#but read at your own risk

[mooshywrites]

Making It Our Own

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Female!Tav

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - Kinda a continuation of my last fluff, slice of life kind of affair

Word Count - 3.1K

Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, fluff/soft dom Astarion, aftercare if you squint, multiple orgasms, biting because thats practically required with this man, overall straight degeneracy

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“How else will we make this place our own, my darling?”

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“Why in all the god’s names, would they have the staircase here?” Astarion wondered, exasperated.

You smiled softly, looking over the slightly rickety stairs before him. They were a little in the foreground of the room, awkwardly jutting out beside the selling desk.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, my love.” You responded, kissing his cheek sweetly.

”With the amount of hard-earned gold I spent on this place, you would think someone would have at least dusted before we moved in.” He complained, dragging a finger across the desk, holding up the collection of caked dirt.

You fought the urge to scoff at the thought of Astarion actually earning any amount of money, but you contained yourself knowing he did put a fair amount of effort into having this small shop be his own.

For the entire idea of Astarion running a shop starting as a halfhearted tease, you could hardly believe you were actually standing in the place now. It had taken a few months of odd jobs, even odder quests, and… well… yes, there was some thievery involved in getting enough coin to buy the little shop on the corner of the quietest part of Baldur’s Gate. It must have been a bakery, or perhaps a tiny bed and breakfast before the two of you, because it sported a surprisingly large kitchen in the back along with four midsize rooms upstairs. Of course, if it were any of those things, it must have long long not been occupied.

“I’m sure it won’t take long to make the place exactly what you want, Astarion.” You murmured, trying to be optimistic. You looked up at your pale elf, seeing his mouth in a tight line. His eyes peering accusingly at the grime and disrepair on the first floor. Luckily, from your investigating, the upstairs level seemed to fair a bit better.

”Darling, it will take half of a century to even make it look clean” Astarion chuckled, turning his attention back down onto you. “It may be a disaster, but I do suppose it is our disaster.”

”That’s the spirit.” You grinned up at him. “Where should we start then?”

Astarion shook her head decisively, “You can start upstairs. I won’t have your pretty little hands working yourself to the bone on this mess. Or dirtying your new dress.”

Your hands idly smoothed your skirt, fingers running over the delicate gold flowers expertly embroidered across the fabric. Astarion insisted he began practicing his sewing in preparation for the shop and your clothes, of course, were his first choice of material. The simple green gown you were wearing today was covered in dainty flowering vines.

“Perhaps you’re right,” you sighed. “I can think of much better ways to ruin one of your projects than covering it in dirt.” You added, gesturing to the dress.

Astarion leaned back on the desk casually, his eyebrows raising, “What possible ways could you be talking about, pet?” He asked, his voice too sickly sweet and innocent to be anything other than a thinly veiled tease.

Well… two could play that game. You gave him a small smile, stepping forward to place your hands on his chest. You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened slightly at the movement.

“I just mean that if your hard work is to be dirtied, it better be worth it.” You shrugged.

Astarion couldn’t help but smirk, knowing your innocent attitude was as much of an act as his own. His face inched closer, voice only above a whisper now, “I can think of a few ways that would be more worth your time, love.”

“And those would be?” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, practically breathless even with only the hint of his words.

”Oh, pet. I think you already know.” He practically purred. “How else will we make this place our own?”

You barely had time to respond before the words were swallowed by Astarion’s searing kiss. His lips molded against your own, coaxing a small muffled moan from your chest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Your own arms wound around his neck, fingertips coming up to lace their way into his curly white locks.

”I’m afraid your beautiful dress may be sullied, yet,” Astarion murmured, pulling back for a moment, “There isn’t a surface here that is suitable enough for you to lay upon.”

”’Lay upon?’ Why would I need to do that?” You whispered, feigning ignorance.

Astarion’s hands fell to just below your butt before suddenly hooking your legs up and around him. You don’t even have time to chastise him before you’re spun around and placed on the dust covered desk.

”Astarion, my dress-!” You squeaked.

His eyes rolled in response, his hands sliding up the sides of your dress. “For god’s sake, darling, I’ll make you a new one.”

He leaned in once more, this time, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw, effectively silencing your argument. You tilted your head back, giving him better access to the crook of your neck. You sucked in a shaky breath as you felt the points of his fangs grazing feather light across the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin and heat settling in your lower stomach. You could practically feel him smile against you at your reaction, always proud to make you putty between his hands.

His lips and teeth continued to dance down your neck, pausing for a moment on the sweet spot just above your collarbone. The movement completely distracts you from how his hands continue to sneak their way up your legs.

That is, until, you felt his fingertips drag slowly against the clothed heat between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes meeting Astarion’s as he lifted his gaze, smirking. ”Why darling,” he purred. “Whatever did I do to deserve this silence?”

You threw him a half-hearted glare, not trusting your voice to deliver a retort in case it proved the point he was already trying to make. Instead, you pulled his face towards your own, locking him into a passionate kiss. You earned a particularly delicious groan as you gently dragged your tongue along his lower lip, silently prodding for access.

He graciously allowed your tongue in, exploring with his own. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, tracing feather light figure eights, seeming to be avoiding where you needed him most purposefully.

You whined into the kiss, causing the vampire to chuckle darkly, “What’s the matter, pet? Pained are we?” He teased.

”Just… touch me.” You begged, not at all embarrassed at how quickly you became desperate for him.

Luckily, the plea’s seemed to have the desired effect, a content sigh escaping you as cold finger moved your panties aside and pressed against your cunt.

”My, my.” He whispered, lips moving to catch the shell of your ear in a gentle bite. “It didn’t take long at all for you to be practically weeping for me.”

All you could do was whine as his middle finger dipped shallowly into your heat. He was right, of course, it took practically no time for him to bring you to tears with his fingers, your core clenching at just the thought of what he could do with those sinful hands.

You leaned back just enough to get a better view of him, his hair a mess from your own hands, his lips plump from your bruising kiss, his pointed gaze a shade darker than usual as he eyed you hungrily. Your chest rose and fell shakily, taking in the sight before you.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” You whispered, barely even aware the words had escaped your own thoughts.

