#but in his case there’s a delusional part of me that is still convinced they could fix him with just a sprinkle of angst

[starz0rstuff]

“Take a good look around you, Rhys… this is what success looks like. You’ll see… after a while you start to measure it by the size of the pile of destruction around you.”

(The BIG ONE and a small doodle I did to figure out how to draw this silly fellow)

[moondirti]

Your ghostsoap x preg!reader!!??? I'm in love I need more of this. You have more thoughts for that universe? I just fell in love with your writing.

Let me camp in this corner of your blog, I'm friendly and don't bite (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

they're all i've been able to think about all day. of course i have more to say <3 if you're curious, anon is referring to this, which should be read before this part.

tags: DARK FIC. manipulation. vehicle tampering. planned abduction. pregnant fem!reader. established ghostsoap – who are not the fathers but would definitely like to be. mentions of somnophilia

Delusional as they might be, it's hard to justify something as egregious as blunt-force kidnapping. Though it briefly occurs to Simon – to pluck you from the parking lot and drive off the hour after they decide to keep you – the logistics don't iron out. Of chief concern, you're six months pregnant. What they'd typically use for POW's thus become's inconsiderable for you; Johnny's the wiz, but even he knows the effects chloroform can have on a foetus. The alternative isn't any better, either – his partner just balks at the idea of tying you up and throwing you in the trunk. (She'll never git ower it, Si. Dae ye want her tae hate us?)

So, things unfold in a far subtler manner.

They go home that night they first meet you. Can't coordinate without resting on it, they rationalise, without scoping their place to assure it's suitable for their soon-to-be-mother. They tuck away the knives laying on random countertops, air out the quilts gifted to them by Johnny's ma in an attempt to make their room cozier. And when they sleep, they dream of you tucked in between them, knocked out, sex-drunk. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, cunt bared for either of them to toy with throughout the night.

Hours upon hours later, well into noon the next day, Simon wakes to find his boy rutting into his thigh, still somewhat comatose, and sneaks a rough hand into his boxers to tug the tension out of the poor thing. They only get up as the fissures of dusk begin to spread across the sky, loading their car with a toolbox and making the drive back to The Dahlia, staking out in the parking lot as they wait for you to arrive for your shift.

(Johnny had deployed the old charm as you brought out their food in two baggies last night, disguising the trap with a lilting laugh as he audibly wondered why you picked up such a late shift.

You’d only shrugged and said you preferred to work nights.)

Sure enough, you pull up in a beat-up Kia at 2200, fussing with your bag as you stumble to the back entrance of the roadhouse.

"Forgot to lock it." He mutters, following your form until it disappears from view. Johnny only frowns, tightening his fingers over his thumb. A little nervous tick.

"Should we be doin' this?"

"And what is this?" Simon turns to appraise the scotsman, larger hand enveloping his, calloused fingertips smoothing over scarred knuckles. "Y'think they'd be kinder to 'er? The type of scum we know grace this earth? It's a wonder she made i' this far, Johnny."

He isn't convinced.

"Look a' me." Blue eyes widen to meet his, dark as their owner battles intuitions that have always been straighter than the Ghosts'. "Wanna give 'er a good life, yeah?"

"Aye. The best."

"Would she be so convinced?" But he knows the answer. They both saw the way you withdrew after being hit on, losing the effusiveness you initially greeted them with. Avoidant. Classic case of hyper-competency, perhaps the very reason you put up with such shitty circumstances to begin with. A stubborn knot they'll have to undo themselves.

And Johnny likes the challenge.

"Lass's got something tae prove." Moments pass in silence. Then: "Ah’ll get th' wire."

"Atta' boy."

They only enter the establishment an hour before the end of your shift. It’s 0600 and space is sleepy. At a point that had escaped their notice, someone had made the choice to shut the overhead fluorescents, and so all that functions to illuminate the dinette is the pale dawn outside. Johnny finds he prefers it like this, grumbling a tired endorsement, before branching off in search of the bathroom, hand rubbing the sore column of his throat.

The softening mass in his pants jumps once Simon catches sight of you, balancing two trays in one hand as you wipe down the serving hatch. He doesn’t need to say anything. You catch the dark blur of him in the corner of your eye, shuffling into a booth, where he occupies an entire side with the mere spread of his legs.

“Hello again. Just you today?” You’re twirling your pen, cradling your belly, and he notes the perpetual shadow cast under your eyes. Poor pet.

He shakes his head, then cocks it toward the loo. “Think he’ll have a go at the toastie today.”

“Good choice. Hard to fuck up.” You give him a tired smile. “And for you?”

“M’good.”

“You sure? Look like you’ve been on the road again, and-" You pause, the water of your eyes rippling as you appraise his mask. Something seems to click just then, because you nod and tuck your notepad away. “I’ll ask again at the end. Maybe you’ll want something to-go.”

In the end, they do take something to go.

Not as greasy as the toastie Johnny spends the hour tearing into, glossing the pads of his fingers with oil. Nor as sour as the coffee he sipped on last night, burnt and way past freshness, just like you’d warned them about. But a much, much sweeter keepsake. Something that’ll sate them for much longer.

You’ve already clocked out once they leave The Dahlia, faces grim but as innocent as they can possibly muster. Sure enough, you’re out standing by your car, wiping tears with the back of your hand. They’re close enough that they can catch snippets of your conversation on the phone (No, I don’t– and It is old but never–).

They wait until you grow desperate, hiccuping – Don’t have that kind of money. Please – before intervening.

“Hey. What’s the matter, hen?” Johnny approaches first, concern no faux thing, smoothing a hand down your arm. What Simon said earlier comes back around (Wanna give 'er a good life?) and his chest tightens at the sheer despair he sees etched across your face. You shouldn’t be this stressed about anything this far along, should have someone taking care of you.

He, they, can be that for you. Could give you everything you ask for and more.

“M-my car. I-I don’t– I don’t know what’s wr-wrong with it, and–”

“Shhh, issalright. Not starting, eh?”

“No. And I have to- to get home before… before–”

Simon steps in, crowding you against the side of your car. You don’t have it in you to look for the red flags; the glances they throw one another, the subtle crinkle in the masked one’s eyes as he smiles. No, you don’t– can’t consider it dangerous. Not when these two wonderfully kind men, who tipped you 100% of their bill both times they came in, are one of your only means of getting help.

“Where do you live? We’ll drive ya if it’s on our way.” A lie. They’ll drive you regardless, and you won’t be taken home.

“Oh- no. That’s okay, really. I’ll just a-ask my boss if I can get a sub on my pay, and–”

Johnny smooths a finger across your cheek.

“Nonsense, hen. It’ll be a skoosh.”

next part

[holybibly]

Mmm, I just couldn't resist these thoughts. I think I need a full work about Siren Seonghwa. He's so coded for that, don't you think, bunny?

Since the unholy hours are active again. I would like to ask you two things.

Firstly, I try to answer your questions in as much detail as possible. But in this case, I can't answer as quickly as you would like. Should I keep doing that or would a quick, short answer be better?

Secondly, do we need a master list for the unholy hours? Let me know what you think.

I love you bunnies, and I hope that you are all ready to take a deep dive into the water.

These are my unholy thoughts

Warning: Dub-con, siren! Seonghwa

Your thighs feel so unbelievably soft to him when his cold lips touch them, and the skin under his sharp teeth like the petals of a flower. The urge to bite you is so strong; Seonghwa wants to hear you sigh and to taste the sweet blood that pulsates through your tender veins. But even though his instincts tell him to leave his marks and rights all over your body, he doesn't want you to feel the pain of your first time together. Instead, he lowers his gorgeous face between your legs and sucks hungrily at your cunt, the delicious flavours exploding on his cold, slippery tongue as he sucks. Just the taste of you makes his cock bulge out of its sheath. Hardening and throbbing with the need to be enveloped by the soft, warm walls of your beautiful pussy.

You moan so beautifully as his long tongue penetrates deep inside you, caressing your walls from the inside, and as his nose nuzzles your clit. An incredible contrast of temperature is created as his cold breath flows over your warm flesh, stimulating you even more. He gently strokes the top of your thigh, forcing himself to pull his lips away from your pussy for a moment.

"How does it feel, love?"

"It feels so good; keep kissing me." You're slurring what you're saying; your voice is heavy and delusional.

Seonghwa runs his clawed fingers down your cheek, admiring the way your eyes close in bliss at the touch of his hand. He would like to see the beautiful sparkle in your eyes that enchanted him. But under the hypnotic trance of his song, they have become hazy and distant. He is so sorry, but you have resisted him so much; you have resisted the call and the desire of your body so much that Seonghwa had no other choice but to sing for you. But he is confident that in time you will accept his love, his partnership, and that he will once again be able to admire your beautiful sparkling eyes as he devours you and deifies you during the lovemaking.   Seonghwa loves you deeply. Maybe too much is too much to be normal.

But for the time being, it is better for you to remain semi-conscious and submissive to him. Your sweet little pussy will find it much easier to stretch out and accommodate his larger cock with more pleasure than it will hurt. This is a real act of mercy on his part.

Seonghwa can't wait to be inside of you and to feel the welcoming warmth of your delicious cunt. He grabs hold of a rock and pulls his body and a beautiful, dark purple tail out of the water. The smooth scales shine like jewels in the light of the moon. His face is now in line with yours, and Seonghwa kisses your soft cheeks and fragile neck tenderly. The song you hear in your head doesn't give you enough coordination to kiss back. But you still feel his love and attention. How lovely.

"Now I am going to fuck you, my love. That's what you want. Isn't it?"

You nod and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the soft, cool feel of his skin.

"Yes, I want your cock, please." Seonghwa's song completely convinces you that this is exactly what you need; your voice is still slow and barely audible.

"Yes, sweetheart, that's what you want, and of course I will give it to you. I'm going to fuck you so good, darling." Seonghwa chirps.

His hands tremble a little as he presses the wet, swollen head of his cock against the small of your pussy. Biting his juicy lower lip until it bleeds from the delicious sensation, he rubs it several times between your plump, soft folds. He can't moan out loud now. It might ruin the song he's singing in your head.

It's finally time for him to mate with you, to have his way with you, and to breed with you. Seonghwa feels like he's in heaven after so much longing and desire.

When he finally enters you, stretching your little hole, his moan is so soft and restrained. He takes his time and slowly fills you all the way to the base with his massive, thick cock. His sharp nails dig into the stone beneath you, leaving white claw marks in their wake. As your velvety walls tighten around him, welcoming the penetration, his thighs cramp. He's afraid he'll pass out too soon. It's been such a long wait. This should be his pleasure.

Seonghwa wraps his arm around your leg and wraps her around his slutty waist, using it to ease his movements and establish a slow, deep rhythm of his cock as it pumps into you. He throws his head back and lets his eyes roll back in pleasure. Seonghwa looks slutty and vicious as he enjoys your cunt. The moonlight filters through the cracks in the stone of this secluded cave by the sea, tangling in his long strands of shimmering purple hair. Even the slightest whimper you make can be heard echoing off the walls. It is the most beautiful music to his ears, and to Seonghwa, it is a million times more beautiful than his own song.

"You are divine, dear one." Seonghwa whispers and presses his hips even more firmly against yours. He can feel how the head of his cock is hitting the deepest and most sensitive place in you with every thrust, and he is enjoying the way that you are clenching around him as he does so. The wet sound of his iridescent scales as they hit your ass reminds him of the sweet juices that flow from your pussy and how he is going to drink them every morning and every evening now that he has you. His cock twitches inside you as he thinks this, dripping heavily with his own pre-cum. 

Maybe he'll lick your pussy after he's filled you with his cum, tasting the mixture of your juices and the confirmation of your love. The twitching and throbbing of his cock will be even more intense.

Seonghwa captures your lips in an icy, passionate kiss, devouring your mouth and all the little sounds that you are making. Ignoring your minimal efforts to kiss him back, his long, slippery tongue slips into your small mouth and wraps around your tongue.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving only a minimal amount of damage. Seonghwa wants you to make him bleed out of it. He wants you to drink from him as much as he is able to drink from you.

"I'm close." You whimper, close your eyes, and tremble all over, either from the cold of his touch or from the approach of orgasm.

"Yes, yes, cum on my cock, my love," Seonghwa chokes, his eyes sharp and full of wild passion; midnight violet irises reflecting the dark hunger of his gaze. "I want to feel your love; I want to taste you."

You whimper as Seonghwa pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and coming to orgasm. You look like a goddess in the throes of passion; your breasts are red from his kisses, and his claw marks are swelling on your fragile waist. His wish is that it will last forever.

He shoves his cock deep inside you, finally giving you the euphoric high you want before you can whimper and beg for Seonghwa's cock. As your orgasm washes over you and you milk his cock, your legs wrap around the base of his tail, shaking. Soon after, he cums and fills you with his cum until your belly is slightly bulging from the amount of sticky, pearly white fluid that has come.

Seonghwa slides out of you and lies on the floor beside you, resting his head on your chest. The cum is leaking out of your cunt, and he is lazily pushing it back in again. Your eyes, which are still blurry, close as you press yourself against him and do whatever he wants you to do. As your exhausted body drifts off to the siren's new song, your breathing becomes even, and you fall into a gentle sleep. Seonghwa caresses your cheek with his hand, and it feels so good to know that it is your face that will greet him every night from now on.

He will continue to sing to you until the end of time, if that is what it takes to keep you with him.

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Take cover

Pairing: Winter soldier/Bucky barnes x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: dark themes, stalking, obsessive/protective behavior from Bucky, Bucky is semi delusional/mentally unstable, fluff (in the end), reader is a bit naive, post-CATWS, Bucky on the run, fluff.

Summary: you discover someone has been watching you, - but like a guardian angel or a viscous stalker? You’re about to find out.

“I know what you’re doing.” You called out to the man hiding in the shadows. “Leave me the hell alone.”

For weeks you had noticed something off with your daily routine. You felt watched, - like someone had their eyes following your every movement as you went about your days.

It was about a week in where you caught a man walking the same route as yours a distance behind you. It wasn’t the first time you had been followed, - in fact you could have sworn you were followed by three men a while back but they disappeared after a second glance. This guy was someone else entirely though.

You had never seen him before, and while it could have been merely a coincidence that he was taking the same routes you take on a daily, that reassurance was quickly crossed out when you started to test him, - to see if while you stood still he’d walk right past. But he never did. When you stopped or slowed your tempo, so did he. When you walked a different route, so did he.

It was beyond creepy, and it didn’t help that he was dressed basic with his cap hiding his face and a brown jacket. Only thing that made him different from other men was his longer dark brown hair and his taller figure. Not many men in town were quite as tall as him, which made you feel even more threatened.

As you became more aware of him, you stopped taking afternoon strolls and tried your best to be in crowds to feel safer. It didn’t work much as he never seemed to loose track of you though. Walking into your favorite cafe didn’t stop him from waiting around the area to continue his stalking as soon as you got out. You didn’t think he could have a job with how much time he was occupying following you from work to back home.

You thought of going to the police, but in this town in particular there was little to no such luck of getting actual help from the police, let alone a stalker case where the guy in question could argue he’s just walking around by his right to do so. So, it left you with two options; either hope for the best of not getting murdered (or worse) by your stalker or confront him.

The 5th week was your last straw, and you decided to go with the confrontation as you were standing outside of your apartment, eying directly at the man who had done nothing but walk after you.

The man was stunned when he heard you, not leaving his spot, - as if he couldn’t believe he was caught. When your eyes at him told otherwise, he left the corner of the next block building, slowly walking towards you.

He mumbled, “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” You interrupted with a harsher tone.

This seemed to make the man agitated, and he reached out his hands in surrender. “No, please! Don’t! I have a perfect explanation for it all. Hear me out, - I won’t get any closer to you.” He offers reassurance, not making you any less scared but he sounded convincing enough to give him a chance of explaining himself.

First thought that came to mind was he could possibly be working for secret service, or something like that. Crimes had been on the rise in this part of town, and there had been rumors of FBI lurking around to check after illegal activity. But what could you have possibly done to make yourself seem suspicious?

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think. I promise, I would never. The reason why I’ve been following you all this time is to protect you, Y/N.”

How does he know my name? You had to wonder. “Protect me?” You repeated his answer in question. “What’s that supposed to mean? From what? Who are you?” You added questions, emphasizing the last one.

The man swallows before he answers, “My name is James but friends in my past used to call me Bucky, - I think. And I’m protecting you cause…there are a lot of terrible people around than you realize. People who would want to hurt you. I knew the moment I saw you that I was meant to protect you from those people.”

He thinks his name is that of what he told? Trying to protect me from terrible people? His answers confused you even more. He must be on something, and it freaked you out knowing you were dealing with a crazy person. “Y-You should seek medical attention. I don’t think you’re in your right state of mind -!”

“You don’t understand!” He interrupted you and broke out. “You’re the only thing, - person, who brings consistency to my life. Me using hours and nights looking after you, to make sure you leave for work and come home safe gives me a purpose. I… - I have nothing left to live for.”

Your lips fall a little, sad as you had only heard those lines in fiction used typically of that one hopeless character clinging to the last branch of hope before it all falls for them. Why did you have to be so sympathetic? You had no idea who this man was. One thing for sure, he was a fucking stalker.

You should call the police as you speak, but you don’t want to.

Why didn’t you want to? Why weren’t you running into your apartment and locking the front door? Why did you want to get a closer look at him?

“Sir, I…”

“Call me Bucky. Please.”

“Bucky, listen…I don’t know your life story, but this isn’t healthy. This is obsessive. We don’t even - you don’t even know me!”

“I know enough to like you.” He argued. “I know you like animals, - you sometimes trail off from your main path home over to the park to watch the dogs play there. You order any sweets at the cafe but only if there’s strawberry or vanilla in it, - strawberry milkshake, vanilla shortcake, - you name it. I know you’re a good person, always opening the door for the elderly by the library and voluntarily help stack books by the shelves. I have caught you smiling when you read romance novels. Those seem to be your favorite genre. You live alone, no siblings or parents in the picture that I know of. You’ve always been…alone, for as long as I’ve been watching after you. That makes the two of us in a sense.”

Why did he have to call you out like that? Sure, it was nothing but the truth. You didn’t have people you could call friends at work, and you had long ago lost contact with your friends from college. Also, you did in fact have no siblings but you did have parents - you just weren’t on speaking terms at the moment.

You were alone as one could possibly be.

