeing his lips red with Scott's own blood shouldn't be an attractive sight but Scott felt too loopy to care. “You said you'd push me off,” fWhip instantly jumped into fretting about the half-dragon.

“I'm fine, I cab take you drinking some of my blood,” Scott grinned, no doubt looking like an idiot.

fWhip scoffed at that. “Try standing up then,” he challenged, arms crossed over his chest. He looked awfullya lot like Gem when she gave out lectures on how proper rulers should behave.

Scott, never one to back away from a challenge, tried standing up. His legs held out for maybe total of five seconds before fWhip pushed him back into the chair as he was about to collapse. “Okay, maybe you're right, but it's still all your fault for not just sending out a letter to me,” Scott huffed, pulling fWhip into his lap as revenge.

fWhip glared at him but acot knew he didn't mean it. “You're staying the night, no arguing,” fWhip decided before freeing himself from Scott's hands. “I'll get the kitchen making you something to eat,” he informed and left Scott alone on Grimlands throne.

Scott grinned as he looked at fWhip's back… lower back… He didn't have his cane with him, he thought with a smirk. Maybe he'll point it out later. “Your cane?” He pointed out just as fWhip was about to open the door. Elven king just assumed no one knew fWhip didn't really need it anymore.

And he had to be right as fWhip marched back. Not a word said. Grabbed his cane and walked back. At least he seemed to be in a better mood now that he has eaten.

If on the next meeting anyone asked how Scott got fWhip's attitude fixed, he'd just say ‘charm’. If fWhip didn't want to tell anyone then Scott would play along. Especially if it meant fWhip would bite him again.

[insertpoetryhere]

Dadbastian Week: Friendly Advice

Fun fact, I had a whole different thing planned until I witnessed a teenage boy at work (I'm a teacher at a k-12 private school) attempt to cram himself in a locker and get uniform stuck on one of the hooks. My very southern coworker made some comment about natural consequences and this was born.

I helped him get out, don't worry. I'm not that mean.

Anyways, woo @dadbastianweek2023

Here's the thingy (ft. Teenage Stupidity)

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out Of Me

Sebastian’s greatest enemy was teenage impulsiveness.

At the beginning of their contract, Ciel was a quiet little thing. He rarely strayed from Sebastian’s side and generally seemed to find no interest in mischief. Back then, Sebastian used to shake his head affectionately and silently call him boring.

He really wished his child had stayed boring.

He wasn’t sure if the change had happened gradually but internally, or if a switch had suddenly been flipped in Ciel’s brain and told him he needed to find the stupidest and fastest way to kill himself immediately. Sebastian did know that his own exposure to the change was very abrupt.

They had been standing in the kitchen. Why Ciel was there and what he wanted was a mystery. It was a possibility that he had just come to stare wistfully at the oil bubbling on the stove.

Sebastian had not asked for the boy’s thoughts. He was fina assuming that the child had simply craved company and came down to watch him cook dinner. But Ciel, unprompted, uttered possibly the most horrifying sentence of Sebastian’s career.

“I want to put my hand in that.” 

Ciel was forcibly removed from the kitchen.

After that, Ciel’s impulses only grew. Chewing on spoons was a lower stake one, though it was very confusing and ended with Sebastian (all-powerful demon, over a millenia old, man with self respect) having to personally remove a spoon from a child’s mouth. 

More problematic was Ciel’s recent observation that the broken china saucer on the floor of his study looked “crunchy”. Or his fascination with the tools that hung next to the fire (the poker was his favorite). Or his brief infatuation with the way whiskey smells, leading to a dire need to know how it tastes immediately. In the form of an entire pint glass that Sebastain had to tear out of his hands with a loud, long lecture about the dangers of adolescent alcoholism.

Unsure and inexperienced on the goings on of the teenage mind, Sebastian had attempted to ask Bard for advice on what to do.

A mistake.

His reactions to each incident were as follows.

The spoon chewing; “Stick one in some tabasco for a bit. Bet he won’t wanna chew on that.”

The issues: That was a waste of Tabasco sauce. And cruel, even by Sebastian’s standards. The poor boy was born and bred in the English countryside, something like that might make his little heart give out.

The “crunchy” ceramics; “Tell him a teapot will grow in his belly or somethin’. Kids are malleable like that. Easy t’ trick.”

The issues: It’s a lie. A very stupid one at that. Also this exercise was starting to reveal some disturbing sentiments on Bard’s side.