His eyes blinked in surprise before a warm smile fell across his face, leaning in to press a surprisingly innocent kiss upon your nose. “Aren’t I just?”

You could have guessed that would have been his reaction, your elf hiding behind a veil of humor anytime he was uncomfortable with a compliment or praise. I mean, showing emotions is difficult, isn’t it? Someday, you would have to find a way to make him take the compliment. But how? Bondage? A maid outfit? Constant teasing?

Your slightly crazed wandering thoughts were harshly interrupted as you felt Astarion’s finger sank deeper within you, his thumb brushing across the sensitive nub right above. Your yelp quickly transformed into a moan as his thumb began dancing in simple short circles, igniting the flame in your stomach to burn even brighter.

”Darling, you know how it hurts me so when you aren’t paying attention to me,” He prodded, voice thick with need and his ever present pout. “What could you be thinking about other than how well your dripping cunt takes my fingers.”

”N-Nothing,” you started, a moan interrupting your sentence as his finger began to pull in and out teasingly slow. “I was thinking about how to keep you from letting compliments roll off of you. Maybe it will take this-“

You brought up your hand to trace a fingertip along the ever growing bulge in his pants. Though he tried to hide it, you were very aware of how his brows drew forward, the way his mouth parted in a heavy breath.

“I assure you, it will take much more than that to entertain any of your praise.” He retorted.

“And how much more would that be?” You replied confidentially, riding the high of the reaction you were able to pull from him.

”Hmm,” he pondered, even having the audacity to look to the side as if in thought, all while his fingers continued their magic below him. His act gave way to a devilish smile as his focus returned to you.

”One orgasm, one compliment.”

”W-what?“ You squeaked, feeling your cheeks begin to redden immediately.

His finger curled deliciously forward, pressing against a point that had your mind quickly fogging over with lust. “You heard me, darling. For every orgasm I drag out of you, I will graciously accept one compliment.”

You couldn’t even begin to come up with a retort, your cunt giving every thought away as it squeezed hungrily around the pale elf’s single finger.

”Ill take that as a resounding yes.” He murmured, clearly proud of himself.

He slipped another finger in, expertly pumping them into you. His other hand reached up, pulling the top of your dress down in a quick tug. The cold air and the desire in the air had them hardening almost painfully. The man before you didn’t miss this development at all, mouth coming forward to nip at your breast playfully. His lips then closed around the hardened nipple, tongue swirling around it slowly. You could’ve drawn blood from how hard you were biting your lip, trying not to let your moans fill the small room.

It didn't take long for the vampire to return the affection to the other, his hand kneading the soft skin his mouth had just left. With his hands, his mouth, the slick sounds your own body was making, the coil below your stomach already felt wound too tight.

You felt the white hot burn at your lower breast, the pain of Astarion’s teeth mixing deliciously with the way the rough pad of his thumb presses hard against your clit. “Gods, Astarion.” You managed to get out, your hips beginning to rock helplessly against his hand.

”Too much, pet?” He replied simply against your skin, licking at the pinpricks of blood left behind by his teeth.

You shook your head furiously, the burn in your stomach becoming more demanding, your breaths uneven and strained. “P-please… please more.”

Astarion growled darkly, his hand moving faster, his mouth returning to your skin. The coil winds tighter, your moans falling into incoherent begs and whines. Astarion, sensing your oncoming high, deftly slips another finger into your folds.

Your vision pales as you cry out, muscles tensing while your orgasm crashes into you. Heat courses through your veins, arousal riding its course as the pale elf’s sinful mouth eases you through it. By the time you’ve regained your perception of which way is up, Astarion is smirking at you, accomplished haughtiness written across his face.

”I believe you’ve earned one compliment, my dearest. Make it count.”

”That was… You are,” You responded breathlessly, thoughts not quite forming correctly in your orgasm ridden brain. “You are amazing, Astarion.”

The man left out a soft chuckle, landing a kiss on your forehead. “Not the most impressive compliment I’ve ever received, but a deal is is a deal. Thank you, my pet.”

Realization crashed onto you. Did I just use my compliment to say something as useless as… that?

”No! No, that wasn’t my compliment, I deserve another go.” You pouted.

”Aht aht ah, we said ‘one orgasm,one compliment’. You can’t expect me to bend the rules for such a clearly made deal.”

“You can’t be serious! You know you can’t hold me to anything I say after coming down from something like that!.” You argued, not feeling ready to give up the fight quite yet.

”Honestly, darling, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss! There’s a simple way to remedy this.” He said, a knowing smile adorning him.

”And what is that?” You replied, blankly.

Before you could guess his movements. His hands deftly ripped the thin fabric of your panties and reached to pull you flush against his bulge. ”You have another orgasm, of course. What was it you wanted? ‘another go’?”

The desire you had just released from your body hit you again, tenfold. Your own fingers began to work at the ties of his breeches.

”Slowly, darling.” Astarion chastises half heartedly. “We have all the time in the world.”

You knew his words were empty, you could tell by the way his jaw was clenched, pupils blown out with lust that he was as desperate for this as you were. You finally loosen the tie enough to pull the fabric down, releasing his erection to hit his stomach with a small slap.

Astarion let out a strained groan as you wrapped your hand around the length, your thumb swiping across the bead of precome leaking from the delicate slit. You looked up at him, taking in his reactions, greedily. His breaths came in labored heaves, hands gripping your sides as if it were his only anchor to reality.

”Now, now, no teasing, pet.” He tried to retain the cool and confident tone in his voice, but his words were rasped, an octave lower than usual.

You gave him an innocent smile, placing a quick kiss before whispering against his lips, “Then take me, love.”

It’s as if you have broken some sort of invisible chain holding him back. He kisses you harshly, teeth catching at your bottom lip. He adjusts your sitting position, hands pushing your thighs apart to give you access.

He pulls away, looking down at you bared before him, though he could never put the thoughts into words in this moment, you look absolutely ethereal. The ripped clothes, messy hair, big doe eyes looking up at him; he was absolutely undone.