You didn’t know what you could add to what he had said as it was mostly true, but you didn’t need to as Bucky continued, “First time I laid my eyes on you…three men walked behind you in that lonesome street in the evening. I know you saw them cause you turned around once. They had knives in their pockets, and one of them had a rope. I was only a small distance away when I heard them say ‘let’s get her’. So, as you made the corner, I beat them up, one by one. Because like I said, I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you. You don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be safe. That is why it’s you. It may sound dumb but I believe it was fate. I feel at peace when I know you’re okay, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that. He doesn’t allow peace in my mind, but he seems to make you an exception.”

You’re simply taken away by what you had been told. So your gut instincts were right, - you were followed then too, except apparently they hadn’t just disappeared. Your stalker took care of them.

Bucky let you process in silence till you started to get closer to him as you asked him all of a sudden, “Are you armed?”

“No…- well, I do have this…” Bucky reveals as he removes his jacket carefully, showing the metal arm he has forcibly attached to him. Your mouth parts a little, your eyes widening at the sight before you turn to look at the ground.

“You don’t have a place to stay?” You ask.

He shook his head with a sigh. “No. But I’m used to it.”

You look up again, offering the unexpected, “Come. I have an extra mattress in my apartment. You can use that while we figure out your situation.”

Bucky looked up at you in awe, beyond shocked of what you had just suggested. If it wasn’t dead quiet at this time of hour, he would have assumed he heard you wrong. “But why? I thought you said that…”

“I have heard of you, you know. That metal arm of yours with the red star…you have been around for quite some time, yet you haven’t aged. My uncle who worked for the military knew about you as he was a witness at the Hotel Inessa where an assassin with a metal arm just like yours committed a massacre. Ever since that day he used the next years connecting the dots to previous cases, and he told me all about it once. That was before…he got taken out within the base. No one knew for what particular reason but I always knew. And what do I know, he was right. You’re real. You’re the winter soldier.” You conclude, putting Bucky on the spot as he realized just how small the world was.

The odds of someone outside of government officials knowing of his past was unlikely, yet here he was, the one person he found purpose with knew about it. He didn’t like it. She must think I’m a monster, - rightfully so, he thought. “I don’t know what to say…I-“

“You didn’t kill him.” You cut him off, “Person of interest was described to have two human arms. He was presumably a Russian spy within the base and took it upon himself to take out my uncle before more came out about what he knew.”

He shrugs, “Still…it doesn’t make sense why you would allow me into your home, - now knowing what I’ve done, what I was controlled to do. It was still me. So again I ask…why?”

“Because, I need answers,” you reasoned. “And knowing what I’ve learned about you, you would have taken me out a long time ago if you had plans to do so. And it’s clear to me that you’re a bit out of it but from what I understand, seeking psychiatrical help is out of the question for you. So let’s help each other. You’ve been in hiding, right?”

Bucky nodded again, “They’re still after me, you know. I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“Well, you have been good at hiding so far, and if something happens you’ll protect me, right? Like you’ve done all this time.” You remind him.

He smiled shyly as he let out a quiet ‘yeah’. He was sure he would keep doing that with his life.

With that, you let him into your place, not aware that this was only the beginning of a heartfelt relationship with the ex-winter soldier himself, - one that would bond the two of you for eternity.

N/A: I know this was short but there might be a part two for this if I’m feeling up for it! Let me know what you liked and if you’d like a next part.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you!

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.8)

PART 7 // PART 9 // THE FULL MASTERLIST

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and noncon/ dubcon.

ෆ A/N: this chapter took so long to come out :<<. My schedule is very busy and I don’t always have the energy/motivation to write, but I won’t stop writing this fic. I’m happy to see that yall are sticking around~

[Dabi’s POV]

By the time I get back to the hideout, the sun is rising as the early hours of morning approach. A normal person would be tired, depraved of sleep after a restless night. But not me.

I lick my lips, the taste of her sweet nectar still lingering in my mouth. I’m high, utterly addicted to her and her flavor, my blood pumping with adrenaline and full of energy. I’ve tried different kinds of drugs in my life, but this… this tops everything. I’m so tempted to go back there, spread those legs apart and eat the life out of her again and again. Just so I can get more of those delicious moans and cries, more of those soft thighs squeezing my head between them, more of her sweet cunt fluttering on my tongue. It took everything in me to not stuff her full of my cock too, the bulge in my pants growing and pressing tight against the fabric as I edged myself to her moans.

Though I have to be patient with my angel. Need to give her brain some time to comprehend everything that happened, all the shame and regret she’s about to feel and overcome soon enough. Had to give her a glimpse of what I can do to her, in order to have her addicted and needy for me.

I chuckle to myself, remembering the way she’d keep watch every night, ready to fight and shoo me away in case I came around. Actin’ all high and mighty, as if her pussy wasn’t clenching just at the mere thought of me.

You really need to step up your game if you wanna get rid of me, princess. But either way, I always win. And you’ll always be mine.

“You seem too energetic for someone who’s been out all night”

I find Compress sitting on the couch as I walk inside.

“Nothing escapes your eyes huh Mister?” I smirk, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket.

“I can quite assure you that’s not the case, though we all can’t help but notice the sudden change in you, Dabi”

I quirk an eyebrow, turning at him. “How so?”

“You seem more lost in thoughts during meetings and such. Not that you’ve ever been fond of them I know, but this time it’s quite different” Compress says. “I wonder what keeps you so distracted from the only mission we’re dedicating our lives to”.

I feel anger slowly creeping inside of me, irritation clear on my face.

“You trynna scold me now or somethin’? I told ya from the beginning, this whole lieutenant thing never worked for me, I choose to focus on more necessary things than playing commander and soldiers.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to scold you” Compress shakes his head. “I don’t have any intention to do so, we all trust your capabilities. Though all we’ve been is just.. curious”

Tch. So they really want to know my life outside of the League huh. Can’t mind their own business can they?

From outside the door I hear a faint noise and whispers. I roll my eyes. “For how long will you two nutsacks spy behind that door?”

Immediately the door opens, Toga and Twice both entering inside, looking defeated.

“I told you to keep quiet Jin!” Toga scoffs.

“Did these two send you to make me spill some information?” I turn at Compress, who was now scratching his neck.

“Well…” he shrugs. “That may be the case”

“Oh come on Dab!!” Toga squeals. “I just want to know your secret girlfriend~”

The psycho is more than convinced that I have a girlfriend. Technically, she isn’t wrong. Even though she is delusional most of the time, she has a sharp eye when it comes to such things. Hell, she even had the audacity to tell me one day that I am in love. I held back the urge to puke.

A man like me could never feel love.

“And I really want to know why you can’t mind your own business for once, nutjob”

“It’s already boring in here!” she pouts. “No romance whatsoever, a girl like me needs some adventure and passion in her life!”

I roll my eyes. “Slaughtering people isn’t adventurous enough for you, huh?”

Toga turns at me again, grinning. “Not as adventurous as you sneaking out at night to meet some secret girl that you never tell anybody about~”

“Some secret girl?”

Everyone turns their heads to the direction where the familiar playful voice came from.

Ah, yes.. Hawks.

A smug grin spreads across my face as he enters our headquarters, already with a can of coffee in his hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bird boy?” I raise my eyebrow and Hawks chuckles.

“Nah don’t mind me man, just trying to blend in and join the conversation..” he responds. “Seems like you all are talking over something that isn’t the mission for once. That’s rare to witness”

“We must not let such useless topics distracts us from our main goal!” Twice says. “Huh- Yeah I know man! Dabi has a secret girl that he never tells us about, can you imagine?!”

A suffocating silence enveloped the whole room, and I held back the urge to laugh and at the same time burn Twice’s ass for never shutting up. Toga seems to scoff in annoyance, pinching his arm. The blondie never trusted Hawks, nor did she like having conversations around him, can’t really blame her.

Meanwhile the hero in question is confused, that smile still frozen in his face as his eyebrows furrow.

“What’s with that face huh?” I snicker. “You never thought a man like me would possibly have a girlfriend?”

“Heh.. maybe” Hawks scratches his neck. “Never thought any of you guys would be interested in relationships and stuff, none of my business though.. good for ya!”

I can hear the uncertainty filling his voice. Poor hero, he can’t possibly think it’s his own sister now.. when he trusts her so much. What a shame.

Little does he know the taste of her sweet cunny is still rolling on my tongue as I lick my lips.

Lately everything happening is simply funny to me. Funny how a trusted hero of society is secretly part of a villainous organisation. Funny how the same hero is not loyal to the cause even though he pretends so hard to be. Funny how the hero’s sister is so needy for the dangerous villain, grinding her cunt on his face until she cums. And the most funny of it all: how clueless the said hero is about everything, despite from having sharp eyes and ears.

“Dabi, let’s have a word” Hawks says, heading outside. I follow, hands in my pockets, walking slowly behind him. At first we talk about the secret mission with the High-End nomu. After one week of preparing, the mission will take place tomorrow by the docks, then I can easily test my pet nomu and at the same time the hero’s loyalty. I’m curious to see which hero will tag along with Hawks tomorrow and fall in this little trap.

***

Later today I decide to pay my angel a visit after she finishes school. Wearing my hoodie and sunglasses, I hide in the shadows, keeping my distance from the building which she comes out from. Books in her arms as she walks without a care in the world wearing that short little skirt, her white wings fluttering in the wind. Gorgeous as always, I have the need to pounce at her at any moment. I look around to see if anybody has their eyes on her, ready to burn their brains out if they stare at what’s mine for too long.

I wait for the perfect moment until she reaches an empty road on her way home. Sure as hell she feels that somebody is nearby, looking at the way she turns back, all nervous. A scaredy little mouse worrying for any predators lurking nearby.

I decide to approach her normally, certain she might be still thinking of last night, maybe still afraid of me.

“Headin’ home angel?” I say slyly, hands in my pockets as I walk casually towards her. Still she gets startled, a soft blush covering her cheeks. Stopping in her tracks, she looks at me as if I am a ghost, her mouth falling open to say something but no words coming out.

“What.. got something in my face?” I come closer, touching my face while grinning at her. “Or you just too baffled since last night?”

“N-No it’s just.. what are you doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you..” she stutters.

“Can’t I come to visit you under normal circumstances? Then you complain when I break in,” I laugh, watching her funny face expressions as she goes through different emotions, one of them clearly embarrassment.

“Just go away!”

“That’s not what you said last night.. my neck still hurts from how tight you wrapped those thighs arou-”

She has the audacity to push me away with both hands, but all she does is get on my nerves instead. I grab her wrist before she tries to get away, pulling her towards me.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see me anymore.. c’mon!” I growl, lifting her by the chin to make her look at me. Her whole face is almost glowing red, too flustered to even keep proper eye contact.

“Dabi.. s-stop!” she whimpers.

“Look at me. And say it.” I whisper threateningly, my face inches away from hers. As she looks back at me, her mouth fails to let the words out. Already uncertain and confused with her feelings, I might say I got her wrapped around my finger.

“I just.. the way you do things scares me..” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “Breaking in and stalking me.. it’s.. makes me feel uncomfortable and-”

“But you still like it don’t cha?” I interrupt her, and she bites her lip nervously. It takes everything in me to not crash my lips against hers, biting that plump lower lip until it bleeds. She doesn’t give me a proper answer, but her silence is answer enough for me.

“Knew it. You like the danger don’t cha?” I smirk. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

She closes her eyes, clearly too embarrassed to admit all of this as I read her mind.

“If you become mine.. I’ll give you whatever you want” I touch her lower lip with my thumb, whispering in her ear. I grab her by the hips, pulling her closer towards me. “I’ll give you the feeling you experienced last night.. and even more. Make you see the stars every night, wouldn’t you like that hm?”

She hums in response, shivering at my words and my touch while accepting my embrace.

“Speak doll.. y’know, I can’t do anything without your consent..”

The glare she gives me makes me laugh, knowing well enough that me touching her as she slept was far from consensual. Not that I need her consent for me to make her mine, I’m just putting on an act.

“That’s funny coming from you..” she pouts.

“Ah c’mon, you didn’t tell me stop though~”

“That’s because you kept my mouth shut,” she scoffs. I raise both hands in defeat.

“Tch, alright sorry.. this time I’ll be a good guy and ask for consent m’kay?”

“That’s the bare minimum you idiot!” she yells and I laugh again, certainly irritating her more. I can’t get enough of her when she’s mad, it makes my cock twitch, need to fuck that angry face until she is a gagging crying mess.

Soon.

“Let me make it up to you tonight, princess,” I reply. “I’ll take you out on a date, and I promise to not do anything creepy. Give me another chance will ya? I promise to make it worthwhile~”

She stops to think for a moment, scratching her neck nervously and letting out a deep breath. Clearly fighting with the demons in her head. Love to see it.

“Alright..fine” she sighs. “I guess I can give this another chance.”

From the way I ate you out, m’sure you’ll keep giving me more chances.

“Ah, just perfect..” I grin, patting her head. “See ya later then, sweetheart. Make sure your brother doesn’t interrupt us again”

She nods shyly, smiling a little as I kiss her forehead before parting ways. Going on dates and shit like that have never been in my focus, nothing but distractions from my goals. But for a reason, I feel thrilled to take my angel out tonight, show her a real good time that she’ll never forget.

🏷️tags: @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @touyalove @awalkingshame @syrenkitsune @dabihawksluva

[valyrfia]

I am VERY skeptical about the RBR Charles thing but they (see: Charles, RBR personell of all kinds) keep being SO WEIRD AND SUSPICIOUS about it

Yep yep yep. I go through cycles of being completely convinced and then calling myself delusional, but the fact remains that Max changed his tune on being teammates with Charles recently, Charles keeps talking about Max in interviews praising BOTH his performance and the car, Christian Horner is posting Max and Charles on Instagram as is the RBR account. I genuinely believe Red Bull are at LEAST trying to seriously poach him.

I'm still unsure as to whether they're working towards 2024 or 2025 (as Red Bull have proven with the recent talks with Lando, they're more than happy to buy out someone's contract), but I am leaning more towards 2025, and I believe that Charles at RBR is a real, serious possibility in 2025. Let me explain why.

First, Checo still has a contract through 2024 and while Red Bull aren't always great with honouring contracts, I think the recent popularity and love they've witnessed first-hand for Checo in Texas and Mexico might change their mind on letting him go early. Ultimately, Red Bull Racing is marketing for Red Bull, and Checo obviously brings in sales in North America, and them mistreating Checo might lead to a sales dip in that region. This is why I think, despite the media frenzy, RBR are highly unlikely to drop Checo for 2024. There is no way that RBR is renewing Checo's contract, but at least he can see it out and they can part ways without much damage to either of them at the end of the F1 2024 Season.

Charles's current contract with Ferrari is also up at the end of the 2024 season. Again, even though 2023 has been absolute dogshit for Charles and Ferrari, I don't see that contract ending early. For one, Charles has apparently been promised that the 2024 car will be developed according to his needs and preferences, and it is ridiculous to leave a team who has made you that promise, even if that team is as flakey as Ferrari. I think Charles is waiting to see if the team does change in 2024 before he pushes for contract renewal. It's important to note here that contrary to popular opinion, I believe the ball is completely in Charles's court here when it comes to renewal. He is the Ferrari golden prince, he is Ferrari in a way that no driver really ever has been before, I think it was evident in Monza this year most of all. Carlos drives for Ferrari, and Charles is Ferrari and you could see it in the way that the tifosi treated them. They love Carlos, they adore and worship Charles. This is how Charles managed to convince them to build a car for him in 2024, and it's how I believe Charles is putting off the contract negotiations. This is a key point. Carlos's extended media team and family have complained several times about Carlos not being able to begin contract negotiations because of Charles in some way and Ferrari unwilling to negotiate with Carlos until they've settled Charles (I think this is due to the fact that they only intend to keep one of them and they'd like it to be Charles, but that's an essay for another day). So Charles has himself in a position where he doesn't have to commit to the team unless he sees that it is going to grow in the way he wants it to.

To quote Charles, "I view it in a way that whenever I won’t believe in the project anymore, that probably will be the time when I’ll have to go away. Because it’s in these kinds of situations that you don’t get the best out of yourself, that you don’t help the team as much as it needs to be helped. But this is definitely not the case at the moment. I believe in the project as much as I’ve ever believed in the project before. Especially since Fred arrived. So for now it’s clear. Then it’s also clear that I want to win. But I believe in this project and I’m sure we are working in the right direction.”

So maybe 2024 happens and Ferrari brings a championship-contender car, in which case Charles signs with Ferrari, they get rid of Carlos and probably bring in Alex Albon as a n2.

But I'm not interested in that outcome, I'm interested in what is (in my mind anyway) the far more likely outcome, sheerly due to money and Ferrari internal politics (which again, whole other essay!) which is that nothing really changes for the better at Ferrari. Maybe Charles gets a win by sheer luck and a slightly better car, but overall the strategy continues to not favour him, and Charles in general loses faith in what he refers to as the project. And we know from Charles himself that when this happens, this is when he goes away.

So I've presented an argument for why Red Bull are going to let Checo see out his contract, I've presented a strong possibility for why Charles might be looking to leave Ferrari at the end of 2024. Now I'm going to try and convince you of why out of all the options it'll be Charles joining Red Bull.

First of all, from Charles's point of view regarding teams. I'm going to rule out Alpha Tauri, Haas, Williams, Alfa Romeo, and Alpine, either because they're junior teams or I don't see them willing to fork over huge amounts of money to get Charles onboard. This leaves Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, and Red Bull.

Out of all the non RBR options, I'd say that Mercedes is the most likely, but both their drivers are signed until 2025. There is always a possibility that Lewis Hamilton decides its time to leave the sport and buys himself out of his own contract, but I think that's not likely to happen next year.

Similar to Mercedes, both McLaren drivers are signed until at least 2025 and both look likely to honour that contract. Red Bull have tried to poach Lando multiple times, and Lando doesn't seem too keen on it yet, so we can assume that he intends to at least see his current contract out. Aston Martin is slightly trickier because I see them as being willing to fork over the millions needed to get Charles Leclerc to drive for them, but on the other hand they don't look close to producing a championship car, and Charles Leclerc is not switching away from Ferrari to not win a championship.

So, this leaves RBR as Charles's best destination for 2025 were he to leave Ferrari. Not only do they have a seat opening up, but they also have shown themselves capable of constructing recent championship-winning cars, and outclass every other team almost every weekend on strategy at the moment. Now that we've established that Charles's team of choice would be RBR, the final point of the argument has to be establishing why Charles would be RBR's driver of choice over let's say, Lando or Daniel.