The fire poker; “Boys will be boys.”

The issues: What did that mean? What did it have to do with a fire poker? Also it wasn’t even advice, it was just a statement.

The whiskey incident; “Ha! That oughta put some hair on his chest!”

The issues: That also wasn’t advice. He just laughed in Sebastian’s face for 13 minutes as he begged him to help him stop a teenage boy from drinking away his liver.

So no, Sebastian was no longer taking notes from Bard.

This meant he had to face his new rival on his own.

Stair banisters.

His relief for Ciel’s recovery from drunkenness (he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol) was replaced with a fascination with trying to slide down stair banisters. It made Sebastian wonder if he actually hated his job.

He could tell when he was going to try it too. Ciel would look around to see if anyone was watching and then attempt to launch himself down the stairs via banister. On top of being the most stressful test of Sebastian’s reflexes, it also proved that these were not impulses. The little shit was planning this.

He tried other outlets to solve his problems, really he did. Which meant he asked Agni, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll pray that everything works out.” 

That’s not really advice either!

So now he was sitting on a stool, late at night, brainstorming ways to make a child stop trying to throw himself down a flight of stairs for entertainment.

And since Bard was also there, he figured it would do no harm to bounce ideas off of him.

“Just let him do it.” Bard said, lighting his cigar with a blowtorch like he was trying to give Sebastian every reason to disregard his opinion.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Bard took a long drag, and for a moment Sebastian thought that was the answer to his question until Bard finally spoke. ‘Just let him do it. Trust me.”

“If I let him do it,” Sebastian spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a small child. “He could get hurt.”

Bard shrugged the comment off (who was the demon here?), taking another drag. “Bet he won’t do it again.”

Sebastian went to rebuttal Bard’s comment, but had… nothing. Honestly, Bard’s idea had… dare he say, merit.

Sebastian shook his head, banishing the thought from his head.

He was clearly just getting desperate.

---

He was doing it again.

 Ciel looked over his shoulder casually. Then repeated the action on the other side. Clearly that eyepatch was much more of a hindrance than Sebastian thought since he was standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly watching this entire event unfold, very visible.

Regardless, Ciel had decided the coast was clear. The boy threw one leg over the banister and preparing to swing the other one up when-

“Young Master?” He shot up like a bullet, leaning against the railing and pretending to inspect the dust on his finger.

“The stairs are filthy.” He said, though his lips were pressed in too thin of a line for him to look anything but guilty. 

Sebastian said nothing, continuing to look between Ciel and the banister disapprovingly. Ciel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, like he was waiting for the lecture he no doubt should be getting for attempting something so stupid.

“... Fine, go ahead.”

The words took Ciel so off guard that Sebastian worried the shock alone would send the boy rolling down the stairs head-first. “You’re… giving me permission?”

“Absolutely not.” Sebastian sneered. “But I cannot stop you. If you wish to crack your skull open and die then what can I do to stop you?”

A lot, but it isn’t a lie so long as he doesn’t answer his own question.

“So I can do it? I can slide down?” Ciel looked amazed, as if Sebastian had gifted him all the riches in the world (he didn’t need them) when really all he had done was passive-aggressively imply that he could slide himself down a stair banister.

Sebastian frowned. “I suppose, if you wish to ignore my advice and disappoint me further.”

Ceil maintained eye contact as he pulled himself up and sat directly on the flat porting of the railing, like he was waiting for Sebastian to change his mind at any moment and snatch him right off.

Sebastian bit his lip, maintaining the disapproving scowl on his face. “If you do this, I reserve the right to look down on you for it.”

Ciel narrowed his eye like he was weighing his options, and for a second Sebastian thought that maybe he was coming to his senses.

“... Deal.” Then he was off with one strong push.

---

“What’d the doc say?” Bard asked as Sebastian closed the kitchen door behind him.

He hung his tailcoat up on a small wooden coat rack, trading it in for his “dinner apron” (it differed from his lunch and breakfast apron, obviously. One shouldn’t mix their mealtime aprons) and let out a sigh. “Well, he isn’t concussed. But that bump on his forehead will be there for a while.”

“I see, well glad it wasn’t anything serious.” Now that Bard knew the young master was going to be fine, he seemed to have another question on his mind. “So… did he say anythin’ to you? Y’know, about future plans?”