His hips pushed forward, his member dragging through the wetness in between your legs. A strained groan erupts from his parted lips, eyebrows drawing close together, “Gods, darling… you’re perfect.”

You let out your own whine, hips greedily pushing forward, desperate for the friction or Astarion’s cock against your clit. He leans forehead to rest against your own, finally, finally, pushing into your awaiting cunt.

It finds no resistance as it thrusts to the hilt, the dew from your previous orgasm aiding its path. The room is almost completely silent, the both of you reveling in the feeling of the delightful stretch his body imposes upon you.

After a few moments, his darkened voice cuts through, “Please, darling. I must move.”

You nod wordlessly, craving the movement as much as he did. A low grunt was all the warning that you got.

Astarion’s hips snapped forward, setting a brutal pace of thrusts. Your moans fall over your lips with short breaths, hips trying to hold themselves up against the man.

Astarion’s hand reaches down further, holding some of your weight by gripping your ass, his other holding up his weight as he leans forward. His hot breath fans against your neck, head resting against you as if all of his energy is spent on roughly taking you.

Every drag of his heavy cock drives you higher and higher, sickly sinful slaps echoing amongst your embarrassingly loud moans.

“Gods above, pet.” Astarion manages, every word sounding like it took immense effort on his part. You felt his hips start to stutter, your own core beginning to clench hopelessly.

”Astarion, please! I- I…” You start, the pleasure rendering you mute.

”Come undone,” Astarion growls lowly, “Come undone with me.”

Your mouth opens to a silent scream, your cunt clenching hard around the thick member. Your hips jerk desperately, your nails digging into the pale elf’s arms. Astarion follows quickly behind you, pained grunts whispering out of his lips as he pushes deeply into your heat. You feel him twitch, warmth blooming through your lower stomach.

It’s a moment or two before the two of you touch back down to earth, both panting and clinging tightly to one another. When his head finally tilts up to meet your gaze, his eyes are full of affection, smiling softly.

You return him an affectionate smile, hands coming up to trace circles into his hair. ”So did I earn another compliment then?” You teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, gently lowering you back down, “I suppose you do. Please make this one better than the last.”

You thought for a moment, wondering what would encapsulate your feelings the best. What would mean the most? After another beat or two, you realized there was no hope at a long and drawn out proclamation of love. It would have to start with something simple.

”I am so very lucky to be beginning a life like this with you.” You say sweetly, gesturing to the messy shop around you.

Astarion’s cheeks redden, still slightly unsure on how to go about accepting such loving words. “Well, ahem…” He cleared his throat looking around the room. “As am I.” He narrowed his eyes again at the layer of dust you sat upon. “After it’s clean of course. A task we should be getting back to.”

”Couldn’t agree more.” You sighed, pausing. “But there is one thing you have to do first.”

Astarion looked back at you, his voice lacking any usual tease, simply full of affection, “Anything you desire, darling.”

You giggle, giving him the sweetest smile you can manage.

”You have to pull out first.”

[lanternmice]

fuck it. moodboard for when you're fucking lgbt

[hanrinz]

✩ ‧ ₊˚ TO LOVE AND TO HOLD — MICHAEL KAISER

wherein your boyfriend is terrible at pick-up lines, but it's okay he's cute anyway.

your boyfriend of four years, michael kaiser is terrible with a lot of things. namely, with his incapability of cooking meals, his terrible sense of time—if not for you maybe he won't even come to some grand events his team holds in time.

but this main habit of your boyfriend that just takes the prize, is him making awful pick-up lines.

may it be a line he saw from a rom-com movie or he's seen on the internet, he'll make it a mission to use it on you every single time.

what makes it worse, is that he doesn't even say it right.

your boyfriend is a lot of things, but using a good pick-up line is not one of them. your boyfriend is idiotically cute and sometimes a jerk.

it baffles your friends how you ended up with such a man like michael kaiser. maybe, it was his dumb jokes or his stupid face, you'll never know.

love is blind they said, maybe it's true for you.

on a cold afternoon, where you and kaiser are walking down on the road for a grocery run. the sun hides behind the clouds and the breeze blows through lightly.

scrolling through your phone as you check the list of the items you'll be buying. walking aimlessly as your boyfriend leads you, a hand placed on your lower back.

surprisingly he's quiet, looking at the buildings and the speck of white flakes that falls faintly on this day.

you continue to revel in the comfortable silence you were wrapped into, listing down some items you've been thinking on top of your head.

milk, strawberries, chocolates...

mind blanking from the things you need at your home, you turn to your lover. whose attention was taken by the surroundings, it's a rare sight to see.

your kaiser is quiet and deep in thought, an eerie scene in your honest opinion, but you don't point it out loud.

instead, you call out to him.

"what do you want for dinner?"

silence.

for someone who likes talking off his mind, your boyfriend didn't even hear you. well, that's something new.

you only call more.

"kaiser? hello? ...love?"

the same response was met.

you wonder what was weighing on your boyfriend's mind for him to drown out the world. it makes you think if he's ignoring you, but you didn't dwell on it for much any longer.

huffing as you try once more, with a louder voice.

"kaiser—"

your boyfriend's head turns all so suddenly to you, interjecting your words.

"—my hand is kinda heavy, can you hold it?"

your boyfriend is really terrible, you conclude.

a smile was plastered on his face, his stupidly charming smile was hanging on his lips. the kind of one that you're familiar with, the one where he finds another pick-up line to use.

he looks at you expectantly, gauging your reaction to what you think of it, you presume—his amazing lines.

and you try to stop the ever growing grin that makes its way to your face, but failing miserably.

only replying to his charms back.

"that's not how the line goes, but you're cute so fine."

a chuckle leaves your lips, making kaiser pout. compared to the pick-up lines he had uttered before, this was definitely better, but not the best.

but it's fine—it's okay because it was him, you think.

"hey, don't laugh! i tried my best okay?" he cried out.

another laugh leaves your mouth, that you tried to stifle—keyword: tried

you took his hands with yours, squeezing it three times in a way to comfort him, dragging him to the store that comes into view.