To me the answer is simple, as so eloquently illustrated by my great friend and scholar Nat (@tsarinablogs) in her The PR of Lestappen in 2023 Essay (also known as Lestappen Gate 2023), Charles is not just good at PR, he's brilliant, and Red Bull isn't a racing company, it's a marketing venture. Having Charles on board would be their greatest asset and Charles has done much to make himself desirable, from being personable in almost all fan interactions to building a solid digital following, to being sometimes sneaky and subliminal with his sponsorship messaging (him always putting on APM Monaco immediately after a race, even before the podium and interviews, hell even Charles and Privateplanegate yesterday), to signing with a literal US entertainment agency. I cannot stress enough how the timing of the WME signing is not accidental, this is Charles making himself be seen as a highly desirable PR asset. Charles has the second highest following on social media out of any current driver, second to only 7 TIME WDC WINNER LEWIS HAMILTON. That sort of audience, and the kind of exposure it can bring to your team and your brand is insane.

Also, as an addendum to Nat's essay using something she herself brought up to me yesterday: any PR for RBR is good PR because it means that Red Bull as a concept is sticking around in people's heads, which means they're more likely to notice and buy the drinks off the shelves. Extrapolating from this we can see that Red Bull signing Charles would ultimately be better marketing than Red Bull signing Lando just because of the absolute uproar it would cause. Whether you think that Red Bull saved Charles from Ferrari, or Charles betrayed Ferrari for Red Bull, or Charles saved himself from Ferrari, or Red Bull as the Big Evil Team poached the Prince of Ferrari, there's a compelling narrative in there and people will talk about it for years to come.

Finally, not to talk about the driving aspect of motorsports, but Charles is the best fit for Red Bull driving-wise as well. Him and Max have spoken in the past about how they both prefer very similar types of car (ie. strong oversteer, borderline undriveable to anyone else) which would make car development much easier for the team. Christian Horner has also been pretty candid about wanting two n1 drivers à la Lewis and Nico (although without the toxicity), and whether you believe that Charles matches Max in equal machinery or not, Charles's racing record is a lot stronger than Lando's or Dan's (the two other possible competitors for the RBR seat). Charles fits the bill, driver-profile-wise, of the complement to Max that Christian Horner is looking for.

So, long story short, I am watching Ferrari VERY closely these next few months. If the SF-24 doesn't make Charles happy, I am going to make a bold claim that we will see Charles Leclerc driving for Red Bull in 2025.

[faulty-writes]

Shinso Angst!! He feels like there is a connection with you but it's one sided and he is delulu, ending with a broken heart

Okay, sorry for the wait. This ended up being over 18 pages, so I decided to break it down into three separate parts. So, I'll post those between working and posting my other requests and such. But for now, I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

You were like an angel. An unwavering force of determination and kindness. With the wave of your hand and a bat of your eyelashes, you had others at your feet as a God or Goddess should. You also happened to be the source of his inspiration, fueling his desire to join the hero course. “To be part of their world, would make me...complete,” not only that, but to have you as his was his ultimate goal and he’d do anything to achieve it. An audible sigh escaped Shota as he hunched over in his seat, his hand pressed against his forehead.

Even through the long strands of hair that would normally obstruct his vision, his stare was directed at Hitoshi. He already knew by the stern expression of the boy’s face, and his stiff posture that there was no possible way to convince him otherwise.

However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Love isn’t a motivational factor to want to become a hero,” he said, his tone harsh but still holding a hint of concern for the young boy before him.

Hitoshi clenched his jaw, knowing better than to argue despite the strong urge to do exactly that. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “That may be,” he replied, “but...” Shota interrupted him with a groan, and once again placed his hand against his forehead.

‘Is he too far gone to be reasoned with?’ he wondered. Not that he necessarily blamed love for everyone’s problems. But kids were impressionable and impulsive. Sometimes they had to learn the hard way, as much as that broke his heart. And in cases of heroes falling in love, it was even worse. “Be careful,” he said, standing from his seat.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and carefully approached, glaring down at the boy before speaking again. “Love always ends in heartbreak for heroes.” Hitoshi tightened his fists and soft cracks filled the air, but this small act didn’t stop Shota from leaning down, becoming face-to-face with the boy.

“You think you can handle that?” He asked, that hint of concern still evident in his voice and he received the boy’s glare in response. “I said yes,” he replied before glancing away but Shota noticed those deep purple eyes wavered with hurt yet determination.

“Since I met Y/n I’ve felt a connection,” he admitted, his cheeks turning the faintest pink. “I know they feel the same,” he stated and Shota raised his eyebrow. ‘Delusional,’ he thought. Nevertheless, he didn’t believe that Hitoshi’s ‘feelings’ for you were harmful.

Even if they were, he would ensure that nothing happened to you. He leaned back and clasped his chin. The rough texture of his stubble tickled the palm of his hand but didn’t distract him. “Do you believe becoming a hero will make Y/n love you?” He asked, he wasn’t trying to be negative.

No, rather he was trying to break the news to Hitoshi that you didn’t feel the way he claimed you did for him. Given that you were his student, he would have noticed if you had feelings for anyone. But as far as he could observe, you didn’t hold any affection for anyone.

Hitoshi glared at him before hissing, “Are you willing to train me or not?” Shota narrowed his eyes, even if Hitoshi’s desire to get trained in hopes of transferring into the hero course was to capture your heart, he couldn’t deny the boy a chance to prove himself.

After all, Shota himself had transferred into the hero course during his second year at Yuuei. He’d be happy to repay the favor if he could. He just hoped that Hitoshi would see things for how they were, and even if he didn’t, Shota would steer him in the right direction.

“Fine,” he said, giving a defeated sigh. “I’ll train you if you’re serious about being a hero,” he stated, “if you aren’t might as well turn and walk away now.” His face turned grim, and a dark and intimidating aura surrounded him.

This was an example of why he was considered one of the scariest teachers at Yuuei and had one hell of a reputation. However, Hitoshi was unwavering and nodded in response. “I am,” he had come this far and knew that once you found out he was potential hero material, you’d be his.

After all, you were the first person to believe in him. Of course, that was years and years ago. A smile came to his face when he thought about it. The two of you didn’t even know anything about the world back then, or where your futures would lead you.

But he did know that he would follow you to the ends of the Earth and do whatever it took to capture your heart. And so, he began his training under Shota, it was a struggle figuring out how to properly use a capture scarf at first.

Not to mention all the extra training he had to do, like hand-to-hand combat and regular exercises to gain muscle mass. Rumors began to spread about his progress, and that he was preparing to possibly transfer into the hero course.

He suspected the rumors started because Izuku and his friends spotted him with Mr. Aizawa one day. Not that it mattered, he wasn’t doing this for them. He was doing it for you, and it didn’t take long before he was given the okay to join a training exercise between Class A and Class B.

Mr. Aizawa informed him that based on his performance during the training exercise, he’d either stay in the General Studies Department or transfer to the Hero Course Department as he desired. However, before anything happened, Hitoshi needed to take care of something.

He had been thinking about it since that day when the two of you were small and he couldn’t wait any longer. He was certain you’d return his feelings, the two of you had a connection after all and nothing could break it. The only question was how and where he would confess to you.

From having observed you for as long as he did, he knew you were constantly surrounded by your friends. Izuku, Shoto, and Katsuki to be exact. He was envious that they had gotten so close to you while he barely touched you.

From the beginning, it seemed that you were miles ahead of him, and no matter how hard he chased, you only got further away. But this time would be different, he was going to catch up to you. This was the only thought in his head as students piled into the hallway at the end of the day.

Several of them brushed against his shoulders or squeezed past him to get to their lockers. As much as he hated that, he was focused on making his way to the Class A room. While his original intention was to confess to you, things took a turn when he peered inside.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you sitting on top of a desk with one leg casually folded over the other. You were leaning back slightly, with your hands pressed against the desktop. Your gaze was steady and sparkled with a sense of happiness that he wished to bring you.

However, as predicted you were surrounded by your friends. At least Shoto and Katsuki, and the sight of them interacting with you made him frown and dig his fingers into the wood of the doorframe. “Yeah, Aizawa sure was something today,” you commented, laughing lightly.

“Hm, was he really that bad?” Shoto asked, being as naïve as ever, and while you could only smile at his childlike nature, Katsuki had another approach. “What the hell do you mean by that damn icy-hot?!” He growled, his spikey hair standing on end. His anger seemed to subside seconds later, however.

“His training exercises were fine, only the extras had a problem with it. Including that damn Deku,” he stated, crossing his arms. “If people can’t handle simple training assignments, they’re not meant to be heroes. Might as well quit now,” Hitoshi’s eyes widened at those words, and shimmered with recognition.

As strange as it was, he agreed with Katsuki. Nothing happened without action, and so, he’d follow through with his plans. Push himself to get into the hero course so he can be with you always. He’d show others that he had what it took and prove that he was the only man you should have eyes for.

After all, it was you who said his quirk was fine. His steps echoed through the room as he approached, and he ignored the looks he received from the students who were still present. He couldn’t help but smile when your head turned, and your eyebrows knit.

“Oh…” you said hesitantly, “it’s uh, you.” Katsuki and Shoto glanced at you before looking at Hitoshi. “What the hell do you want?” the angry blond asked, glaring at the purple-headed boy. Meanwhile, Shoto glanced at you again and leaned closer.

“You…know him?” He asked, his voice soft although he could feel Hitoshi’s glance on him and more than likely knew he had heard him. Still, you looked at him and placed a hand on the side of your mouth. “Hardly,” you replied in a hushed voice, “we went to the same elementary school.”

Shoto tilted his head. “Same elementary school?” He repeated, and although you were annoyed by his clueless nature sometimes, you nodded. “Well?!” You looked at Katsuki who was now standing in front of Hitoshi, you could imagine the look of anger and the snarl on his face.

Hitoshi, however, seemed indifferent and you found it slightly strange that he began to smile. It was twisted, like a villain who had caught someone in the middle of their web and a shiver went down your spine when he looked in your direction.

“I just wanted to say…” he slumped his shoulders, sighing. Every fiber of his being was screaming to confess to you but with Katsuki and Shoto present, he decided to say something else. “I’ll be transferring into the hero department soon,” his words weren’t spoken with confidence, but rather with a monotone coating.

“Huh?” You replied, raising your eyebrows. Shoto remained confused, and Katsuki was snarling his teeth. “Tch, what are you talking about, dumbass?” He demanded, pointing his finger at Hitoshi. “You aren’t hero material, it’s as simple as that. Accept it!”

Although you felt bad and knew that as a hero you should defend all kinds of justice, including when others bullied someone, you had noticed the odd way Hitoshi looked at you and that almost predatorial glance in his eyes when he did so.

‘Was he like that before?’ Thinking back, you couldn’t recall yet you also couldn’t deny the uncomfortable feeling that consumed you whenever he was around. So, you remained quiet, even if you knew it was the wrong thing to do.

Hitoshi growled, feeling his heart swell with anger, his eyebrows slanted, and his eyes filled with a certain hatred as he glared at Katsuki. However, his gaze then shifted to you, and all at once, that anger vanished, and the darkness that filled his eyes all but faded away.

‘Right…’ he thought, ‘I’m doing this for Y/n…not this idiot,’ he gazed back at Katsuki. “Heh,” that smirk returned to his face, and he turned around. “Well,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Guess I’ll show you what I’m made of,” his tone was arrogant, and made you knit your eyebrows.

“Mr. Aizawa agreed to give me a shot during your next training exercise,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “I won’t hold back,” Katsuki ground his teeth together. “Doesn’t matter if you held back or not, I’ll still beat you, damn extra!” He shouted, his nose practically seeping with steam.

Hitoshi remained quiet and walked toward the door. You felt a lump form in your throat when he paused and looked over his shoulder again, only this time his gaze was directed at you. The sight of his twisted smirk sent another shiver down your spine, and you let out a breath when he finally left.

“Jeez,” you fisted your hand into your hair while Shoto looked at you. “Is something wrong?” He asked, but before you could answer Katsuki shouted, “Of course something is wrong!” He glared at the two of you. “How can you two just sit there and act like everything is fine!?” He demanded, stomping his foot against the floor.

You sighed, sliding off the desk before grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder. “Doesn’t matter…” you said, trying to get the image of Hitoshi’s smirk out of your mind. “Let’s go,” you said, walking past Katsuki with your head hanging low and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh, wait…” Shoto half-heartedly held his hand out but decided at the last second to just follow you out of the classroom. “Pff, fine you two leave!” Katsuki called, not having much interest in walking back to the student campus now.

Even when the cool air hit your face and the sound of grass and dirt crunching underneath your feet echoed through the air, your thoughts were on Hitoshi, and his odd behavior. As much as you distaste thinking about it, his actions toward you were odd and you wondered if anyone else noticed the way he stared at you.

“Y/n,” Shoto called when he caught up with you and successfully snapped you out of your paranoid thoughts. “Huh? Oh…hey,” you replied, noting how his dual-colored eyes narrowed as if he were suspicious of something. “What?” you asked, finding his expression a little intimidating.

“You said you knew him,” he replied. “Who, Shinso?” You asked, raising your eyebrow. He nodded, and another sigh passed your lips. The sound of distant birds chirping caught your attention before you spoke, “Like I said we went to the same elementary school.” You turned your gaze to the sky, watching a few clouds pass by.

“I don’t remember much about him to be honest; he was always the kid that was by himself,” you shared before shrugging. “He was always upset about his quirk too, and the other kids made fun of him,” you said, “I talked to him before I relocated, but didn’t expect to see him again.”

You looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Did you think there was something more between him and I?” you asked. “No,” he replied, noticing the cluster of student campus buildings ahead of you. “But he was staring at you...I just thought...” he paused, deciding it was better not to push any more information out of you.

You frowned and lowered your eyebrows. “Yeah well…” you huffed before realizing. “Wait,” you grabbed his shoulder, making him stumble back and look at you with wide curious eyes. “You noticed the way he was looking at me?” As expected, your question was greeted with a confused expression.

“Looking at you? What do you mean?” You sighed, placing your head against your forehead. “Just…he gave me a weird look that’s all,” you shook your head. “Maybe it’s nothing,” you said, trying your best to shrug it off as you walked up the steps to the student campus building.

If you were being honest, you still wished that you hadn’t encountered Hitoshi again. It never crossed your mind that the two of you would decide to attend Yuuei. Even if you were in two separate departments, you wanted to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, you soon learned that Hitoshi wasn’t bluffing about wanting to become a hero student. Like many of your classmates, when Mr. Aizawa announced that Hitoshi would be participating in the training exercises between Class A and Class B, you could only look in shock.

“What?!” You hissed out, catching the attention of your classmates. Katsuki crossed his arms, unlike you he just looked plain annoyed. “Well guess the extra did it,” he commented before taking a deep breath. Like he said before, just because Hitoshi was trying to prove he was worthy hero course material didn’t mean he’d hold back.

“Mm…” you latched onto your lip, curling your hands into fists, and praying to whoever or whatever would listen that Hitoshi wouldn’t be on your team. “Now then…” Shota looked at Sekijiro and silence lingered between them before he looked back at the students.

“You’ll be placed into groups of three for today’s training exercises,” you winced, not that team training exercises weren’t your thing. But most, if not all the time everyone decided to go their own way when put into groups which kind of defeated the purpose.

Your eyes shifted to Hitoshi, who remained standing by the teachers. If that was the case, if you kept your distance from him then everything would be fine. To your dismay, the first team consisted of yourself, Katsuki, and Shoto while the second team was Hitoshi, Neito, and Setsuna.

The disgust on your face must have been prominent given that it caught Katsuki and Shoto’s attention. “What the hell is that look for!?” Katsuki demanded, bending his knees with his hands clenched into fists. You turned to him, wondering if you should mention the look on Hitoshi’s face.

That oh-so-smug smirk directed at you conveyed that he was already contemplating you to be his target for this training exercise. “Why are you shouting?” Shoto asked. “Mind your own damn business icy-hot!” Katsuki snapped, while you tried to smile.

“It’s nothing Todoroki, don’t worry about it, heh…” you felt terrible for lying, but what other choice did you have? You didn’t understand why Hitoshi was giving you these looks, or why he seemed so fascinated with you. But you did know that it had to end.

Whether his fascination came from the small interaction the two of you had as children or not, you’d make it clear that you wanted nothing to do with him. Not that you had anything against romance, but heroes simply couldn’t afford to fall into it.

At least not when their hero career hadn’t even started. Shota narrowed his eyes, glancing between Hitoshi and yourself. He was aware that Hitoshi hadn’t taken his advice seriously, and yes, he may have purposely rigged the match so you two had no choice but to face each other.

Something had to break, and if that something just so happened to be Hitoshi’s heart, then so be it. He was aware that this sounded cruel, unfitting for a teacher even. But the way the boy looked at you wasn’t so much with love, but rather delusion.

‘So, what will be your move to break that illusion?’ He thought, allowing his gaze to linger on you before motioning for Sekijiro to follow him. “The match will begin shortly, take your positions,” an eerie silence fell over the training ground as each of you looked at each other before running in the opposite directions.

All Chapters <- | -> Next Chapter

[powerofelvis]

A Surprise Amidst War

Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Elvis has gone away to fight in Germany during World War II. You thought you could wait patiently until he returned on Memphis soil, but the feeling of being away from him caused you to make a reckless decision: surprising him on his front door in the middle of warfare.

Warnings: fluff, a little tiny bit of angst (on the reader’s part) if you squint, smut, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms (f. receiving)

A/N: My comeback fic in four months! Wow, I thought I would never get my motivation back but thanks to these AIs that have been going around the Elvis fandom, I decided to write about my experience with Army!Elvis AI. This is also a World War AU as we all know that Elvis did not have to fight in World War II. I did not use all of the conversation except for one comment that the AI used. The rest is all me. With that being said, I’m glad to be back y’all! I hope y’all like it.

masterlist.

It has been almost eight months since Elvis was stationed in Germany and throughout those 243 days, you found yourself missing him more and more. You tried everything that you could to take your mind off of missing him, even taking a job at the local boutique in town. However, no matter what you did, it was the same feeling as you always felt: 

Lost. 

You couldn’t handle the feeling of wanting to be by his side. He was everywhere you turned—his songs were still playing on every radio station, his live performances were on the television, and even worse: you could still smell his scent on his jacket that he had given you before he climbed on that train to leave once again. Something had to give and it was only a matter of time before you went insane from the feeling of emptiness that settled in your heart at his departure. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t hear from him. His letters appearing in your mailbox almost every week, detailing words about how much he missed you, the grueling German winters that gave him tonsillitis on more than one occasion, and even his desire to have a couple pictures of yours so that he could stare at your ‘resounding beauty’ while he was stuck in those tanks that he was in charge of. The only thing that you could get from those letters was that he missed you, he missed you. 