Sebastian couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk that crossed his face. “As a matter of fact, he did. The young master expressed a disinterest in using the banisters as a slide any time soon.”

Maybe the two grown adult men should have felt a little guilty over their shared joy at a child’s misfortune. But the relief that their charge was now safe to let loose in the hallways unsupervised again was such a delight that it called for at least a little celebration.

Bard gave Sebastian’s arm a “light” punch. “What’d I tell ya? Natural consequences!”

Sebastian let out a huge sigh of relief, looking up towards the ceiling and stretching his back until something popped, something he was sure had been slowly forming since the hot oil incident. “Peaceful days are on the horizon. There isn’t anything left in this house that he could possibly try to maim himself with.”

Bard laughed, a sound that Sebastian was starting to think sounded cruel. Maybe just because it had been at his expense for too long now. “At least until he realizes he can fit in the dumbwaiter.”

Sebastian hummed in amusement. “Considering the blow he took to the head, I think we will have plenty of time before he’s functional enough to figure that one out.”

---

They, in fact, did not have plenty of time.

Ciel figured it out only a week later. And getting him out of the dumbwaiter was quite the ordeal in itself.

[koostarcandy]

hi! i have a request for enemies to lovers jungkook x fem!reader with 1, 3, 11, 97 from the prompt list, angst with a fluff ending pls. thank u so much, hope u have a good day <3 :)

feeling's mutual - jungkook x reader

pairing: choreographer!jungkook x dancer!reader

genre: mentions of stalking, (don't read if it's triggerin) koo to the rescue!, sliiiight angst, fluff! this turned into a mini fic, im sorry :]

a/n: another enemies to lovers but they're dancers this time! harry potter spoilers are also there (jic there isnt anyone hasnt watched/read the series) keep the requests coming, I'm having fun! you could also send in a song request if you think the prompt list isn't your thing ^^

wc: 1.8k

prompts:

1 - "can you stay? please?"

3 - "dammit because I love you!"

11 - "stay on the phone with me."

97 - "well, i promised, didn't i?"

you flop onto the cold floor, groaning from the latest dance routine your choreographer had just made. you know he did it just so he could spite you, to show you that, yes he knows hip-hop and yes, he's the superior dancer here.

"miss two left feet! how was that for a routine, huh? wasn't it the best I've done so far?" sweat dots jungkook's hairline in the sexiest way possible but instead of complimenting him, you flip him off, twice. "knowing i have two left feet, you still choose to torture me?" you look up at him towering over you, gleaming grin always so annoying. and cute. but also Annoying with a capital A.

"eyyy, all in good fun right? i'm closing up so get out, now." he says it in a fake stern voice which has got you rolling your eyes and getting up from the cool floor, grabbing your bag and leaving, shutting the door loudly like you always do. you put in your earphones and listen to the song jungkook and you were just dancing to, head bopping with the beat.

it's when you stop at a pedestrian crossing and casually look at your surroundings is when you spot the man, eyes boring into you. his all black ensemble doesn't make it better and when you break the eye contact, you find your hands shaking and you slip one into your pocket, lowering the volume so you could get a better hold of your surroundings. you glance at the old woman next to you, counting her money with a rickety trolley filled with boxes with what would've been tangerines. you walk with her when the light turns green, seemingly interested in what she had to say and show, heart rate raising when you see the shadow of the man getting bigger and bigger.

you wish the ground would swallow you up, right now. the innocent old lady went on her way, wishing you a good night and you couldn't go with her, making the way to your apartment even longer and tiresome. it's almost 12 and you spot the big 7/11 sign, immediately walking and going to the section with drinks. you randomly pick up a bottle and look at the price, making it seem like you're thinking about it, when in reality you're just realising that you couldn't call any of your close friends tonight, remembering the texts in the group chat and why it was only jungkook and you tonight.

you keep the bottle down and take your phone, fingers unconsciously and rapidly dialing jungkook's contact. you put it to your ear, iu's lilac playing as his ringtone puts a slight smile on your face.

"yo, two left feet, you left your speaker-"

"jungkook listen i can't tell this slowly so listen quick," you look around, finding the cashier playing away on his phone with the same man looking at the chocolates by the counter, "there's someone following me and he's gotten into the store i'm currently in and oh god," you hands shake even more when you can't find the man there anymore, trying your best to breathe properly. "where are you?" jungkook says calmly but you know he's rushing past people, apologies coming out from his lips. "the fancy 7/11 near my place, you know, the one with the expensive water bottles."