"okay, mr. i-tried-my-best, whatever you say." you teased, before letting yourself freely laugh at his antics, that only makes him pout more.

your boyfriend was really bad at this, but you don't mind. it's fine, because he's stupid and yours.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated ! okay,, first time writing for this man i hate him i swear :x based on this prompt btw !!

[frownyalfred]

gently grabs you by the chin hey. if an author selects “chose not to use archive warnings” on a fic, they’re allowed. even if you don’t like it or disagree.

[gauloiseblue]

If I were a good man / I'd understand the spaces between friends

(König × Reader)

I'm a sucker for a childhood friend AU, but combined with the obsessed, loyal dog AU? I'm gone. I'm further than gone.

Words: 4.7k

König isn't the type of man who believes in superstitions, but he'll never buy you shoes.

It's something that's been engraved in him, since he saw his mother leave the house, with the shoes he bought for her. She only looked over her shoulder once, watching him with tears before she turned away, and never came back.

His father was an angry man, and all he did when he went to an empty home was to blame him.

The scars that his father left on his body weren't as painful as the wound that his mother left in his heart. She abandoned him. Leaving him with an angry man in the house.

Sometimes, when he wasn't busy loathing, and resenting his mother, he brood over the choices that she made. Why she abandoned him. Why she didn't take him with her.

Yet what came was an echo, and he found himself biting his lip until it bled.

He carried his feelings around, to the point that it's clear for anyone to see. People began to avoid him, though some of them would tease him for the things he didn't have.

And all of them would end up with a broken bone.

He was trouble. He was hideous, inhuman, and it's only natural for people to look away from him.

That was, until he met you.

It was horrible for both of you, since you both were like oil and water. But you had no choice, since the teacher assigned you as a volunteer to help him with his grade.

He didn't hide his vexation when you tutored him, and he knew you're holding back your irritation inside. It was hell, but it was him who fed the fire. You were patient, but you had your limit. He knew it'd come to an end someday, but it came not in the way he expected.

It was the fifth day of your lesson, and the day you resigned as a volunteer. He couldn't remember exactly what he said, but it made you snap as you slam your fist on the table.

"I'm sorry that you have a shitty life and sorry your mother left you, but have you ever been kind to your mother when she's still around?"

He snapped back at her, telling her it's none of her business, but when she left him, something clicked in him.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Just like the wind, she swept away the mess, letting him see what's underneath. It's not always an echo, it's not always a wall, he just needed to take a step back and see.

It was disorienting, as if he had learnt something forbidden—something that's only reserved for the watcher in the sky. But he did, and it's all because of her.

Have you ever been kind to your mother?

Have you ever been kind to the one who held your hand?

You held his hand, you pulled him from the dark place, and all he did was to make you leave. Just like what he did to his mother.

Several days after the fight, he came to you with a silence that's strange. You thought he was possessed when he muttered out the word sorry.

"I'm sorry." He mused as he kept his face turned from you.

You heard your friends gasping, while you tried to make sense of the situation.

"Sorry?"

"Should I get on my knees when I apologize?"

"No—" Your eyes widened when he hunched down, "Of course not! Let's uh, let's talk somewhere else. You and I."

You pushed him out of the crowd, and into the empty room. In the space full of unfinished art, he confessed his mistakes, and all the things that he did wrong to you. You gaped at him when he bowed down, with a honesty that you didn't know existed.

He was given a second chance when you accepted his apology, and he saw it as a way of repentance.

The two of you became friends, despite of the strange dynamics that you both shared. Your friends teased you when he's around, saying that he's more of a guard dog than a friend. You'd explain in fluster that it's not true, that he just wasn't used to having someone around, but he didn't deny it. He did follow you around after all.

When you helped him with his study, he quickly found that he's weak academically—except for history. He didn't know what drew him into the topic, but he's always fascinated by great events, including war.

Perhaps that's the reason why he joined the military.

When he told you about his plan, you were quiet as you listened.

"I'm glad you've found your way," You commented, "You'll certainly fit in in no time."

He looked at you, as he sensed a continuation.

"But…" You sighed, as you rubbed your neck, "I just… don't want you to get hurt. You've suffered enough, and I don't want you to go through it again." You shook your head, before giving him a smile, "But it's your future, I don't have a say in this."

The silence filled the room as you looked away, and he kept his eyes on you, before he reached out to touch your hand. "It's the only thing I knew I'd do it right. I don't have any talent, and I don't live a normal life, so," He squeezed your hand, "It's the only way for me."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, as you didn't say anything further.

The night he's leaving for the army, he walked aimlessly, before his feet carried him to your home.

Your window was closed, and the lights were dimmed. You might’ve been sleeping, but he wanted to see you for the last time. He picked up a pebble by his boot, and threw it to your window. Carefully, as to not break the glass.

That was the only time he's been the softest. In his hand, everything breaks. But that night, the window didn't shatter.

You peeked through the curtain, before you pushed it open upon seeing his face. You stare at him, dumbfounded, as you asked him the obvious question.

"What are you doing here?" You hissed.

"I wanted to see you." He replied.

"It's late, my parents will kill you if they see you here."

"Won't be a problem."

You were ready to scold him, before he suddenly jumped, and grabbed on your window railings. You closed your mouth as you watched him climb, before he landed on your floor.

"You're crazy."

"I've heard it a million times."

"No, you're really crazy. You're insane, mad, not—"

"—right in the head?" He grinned, "Call me something else."

You let out a long sigh, as you pressed your hand against your forehead.

"Alright." You huffed, "Why are you here? Are you trying to scare me before you leave?"

"I told you I wanted to see you."

"And why did you want to see me?" You tilted your head, "Is this a goodbye?"

"No." He replied as he leaned against your window, "I wanted to say thank you."

You raised your brow when he said it.

"I'd still be in the dark if I never met you." He told you with ease, as if it wasn't a confession of the heart, "Thank you. I mean it."

He didn't say anything, as the words sinked into you. Your face softened, as the tension melted away from your body. He was surprised when you pulled him into a hug, but didn't utter any complaint.