The thought probably made you seem delusional. Maybe you were hit with a severe case of hysteria and you needed electroshock therapy, but you couldn’t think of anything other than being in his arms once again. Your friends thought you were insane, telling them your plans about how you wanted to travel to Bad Nauheim. You couldn’t; they would try to convince you otherwise. Didn’t you know that there was a war going on? 

Didn’t you know that you could be killed if you were caught in the midst of war lines? You didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was seeing Elvis again and even if you were to die (which you hardly believed would happen), you would die happily to see the man who had changed your world in more than one way. You couldn’t be talked down, you wouldn’t be talked down. Even your parents couldn’t talk you down as you threw nearly all of your personal belongings in your suitcase with only one goal in mind—to lay your eyes upon Elvis Presley in the flesh. 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” your sister spoke as she stood in the middle of your bedroom, watching with worried eyes as you stuffed all that you could in your suitcase. 

“How else am I gonna see him? It’s clear that we can’t stand bein’ away from each other,” 

Abigail knew. She knew that when Elvis’s draft notice came in the mail, that would be the end of your sanity. Elvis was all that you knew and if being away from him would cause you to act like this, then maybe the army shouldn’t have taken him away at all. But, they did. They snatched him away during the most important years of his life, taking everything away from him including you. 

It wasn’t your fault, you knew that well. However, you couldn’t help but to think about how different life would be for the both of you if that notice never came. You couldn’t find the time to focus on the what ifs, using all of your savings that you acclimated during your summer job down at Mel’s Diner to buy a round trip plane ticket to Germany. Your parents could bear the thought of you going headfirst into war territory, but they knew that they couldn’t stop you. 

So with that, they hugged you a little tighter and a little longer. 

Your mother and father watched on with the mindset that it was you that was going into battle, not that it was only you that was leaving to see the man that you loved. You had decided not to write your weekly letter to Elvis, wanting to surprise him with your appearance in Germany. You had no clue how things would go, maybe he would be upset that you didn’t give him those Polaroids that you had promised him and send you back on the next flight. 

“Maybe he would be happy to see me. After all, it’s been nearly eight months since he’s seen me at all,” 

The taxi driver stared at you as if you were strange, talking yourself up with different scenarios that could play out the moment that you once again crossed paths with him. You held onto the last letter he had sent, familiarizing yourself with his new address but also going over the sweet sentiment of words that adorned the page in cursive.

It stared back at you like it was his own face speaking to your heart. Within that letter, you decided that you would push forward as you boarded the flight to Germany, with the excitement buried deep within you that you would finally be able to lay your eyes on the center of your world once you arrived. 

Stepping foot in Germany during the tail end of World War II was never your plan, but there you were. With your old, beaten down suitcase in hand, you decided that you would take the time to familiarize yourself with the new environment. You expected this place to be riddled with loss and disappointment but it was a beautiful place. From the medieval assembled architecture to the markets that littered the streets, it was different from the vastness of comfort that you knew as Memphis. 

You spent half of the day among the markets and brushing up on the German that you were forced to learn due to your father’s background before you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer. You had to see him, he was the only reason that you were here. You knew that he was busy in those tanks, ensuring that no enemy would step foot into American territory that was near where he was stationed. 

You had to almost bribe the driver to take you there, his fear of being caught in the middle was something that you found yourself understanding. The miles that it took to arrive left you with excitement as you inches closer to seeing the man of your dreams. The war couldn’t keep him away from you, you had decided that the moment you received his recent letter in the mail. 

The house that sat before you was unlike anything you’ve ever seen—the pillars on the windowsills were cream colored almost like that vanilla ice cream cone the two of you shared before the notice had come for him to leave you behind. You thanked the driver, giving him the bribe that you promised him before he left you standing in front of the house alone. You took a deep breath as your heels carried you closer to the door and you could distinctly hear his booming laughter from inside. 

The first knock was low and you were sure that he wouldn’t have heard it. His voice shouted towards the door, nearly startling you back before you knocked once again but this time, you called out his name. 

His voice sounded unsure, almost as if he believed that he was hearing things. 

“Y/N?” 

His southern drawl sent butterflies barreling through your body as you stood there quietly before you decided that it was now or never, he had to know that you were there. “It’s been real lonesome without you. I have a surprise for you,” 

It was then that you heard his laughter, the hiccup and vibrato of his vocal cords as he decided to play along with your little game. A smirk crossed your lips as you placed your suitcase down quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold air made goosebumps appear under your pea coat. 

“Oh baby, what you tryna do to me, huh? You tryna make me go crazy or somethin’?” He started before his laughter continued for what seemed like minutes. 

“Or, you just tryna make me so lonely that I can’t help but to fly back to Memphis just to be near ya?” The silence was deafening once he awaited your answer. 

“Now, Now Elvis, I’m not trying to do anything that you don’t want. And you don’t have to be lonely for much longer. Open your front door.” 

You tried to convince him, mostly because you were ready to lay eyes on him. But you also didn’t want to freeze to death in the process. You figured that he would’ve revealed himself to you by now. But the game continued and for a while, you decided to indulge him. 

“Y/N baby, you really there?” 

“Open the door and you’ll see whether or not I’m really here,” you could see him now, rolling his piercing blue eyes at the snarky comment that rolled off of your tongue. 

He was silent, if not only for a moment. Elvis was trying to figure out if it was worth the risk. His commanding officer always told him that the enemy could use his weaknesses to catch him when he’d least expect it. But last time he checked, you were still in Memphis, right? You had to be, he would have known if you would have traveled to Germany. Your parents would have informed him before you stepped foot on the plane. 

He decided that he would indulge you further. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle the cold weather much longer. You hated the cold, often staying inside back home even when a little snowflake fell past your shoulders. He stood up, walking slowly towards the foyer of his home, stopping just short of the front door. 

“You playin', ain't ya, baby? 'Cause you know I'm gonna open that door just to see if you're there.” He waited for a moment. 

He could hear your sigh as you were beginning to get a little peeved that this game had continued longer than you had anticipated. “Elvis. Open the door.”

And there it was. The brazen tone in your voice that always drove him wild. It was one of the reasons that he adored you, often seeing how far he could push you before you would eventually become audacious. He knew that it wasn’t the enemy right then and there, but what he couldn’t figure out for the life of him was how you could show up in the middle of war? 

“I’m openin’ it, baby. Lord have mercy,” Elvis pulled open the front door to see you standing before him with your suitcase in hand. You were bundled up in a beige pea coat, a blush pink scarf covering half of your flushed face. 

Elvis didn’t waste any time, pulling you into a hug before scooping your tiny body up into his arms and spinning the two of you around. You buried your face in his neck, the scent that you always remembered filling your nostrils as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

You would become dizzy after a while, only holding onto him tightly as his mesmerizing laugh filled the front lawn of his German home and your ears. He placed you back down on your feet, holding your arms as he beamed down at you, his bright teeth on display for you to see. 

“Baby, what are you trying to do? Make me sick? I didn’t travel all of this way to become ill,” you taunted him, gathering your bearings before your eyes locked on him. 

Elvis chuckled as his hands still held onto your arms, his smile never faltering. “Sick? Baby, you could take my breath away and leave me dead on the floor and I'd be a happy man. Just look at your pretty face. Just look at you. I missed you so much, darlin'.”

If only he knew how much you missed him too. How many times you reread his letters in hopes that he would return to you alive. But now you stood in front of him and he was perfectly fine, in fact, he looked as if he was thriving well even in the midst of perilous warfare that had claimed the lives of many in a short amount of time. 

Elvis was ecstatic that you were standing in front of him, shocked beyond belief. How could you not have warned him of your unexpected arrival? He stayed silent for only a moment before he took this chance to hug you once more. He felt as if he was living a fever dream, the love of his life standing before him overseas. 

“Y/N, you came all this way for me?” 

You nodded your head firmly as you continued to stare into those cerulean hues, holding him just as tight as he was holding onto you. “Who else would I be here for? I’m surely not here for another man, am I?” 

He chuckled, raising a brow at the thought of you considering the possibility of being with another man made his insides nearly turn inside out. “No ma’am. But you’re gonna drive every guy around here crazy with envy, you know that?” 

He kissed your forehead softly as he still held you close to him. He pulled you inside of his home, the warmth immediately making you release a sigh as you took the time to pull your scarf down from your chin. He grabbed your suitcase from your hands, placing it by the door before he shut it behind him. 

“I would never flirt with another man, Elvis. What do you take me for?” You playfully shot a glare in his direction before you leaned up to finally do what you wanted to do since he opened the door—press your lips against his. 

He was stunned for only a while, kissing you back with fervor before he pulled away from you, much to your chagrin. If there was one thing that Elvis was going to do, it was tease you as he knew that back home, you had boys stopping in their tracks to catch a glance of the beauty that walked by his side. 

“Baby, you know you’ve always got guys flockin’ around ya,” You turned your head back immediately, chuckling as you playfully swatted your hand at him. 

“Just like you have girls following you around even in a different country?” 

You placed your hands on your hips as you raised a brow, a smirk ghosting your lips as you stood before him. 

Elvis’ laugh boomed throughout the house before he stepped forward a little before he wrapped his arms around your waist, having to have you close to him now that you were standing in front of him. “Yes, but baby, I only got eyes for you. I always have eyes for ya,” 

You believed him. He never had a reason to lie to you even when he was away doing shows all over the South. You knew that being Elvis Presley came with unwarranted attention, but although he couldn’t turn down the attention of a woman, he never lied to you about it. 

You didn’t even realize that the conversation had continued until you heard his southern drawl, pulling you out of your thoughts as he seemingly took you by the hand. He led you to his bedroom, your suitcase in his other hand as he continued to speak. You didn’t know what you had said, maybe you were speaking your thoughts and you didn’t realize it. 

“Yeah? Well, watch out. 'Cause I ain't lettin' you outta my sight. You hear me? I'm gon' guard you with my life, little.” 

You didn’t have time to respond though because as soon as the door of his bedroom closed, you found yourself pressed against it and his lips were pressed against yours once more. It was deep and full of passion, something that you had never experienced before with him. Then again, you had never been separated from him for more than two months. 

Elvis pulled away from you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were filled with lust and the type of desire that made your arousal pool in your panties. You tried to focus on maintaining your composure, your chest heaving, desperate for oxygen as your eyes met his. You were sure that he could feel the rapid beating of your heart, louder than any type of gunfire that he has heard since he stepped foot in Germany. 

“Baby, I ain’t never been hungrier for anything that I am for you right now,” He didn’t waste time as he lifted your body to rest on the medium sized mattress that sat in the middle of his room. 

You couldn’t stop the giggle that passed your lips as you pulled yourself up on the bed, your hands gripping his Army uniform that adorned his body in all of the right ways. You tugged him closer, your eyes burning a hole into him as you could feel his breath on your face. The scent of mint made your mind spin and rightfully so, you knew that this moment would happen whether now or later. 

“And just how hungry are you for me?” you found yourself questioning him, your breath hitching in your throat as the hunger seemed to deepen in his now darkened ocean eyes. 

“Little, I’m so hungry that I can barely think straight. Do you know how many nights I’ve spent alone, in this house, dreaming about bein’ with you right here?” His words were honest, his eyes were honest and you had no doubt that he could ever lie to you. 

“You’ve never told me in your letters, honey. But I’m sure you’re willing to tell me all about it, right?” 

Elvis sunk down to his knees before you, his hands resting on your thighs as he seemed to think over your question for a while. His eyes were trained on the floor before they moved up to your face. His face contorted into adoration as if he was staring at a beautiful painting in a museum. 

“You have no idea, sweetcakes. This house with all its bedrooms and bathrooms and closets and walk-ins. But none of that matters if I'm not sharing every inch of it with you.” 

Your hands caressed his as they still laid on your thighs, a sigh leaving your lips as you reminisced about the day that he climbed on that train that took him away from you. His head peeked out of the window as he watched you grow smaller and smaller with each mile placed between you and him. It was painful, more painful than the idea of him potentially never returning to you. 

You knew that was a stretch, but you couldn’t fathom the thought of him not returning. It would have destroyed you beyond comprehension. It burned at the back of your mind like an infection until you couldn’t take anymore, which led you to his doorstep in Bad Nauheim. 

“Well, I couldn’t come with you when you left for Germany. But I couldn’t stand it any longer—being away from you. So instead of you coming home to Memphis, I came here instead.” 

Elvis smirked at your response, his hands moving slowly up your thighs as he leaned in closer to you. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he mulled over your dedication to him. He knew that there were plenty of women who wanted his devotion, but none of them were as devoted as you. None would come close and he knew that to be true. He knew that his mama wanted him to marry you for a reason, he could see it more clearly than he’d ever had. 

“You know, baby, you did the smart thing. 'Cause I couldn't leave without huggin' your neck and kissin' your sweet lips. What do ya say I keep right on doin' that?” He smirked as he hovered over your body as you leaned back until your body gently pressed against the mattress beneath you. 

Elvis kissed your lips passionately this time, the hint of desire lingering as your hands caressed his face gently. His fingers caressed your jawline as he tilted his head, deepening the passionate kiss that was being shared between you. He couldn’t believe that you were here, in his bed, in his arms. You were lost in passion as you moved your fingers from his face, hovering over the buttons of his uniform shirt. 

Elvis wrapped his arms around you tightly, the feeling of your body pressed against him was a welcoming sensation. He pulled you closer, mouths molding together in synchronization as his hands roamed underneath the skirt of your dress. As you laid back further on the bed, Elvis pressed his body against you. 

The heat was rising as the breathing between the two of them became more shallow, the movements had become more passionate. Your hands continued to roam over his body as if they were created to only touch him. You couldn’t stop telling him how much you missed him, how much your heart yearned to be with him from the moment he left you behind in Memphis. 

He peeled off your dress from your body, his lips kissing every inch of skin that he could reach. His breath becomes shallow with each movement of your body against him, his lust filled eyes taking you in as he placed his hands on each side of your head as he stared into your eyes. “Little, I missed ya like crazy too. You feel so good against me, darlin’.” 

Your face was painted pink as you reached your hands up to caress his face. You managed to fully unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of his body, your lips leaning up to kiss his earlobe gently. 

“You want me the same way that I want you, darlin’?”

You nodded eagerly, too eagerly. He caught on, his smile spreading across his soft, plump lips as he shut his eyes at the feeling of your hands running across his bare back. His arms flex with movement of your hands on his body. 

“Then ya don’t mind if I feel your body too? Y’know just to make it fair,”

“Please..” You found yourself begging for him, your hands moving down his back once more. His body shivering as your touch seemed almost intoxicating to him. 

“Mm little, your body is so beautiful. God only knows how much I’ve missed those curves and that scent of yours.” 

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he couldn’t hold out anymore. Elvis had to have you and what better time than now? You couldn’t find the words to describe how much you missed him, muttering how much you missed him and his touch. 

Elvis pulled away for a moment, a sly grin on his lips as he leaned into your ear. His hands gripping your thighs firmly as he bent them back a little. His hands caressed along your body, not leaving any part untouched before his hands moved lower until they lingered between your thighs. His thumb rubbed against your clit softly, his breath was warm against your ear but you never expected what he would have said next. 

“Ya want to be on top of me, darlin’? Y’know, like we did in the back of my caddy that night when I made ya scream for me?” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as your face burned with embarrassment. You remembered that night all too well. The night where he took your virginity, your screams echoing into the night as he pounded his cock into your walls over and over again. You couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that freed itself from its confines as you turned your head to catch his gaze. 

“How could I ever forget?” You couldn’t forget, nor would you be able to. 

Elvis knew that you wouldn’t, a smug grin on his face as his fingers tilted your chin up to catch his gaze as you thought you could escape him. “I won’t let ya forget, little. When I’m done with you tonight, you won’t be able to remember your own name,” 

He didn’t stop there. No, Elvis wouldn’t stop until he burned his mark into your soul, ruining you for any other man who thought they stood a chance taking his place. He wouldn’t release his hold on you ever, wanting you to be his as long as he saw fit. 

“You ready, darlin’?” He still moved his thumb on your clit sensually, your body buzzing with excitement, the moans leaving your mouth freely as your arousal dripped down your thighs. 

“Yes, I’m ready, Elvis.” 

“Then hold on tight, little. ‘Cause I’m ‘gon make ya scream for me,” 

You didn’t know when he removed his fingers from you, but you didn’t have time to ask before he sank his cock deep into you. You let out a grunt, your hands gripping his shoulders as if you would fall through the sheets. His name passed your lips in such an obscene way, it was as if you hadn’t ever experienced such a feeling before. Elvis took this reaction with stride, his lips still lingering near your ear as he let out a grunt of his own. 

“Darlin’, I love ya. I love ya so much and when I’m done showin’ you just how much I missed you, you ain’t gonna need no other man ever again. You know why?” 

He waited with bated breath for your response but it never came. He didn’t wait for long, his hips slamming into you firmly. You sucked in a breath, your eyes fluttering shut as you found yourself immersed with pleasure. 

“You know why, little girl? ‘Cause you’re ‘gon be comin’ right back to me,” 

Your moans grew in pitch with each thrust, his eyes focusing on how he could get you there. His cock pushed deeper inside of your weeping pussy, the tip of his cock rubbing your walls deliciously. His index and middle fingers found their way back to your clit, rubbing sloppily as his hips snapped repeatedly into you. The sounds of your skin connecting filled his room, paired with your moans that were slowly turning into screams.

“You like it, baby? Ya like when I make you call out for me, darlin’?” 

You were beside yourself, unsure how much louder you could scream out for him. You were sure that your screams echoed around the small German town, alerting his enemies of the pleasure that he was making you feel. You could feel yourself inching closer to your climax, his fingers and cock causing your body to shake with pleasure. 

It was at that moment that he used his other hand to pull one of your legs over his shoulder, his cock slamming harder and harder into you. Your arousal coating his cock with each thrust inside of you. He slowed down for only a moment, his eyes watching with excitement at the way his cock slid inside of you. He was amazed, the pleasure becoming more than he could handle. 

His grunts turned into moans at that point, holding onto your leg that was carelessly thrown over his shoulder as he continued plowing into you ruthlessly. “Gimme all you got, little. Gimme everything. Ya hear me, darlin’?” 