"stay on the phone with me."

he's breathing quickly and you're slightly shocked at his quick response, your feet glued to the floor. "where are you in the shop?" you look at the bottles arranged neatly in front of you, "the drinks section, they've got mogu mogu too now, shall I pick one up?" from your peripheral vision, you can see the aisle not empty, making it worser for your heart or mind.

"pick up the apple ones, the orange one isn't that tasty, blueberry should be good too," he must be jogging, you think, his earrings clashing against his phone. you slightly step away from the open fridge and immediately regret your decision, seeing the man walk upto your section. "j-jungkook, he's coming closer, where are you?" you whisper shakily, the bottles you held in your hand falling to the floor. "i can see the sign, i'm there okay? try to move-" a gloved hand puts the bottles back in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the chill air from infront of you not helping you. "i've been seeing you all night and i thought i could take you home, you seem alone-"

"i don't think you should, really"

"darling, there you are! this place is pretty big, isn't it?" jungkook's pulling you into his side immediately, cutting you off. his smile drops immediately when he looks at the man, who doesn't seem very pleased. "i was talking to her-" "and you shouldn't anymore. now, leave before i make a scene, mister." jungkook puts you behind him, effectively shielding you. the stalker seems to finally go away reluctantly and your human shield turns to you, pulling you close.

"you're okay now," he murmurs into your hair, soothing hand rubbing your back up and down. you don't even register the tiny kiss he places on your forehead, "i don't feel like having mogu mogu now," you say quietly. jungkook nods and offers to buy you ice cream and you end buying bunches of lollies and ice cream cones. he pays before you can and he practically forces you to get on his back, his excuse being, "you're tired, i can see it. now, it's piggy back time, miss two left feet." which makes you get on him quickly, urging him to get home before the sweet treats melt quickly.

jungkook falls face first on your couch and you follow, sitting on the floor and leaning against it, mind still reeling from tonight's events. a tattooed hand reaches out for a grape ice lolly from the packet in your lap and opens it, the sweet yet sour ice poking at your lips. you look at the weirdo behind you, puzzled look shot at him. "have it, i know you didn't have anything to eat tonight after practice." you take a bite, wincing at the cold hitting your teeth and eyebrows raising at the taste. a gentle hand falls on your shoulder, jungkook also having a bite, eyebrows furrowed at the taste. you have been this close to him before but it's always in the presence of your friends, their wiggling eyebrows and suggestive eyes gestured at your close proximity with him.

it's like electricity flowing through you, breathtaking in a good way. jungkook silently feeds you the grape lolly, hands reaching for the vanilla ice cream. you can't stop yourself when you say, "can you stay? please?" you look at him nibbling the soft ice cream, eyes on you. "of course, where's your blankets? lets camp out here tonight!"

turns out "camping out here tonight!" is a Harry Potter marathon, popcorn in the bowl rapidly disappearing, courtesy of your human shield of the night. he watches you mouth dialogues hermione says, giggling and stuffing buttery popcorn in your mouth. it's towards the end of prisoner of azkaban when harry is saving his godfather and himself, jungkook decides it's been a night, your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him in your sleep.

he quietly switches off the tv and brings you down with him, your big comfy couch enough for the both of you. he hopes you don't kick him out in the morning, already attached to the way you snuggle to him and enjoying the feeling of simply cuddling you.

the sunlight piercing through your eyelids wakes you up, annoyed at the sudden brightness. the snoring behind you and the arm on your waist brings you back to last night. you get up and look at him, mouth slightly open and face serene. you're slightly shocked he stayed but you don't say anything, feeling bubbly and smiley despite of what happened last night. he got into action quickly, making you like him more than you have before. a lone finger pushes his bangs away from his face, admiring him just for a little while longer.

"take a picture, it'll last longer, darling."

you move away from him, flinging the shared blanket off you, getting up and stretching your tired limbs. "can't believe you stayed, jungkook," you say honestly, looking back at him sitting up, eyes on you. "well, i promised, didn't i?" you nod, "its just surprising, that's all, given our 'history' and all," he chuckles at the stress you give for the word, "sure, darling" he gets up, "is it that difficult to believe i would do something nice for you?" he looks at you, face getting closer to you.