"I'm happy for you." You murmured against his chest, "Write me a letter, okay?"

He said yes to a promise he never fulfilled.

It's not that he didn't want to write to her, he just thought that it's never good enough. He wasn't good at talking, moreover retelling his day in a letter.

It didn't mean he carried no guilt in his heart. It was a promise, something that he should've kept after all. But his days were terrible, he was terrible.

He couldn't pass the sniper's test, he made several mistakes in the missions, and he couldn't make any friends. It was when he's away from you that he began to appreciate your company. You put him at ease, and he never felt the need to hide himself. He could say what he wanted, and you'd just scold him if it's wrong, but you didn't leave him. You didn't treat him like a plague.

Sometimes when he felt weary, he'd imagine you beside him, telling him about your day instead. He wondered what you're doing, and how you're feeling that day. He wondered if you're reading a new book, or you're getting ready to sleep. It comforted him when he kept the phantom of you by himself.

He didn't count the day, and he just let it pass. One or two times, he thought of you when it's holiday. He wanted to go back, but he didn't have home anymore. He left it the day he went to the military, never to return.

He always hoped you'd send a letter to him, telling him about your thoughts, even the most insignificant. He wanted to hear from you, just so he knew you're still thinking of him.

Unfortunately for him, he heard about you from other people.

He was on a rescue mission when he met his former classmate, the one he broke his nose in a fight. He spoke to him like a friend, and treated the incident as something that's in the past. He told him about the school, and the update about their classmates.

That's when he found out about your relationship.

He didn't hear the rest of it, as his ears were ringing. He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed. Was that the reason why you never wrote to him? Because you're too busy with your boyfriend?

That day, he almost failed the ops because he went on a rampage.

It was supposed to be a quiet mission. Secure the site, and escort the hostages out. But he rammed through the door, and killed everyone on sight. Though he didn't harm the hostages. He received a penalty from his General, and he's never again received a delicate mission.

But he's a strong man, he could easily take down the whole squad if he's angry enough. His anger was just like his father's, violent, and combustible, and it was a boon in volatile battlegrounds.

It earned him a higher rank faster than his peers. Since he was efficient, despite of him destroying everything in his wake.

Years went by, and he began to forget about his hometown. Until one letter arrived, informing him about the death of his father.

It had been foreseen, since the amount of alcohol he consumed could rival the sailor's.

He didn't want to go back, but he had to tie up loose ends if he wanted to be completely free from his father.

His hometown was still the same, except for a few stores that had closed, and a few of the new ones. His house didn't undergo any change, it's still messy, with bottles and bottles scattering around the floor.

His father died on the sofa in the living room, and he could still see him there, sitting down, drinking himself to death. There's no longer an angry man in the house, but his rage still lingered in the room. As if refusing to pass.

They said when you're worn out, you'd seek comfort just as you seek fire in the winter. So when he walked out of the house, aimlessly and unthinking, he found himself striding to your house, unconsciously.

He's never a lucky man, but that day, the Goddess smiled at him. You were just about to leave when you saw him by the gate. He saw your frowned, before your eyes lit up as you recognized him.

"I told you to write me letters, you bastard."

He opened his mouth to answer, but you already pulled him into a hug, interrupting him from replying.

"Welcome back." You told him as you squeezed his arms.

Since then, he has spent more time with you more often. Whether by talking, or enjoying each other's company. She helped him with the paperwork, as he was busy with his father's burial. When it's all over, he told her his desire to sell the house.

You opposed it at first, before he explained that he's planning to move his home. His house was old, and there's several new apartments around. He was alone, and he wouldn't stay for long, so a little room would be enough for him.

He ended up buying a smaller house, for you he was convinced that he'd find the use for it someday. And he did, he did find it when he looked at you.

But he was afraid. Afraid that you'd reject him despite of your current status. You weren't dating anyone at that time, and it should be easy for him to enter your life. Yet all he offered, was for you to use the house.

"I'll be gone for months, so I need someone to take care of the house." He said, "Why don't you live there? It's closer to your college, isn't it?"

It was a good offer, but you refused it politely. Saying that it's not necessary, that you didn't need that. The next morning, he went back to the base, feeling dejected, wondering if he should've been braver.

This time, he kept his promise. He wrote letters to her, although it'd take about 3 months before he could write more than five sentences. Sometimes they'd talk through phones, and he'd listen to your rambles about your day. When he talked, he mostly told her about his job. He was cocky about it, but you pulled him down to the ground somehow. He didn't realize it, until all of his teammates pointed it out to him.

He didn't come back at Christmas, and he spent his time lounging around the empty base. You were busy that day, but you made time to call him in the evening. It was short, but it was the nicest thing someone ever did to him. And when you hung up, he stared at the phone for minutes, wondering if he should've just gone home instead.

When you graduated from college, he took his day off to attend the ceremony. You were surprised, but glad nonetheless. Your family was present as well, and they shot him funny looks every time you talked to him. It wasn't until your father leaned in to talk, that he found out the reason for it.

If he said that he should stay away from you, he'd believe it. But the way he spoke, and—Lord help him—implied that you're interested in him almost sounded like a ruse. He stared at your old man as if he's gone mad, but when he turned his head towards you, his heart was burning. How easy was it, to be consumed by greed upon hearing a just few words.

He wanted it to be true, he desperately wished it to be true. But once again, he left with his feelings kept.

He wanted to rip his hair off, as he screamed into the pillow. You liked him, didn't you? Wouldn't it be easier for him to ask you? To have you by his side?

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd do it the next time you both met. Because he wouldn't forgive himself if someone else took you before him. So he swallowed his pride, and asked for advice.

He expected his teammate to laugh at him, but to his surprise, they were very eager to give him one. Though most of them strayed from the topic.

When he first flirted with you, his hands were cold, and if they were talking face to face, she'd be able to see how much of a mess he was. Even when you noticed the tremble in his voice, you didn't say anything. He only did it for a week, before he settled with calling you Schnecke.

It wasn't until he was listed for a long mission, that you called him for a question.