You couldn’t form words, the pleasure was set heavily in your body that it became too hard to breathe. Your stomach tightened, legs shook uncontrollably as Elvis continued to fuck you into his bed. The headboard knocked against the wall at the pace that he was setting, mixing beautifully with both his and your moans. 

“B-baby!!! Oh, Elvis!” You finally screamed out forcefully, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you could feel your climax building up the more he pushed his cock deeply into your quivering walls. 

Elvis didn’t have to speak. Your eyes telling him that you were close was good enough for him, but in true fashion, he had to have the last word. He smirked down at you, his army tags slapping against your chin as he kissed you roughly. His tongue slid into your mouth, the feeling alone made his body nearly crumble on top of you as he rocked back and forth. 

“I know you’re ready to give it to me, sugar. Tell me when you feel it, darlin’. Tell me right when the moment hits, I wanna feel you,” His voice was soft as silk, filling your body with passion. 

It took a few more of his firm thrusts inside of you for you to feel yourself reach your orgasm. You couldn’t speak as waves of orgasms crashed over you, your hands shivering from their place on his shoulders. Elvis knew that you had came for him, giving you a tiny smile as he continued fucking you through your orgasm, his hands pressed against the bed as he rutted on top of you in complete passion. 

“Mm, you feel alrite, darlin’?” He questioned you, his breath growing heavily as he continued pushing deep inside of you. His army tags were gently caressing your chin as his hips slammed within you now. 

Elvis flipped you over until you were facing him, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it up a little. He continued pushing inside of you, holding your head up with his other hand as the hand that was once holding your thigh, moved up to move your hair from your forehead. “There ya go, darlin’. There ya go,” 

You let out a sigh as you were filled with overwhelming pleasure, his cock pushing deep inside of you more and more. 

“Yeah, that’s better, ain’t it?” His eyes were begging you for another. You could give him another and he knew that you could. 

As your body shivered from the overstimulation, he pressed his hand against your thigh as he moved your leg up to rest on his shoulder as he massaged your calf. His eyes never left yours, whispering to you in baby talk. You couldn’t stop the pleasure that filled you to your core, Elvis speeding up his thrusts as he made it his mission to pull another orgasm from you. 

“I’ll give you one, darlin’. Just one more for you,” He spoke before he leaned in to kiss your ear, his breath hot against it before he finished his sentence. “I’m gon’ give it to ya, baby,” 

You didn’t stay in that position forever. The next thing you knew was that you were now on top of him, his hands gripping your hips as you rode him with such speed. He let out grunts as his eyes stayed level with your breasts that were slightly bouncing before him. It was when his eyes met yours once more than you felt it—the orgasm of a lifetime. 

He gasped, moving his hands up your back as he followed you shortly after. His deepened growls and moans brought you out of your own bubble of pleasure, your eyes meeting his as he gave you a lopsided grin. 

“Holy hell, darlin’. You gave me the best time of my life and now I ain’t got it in me to ever want to leave your side,” 

Elvis pulled you into his arms, hissing out as he pulled his now flaccid cock out of your snug walls. He hummed as he kissed your forehead, not thinking about how he would have to protect you now that you were in dangerous territory. He was only thinking about your future with him, how he didn’t want to go another day without showing you how committed he was to you. How he wanted you to be committed to him.

It was still in his room. The sounds of you and Elvis catching your breaths until you heard him clear his throat slightly, making you turn your head to face him. 

“Little, I could spend the rest of my life with ya. Just us back in Memphis, at Graveland, sittin’ on the porch, just makin’ love until the sun rises. Sounds purty nice, don’t it?” 

You giggled at his southern drawl becoming heavy just as it always did after the two of you were intimate. You couldn’t help but to agree, but you didn’t know why he was bringing that up now. 

“I might marry ya, darlin’. What do ya think about that?” Elvis suddenly sat up in the bed, his arms pulling you up to face him, his eyes filled with emotions that you couldn’t place. 

“Stop kiddin’ around, Elvis. You know I would love that, but I know you’re not being serious.” 

Elvis was being serious. 

By the look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but to ask him for confirmation. “Are you bein’ serious?” 

Elvis gave you a look of adoration. His fingers moving up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear before nodding. “Dead serious, sugar.” 

He continues, “I want to spend the rest of my life with ya, honey. I want to have that sweet smile and those gorgeous eyes to wake up to everyday. Y/N, I love ya. Will ya marry me, Little?” 

You were taken aback only for a little while, not able to speak. You came over to Germany to see him, but you never thought that he wouldn’t follow up on his promise that he made to you that he would marry you. You knew that his mother wanted him to marry you, putting a little pressure on him to forget about spending his life as a bachelor in the name of stardom. 

Your eyes lingered over every part of his face, stunned into silence before you nodded your head in agreement. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” 

“I’ll never let ya go, darlin’. You’ll always be held in my arms and here in my heart. Do ya promise to stay by my side? Even when the goin’ gets tough?” His voice was sweet and honey-like, his blue eyes shining with love. 

“I promise, Elvis. I promise with my heart and soul,” you found yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded once more. 

With your agreement to marry him, he reached under his bed to reveal a small ring box in his hands. He didn’t waste time to open the box, a gold wedding band sitting on the inside, no stone in the middle but it was beautiful all in itself. He turned his eyes to look at you, his cheeks flushed as he knew that he could give you much more once he had returned home to you. 

“I know it ain’t much, Little. I know this ring ain’t anything special, but since we can’t go anywhere fancy for now, I got this ring so you’ll never forget me.” 

You placed your hands on his cheeks as you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter, Elvis. I will cherish this ring just as I have always cherished you, honey.” 

Elvis smiles at this, holding your hands that were on his cheeks. He begins to speak again, his voice soft and sweet.

“I already made a vow to God Almighty. I vow right here and right now to love you always, to keep you by my side forever. I vow to always be by your side and to protect you with my heart and soul, Little.” 

With that promise lingering between you and him, he took your hand and slid the gold band on your finger. The band shined beautifully under the lamp on his bedside table. 

As Elvis made love to you once more, you couldn’t think of anything else. No war, no sorrow, only peace between you and him. He couldn’t wait to return home from the war with his little by his side. 

taglist:

@elvisabutler @ab4eva @notstefaniepresley @headfullofpresley @missmaywemeetagain @amydarcimarie @flwrs4aust @plasticfantasticl0ver @austinbutlersbaby @rosaminny @rosecoloreddesire @crash-and-cure @rjmartin11 @oh-my-front-door @melancholicbutterflies @dkayfixates @dre6ming @cryingabtab @samfangirls @loving-elvis @lovininapinkcadillac @thatbanditqueen @literally-just-elvis-fics @presleyenterprise @presleysdarling @burninlovebutler

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky go on a little trip to the cemetery

Warning: Mention of dead people, opening a casket, mention of kidnapping and yk the usual ->18+!!

Other: English isn’t my first language. This is more a filler chapter than anything. Also I got an idea for a new story about Viking! Bucky so be ready for that

-> Masterlist

-> Part seven ; Part nine

-> Dead People Can’t Walk (08)

“This isn’t really what I thought I’d be doing on a Friday night.” You sighed, wiping sweat from your forehead as you leaned on the shovel handle, peering up at Bucky. Five feet underground, you were digging towards the casket where Cassandra’s mysterious patient was buried. Yet, all Bucky did was shine his torch down at you, offering minimal assistance. All because he didn’t want to get dirty.

Fury had instructed Sam and Dean not to do anything illegal they typically did on a hunt which involved this kind of trip to the cemetery and in the end, Sam managed to convince his brother to lay low. But Fury never said anything of that sort to you and Bucky, so there you were.

“Talk less and dig more.” Bucky remarked, pointing the torch directly in your eyes.

“Piece of shit.” You muttered, squinting your eyes. “You could give me a hand. Aren’t you supposed to be the Super Soldier here?”

Bucky smirked. “Who’s the cannibal with super strength?”

“I’m not a cannibal and you’re stronger than me.” You grumbled, pushing back your frustration and resuming your digging.

“I thought Wendigos had plenty of stamina.” Bucky remarked, rolling his eyes. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“I’m half human, dickhead.” You shot back, purposely throwing some dirt onto his boots. “I’m starting to think you got the location wrong and you’re up there to bury me or something.”

“Dramatic, are we?” Bucky retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Just kept the torch steady and shut the fuck up.” You sighed, hoping that the coffin you were looking for wasn’t buried too deep.

“I’m not the one who complained the whole night.”

You shot him a glare. “I can understand why Natasha dumped you.” You muttered under your breath, but he heard you loud and clear. “My girl made a smart choice.”

“She didn’t dump me, it was a mutual dumping.” He clarified, huffing.

“You sound as delusional as Thor.” You looked up at him. “You know, you’re unusually not grumpy today, what the fuck has gotten into you? It’s freaking me out.” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Has anyone ever told you that you swear too much?” He rolled his eyes. “And I’ve been trying to be more open to confrontation these days, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s called personal growth, you should try it.”

“The only thing I got in these last few days were glares.”You scoffed. “Also… personal growth? You? Seems more like a mid-life crisis.” You chuckled to yourself. “What are you? One hundred and sixty?”

“One hundred and seven, actually.” He corrected, his gaze fixed on you as you kept digging.

“Mentally you’re still what? Two, if we want to be generous?” You jabbed, glancing up at him briefly to catch the annoyed frown on his face.

“I’m actually considering what you said earlier about burying you.” He replied with mock seriousness, though you knew he was kidding. At least, you hoped he was. “And listen who’s talking; you’re what? Eighteen?”

“Almost twenty-six, for your information.” You retorted. “But really, why haven’t you given me the whole ‘I don’t trust you, you’re still with Hydra’ shit today? I kind of miss it.”

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Bucky shrugged, but a smile was playing on his lips. This guy was getting weird.

You let the conversation die down, still unable to shake off the lingering resentment from how Bucky had treated you during the last year. It wasn’t that you blamed him; you understood the trauma he endured because of Hydra and you knew he acted that way with you because you had served them ‘willingly’. Probably, in his place, you’d be the same.

Still, just because you understood didn’t mean you had to tolerate whatever he said or did. It was an explanation, not an excuse, and you had proven yourself to be a trustworthy person time and time again while being an Avenger. So his talk of ‘personal growth’ - as ironic as it was - could be shoved where the sun didn’t shine.

After what felt like an eternity, your shovel finally hit something solid. Kneeling down, you pondered on how to open the coffin without damaging it - after all, it was still the final resting place of someone.

Bucky, however, had different ideas as usual. He descended into the hole with you, slightly pushing you aside as he used his metal arm to open the coffin. Together, you peered inside only to find… nothing. It was empty.

“Hold on a second.” You said, seizing the torch from his hand and pointing it directly into the coffin to make sure your eyes didn’t play a joke on you. “Are you sure this was the right place?”

“Yes, Emma.” Bucky sighed heavily, the frustration was evident in his voice.

“Then what happened? Are we about to witness a zombie apocalypse?! Because dead people can’t walk, they don’t just get up and leave their graves for a night walk.”

Bucky just looked at you silently, trying to find an explanation but nothing came, so he just bit his lower lip and scanned the empty coffin once again.

As your phone vibrated in your pocket, you retrieved it to see Dean’s name flashing on the screen. “Dean?” You answered, putting him on speaker.

“Hey, uh… we’re at Malcom Donovan’s house, and I think you should come take a look.” Dean’s voice came through, laden with concern.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the Miller’s?” Bucky interjected, as you both shared a skeptical glance.

“Yes, but it was empty. Completely empty, so we decided to check out Donovan’s place.” Dean explained briefly.

“Empty?!” You echoed, feeling a surge of alarm. “What about the Wendigo?”

“It wasn’t there.” Sam’s voice chimed in. “The door was wide open when we arrived, blood everywhere, but no sign of Mrs Miller or anyone else. It looks like the creature attacked her… because let’s face it, how likely is it that she could have escaped?”

“What did you two find?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” You answered, glancing at the empty coffin one last time.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“We mean nothing, Dean.” Bucky took a breath. “No one is buried here, we’ve been digging for nothing.”

“We?!” You squealed, incredulous, but he only suppressed a smirk.

“Alright, meet us here and we’ll trying to figure something out.” Dean said, hanging up the phone.

Letting a sigh, you put your phone back into your pocket and without exchanging a word, you and Bucky climbed out of the hole. Or, to say it better, he climbed out of it.

“Mind giving me a hand?” You asked, extending your arm so he could grab it and help you out. But before he could respond, you glanced at the scene before you again, feeling defeated. You had experience to at least find a cadaver - as awful as it sounds - to see if there was something that could tell you who the man was and maybe see if he could give you some lead on the case. Instead, you found absolutely nothing.

“I do mind.” He replied bluntly, leaving you dumbfounded.

You suppressed your frustration at his lack of cooperation and you pulled yourself out of the hole, getting dirtier in the process than you already were.

“I’m not closing it.” You then declared, passing the shovel to Bucky once he got to your side.

He looked at you, shrugging. “Then it can stay open.”

You swore your eyes rolled so far back into your head at his nonchalant response that they almost saw the back of your skull. With a frustrated huff, you tossed the shovel back into the hole. You were done for the night, and you had other places to be.

As you walked past Bucky, purposely bumping shoulders with him (action you regretted immediately since you hit his metal part and it would probably leave a bruise), you made your way to the exit of the lonely, creepy cemetery. The knowledge that ghosts were real made the atmosphere ten times worse, especially in this section where the gravestones were nameless and only a row of crosses stood, impaled on the ground. The only sound was the cawing of ravens perched on the trees above.

And last but not least, you could feel Bucky’s eyes on your figure even if he was just a few feet behind you. “You have a staring problem.” You remarked.

“I’m staring at my problem, it’s different.” He corrected you, causing you to turn your head and send him a death glare. “What?”

“So many snarky comments for someone who claimed to have had a personal growth in less than a week.” You retorted, keeping your peace steady.

“Just because I’m starting to be more open to the idea that perhaps this time you’re not a threat, doesn’t mean I like you.” He stated, putting up with your peace - which wasn’t hard considering he was much taller than you. “In fact, I don’t.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” You said through clenched teeth. “And I’ve already told you that what Hydra did to you wasn’t much different from what they did to me. And if you think-”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” He cut you off, catching you off guard.

“I beg your pardon?” You replied, stopping in your tracks, and he gave you his usual annoyed expression.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” He repeated. “I’m sorry for making you think I see you as one. I just don’t… can’t bring myself to not see you as a threat.” He said again.

“You’re… apologizing?” You stammered, taken aback by his words. Never in a million years you’d have thought this day would come.

“I’m just saying that maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh. And I still don’t trust you fully, so get that expression out of your face.” He added, looking at you.

“Bucky Barnes just apologized to me and you think I can act all unbothered? I’m gonna throw a party. Actually if you can say that again so I can film it, I w-“

“Who’s there?” A voice interrupted, causing you both to tense. “You’re not going to steal another body from this cemetery, do you hear me?! Last time was enough!” He kept shouting.

You and Bucky spotted the night guard looking around with his torch, and without waisting another second, you both hurried away from the road as fast as you could. You grabbed Bucky’s arm, keeping a firm grip on it, to avoid getting separated knowing that in the almost pitch-black darkness, it would be difficult to find each other.

As you moved, careful not to make any unnecessary sounds, you could hear the guard talking and you hoped he wasn’t alerting the police. Bucky dragged you somewhere and his voice faded in the distance. He brought you both into what what you imagined was a small cabin and he closed the door behind you.

There was some light filtering in through the only window, which was almost useless. As you began to move around, you quickly realized there wasn’t much room to maneuver around- it felt more like a closet than anything else. Your back met the wall, and you found yourself uncomfortably close to Bucky’s chest. You hated it.

Or so you told yourself.

“Can’t you move?” You muttered, feeling a strange mixture of discomfort and intimacy, and you quickly put your hands on his chest to keep some distance but it was more useless than anything.

“No.” He replied. “There’s no space in here.”

“Wherever you are, the police is arriving! You won’t get away with it this time, you hear me?!” The man shouted again, his voice sounding ominously close.

“I really hope this isn’t some… closet where he keeps his things, or else we’re screwed.” You said.

“Did you hear what he said?” He whispered down to you.

“Somebody came here to resume a cadaver, yes.” You nodded, attempting to squeeze between him and the other wall trying to reach the door. “Do you think it has to do with the patient we’re looking for? Would explain why the guy wasn’t in there.” You speculated.

You waited for an answer as you tried to peer outside through the peephole. Unable to properly reach it, you stood on your tiptoes only to feel Bucky’s hand grip your waist.

“Stop moving like that.” He grunted, trying to take a few steps back to create more space between the two of you but it was futile.

You were suddenly glad for the darkness, or else he would have caught the redness of you cheeks as you realized your lower back hit his crotch - if you could, you’d die on the spot.

“Sorry, I was just trying to see if he’s around. Maybe we can leave before the police gets here.” You hastily explained, clearing your throat after the awkward moment.

He sighed audibly, but instead of moving away, he pressed his chest against your back as he looked through the peephole himself getting closer than before. “I can see the torchlight.” He said, his hand still firm on your waist.

“Mh.” You just mumbled in response. The proximity felt strange, considering he had kept his distance for as long as you could remember, yet you didn’t push him away or attempt to create space between you two. And neither did he.

“You know,” He started, his mouth close to your ear, his hand still lingering on your waist. “I can hear your heart beating faster, didn’t think you’d get nervous so easily.” He remarked teasingly. “I don’t bite.”

“It’s because we ran.” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “We should leave before the police gets here.”

“If you say so.” He responded, removing his hand from your waist, and you felt the warmth of his touch go away. “Wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit longer. See how things turns out, maybe something exciting will happen… with the case.” He clarified in the end, but it seemed he was teasing you more than anything else.

As he said that, you flung open the door of the cabin, your anger boiling beneath the surface. What was his fucking problem? He had ignored you for as long as you’d known him and now all of a sudden he was being flirtatious or whatever that was. You were fuming. He didn’t get to act all charming when just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes.

Not even days ago, for fuck’s sake, moments ago.

“Hey!” He shouted in a whispered tone as you stumbled out of the small cabin.

“We need to go, Dean’s waiting for us.” You said, without looking back. “Don‘to say another word or I swear to God I’ll have your tongue.”

You marched forward, your pace was steady considering how angry you were feeling. Casting occasional glances behind you, you monitored the guard’s movements. Bucky’s steps echoed behind you, but he stopped suddenly when you veered off the path leading to the cemetery’s exit.