"yes it is, actually. do you not recall the times you purposely made me stay the nights to 'help you perfect the choreography' or when you point out my mistakes on infront of so many people?" you walk past him, shoulders pushing past his and walking to the kitchen, jungkook hot on your heels.

"you're a great dancer, you know i'll always need your help plus can't you take a bit of teasing? you don't think i notice you doing the same when our friends are around? you punching my arm at every chance you get or making me somehow lose at 'game of life'?!" you look at him, hie chest heaving up and down, "calm down, you big baby, it's not my fault you lose at such a simple game? don't get so worked up over something so little, okay?" you pass him a glass of water, already having downed an ice cold glass of water, chewing on the ice cubes.

"i don't get why you're getting so frustrated over something like this, it's not like i mean much to you and we're arguing like this everytime we-"

"dammit because i love you!"

well, that shut you up. you look at him, his eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly.

"what i actually meant was-" "that you love me? i got it the first time, thanks."

you turn around and lean on the kitchen counter. you've always thought what would happen if you ever confessed your feelings for jungkook, never having thought what would happen if the opposite happens.

"hey," he starts, hand on your shoulder, turning you around, "can you please say something? i feel like I'm being left on read, you know." you smile and laugh sheepishly at the random comparison, head leaning on his chest. "i guess, the feeling's mutual." you mumble, hands slowly going around him. he wraps an arm around you, his tattooed hand lifting your chin up, "what do you mean you guess?" he teases, lips breaking into that big smile you love. you mimic his wide smile, hugging him tightly. he presses his lips to yours gently, holding you close like you'll disappear soon.

"glad the feeling's mutual, darling."

pt time: @armys-dna ; @joondiary ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @highly-functioning-mitochondria

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

I hate you more.

steve harrington x female reader.

just because ive been obsessed with steve over the past week or more.

content warnings/info: enemies to lovers, SMUT!, hate sex, degradation, slight praise, "baby", "i hate you", after care, femdom at the beginning, slight breeding, slight angst I guess, a lot of kissing.

I'm in my living room, cleaning up as the room was just a complete mess. My entire house was wrecked. I'd been too busy and too stressed to clean up.

And today was my day off, I would finally be alone and I could clean up and-

knock, knock, knock..

I groan. "Come in! The door's unlocked." I yell out, quite aggravated as I assume it's my landlord.

I continue to clean up the clothes off the floor, not bothering to look up. "Listen, I know it's a mess but please.. I've been so stressed.." I drown out as I look up to see Steve Harrington standing in all his pride in my home.

"Harrington, I really don't want to deal with your shit today, it's my day off and I need to clean if that wasn't obvious." I sigh, continuing to clean.

"Yeah? I couldn't tell." He chuckles before I scoff.

"If you don't need anything can you get out?" I begin to shout, stopping cleaning to attent myself to him.

"You know that landlord is supposed to come today, right?" He asks, placing himself on my couch.

I roll my eyes. "Why are you sitting down?- no, nevermind that, why are you even here?"

"I must've forgot. You know what, I blame your messy house." He stands up, examining the house, walking around down the hallway himself.

"Then leave. Or help me clean, make yourself useful." I finish cleaning up the clothes off the ground.

"Why would I do either of those? That's so boring." He chuckles, walking in front of my couch again.

"Because it's my day off!" I shout pushing him onto the couch. "So.. either you are going to help me or get the hell out!" I point to the door, not realizing that I'm on top of him.

"Is this what you meant by help you out?" He scoffs.

When I try to get off he pulls me back towards him.

"Awe. You look so ugly up there." He smirks.

"You look uglier down there." I lean down to his face smiling.

I feel hot breath fanning against my face when I bring my face into his, aggressively bullying my mouth against his.

"Mm- yeah? Wanna- do it- mm- like this?" He says inbetween kisses when I find the opportunity to put my tongue into his mouth.

I grind against him as he sits up, moaning into the kiss.

We break apart, I get off of him, knees to the ground as I begin to unbuckle his pants.

"Straight for the dick, huh? You really are a little slut." He insults, moving his hips up so I can pull his pants down.

"It's probably small." I mewl, looking up at him before his cock springs upwards towards his stomach.

Saliva collects in my mouth at his size.

"For something so small, you sure are speechless." He chuckles.

"Shut up. Even I expected more." I say as I wrap my hands around his cock, pumping it hard.

He moans into my touch when I lick the tip.