"Hey." He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you muttered, "Does the offer still stand?"

He almost asked her for it, before the realization struck him.

It was about his house.

His body turned stiff, as he felt the warmth in his loins. He was silent, and you began to think that it was a bad idea.

"Forget it, you don't have to ans—"

"Yes." He breathed out, "Yes, it still stands."

From that day on, you began to live in his house. He had to send the key via mail, which arrived three days later, according to the letter you wrote for him.

It felt… strange, pleasantly strange, knowing that you lived under his roof, filling his house with your things. He'd feel his skin heated up, as he pictured you on his bed, sleeping. At night, he dreamt of you in the house. Just you and him, doing a mundane routine, and even in the middle of the battlefield, he still couldn't get the image out of his mind. But why should he? It was everything that he ever dreamt of.

When the long mission came to an end, he visited his commander's office to request a month off. His boss was perplexed, but it was soon granted, in exchange for his contribution in a Tier 2 mission.

It was past midnight, when he arrived at home. You must've been startled when he knocked on the door, since you opened it with the latch still intact.

You helped him with his things as he stepped inside, admiring how warm his house became. There were traces of you in the living room—an empty mug, a soft blanket, and several files that you worked on before you slept. You sheepishly told him sorry as you tidied them up, but he stopped you, telling you it's okay.

"It's already late, let's just sleep."

"Go on then, I'll sleep on the sofa."

"What are you saying?" He retorted, "Take the bed. I'm not letting you sleep here."

"I can't. This is your house."

"I don't care."

"I care." You frowned.

"Schnecke." He said with a sigh, "It's either me on the sofa, or we share the bed."

He didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out of his mouth so easily, before he fully realized it. Your mouth hung open, and all of your protests died down in your throat. He'd be horrified of it, if it's not for a burst of confidence, and a portion of sleep-deprived that made him a bit braver.

"The bed is big enough for both of us." He added.

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed on it later on.

That night, he woke up to find the side of the bed empty. Panic rose from his chest, before he sucked up a breath to calm down. He stepped out of the bedroom, and into the living room.

He found you curling on the sofa, with the warm blanket around you. He let out a sigh of relief, before silently cursed at your little escape. He scooped you into his arms, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He could see your reluctance to share the bed with him, and he understood it. He's a man, and it'd be strange for you to sleep with him on the same bed. But still, it affected him in the way he's afraid of.

You apologized to him the next morning, when he climbed up to the bar stool to watch you cook.

"I didn't know you moved me to the bed. I'm sorry, it should've been uncomfortable for you."

"It's fine." He said as he stretched, which made his joints pop, "I've had worse."

"Still, it doesn't mean you can sleep on the sofa forever."

"I don't want you to sleep on the sofa either."

"Ugh." You groaned as you placed the breakfast in front of him, "If only we could afford another bed."

"We?"

You stopped on track, as he tilted his head.

"Th—" You faltered, "That's because it's our problem now. You don't want me to sleep on the sofa, and I don't want you to sleep there too. We're running in circles."

He let her have a moment, before he said, "We've figured out the solution, haven't we?"

You almost dropped your plate after hearing him speak, he observed you as your face turned red. "You must understand, I can't sleep with you on the same bed. That'd be… improper. And no, I won't let you sleep on the sofa either."

He watched you as you paced back and forth on the kitchen floor.

"Fine, we can sleep on the same bed. But we won't share the same blanket, alright?"

With that, the new rule had been set. You'd sleep on the left side, while he took the side near the wall. He used the fleece blanket, and you cocooned inside the thick bedcover. Outside the bedroom, he's the one who (begrudgingly) cleaned the house, while you took care of the food. They went to the grocery store twice a week, and they'd split the bills into two.

He quickly fell into the routine as he found the comfort of it. He enjoyed the domesticity of it, something that he never knew would fit him. Whenever they went out, he'd keep himself neutral while secretly reveled in the attention that people gave to them. He'd hold your bag, and open the door for you. He might’ve not realized it, but those gestures pushed their relationship into a strange territory—where you harbored a conflicted feeling, while he stayed blind to your frown.

Alas, everything had to come to an end. When it was time to go, he stood at the door as he teased you by asking where's his kiss. Your face turned red, and he chuckled when you stammered. He didn't expect anything out of it, but when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, he found himself at loss at words.

Back at the base, everyone stared at him for wearing his sniper hood. But he'd rather people asking him about the mask, than the cause behind his flushed face.

As he promised, he was transferred to a new team for a difficult mission. It was a secret ops, consisting of retrieving an important document from a small terrorist group, and finding the leader's whereabouts. They've reviewed the plans several times, before they put their gears on.

When they breached the base, he was the one in the front line, with a technician beside him. They knew there'd be traps and bombs, and it should've been the technician's job to detect and disarm them. But when he barged into the main office, they missed a little bomb at the corner of the room.

He was the first to shout, and the one who took the damage. When the explosive was triggered, it went off with a deafening boom, sending shrapnels into the air.

They fulfilled the objectives, but they didn't minimize the casualties. While there's zero count in death, he and three other members suffered quite injuries.

When the doctor came, he knew he would deliver bad news. He cleared his throat, before telling him about the wounds on his face. It's quite possible that he'd suffer permanent scarring, from all the shrapnels that was dug into his skin.

He didn't know what to feel about it, except for the fact that you'd see him differently.

When he came home a half year later, his gut churned when you stared at him with wide eyes. He almost turned back, if not for your hand that reached out to him, while you softly spoke.

"What happened?" You mused, "Does it still hurt?"

He was quiet when you touched him, subtly shaking his head to reassure you.

"Oh…" You frowned as you traced the jagged scars on his cheek, "It must've been hurt."

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it'd be, but the way you looked at him that moment made him silent. He wondered if he denied it, he would end up with less amount of care.

You bought him an ointment the next day, and you told him to sit down as you put it on his skin. He told you it was unnecessary since he's healed, but you said it was for the scars.

He was moved, but troubled at the same time. The thing that you'd do and the length that you went through for him, it was… endearing, to say the least. But when you touched his face, you'd wince at the roughness of the new skin.