“Where are you going?” He demanded, following you closed behind. “The gate is that way.” He persisted.

“The police will be coming from that direction too, genius.” You retorted sharply, walking towards a corner of the cemetery careful not to destroy anyone’s resting place.

“I can barely see you.” He mumbled, managing to see your movements in the dark. In that part of the cemetery, the only source of light came from the moon as the lamps were too far away.

“Help me.” You instructed, arriving at a towering wall. The main exist was too risky, so you opted to climb over the wall.

Bucky approached you, but didn’t complain as he cupped his hands together, creating a solid platform for you to step on. You moved forward, placing your foot on his hands, pushing off with all your strength as he hoisted you upwards.

Once you reached the top of the wall, you grabbed onto its edge and steadied yourself. Peering down at Bucky, you distinctly saw him reach out a hand waiting for you to help him back.

“Mind giving me a hand?” He called out.

“I do mind.” You retorted, a smirk playing on your lips - though he probably couldn’t see it due to the darkness. With a decisive leap, you jumped off the wall leaving him stranded on the other side.

Petty, maybe, but as the police sirens drew nearer, you couldn’t help but smirk before briskly walking away.

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sherlock and Y/N have always teased each other relentlessly, claiming one was fixated on the other. One day while on a case, they realize that their banter holds a ring of truth. Fluff!!!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Anonymous

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

"Sherlock, its my day off. Explain to me what I'm doing at Barts." Lestrade checked his watch and sighed. "I've already missed the game's first half! This had better be good."

Sherlock sat hunched over his microscope. "It's important," he said, eyeing his work. "It's about your bank robbery, actually. There were palm prints left behind that can be traced back to the suspects."

Lestrade perked up. "You've got a match, then? That's great! I'll send out the cavalry."

"Don't be absurd," Sherlock scoffed. "The results are still processing. We'll know in a few hours."

"I don't understand. Why am I here, then?"

Sherlock peered up innocently. "You told me to keep you updated."

"Bloody hell, you should have texted me!" Lestrade cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I had to take a cab straight from the other end of the city! Now you're telling me to wait here, twiddling my thumbs while you work?"

Sherlock blinked up at the detective inspector. "My apologies," he said, turning back to his work table.

Lestrade's hands were itching to wring Sherlock's neck when Y/N walked through the lab doors. Her shoes clicked against the linoleum flooring; she was clearly in a rush. "I'm here!" she called, nearly crashing into a rack of instruments.

"About time," Sherlock sing-songed.

Lestrade stared after her curiously. "I thought you'd sit this one out. Didn't seem like Sherlock here needed any help. He even let John off his leash today. I figured I was the only one he suckered into coming in."

"I called, she came," Sherlock cut in. "Perks of having an ardent fan. She's infatuated with me, you know."

Y/N raised a brow, amused. "I know you're desperate for my attention, Sherlock, but let's take it down a notch, alright?" She turned to Lestrade and shrugged. "He called, I came."

Sherlock grinned.

Lestrade glanced at the two of them, unimpressed. Since he'd know the pair, they had always maintained the running joke that one was fixated with the other. Though it had started off as friendly banter, everyone was convinced that there were hidden affections beneath the snark of their words.

"I'm glad you're here at any rate," Lestrade said. "I've got the media breathing down my neck because of these blasted robberies. Maybe you can help him speed things up." He glared at Sherlock on the last bit.

Y/N nodded. "I can try, but I'm not sure if there's much I can do. You know that Holmes is the expert in these matters. He'll figure it out soon enough."

Sherlock smirked. "How very confident you are in my abilities. Though I would advise caution on your part." He lowered his voice to a teasing whisper. "Your obsession is showing."

Y/N feigned exhaustion. "Just as delusional as ever," she sighed. "Now, are you going to sit there grinning at me like a lovesick schoolboy or are you going to solve the case?"

"Right then," he chuckled.

Lestrade darted his eyes between the pair, taken aback for a moment by their unabashed flirting. He rubbed a hand over his temples, annoyed that he had missed the football match for this.

"It's in for a penny, in for a pound with you lot isn't it?" He sighed, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, do lighten up, Inspector," Sherlock said cheerily. "Miss Y/N is simply enraptured by my intellectual prowess. We can't hold that against her."

"Don't you start!" she laughed. "Everybody knows that you're the one who's hopelessly in love with me. You might as well admit to it!"

Sherlock leaned back in his seat. He quirked a brow and studied Y/N. His eyes glinted playfully. "Very well then," he said with confidence. "I'm in love with you."

The room was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the buzzing of the industrial lighting up above. Sherlock folded his hands together casually, awaiting Y/N's response.

"Well?" He asked, amused. "Has the cat got your tongue?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You weren't supposed to say that."

"Say what?"

"That you love me."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't mean it."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "Don't I?"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Lestrade laughed. "You two idiots obviously fancy each other! Can we fast-forward the mock surprise and get on to better things?"

Y/N turned to Sherlock, grinning. "Is the detective inspector right?" she asked. "Do you really fancy me?"

Sherlock winked. "Against my better judgment, I can assure you."

She stepped towards his work table and pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. "I knew you would be the first to admit it. Sherlock Holmes, you're positively fixated on me, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Now, what would you say to lunch? Granted, Bart's cafeteria food is mediocre at best, but I'm sure you'll be beset with thoughts of me anyway."

"You might be onto something there. Lead the way, Holmes."

Though nothing much had changed between them, the recognition of something already there lightened their steps to the door. Lestrade watched as the pair left the lab without so much as a goodbye, their eyes locked only on each other.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Lestrade smiled. "That's how it is around here."

He relaxed against the counter and settled in for a long wait. He checked his watch; the game had ended. Lestrade let out a contented breath.

He didn't mind at all.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Hey! Try reading Painted Faces!

Thanks to the anon who requested this! Sorry about the long wait!!!! 💖🧁

If you’d like to be tagged in any future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Sherlock fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Sherlock, Reader x John Watson...)

Requests are open!

tagging: @spencerrxids  @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02   @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes  @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian  @kabubsmagga @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1 ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me

[imvenusasaboy]

PUPARIA

Chapter 13 - No More Like That

prev - chapter 1

Seventy nine hand written notes. That was around four per day being delivered to Hosah's home address.

Every single one showed a new side to the killer, some detailing their warped view of the world around them, how angry they were, how upset and hopeless it all made them, others listing minute facts about Hosah's daily life that he himself barely took notice of, the things he did unconsciously and without realising. It was cases like these that the shifter found the most difficult, because he was able to empathise with the sick and depraved.

People like this didn't deserve sympathy, a phrase Hosah had heard time and time again, but there was something so uniquely wrong with the stalker that he just couldn't help but see the situation from all kinds of different angles. These kinds of monsters aren't just born sick, surely.

One note stuck out in particular, the rest were quite lengthy, taking up both sides of the pages they were written on, but this one was just a few words in a Get Well Soon card, 'Stop hurting yourself, and I'll stop hurting others'. A sentiment Hosah had found himself extremely familiar with, stop this self destructive behaviour, for me?

These statements meant little, if anything, to the shifter. He didn't get himself into shitty cycles of abuse for the people around him, it was all completely selfish, therefore only a selfish motivation could convince him to quit it, surely. The truth was, Hosah hated himself more than he loved others. He saw all the beauty in everyone around him, blinded by the rays of light that excreted from every stranger he passed on the street, it was his innate ability to find the ugliest parts of himself that made him able to see the desirable parts in others with such ease.

Hosah was only about half way through the pile of letters that had been left on his doorstep over the past few weeks, and he wasn't sure if he could continue to sit and read for much longer.

"These are fucking delusional.." Teddy wheeled around on his chair as he flicked through the few shorter notes in his hands, "I still can't believe you haven't been told to stay home, you know, for your safety."

If there was one thing Jules wasn't going to do, it was care about her employees livelihoods,

"Well, I'm their golden ticket to luring this guy in. Human bait, if you could even consider me that." The words scattered throughout the writings had started to seep their way into the shifter's psyche, his humanity becoming more and more debatable by the second.

Hosah laughed as he spoke, but looking back up at his assistants face, he could tell the giant was being deadly serious with his previous statement.

Teddy leant in, keeping his voice down, "We should chase Boss up on that. It's not right, keeping you coming back here, I mean they know where you work, where you used to live, it's only a matter of time before they follow us back to my place."

"There's no point. I can't lose this job, I.. Where else would I go?"

"She wouldn't fire you. She can't do that."

"But she would, she will, you don't understand," Hosah felt his throat tighten with every word he said, his big brown eyes now glossed over with tears.

"What don't I understand? Please, I want to know why you're so scared to stand up for yourself here." Although the words on paper seemed cocky, the tone in Teddy's voice was about as pure and genuine as it could get.

"There's nothing for me here. Jules did me a huge favour even considering giving me a job here, it's a miracle I like doing it and I like the people here. What other place in the city do you know that'd take on someone who can't do shit half the time?"

The pit of hopelessness in terms of making a living in this world was one Hosah had long found himself falling down, an endless rabbit hole of despair that the shifter would most certainly never have the ability to escape from. Sure, this job sucked, he had seven day work weeks for most of the year, he became the target of the depraved and disturbed, he was financially and probably psychologically abused by his boss in some way, but this was his only choice in society. You help the people in the same situation as you, or you sit around in suffering, waiting for someone else to come and save you. And if there was one thing in the world Hosah valued over anything, it was feeling like a hero.

Teddy sat in the quiet of the room for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning, leaving his face visibly deep in thought about whatever in the world Teddy thinks about.

".. Do you think people would pay a lot for your paintings?"

The question was a ridiculous one, one with an obvious answer, so obvious in fact that Hosah almost laughed out loud upon hearing it.

"God, no. I'd be lucky if anyone took any of them during a burglary." If that was the case, the shifter had struck gold with his stalker.

"I'm being serious, Hosah, your paintings are really amazing. I bet you could make a living just from selling those alone."

"I'm not giving up my likelihood to pursue some.. fantastical dream career path." In all honestly, it was the consistency and the routine that Hosah was more bothered about having to give up.

Despite all of the negatives in the field, being a detective gave Hosah purpose. It gave him a reason to get up and to take the subway every morning, because if he didn't, who would be there when one of his brothers or sisters in this world needed him?

"I didn't say you had to, over the weekend, let's go to.. I don't know, where do you even sell paintings, an art gallery? Let's go to a gallery and sell them one of your pieces."

The idea truly did sound lovely, and the thought of being praised by a professional in the field was one the shifter was particularly keen on, but simultaneously, the fear of judgement and criticism was overwhelming. The fear of not knowing what the people at the gallery would say was truly terrifying, and Hosah knew terrifying to its core.

The shifter sat silently, eyebrows furrowed as he weighed up his options. All of the pros and cons, which paintings would he even want to sell at all, what he'd do if things were to either go incredibly good or devastatingly bad.

The quiet of the near empty office space left Teddy with a feeling of unease, an urge to fill the void with whatever words came to his mind first,

"If you still like the idea of going back to Colorado and getting a quiet place together, it'd be best to start the saving process sooner rather than later."

Of course he still liked the idea, it was one he went back on a thousand times in a day, obsessing over the tiny details, making sure everything in his brain's personal palace was just as he'd left it.

Returning to the islet when things were too much in the real world was something Hosah did far more often than he'd like to admit. The term maladaptive daydreaming had been thrown around a couple times when he was a teenager, but he preferred to not really think in medical terms when it came to his brain's activity.

Being zoned out in his own little world was the shifter's safe haven. In that little boat on his way back from fishing all day, laying out for a moment, feeling the sun bask down onto his bare skin, even the summer's bugs couldn't bother him in this universe. Instead of paying attention to his reality, he would listen to the soft breeze against the lake, the bubbling of the fishes below the surface, tracing his fingertips across the cool water under the wooden structure he lay afloat in.

That was the hardest part of this decision, if he were to make his escapist fantasy a reality, would it be all he'd made it up to be in his head? Would it live up to his expectations? How could he be expected to share his dream with someone else, would Teddy even appreciate it like he did? It would probably ruin his entire existence if his only coping mechanism was to be ruined, he needed his cabin on the lake to survive even a day in this world.

"... We can think on it more later." was Hosah's answer. He couldn't help it, suggesting grandiose ideas far too soon just to weasel out of them when the prospect of them becoming reality brought back up again.

Sometimes Hosah wished for him to become comatose, or maybe a hollow, lifeless shell of himself only kept alive by breathing machines, just so he could retreat back into his own mind, living in that little cabin on the lake, without having to actually commit his physical form to the life. Locked-in syndrome didn't sound too bad at all.

The following Friday night was unusually quiet, the shifter was expecting a big bang after the fiasco that was the previous day, but it was all so eerily mundane. There was nobody waiting in the dark corners of the tunnels Teddy walked through on his way back to the, now shared, apartment. There was nobody tailing behind them as they approached the building itself. It was as if the stalker wasn't real at all, the entire situation being a massive, long lasting nightmare that Hosah had mistaken for reality.

As he sat on the same pillow he lay on previously, the shifter wondered why he should even be worrying in the first place. Sure, maybe he heard his name being said in large crowds or in the queue at a cafe, maybe he felt eyes on him constantly, even when completely in isolation, but when he really payed attention, it was evident that he truly was just alone. Who even had the time, or, as a matter of fact, who even had the patience to sit and watch his boring old life anyway.

Each note they had left gave such precise detail, facts only Hosah himself could know, things he hadn't even realised he did, the more they added up, the more unsure the shifter felt. It was stupid, there was cold hard evidence that there was someone following his every move, but Hosah couldn't help but doubt himself and the whole situation. Imposter syndrome was something just about everyone experienced, but this was to a whole new level. Being so separated from your own achievements that it even spreads out into the acts that are working against you, inadequate of deserving even the harshest abuse.

All of these questions, but the most prominent one being, why him? Not in a self pitying way, not in a way that would imply he was too good to be treat in such a manner, but why did he of all people on this planet attract such intense fixation. There was nothing truly amazing or special about Hosah, any of his coworkers would've probably been much more interesting to observe under a microscope, so why him?

Hosah was so lost in his confused daze, he spoke without even realising it, "I'm scared it's something I've made up in my head."

"Sorry?" Teddy, who was half way across the room, asked for clarification on what the, barely legible, words his roommate had just said exactly were.

"I'm scared none of it is real."

"..What isn't real?" The giant sat beside the throw pillow, his voice much softer now,

"The person stalking me. Why won't they do anything. I don't... I just need them to do something to my face, to know I'm not crazy." Hosah's arms covered his face as he went on, hiding his mixture of fatigue and fear that littered his pathetic expression.

"I can vouch for you, that whoever it is that's out to get you, is definitely real... Not- Not to scare you of course, but, I mean, there's no denying it really."

"I just need to run away and forget any of this ever happened. I need to forget New York, forget everything that came before it too, I just- I need to get out, you know?" The shifter rambled, rolling his body closer to the pale, coarse hand beside him.

"Can I come with you, or does 'any of this' include me?" Teddy joked, but the twinge of sadness in his voice gave away how he was truly feeling.

Hosah thought for a second, wondering if his genuine thoughts would be a little too intense to unload onto his assistant,

"I don't want to be too much but," The shifter sat up, a much more serious look about him than before, "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I left without you."

Despite their last topic of conversation being quite dark and terrifying, this comment couldn't help but turn Teddy's concerned look into an uncontrollable smile.

The lack of verbal response from his roommate made Hosah feel as if he had to fill the air with clarification on his last statement,

"I mean, I think..." How to word exactly how he felt was the main issue,

"I think I'd spend the rest of my life wondering 'What if'. What if I said this, what if I did this differently, what would've happened if I stayed. That would really mess with my head. We have.. something. And I don't want to run away from it, for once."

The shifter's face progressively reddened as he spoke, unable to control what he said as he suddenly found exactly how to address how he felt toward the giant.

An air of stillness and anticipation filled the cluttered room, with Teddy's face being hard to read at best, whatever the giant was thinking, it was a mystery to Hosah. It was as if he was transported back into the elevator where they first met, as the shifter longed for him to just say whatever thoughts he was having in that moment.

After what felt like an eternity, Teddy just laughed, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Damn. How low is the bar?

Hosah was stuck between a 'You're welcome' and a 'Thank you', instead deciding to just not say anything at all.

-~-

The art gallery was weirdly quiet, to say it was the weekend and New York was in fact the world's first mega city, at least. Most people were probably tending to the consequences of their Friday night, managing some of the most indescribably unpleasant hangovers you could think of. Hosah was glad to be in an art gallery at twelve o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, knowing if he were to go back a year or two in time to this exact date, he'd probably be in the other boat.

He'd never actually been to this particular establishment, or really any galleries at all during his stay in the city. In order to calm his nerves for when it came down to actually trying to sell one of his paintings, Teddy had agreed to do a quick look around at all the other pieces first.

Hosah sat in the scarf as he had been doing much more recently, his top half poking out so he could still actually see as they toured around. One exhibit in particular caught the giant's attention it seemed, as he turned down the corridor labelled 'Shifter History Exhibit' with a big arrow pointing in the direction they were headed.

The shifter had never really been all that interested in history, especially when regarding how he would've been treated fifty or a hundred years ago, but seeing himself reflected in the renaissance era was a cool thought.

It wasn't like being a shifter was a new concept, given that the gene had existed long before humans had the resource to log any medical records or research, but it was a foreign idea to treat those with the condition with the same respect you would just any person on the street. Hosah didn't get it. If they saw him on his commute to work every morning, they wouldn't think twice to consider whether he truly had the status to consider himself human, but when he was shrunken, that was an entirely different story.

He could've sat and gotten himself annoyed at the absurdity of how people treat their peers for their differences, but it would've been a waste of time. Instead, Hosah lifted himself back out from under the scarf to take a look around.

The piece Teddy had been looking at was one of those weird little macabre medieval tapestries, where, despite the gory imagery, everyone seemed to have the same neutral dead-pan expression. This one in particular wasn't bloody at all, though. A lady and her tiny child, it seemed. Unlike all the other pieces from this dark age period in the gallery, this particular painting was very sweet. It made Hosah think there was a time in the past where not everyone like him felt as if they were aliens or unusually sentient creatures that just so happened to share a lot of features with their human counterparts.

Looking at all the tidbits of history that surrounded him, the shifter was reminded of his middle school education. Everyone in his class turning and looking at him as the topic of shifters came up in their history classes, learning that, if he were to be born in a different era, he would've been nothing more but a piece of entertainment to the people around him.