"Ughh- god-"

"What? You like that, don't you?" I say, taking my hands off of his cock.

"Fuck- yes! Why would you stop?" He sits up, attempting to grab my hand when I pull it away.

"Then beg for me." I smirk, now feeling dominant.

"Please, ugh. You're always actin' like such a bi-"

"Doesn't sound like you want it." I look up at him.

"Ugh- please y/n.. please please- god- please keep touching me. Fuck I'm so hard." He groans as I bring my hands back to his cock, pumping him softer than before.

"Yeah? You just love when I pump your cock like this don't you?" I say getting more aggressive. "Bet you want me to suck it too, don't you?" I look up to see him nod and bite his lower lip, moaning pretty high-pitched whimpers.

I lick up his shaft before taking his tip into my mouth, bobbing my head on half his length.

I snake a hand down into my pants to rub my puffy clit, needing for friction.

He moans at the sight.

He sits up and pulls me onto the couch effortlessly.

"You had your fun.. touching.. teasing.. licking. It's my turn now." He says lifting my shirt up over my head.

I bite my bottom lip and giggle at his expression he made when he realized I wasn't wearing a bra.

I take my hands up to play with them as he watches, in the mean time taking off my pants.

He removes his own shirt before I lay back against the couch, playing with my clit.

He shoo's my hand away, inserting his middle finger into my wet hole.

I grind against his hands as his thumb rubs circles on my clit.

He begins to go faster and harder, inserting his ring finger.

"Fuck- Steve!" I call out.

"Oh baby, say my name." He grins and groans pushing into me lucidly.

"D-don't- mm.. call me that." I moan, tusking at his hair.

"Mm- what you don't like that? Or is it because it's me?" He pulls his fingers out of me and I whimper at the loss of contact.

He brings his cock to my entrance, rubbing the tip along my folds covering it in my slick. He slides into me and I bring my lips to his, moaning into the kiss.

"God, I hate you." I say between wet sloppy kisses as he fucks into me, hitting a deep spongy part each time he thrusts.

"I hate you more." He says as we kiss messily.

"Doubt it- ah!" I moan, my chest puffs up towards him.

He leans up away from me, grabbing my thighs, prying them apart when I bite my lip at the sight.

He humps into me as I grind back.

"Fucker- gonna make me- ugh- cum.." I make grabby hands at his shoulders as he leans down.

I kiss him again, scratching at his shoulders assuring red scratch marks to be there.

"Mm.. gonna cum f'me baby?" He says ending our pretty kiss.

My pussy tightens at him calling me baby. The way he says it ignites something in me that I no longer think is hate.

"Oh- I thought you- fuck- didn't like when I called you baby?"

"I hate it.." I pull him down to kiss me, muffling my orgasm.

I scratch at his back. "I'm gonna- cum.." I whisper to him.

"Mhmmhm." He chuckles in a groan. "Me too." He whispers back, moving a piece of hair out of my face before kissing me again.

I giggle into the kiss and I can feel him smile against my lips.

I pull him off me by his shoulders.

"Come on baby, cum with me.."

I bite my lip and grind into him, reaching my high, I snake my hands down to rub my clit.

"Ughh.. please Steve. Feel s-so good n' so deep.." My tits are bouncing up and down.

"C-cummin'!" Steve shouts out to warn me as we both cum together, him inside of me.

The room falls silent besides our heavy breathing mixing together.

"Fuck." He breathes out in a chuckle.

I giggle looking into his eyes when they lock.

But neither of us pull away.

"God, Harrington.. oh my god!" I push his shoulders up, his erect that slightly softened inside of me painfully slipping out.

"Ow, ow, ow.." I suck breath in from the pain.

"What? Are you okay?" He says softly, grabbing my shoulders.

"I'm fine.. but.. what- we just.." I put a hand to my head before looking at him, who's smiling.

He places a kiss to my forehead.

"Aw, baby. You regret it, so soon?" He kisses my lips softly before pulling away, I find my lips chasing his.

He uses a finger to reject my lips.

"Come're, baby." He pulls me to lay down on the couch with him, I cuddle into him.

"I'll never get out of this.." My sigh turns into a chuckle. "Not to mention my house is still messy. And I don't know why you're here."

"What? You don't love me?" He winks at me.

I kiss his lips softly.

"I hate you." I smile, feeling down his chest, kissing his neck.

I look up at him and bite my lip.

"Oh baby, I hate you more."