One night, when you spread the cream on his cheek, he asked,

"Do I look so hideous with the scars, that you want them gone?"

You stopped at your track, before you stared at him. "I don't think I understand what you're saying."

"You brought me ointment just to make them gone."

"You thought I was disgusted by them?"

He didn't answer.

"Look," You shook your head as you sighed, "I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, but whatever you thought about me is wrong. I—" You bit your lip, almost wanting to stop yourself from talking, "I just, I want to do something… for you. That's the least thing I could do."

He watched you look away, with a red flush creeped up across your face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why?" You snorted, "Well, I don't know. I'm not gonna answer that."

"Do you like me, (name)?"

This time around, you were the one who stared at him.

"What are you saying—"

"Do you like me?" He repeated.

He left you speechless, tongue-tied for the question.

"(Name)."

You didn't flinch when he touched your cheek. For whatever reason, your head turned to him instead. While your eyes searched into his.

At that moment, he forgot about his doubts and went forward to kiss you. Something that he wished he'd done years before, in your bedroom, where he said his first goodbye.

You moaned against his lips, and he growled as he pulled your body into his arms. You didn't resist him, as his hand slid under your garment.

The next morning, he woke up to you on top of him, sleeping soundly, as you quietly snored against his chest. He'd thought he's still asleep, if not for the warmth of your skin against his. When he stood up, his head throbbed, as if he had a bottle of wine last night. While he wasn't drunk, he surely felt like he did.

For a moment, he couldn't remember anything, before the memories hit him all at once. The taste of your sweat, your sweet moan, and a shudder of bliss when he first came. It all came down to him like cold water.

He wasn't an innocent man, he wanted you from the start, but he knew that, once he had walked down the path, he'd have no way to return. The rage that he felt when you weren't his, and the impulse he had when you looked at him through your lashes, they were untamed. It was out of his control, and he's afraid that he'd hurt you with his obsessiveness.

But he couldn't help it. That's just his nature.

When you woke up, you found him on the side of the bed, staring at you. And you smiled at him, so sweetly, that he wished to lock it away from anyone's eye.

And when you kissed him that morning, he felt the exhilaration and the dread of free fall. Where he'd feel the sense of freedom before the gravity pulled him toward a grave. A grave that's reserved only for him.

At that moment, he knew he had to die before you. Because he wouldn't know what to do with himself when you left first.

König doesn't believe in an old wives' tale, but he'll take away your shoes if that means he'll keep you forever.

[dateko]

˚｡⋆ OUR SUMMER HOLIDAY | GOJO SATORU

summary: a slice of a lazy summer afternoon with you, gojo, and two little cursed spirits...

Having Satoru cling to you in the unforgiving summer heat is pure torture. Yet you don’t make an effort to move because there is an occasional refreshing breeze that flies by, and really, you just very much enjoy the feeling of his weight on top of you. The cicadas in the trees buzz and hiss in the distance, and Satoru hums a made-up tune, his cheek sticking to your chest like glue. The two of you stay in that position for a while, loving in silence and enjoying the afternoon, resting in the hammock.

“You’re being awfully quiet.” You muse, letting your fingers run wild through his hair. He sighs at the feeling, adjusting himself up to slot his face into the crook of your neck.

“Megumi’s not here, so I can’t bug him,” He mumbles, voice carrying a slight drawl. “Speaking of bugs, he’s probably infesting the house with them by now.”

Before school was to start again, Megumi and Tsumiki had begged their blue-eyed guardian and you for a short summer holiday. A day or two before I go back to “jail,” as the first grader called it. Knowing Satoru couldn’t say no to his two children and you not having a single mean bone in your body, the four of you set out on a road trip to one of the Gojo Clan’s vacation homes. Far from the busy city and near the roaring ocean, the house you’d all be staying in for a few days was just perfect.

Compared to your cramped and comfortable apartment back in Tokyo, the temporary home had enough space for Megumi’s demon dogs to run around and a kitchen so big it completed your happy little heart. It was a lovely weekend getaway where the kids ran around catching bugs and picking flowers, spending sunset afternoons walking along the shore and lighting fireworks at night. Satoru was certainly ecstatic, having convinced Yaga to rid him of any missions for the weekend.

“Popsicles!” Tsumiki’s voice sings as she slides open the door and steps out onto the engawa. Dressed in a white frilly sundress with embroidered strawberries, she carries around a small basket with frozen treats. Megumi trails behind with a mischievous grin, holding what looks like a stag beetle in a mason jar. They’ve certainly been busy today, unlike you and your lazy lover.

“Mm, just what I needed!” You smile, kissing Satoru’s temple sweetly, urging him to grab you one to share. To this, he pouts with a whine, unwilling to leave his cozy spot against your chest and tangling himself in the embrace of your arms. However, the strongest for you is obedient, complete putty in your presence, who dutifully complies. 

Tsumiki’s smile reaches her ears as she hands him a popsicle, and Satoru pats the top of her head as he thanks her. “Gojo, wait!” The little one calls, digging around her basket. “I have one more thing.”

Satoru raises a quizzical brow and turns to you, who shrugs, leaving your trusty hammock to reach over and grab the treat in his hands. His daughter beams up at him with a playful smile, tugging on his arm to bring him down to her height. “I made you a present!” She says proudly, revealing a carefully crafted crown made of dandelions in her hands. Satoru’s eyes widen at the gift, cheeks slightly shy as he nods, letting little hands place it carefully atop his snowy locks. He can’t seem to stop smiling today. It feels good to be loved.

“How do I look?” He stands, striking a few poses that cause a few giggles and hoots. “Should I do a twirl?”

“You look stupid.” Megumi answers flatly from his spot on the engawa, a bored expression on his face. Tsumiki scolds her younger brother before adamantly declaring that their guardian, indeed, looks like a fairy princess. 

Your boyfriend looks at you with a defeated expression, blue eyes with long batting lashes asking you to vouch for him. “Did you hear that? Megumi’s being mean,” His arms pull you into his broad chest, hands rubbing your shoulders. “You don’t think I look stupid, too, do you?” 