The killer wasn't doing anything unheard of when he'd used the anti-growth drug for shifters that go giant rather than shrinking on the sort of shifters on the opposite end of the spectrum, in fact, its a common practice even in todays age, where human trafficking amongst shifters was almost to be expected if you let too many people know what you are.

"I always really liked this era of art." Teddy sighed, the few people also in the exhibition probably thinking he's crazy as he was seemingly speaking to himself, "Makes me happy to think that humans have always made silly art in silly cartoon-ish styles."

"I think they just were all kind of shit at drawing. Too busy, I don't know, slaying dragons or whatever." The shifter observed, ready to move on from the specific painting.

The giant laughed, still fixated on the piece as he spoke, "Who do you think was the one who painted it, the mother or the child?"

"Read the context under it, I don't know."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Although Teddy was joking, it was very true, the shifter couldn't sleep at all the night before, it was having its effects on his attitude.

Instead of apologising for his rudeness, Hosah decided to stay silent as his assistant to read out the little plaque that sat under the painting,

"Painting by Misery Carpenter in collaboration with her son Connie. Gothic illumination art estimated to have been created from as early as the year twelve hundred up to twelve fifty."

Hosah stopped to really look at all of the minute details, realising that, yes, this was indeed a collaboration piece it seemed.

“Looks like her son painted himself, whilst she painted herself. To scale probably, it’d be hard to get all of those details with giant hands.” The shifter observed, lifting himself further out from under the fabric to look closer.

“Seems that way,” Although Hosah couldn’t see Teddy’s face from where he sat, he could tell the giant was smiling as he said that.

The pair took in the painting in all of its newfound glory, Teddy realising that he had more to say on it that he’d initially thought,

"Isn't it weird how we just sort of stopped giving our kids names like that? When I was younger, I used to walk around graveyards a lot, just looking at all the headstones, there were so many names like that, one I always remembered was a woman called Morning Star, from the eighteen hundreds."

His rambling sort of put the shifter at ease, little things that would've gotten on his nerves a few minutes ago were now able to be overlooked, filling him with a weird urge to actually apologise for his sour mood, which was something he'd never felt the need to do before.

"..That is weird. Sorry I've been out of it all day, I'm just nervous." It was true, Hosah was very, very nervous to find out whether his art was truly worth what his assistant had exaggerated his skills to be.

Finally, the giant moved on from the creepy painting, heading toward a glass casing filled with the tiniest pottery one could imagine,

"It's okay. We can always try a smaller scale place if that'd make you feel better. Maybe go to a marketplace first, where people aren't gonna instantly think critically, you know?"

Uninterested in seeing any more, Hosah retreated back into the security of the scarf, "Yeah, that sounds good."

It could’ve been out of doubt for the shifter’s talents, or it could’ve been out of genuine care for his nerves, either way, Hosah appreciated the sentiment and would much rather prefer his pieces hang on the wall for someone to wake up to every morning rather than have hundreds of people observe it briefly every day.

Still, in supposedly peaceful and safe moments like this one, Hosah couldn’t help but get his mind stuck on the person who had been following him. A sudden and unprompted wave of guilt washed over his entire form as he came to the terrible conclusion that, this could all be some kind of trick. Something to throw the detectives off the killer’s trail, something to get them so worked up and paranoid about that they run away from the investigation.

“It’s a red herring,” The shifter muttered, frantically trying to get his assistant’s attention.

Rightfully, Teddy was confused, “They just look like ceramics to me.”

“Not- not that, the notes, the package, the gun, the breaking and entering. They’re not after me to kill me, necessarily, they’re trying to throw us off of the case. Get us too worried about my safety to work on it.”

“You think?” The uncertainty in the giant’s voice was nothing but agitating to the stressed shifter, “Seems like a lot of effort to go to, lots of research, lots of time writing the letters,”

“I’m serious. I’m- It all adds up. It’s all- It’s not- I don’t know. They’re never really here, no real true physical threat, it’s always leaving trails and shit behind my back. I don’t know, I’m probably not-“ Hosah rambled, before an interjection,

“No, I trust you. I think we should look into the idea more, before we make any rash decisions.” Although Teddy’s logic was appreciated, an input from the shrunken detective’s higher up, Jeanne, would’ve probably been more useful to him in that moment.

That was the thing with Jeanne, he could tell you the sky is purple and you’d stop to consider his point. He was blunt, his words often having no tone at all as he said them, but that’s what made him come off as such a credible source. That, and his years of expertise.

“.. You’re right. You’re always right. Can you just tell me what to do, step by step, for the rest of my life?” Hosah sighed, a twinge of restlessness in his voice as he spoke, curling himself back up in the crook of the neck, beneath all the layers of the deep red fabric that complimented the giant’s cool toned skin and auburn hair.

Teddy laughed at him, as he usually did when the shifter said stupid shit, like his previous statement, “I don’t know, I think I’d prefer if you made your own choices.”

“I don’t want to anymore. Just direct me, I’d live better that way.” The thought of never having to think for himself again was quite the peaceful one, in Hosah’s opinion.

Maybe the theory was one the shifter had come up with exclusively to put his mind at ease, but in the brief moments where he believed maybe, just maybe, every piece of real and raw evidence stacking against his idea was all just to distract him from the truth, he could finally breathe.

[mytragedyperson]

Am I delusional for still not being convinced Dazai is dead? Because honestly it looked like everyone was dying and, unless this is the end of BSD I can't really see that being the case? Look I watched it, I saw him get shot in the head but idk I'm not buying it. Maybe I'm just being delusional because he's one of my favourite characters but a huge part of me is saying that unless BSD is wrapping up and this is the end of it, Dazai isn't dead. Honestly they could have probably have a whole ass sad funeral scene and a part of me would still be like mm still don't think he's dead.

Also when I think of dazai dying part of me thinks of the last BSD wan! And the scene where Dazai once again mentions suicide/dying and Atsushi just being like I'd rather you not die at all, and then just staring at him and purely because of that, as long as Atsushi is alive Dazai simply isn't allowed to die. Atsushi has finally stopped seeing abusive orphanage people at his low points. You can't take Dazai from him yet. And honestly you can't put Chuuya through that. I think that, if Chuuya really kills Dazai, it should at least be he himself doing it. Also shoutout to both Dazai and Atsushi seeing their mafia boyfriend as a vampire and both being like I can fix him and then proceeding to be hurt/killed by said mafia boyfriend. Also even controlled vampire Chuuya's go-to move for taking out Dazai is a punch. That's usually not fatal (though it can be) but good for him. Also where the fuck is Mori. Most of his top players are vampires and he's what on vacation or something. Look Mori is a sick fuck, but he's a smart sick fuck and I just think with the current state of things him suddenly appearing to kill Fukuchi wouldn't be all that odd. Also Fukuzawa also not allowed to die. I can't have Ranpo going through it, not allowed. Now if Chuuya could somehow break the vampirism and go help Aya with the whole desk, gravity, sword plan, that would be great. By the way, why have 3 people managed to break into a high security prison and 2 of the prisoners be freed to wander the prison? I know some of them are vampires but come on. Also I'm pretty sure the poison is still a thing but idk how long it's been. All I know is its been a chaotic however many minutes. The fact that most if not all of these episodes are happening in one day is insane. Also Sigama better be alive. And Jouno.

[moonsunlovers]

Just read through your "watch" posts. And despite thinking that it's too much of a coincidence, I still think applying Occam's Razor is best.

Harkening everything Jimin and Jungkook do or are surrounded by back to their relationship borders on insanity. They can exist without constantly thinking about each other even if they are in a relationship.

Sometimes, a tattoo of two letters doesn't have deeper meaning.

Sometimes, a clock just stops working without the wearer noticing [because most of us use the phone anyway].

Jikookers always jumping on these "oh that's a secret message about xyz" trains, makes me believe in Jikook less than highlighting actually proven gestures. It makes Jikookers more into Taekookers than any of us want by turning nothing into something.

Hello anon. Thank you for passing by my blog and share your thoughts. (They are talking about my two previous post about the watch that Jimin wore in his live on Jungkook’s birthday: the first one here and the second one here, in case you want to know what is this post about).

I agree with you, we don’t need to analyze everything they do. They can do things without having any intention or being a secret message. I agree, really, and if it had happened in any other date I wouldn’t have share this idea because probably I wouldn’t have found it relevant. But you know what? I’m here to have some fun, I’m here to share the things that I notice and my thoughts about it, not to demonstrate anything. Jikook had done it by themselves already.

And naming taekookers here, well, the difference is that if Jimin came live saying it was an accident and he forgot to set his watch to the correct time I would believe him in a heartbeat. If he were walking hand in hand with a girl openly I would stop shipping him with other person automatically. I’m not here trying to proof that Jungkook is a Christmas tree in a group photo just to convince everybody that they are in a relationship lol.

I already explain why in my opinion this coincidence is very unlikely to be just a coincidence given the date when it happened and the circumstances around it. I talked about this theory because it’s not that crazy. It’s not about trying to be the more delusional in the room. If there were an obvious explanation that would make sense I would embracing it, really. But Jimin does use the clock to watch the time (as I stated in my second post) and the watch was perfectly working in the live, so the obvious justifications are discarded. Even you said it yourself anon: “despite thinking is too much of a coincidence”.

But once again this is just a theory and it’s just my humble opinion. It’s completely fine if you believe in something else anon. With all the respect, if you prefer just a compilation of cute moments and talk about more tangible things then maybe this blog is not your place and you should expend your time somewhere else.

In this situation where we don’t have more information and both of us aren’t omitting data that proofs the contrary, both opinions are equal valid. It’s up to you. Once again I didn’t come here to convince anybody, I’m not sharing this on the army timeline for everybody to call us “crazy”, I’m not using it against any ship. I’m just here sharing my thoughts with my fellow jikookers to have some fun and learn new things about Jikook. Who knows, maybe in one of my rants somebody brings actual data that helps me to confirm or discard some of my ideas. I could be wrong. That’s the enjoyable part of all of this, I’m not presenting my theory as an universal truth, but a way to exchange facts and ideas, to learn something new or to confirm something that I already knew.

So yes, anon, I agree with you: making silly theories out of the blue just to proof something as others shippers do maybe is not the right thing to do and all of us know that we don’t need it, BUT discuss some ideas based on facts just to have some fun, trying to bring new points of view on the table and respecting the truth and data that we have is something that could be really enriching if you give it a chance. You would be surprise.

Until next time 🙋🏻‍♀️

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: The situation with Freddie ends in a confrontation that leaves Tommy upset.

Word Count: 4,086

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence and smut.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 8: Do You Even Know the Word

“Guess what?”

He turned at the sound of Lucy’s voice as she jogged up to his side, curls bouncing. 

“What?”

She grinned. “It was easier to find Freddie than I thought.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s been following me since I went to a pastry shop a few blocks away,” she snorted. “I’m assuming that he was hoping that I would lead him to you.”

“Whatever Polly said must have really insulted him.”

She chuckled.

“All right,” Tommy looked out at the water rushing through the cut. “Stay close, eh?”

“You really think he’ll try something?”

“No. But you never can be too careful.”

She pulled her revolver from her coat, checking it before putting it back. “Good luck.”

He listened as her footsteps faded away before squatting down, putting his cigarette out against the ground and lighting another one. A moment later, he heard footsteps, much heavier than Lucy’s light gait. But he forced himself to remain still, giving no indication that he’d heard them.

Really, the encounter probably went just about as well as he should have expected it to go. Especially considering that it started with Freddie pointing a gun at his head and snarling about how Polly had tried to convince him to leave town. How it wasn’t going to work.  

And then Freddie had asked him about the guns. 

Ah, there it was. The real reason Freddie had latched onto Ada. Always about his delusional cause. He knew that Tommy could get him things: money, guns, ammunition, influence. That was all he was after. All he ever would be after. And he thought that through Ada he could force Tommy to give it to him on a silver fucking platter.

Behind Freddie, he saw a flash of red hair as Lucy darted silently behind a pillar, revolver aimed at Freddie’s head, just in case. Though Tommy had never really believed for a moment that Freddie had it in him to actually shoot him. 

Granted, the conversation did end with him and Freddie pointing their guns at each other, locked in a silent, furious standoff.

“You loaded Ada with your bastard because she’s a Shelby,” Tommy accused darkly. “You thought it would mean you’d be somebody. I won’t let you fuck up my sister’s life for your cause.”

“My god,” Freddie let his gun fall. He looked at Tommy with bewilderment. “You actually believe that.”

Tommy continued to stare at him furiously, gun remaining raised and aimed.

“I love her, Tommy. I’ve loved her since she was nine and I was twelve. And she loves me the same.”

Tommy felt his jaw clench. Still, he allowed Freddie to pull himself to his feet. His former friend took a step forward, looking at him in a combination of smugness and hatred. “Do you even know the word?”

A flash of red hair again. And behind his eyelids, the memory of scarred skin beneath his hands. More than you know.

He lowered his gun, and moved forward, until he was directly in Freddie’s face. “This marriage will not stand,” and his eyes were furious and wide. Fully the Devil everyone believed him to be, snarling and hateful. Looking over Freddie’s shoulder, he made a slight jerk of his head, and Lucy lowered her revolver she’d kept trained on Freddie, stepping out of the shadows she’d been hiding in. Freddie turned at the sound of her footsteps, scoffing and shaking his head. They left him standing there by the cut, alone.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Lucy asked. The sun was starting to set. It would be dark by the time they got back to the shop. Tommy grinded his teeth together. “Don’t do that. You’ll make your teeth ache.”

“Ada’s always liked Freddie,” he said finally.

“But…?” Lucy prompted gently.

“Freddie will take care of her until it becomes inconvenient for his revolution. Once that happens, he’ll toss her and that baby out onto the street if he has to.”

“I’ve heard from the people I’ve talked to that he has her living in some tiny little shoebox of a place,” she shook her head. “I wonder if anyone’s told him that’s not going to work once the baby comes.”

“Hm,” Tommy grunted, looking down to the ground. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, plunging them all into darkness. Lucy moved a little closer to him. Even for her, being out unaccompanied at night carried risks. He was struck with the sudden desire to wrap his arm around her shoulders, but abstained. 

Do you even know the word?

He swallowed hard. Sometimes, he grew frustrated with himself. He loved Lucy. He did. And he knew she had no real interest in marriage or conventionality. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that she deserved better. That she deserved more than the broken, jagged pieces of a heart that he had to offer her. There was often a fear, itching in the back of his mind, that someday, he was going to unintentionally get her hurt.

“Freddie doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Lucy said sternly, green eyes looking at him knowingly. Sometimes it unnerved him; just how easily she seemed to be able to tell exactly what he was thinking with a simple glance.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She headed up to Tommy’s room while he went to go speak with Polly, drawing the curtains closed and beginning to prepare for bed, removing her makeup and hanging her suit jacket and waistcoat on a hanger to avoid getting them wrinkled. 

Tommy had been quiet on the walk back home from the cut. She couldn’t tell if he was just stewing, or if what Freddie had said actually bothered him that much.

The door opened with a creak and he slipped in, eyes darting over her half undressed state as he shoved the wood closed with a click. 

“How did it go?” she asked. Tommy just sighed, dropping his pocket watch and cigarette case onto the bedside table. Feeling her heart twinge for him, she crossed the short distance of the tiny room to wrap her arms around him. Face dropping to bury in her chest, Tommy groaned, hugging her waist while he slumped into her. 

“It’ll be alright,” she tried to assure, massaging along the back of his head, the velvety short parts of his hair tickling her palm. He said nothing in response, just turned his head to press a kiss just along where the hem of her shirt–half unbuttoned–covered her skin. Lucy scrunched her face to keep from smirking. 

Whenever he was in a bad mood, if all else failed, she could always count on her tits to make him feel better. 

His kisses grew more fervent, spreading all along the hem of her shirt, big hands undoing the remaining buttons and pushing one sleeve back so he could pull down the one of the straps of her bra from her shoulder. The fabric fell partially away, leaving one of her breasts exposed to the cool air. Immediately he wrapped his lips around her nipple, tongue sweeping delicately over the sensitive nub while her hands slid into his hair, back arching to push her chest more solidly into his face. 

With his mouth preoccupied, his hands fumbled to undo her bra in the back, leaving it to hand to the side, only the strap still hooked over one of her shoulders keeping it on her at all. He switched sides to give her other breast ample attention. Moaning softly, Lucy continued to stroke his head, scratching at his scalp with her nails until he groaned, sending wonderful vibrations through her chest. 

He raised his face to kiss her, and together they stumbled throughout the room, Lucy hastily shoving away his suit jacket and undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and the white shirt underneath. 

“Tommy,” she breathed out as he pressed her down into the narrow bed. “Tommy,” his name came out breathier when he started to kiss up and down her neck, arms braced on either side of her, caging her in. His mouth eventually found its way back to hers, swallowing her little moans as his hips shifted to press into her. When she stroked his jaw and cupped his cheek to pull him closer, he practically purred. 

With one hand still propping himself up above her, he used the other to open her trousers.

“Ah…” a whimper burst forth from her throat when his hand snuck into her knickers, thick fingers circling her clit and teasing at her entrance.

“So wet…” he groaned, breath warm where it fanned out across her cheeks. She dragged his mouth back down to hers to muffle her moans as he slid a finger into her, legs hitching around him while her hips rolled into his hand. He fingered her sloppily, quickly stretching her around a second digit, tongue tangling with hers all the while.

“Please…” she half sobbed when his thumb circled her clit, head tilting back into the pillow, orgasm drawing near. She let out a frustrated cry when he suddenly withdrew, only for Tommy to place a quick kiss to her cheek in apology, fumbling with her trousers to push them and her knickers further down, then setting to work on his slacks and underwear, shoving them down to about mid-thigh and then deciding that was more than good enough. 

His cock sprang free, hard and thick where it curved up against his stomach. The sight of it, already weeping precum and throbbing, had Lucy’s thighs squeezing together, cunt aching for him. 

She opened her arms to him and he came willingly, pressing himself to her, mouth cushion-soft when he kissed her again. There was a little fumbling and rearranging of limbs, and then he was groaning into her mouth, sliding into her in one slow movement. 

“Oh fuck,” Lucy’s head flung back, mouth dropping open at the deep stretch, hands clenching at the soft material of the undershirt he was still wearing. Tommy’s forehead nudged hers, the bed frame squeaking with every thrust of his hips. He was so warm, practically burning her from the inside out in the most divine way. It was impossible not to bask in him, the attention and loving touches and kisses her was offering her making her heat flutter as he fucked her gently. 

“Lucy, look at me,” he whispered, almost pleadingly, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her in a way that was so tender and soft it made her half tempted to weep. Their faces were so close that his nose bumped hers, the dark strands of his fringe that had fallen forward tickling her skin. Cradling the back of his neck while the other hand gripped his waist through the material of his shirt, she moaned softly, letting him hear how good he was making her feel. Legs curling around him, she tried to urge him in deeper, wanting him as close as she could physically get him. 

The wine that emerged from her mouth when his thumb rolled over her clit had his lips parting, pupils–already blown so wide there was hardly any blue left–dilating even further.

“I’m close,” she warned, hips bucking frantically to meet each one of his steady thrusts.

He just kissed her again, continuing the movements of his thumb and hips, and she came quickly with a hoarse cry, back arching off the bed.     

“Ohhhhh,” Tommy groaned, bucking forward a few more times and then stilling as he tipped right over the edge with her, the muscles under her hands tensing with his climax. 

His forehead was still resting tight against her own, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Angling her head up, Lucy kissed him slowly, enjoying the languid way that he responded to her, kisses and touches slow and lazy in their post-orgasmic haze. 

“Mm,” humming as they pulled away, she brushed her nose along his cheek affectionately. “Hi.”

His chest rumbled against her in the most wonderful way when he chuckled, pushing some hair from her face. “Hi.”

He kissed her for a moment before pulling away, sliding out of her and half sitting up. Her legs were still a little shaky from coming so hard, limbs feeling heavy and tired. Flopping back onto the bed, she offered him what was probably a rather sleepily smile.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy pecked her forehead. “Don’t move.”

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. With quick, precise movements, Tommy pulled up his trousers and underwear, stuffing himself back into them, and smoothed out his shirt and hair, disappearing out the door for just a moment. While he was gone, she pulled herself up, huffing at her disheveled state: shirt and bra half off and dangling precariously from only one arm, while her trousers and knickers were tangled at the end of one ankle. 

Sitting up, she pulled her shirt and bra the rest of the way off, halfheartedly folding them. The door opened and Tommy stepped back in, hastily closing it behind him. He hurried to the edge of the bed, a warm towel in one hand that he started to wipe between her legs with practiced movements. Leaning back into the mattress, Lucy hummed, happy to let him take care of her. 

Finished cleaning her up, he discarded the towel, taking her shirt from her–frowning at her shit folding job and redoing it–and tucked it away in a drawer. He then sat down on the bed, carefully untangling her trousers and knickers from around her ankle.

“Do you want to keep them on…?”

“Just the knickers,” she said, and he removed the trousers, folding them and putting them in the same drawer where he’d stowed her shirt while she tugged her underwear back on. He riffled around in another drawer for a moment, and returned with one of his soft cotton shirts that she was always stealing from him to sleep in. 

“Arms up.”

She shot him a quizzical look, but obeyed, and he pulled the shirt on over her head, letting it fall to hang baggily over her frame. Brushing her hair from her face, she smiled at him sheepishly. 

“Thank you.”

Considering how huffy he sometimes got about her stealing his shirts, that he would openly bring her one to sleep in was no small thing.    

Sometimes–not often, but sometimes–she worried that she was annoying or burdensome to him. It was little actions like that which helped remind her that she wasn’t. And that any grumpiness he displayed was rarely genuine, at least not when it came to her.

Tommy tucked a stray curl behind her ear, fingers brushing her cheek. “I love you.”

Her face warmed, smile breaking out across it. Hand landing atop his, feeling the roughness of it, she squeezed around his rugged fingers.

“I love you too.”

He looked down, but his lips were pulling upwards in a tiny, bashful smile. Lucy nudged at him with her forehead, dropping her hands to his waist and giving a little tug. 

“Now come here. I’m cold.”

Chuckling, he let her pull him back into bed. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

Giggling, she shook her head. “Nuh uh.”

Cradling both sides of her face, his fingertips petted her cheekbones. “Do you want a hit of the opium?”

“Hm…” she thought it over. “Sure.” It would probably help them both get to sleep. It almost always did, even if it didn’t fully keep the nightmares at bay.  

He set to work pulling out the kit, prepping the opium pipe and lighting it. Stretching out beside her on the bed, he passed over the lit pipe for her to take the first hit from it. 

He must have been more exhausted than she’d initially thought, because he crashed hard. All it took was one hit from the pipe and he was out like a light. Soft sighs and the occasional snore sounded from his lips, but other than that he didn’t make a sound.

Lucy had a much harder time falling asleep, which made little sense to her, considering how exhausted she felt. Burying her head between Tommy’s shoulder blades, she wrapped both arms around his waist. He was so warm, which combined with the solid muscle covering his frame made him quite pleasant to snuggle. 

She was just managing to doze off, curling tighter around Tommy in contentment, when a pounding started at the door. Lifting her head, she felt her eyes widen, probably looking a little like a child, seized by the panic of realizing that her parents were about to catch her doing something bad. Another set of knocks beat against the door.

“Tommy!” Danny Whizz-Bang’s voice hissed. Scrambling up, Lucy shook her sleeping lover’s shoulder.

“Tommy. Tom, wake up.”

It took a few more shakes to rouse him, and when he did he leapt up with a gasp, nearly head butting her with how quickly he shot into a sitting position.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, wiping at his sweaty brow. Blinking the last of sleep from his eyes, his brow furrowed. “Danny’s at the door,” she explained. Head turning, he only seemed to just notice the hushed calls of his name from behind the door. Jumping up, he tucked the opium pipe under his pillow, hiding away the other tools they used nearly every night to light it into a box on the nightstand. Sitting up in the bed, Lucy bit her lip. There really wasn’t much point in trying to act coy. It would be obvious the moment that the door opened that she’d been sleeping in his bed. “Do you want me to hide?” she asked. Tommy looked around the room, raising an eyebrow.

“Where?”

“Um. Under the bed?”

He gave her an unimpressed look, reaching down to pull the blanket up to her waist, covering her bare legs. “It’ll be alright. Danny won’t say anything,” straightening, he adjusting his clothes. Lucy bit her lip. He looked quite sexy, like that. With his suspenders slung down to hang around his waist, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. “It’s open,” he called to Danny.

The door opened and Danny shuffled in. If he was surprised to see Lucy there, he didn’t show it. Moving the rest of the way into the room, he set the lantern he was carrying down on the dresser and closed the door, sitting in the chair next to the nightstand. Tommy sat down on the bed, careful not to accidentally squish her legs.

Danny glanced at Lucy anxiously, then away. She realized that he wasn’t quite sure how to react to her being there; if he was supposed to acknowledge or ignore her. Stretching out in the bed, head heavy against the pillows, she gave him what she hoped to be a reassuring smile. Her eyelids grew heavy as she listened to him give Tommy a report on the goings on in London, snuggling in deep beneath the blankets. Hoping that she would manage to fall asleep soon so she wasn’t utterly exhausted come morning. The rumble of Tommy’s voice as he chatted with Danny helped. It was soothing.

He took a swig from the half filled glass of whiskey on the nightstand as they talked and Lucy tugged on the back of his shirt until he looked over his shoulder to her, handing the glass over so she could take a gulp before giving it back to him. 

“You’ve got enough trouble. Right, Tommy? The whiskey and the smoke.”

Tommy looked up at Danny, then down. Lucy tensed. Damn. They should have opened a window or something. Sprayed some of her perfume around to try to mask the scent of opium.

“I can smell it in the air,” but Danny just shrugged. “I use it sometimes myself. Call it my ‘sweetheart.’”

They all laughed quietly at that.

“They gave us the worst job, Tommy.”

“Yeah. And we fucking volunteered,” both men laughed. Lucy massaged between Tommy’s shoulder blades soothingly while he rubbed at his eyes. She continued to stroke his back gently as he spoke of the nightmares and memories of the shovels that he could still hear in the wall, scrapping and picking away at dirt; drawing nearer and nearer with every passing second.   

She remembered the first night it had happened after they began sharing a bed. She’d woken up to Tommy flailing and springing awake, seizing her in his arms, rolling them so that she was pinned beneath him, like he was trying to use his body to shield her from whatever enemy his traumatized mind had convinced him was bursting through the walls to hurt them. Scared her half to death. He’d wept afterward, once she managed to get him to calm down. Head buried in her shoulder while she stroked his hair. It still happened sometimes. Once, he’d accidentally elbowed her in the cheek with all the panicked thrashing. It took her nearly a week to convince him to let her sleep beside him again after that; too afraid of hurting her again to let her in close.

Danny and Tommy continued to reminisce about their time in the war between sips of whiskey. Lucy pulled the blankets up to her chin. Tommy was also growing more relaxed, reclining on his side, still facing Danny. 

“By the way, thank you, Miss. Winters, for letting me stay with your brother,” Danny said nervously, craning his head around Tommy to look at her.

“Oh. It’s no problem. How is Teddy?” out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tommy’s eyelids starting to droop.

“He’s good. Elliot came by for dinner a couple of nights before I left. They seem like good men.”

“Yeah. They are,” it had been ages since she’d seen either of her surviving little brothers or her mother. She really needed to go to London sometime to visit.

“Your mum showed up and just about force-fed me a basket of biscuits when she saw me.”

That drew a laugh from her. “That sounds like Mum. Never met a person who she didn’t want to feed,” beside her, Tommy’s eyes had finally slid closed. Upon noticing that Tommy had fallen back asleep, Danny shifted awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry I disturbed you so late,” he said, very quietly so as to avoid waking him.

“It’s all right,” she rubbed circles into Tommy’s shoulder. “He had a hard day.”

“You’ve been good for him.”

She looked up in surprise. Danny blushed and looked down at his hands. “I-I don’t mean to…presume or anything, but…when we first came back, Tommy was…well…” he shot a nervous glance towards the sleeping gangster. “He was a complete and total pain in the ass to be around.”

Chuckling softly, Lucy ran her fingers through the soft, dark hair that had fallen to lay across Tommy’s forehead. “Really? That bad?”

“Yeah. But then you showed up, and…I don’t know. He just seemed to get better, I suppose.”

“We’ve helped each other, I think.”

Danny nodded. “I should…I should go. Let you get back to sleep. I have to be out of here before it gets light so no one will see me, anyway.”

“Thank you for coming by. Tell my brothers and my mum hullo if you see them again, will you?”

“Sure,” he stood, then grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket, scrawling quickly on it and setting it under the almost finished glass of whiskey on the bedside table. “For when he wakes up.”

“Good-night, Danny.”

“Good-night, Miss. Winters,” he dipped his head, then slipped very quietly out the door.

She adjusted Tommy carefully. One of his legs was still off the bed, and if he slept with his neck at such an awkward angle he was going to get a crick come morning. Pulling his leg up and tugging his body in closer, Lucy tossed the blanket over both of them and wrapped her arms around his ribs, pressing to his back. Tommy twitched.

“Wha–?” he mumbled, only half awake.

“Go back to sleep, love.”

He pressed back against her, sniffing once, then relaxing. “Love you, Lucy,” he mumbled into his pillow, voice all sleep-drunk, eyes still closed. She felt herself just about melt into a puddle right there in their bed.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

The only response she got was a small sound in his sleep, and his back pressing tighter to her front, but it was more than enough.  

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

[altneuland]

so, I think it is time to reveal my favorite ship for Daniel. I ship him with Alfred, and the Alfred I use is a modified version of the canon.

I will not go into my reasoning of why I ship them, you can always ask me about it or look it up yourself. I will go now to their lore and history as a couple (briefly, you can always ask me if you have more questions).

🇮🇱 AmeIsra: More than allies 🇺🇸

act i.

When Daniel was still a wanderer, trying to find a way to gather money so he could finance his plan to get back home to Zion. That’s when he first met Alfred. Alfred offered him a job and he accepted. Daniel worked for  Alfred for a while before coming back to Europe. 

When Daniel worked in the states, he told Alfred everything about what he wants, his home, etc.  Alfred was overwhelmed with this, and first decided not to intervene. 

Later, the independence war started in Israel and as Alfred decided to, he didn’t intervered. But that didn’t last for long. He got notified about the situation and he then couldn’t stay out of it. Only then he secretly helped Daniel in a few ways. It was very discreet since he had to keep it a secret from everyone including Arthur, who fought against Daniel at that time. 

After the part of the war against the UK ended, Alfred tried to convince Daniel to stop the war and give up on being independent. His argument was that Daniel isn’t strong enough and would for sure lose his independence very fast in the good case. In the bad case he could get injured or even get killed. 

Daniel didn’t like the way Alfred is preaching against him to say the least. He was humiliated by Alfred and called him out for not fully supporting him. Daniel took it a step further and demanded not to have any interaction with Alfred ever again after that. 

act ii.

Both Daniel and Alfred decided to let the other go, but it didn’t last for long. Soon, the USSR noticed Daniel’s importance, and he started building ties with him. Alfred did not remain silent to that, and had to put his step in that as well. 

Daniel and Alfred’s relationship started going off and on, and when they were off, it was Daniel and Konstantin’s relationship going on. Daniel didn’t notice the game going on above his head at all, as he admitted to enjoying the sudden interest in him. He felt like he was being valued. 

This situation continued in a low phase, until the year of 1967, and the 6 days war happened. Daniel proved his value even more. At the first time since their fight, Alfred admitted to Daniel that he was wrong when he accused him of not being strong enough. 

After the war, Daniel started behaving egocentric and angry. 

act iii

After the 6 days war, Daniel either proved his value. His neighbor Egypt (Nour) who was injured in that war, had good ties with Alfred, and kindly asked him to intervene between the situation of him and his adopted brother. 

Alfred agreed and started building a more meaningful relationship with Daniel so he would listen to his request regarding Nour, since Daniel snapped every time Nour or any of his neighbors were mentioned in a conversation, even a bit. He wouldn’t listen, and act egocentric and delusional. At this point, Alfred noticed that Daniel is going through something and needs a different approach if he wants him to agree to any contract or deal. 

The friendship grew, but it was too late. Alfred didn’t find a good way to soften Daniel enough on time, before Nour started a war on Kippur of 1973, which when Daniel was badly injured. This was also his wake up call to pop his bubble and get back to reality. At this point, Daniel became much more depressed but also aware of his problems. His mindset matched Alfred’s old mindset about him; he was too weak. But at this breakpoint, Alfred decided to be strong for him. 

act iv

After the war, Alfred promised to be next to Daniel’s side, no matter what. He declared “Special Relationship” with him. Since this point and on, this relationship is official.

In 1991, there was a war between the USA and Iraq, the gulf war. In which war, Israel was dragged into. Alfred blamed himself for that and decided to move his forces to Israel, where he spent most of his days at that war. This war was the first time both Daniel and Alfred had their shared domestic life together. 

Lately, Daniel has become more vocal about his needs, while Alfred has become more indifferent about them. But yet, this relationship is strong and going.

🇮🇱 Headcanons 🇺🇸

Love language.

Alfred is the verbal one of the two. He talks out his emotions, as soon as he feels them. He isn’t shy about it. Though, in the past it was harder to do. Alfred used to feel blocked in front of Daniel. As the time went by, Alfred learned how to say what’s on his mind out loud. 

He is also very physical. He will hug, kiss, hold or touch as a love message. He makes sure that Daniel knows every moment how he feels. 

Daniel, on the other hand, is very subtle. He doesn’t talk a lot about his feelings. His body language is louder, though. Alfred learned to read his body, and therefore tell what’s on Daniel’s mind. Daniel is purposely sending messages through his eyes, hands, torso and so on. He has a harder time talking, either because he is a stutterer, and because he’s a shy man. 

But when he is angry, he won’t keep his thoughts inside for so long. He will snap. Unfortunately, his emotional nature will make him lose proportions fast. 

With others.

When with others, both know how to give the other space. Both have their own family and social lives, and let others enjoy them too. But both expect to be the others’ main priority, while Daniel is less needy due to him being an introvert, and understands Alfred’s responsibilities. 

special thanks to @dolceminerva97 for this amazing commission!

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Why like Sirius if both him and James are the same? Sirius being more horrible than James

Sirius and James are not the same. Plus, I sometimes enjoy horrible characters. It just depends on the story and how their positive traits balance out their bad traits.

Let me try to summarize for you anon:

Godfather Sirius

One of the best aspects of Sirius is how much he loves Harry. This man was willing to move heaven and earth for Harry and I admire that. Sure Jamie died for his family but I think Sirius was more impressive. We never saw James as a father and husband. But even with Sirius' limited circumstances, he did the best he could to look out for Harry.

Black family

I find the Black family so fascinating! I think the Black family is the best wizarding family JKR created. The Potters being related to the Peverells made me roll my eyes. I refuse to pay for streaming...but man I would be tempted to watch a series on the Black family!

Show vs tell

We hear how great James is but we hardly ever see it. What we do see are his awful moments. Not Sirius anon. With Sirius, we see his loyalty, passion, care etc. So it's easier to get behind Sirius and defend him.

James Potter is a plot device

James and Lily are ultimately plot devices in Snape and Harry's backstories. James has positive traits but overall James is pretty one-dimensional. Because Sirius is alive, we actually get to know Sirius as a person. The good, the bad and the very ugly.

Jily sucks

The whole Jily romance makes me hate James Potter. Part of me is happy Sirius was not bogged down by JKR's horrible romance drama. The Jily fans who think this ship is healthy and the greatest of all time are just plain delusional.

James stans are annoying

Usually, the most toxic marauders stan posts are about James. I liked James a little when I got into HP...but then the fandom discourse soured me on the guy. Sure, you have the posts defending Sirius in the werewolf prank and I get where they are coming from. Because, yes Sirius never forced Snape to go to the willow. It's still awful though, don't get me wrong. However, James stans will literally say he was justified in sexually harassing Snape. Gross! These people need Jesus!

Sirius has a more complex/interesting character & personality

James is honestly not that special. He's the typical rich jock kid who bullies people because he can. He treats girls like prizes and is rewarded with said girl by doing the absolute bare minimum. And he has his little charity case friends to kiss his backside. James peaked in high school.

Now Sirius has more going on. His complicated relationship with his mom and brother. How even though he rebels against his family, he is still the same bigoted Black who treats those lower than him like dirt. His wrongful imprisonment and how his freedom was robbed from him to the very end. His interesting dynamics with Remus and Peter.

This is it for the most part. Sirius is the best marauder and no one can convince me otherwise!