Shaking your head, you flash a smile and finish your popsicle with a pop. “You’re certainly the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.” 

Satoru pulls you closer and coos at your response, dipping his head down to rub his nose against yours before placing a giant kiss on your lips. The children behind you groan in disgust at the sight. You can’t help but shudder at the feeling of Satoru sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, giggling against you as he listens to Tsumiki telling Megumi to close his eyes. It’s sticky and sweet, even in the heat. The sorcerer pulls back with a smirk, his hands on your hips, squeezing you playfully. “Mmm, strawberry. My favorite.”

You roll your eyes and pinch his cheek. “You’re such a handful, ‘Toru.”

“Can we go to the beach again?” Tsumiki pips. “I wanna pick seashells!”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Satoru replies excitedly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You playfully push his annoyingly handsome face away from you, stopping him from making those lovesick, kissy faces and ogling eyes. “Sorry, but no. We went yesterday, and plus, Satoru won’t stop being annoying about it.” 

“Hey! What’s wrong with wanting to see you in a swimsuit? You act like I’ve never seen you n-”

“Okay! We can go!” You clap, embarrassed, and march back into the house, where the resting demon dogs wait for you. “Kids! Grab the picnic blanket!”

Left on his own devices and already missing you by his side, Satoru giggles as he watches you pack up with Tsumiki in the kitchen. It’s a sight he wishes he could keep forever. He wishes for more days like this one. One where the kids can continue enjoying their youth, without a care in the world. And he knows that you feel the same.

You’ve always been so loving and supportive with the kids, from the moment he showed up at your front door with two pairs of wide and innocent eyes. It’s not every day that the four of you could act as a family and not sorcerers fighting to protect humanity. Satoru realizes this is something he wants to protect for a long, long time.

“What are you giggling at? It’s creepy…” Megumi says, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

“Oh, nothing…”

note: this was... a very fruitless fic... i'm sorry... i really do not want to go back to school and also it's very hot outside so i birthed this... also i might continue writing the beach moment but really i apologize for the lack of actual real and raw writing i usually do i am... Unwell and forgot what it was like to write!!!

[dawnbreaaker]

After finishing the latest main story quest, I couldn't help but think about Gallagher and Sunday fighting over someone, just to get a scrap of attention from them.

Of course, their darling would be clueless - both men are incredibly cunning and intelligent, but not immune to the likes of their shared person of interest walking in on them having a rather.. tense moment.

Having to at least be civil while in the presence of their darling, when they want to be at eachother's throats with clever remarks and insults. Bitter glares shooting across the room, and unsaid words sitting unspoken on their tongues.

All to keep their prospective darling blissfully happy and unaware - all for a chance to hold them in their arms, all for themselves.

This is absolutely unfinished and needs some work, but if any of you big brain writers want to use this for anything, go ahead! @ me so I can eat up your writing :>

As always, reblogs are always appreciated!

[heademptysimirror]

Star to star

Next

Okay, so...here's a bunch of info.

I realized I never had anything to post on tumblr, so my brain had a brilliant idea: making a kirby comic!

Now, this is my first time seriously doing this, so there probably will be mischaracterization, plot holes, cliches, goofy drawings and a possible discontinuation.

I don't know when updates will be made or the number of pages per post, but I will try my best!

[seventhcallisto]

A PROMISE IS A SWEAR ! giom — chpt. 1

Synopsis. Matz gains a new district and a new member. The same member who trails a bunny to the den and introduces the beginning of obsession for the leaders.

Warnings. Violence. Physical harm. Und3rag3 tattooing. Teenagers(that needs it's own tw). Gang symbols. cigarett3 b3rn. Harm. And emotional harm and arguing. Please read giom masterlist before continuing.

Tuesday.

Positively, you were furious. After a not so nice call from a local man you know —your neighbor to be exact— you were mumbling up a storm. Excusing yourself through the last hour of your job just so you could catch a certain someone in the act.

With your work uniform on and a scowl on your face. Hiking up a hill through a run-down alleyway full of creeps and illegal activities. You finally caught sight of the person you'd been there to catch.

"Get off of me!" You snatched the teenager up by his arm, pinching him through his hoodie. "Jihoon, if you don't walk your skinny ass legs down this hill, I'll drag you," you stomped your heel clad foot, whisper yelling at the young man.

Jihoon was always causing problems, so threatening him like this was most likely not going to get him to listen. His face shriveled up. "You're not my mom!" He hissed back, equally furious - most likely due to the fact you had just pulled him from his group of boyfriends. Right in the middle of selling a pair of off branded shoes- and as soon as they saw you - pretended nothing was going on.

Irritation, through a false guise of shock, littered their faces as you tore and prodded the younger man away from his group of mis fit friends.

"Lee Jihoon," you whisper yelled to him this time, turning his body towards you. You take on the anger in his eyes with a frustrated scowl to clash. "Go and tell your friends you'll see them later, We're going home."

His face was turning red from embarrassment. But he knew you wouldn't back down, especially how stubborn he knows you to be. He smacked your palm off his jacket, huffing out a breath of air and turning towards the group he's with.

Within a few more seconds, he was storming past you. Hunched and full of anger as he made his way out of the entrance of the alleyway.

"Do you understand what you're doing, jihoon? It's illegal!" His footsteps rang loud on the wood of the apartment, ignoring your words- hardly bothering to take off his shoes at the entrance.

Before you could get out another frantic sentence out, he was turning his entire body your way, a snarl to his lips that resembled a dog. "What does it matter!? You're never home anyway! The cops can't pin shit on me-"

"Watch your mouth!" You yelled back, eyes widening. "I'm never home cause I am working! Don't you get that? These nice things you have- the school you go to! I have to pay for all of it somehow!" You gestured to his bedroom, posters and nick nacks littered about. "If I don't work, you can't have these things," your eyebrows furrowed. It was always so frustrating talking to him- with the exact copy of his mother's attitude.

He scoffed, "Whatever" he walked away from you, closing his door with a harsh slam.

These little outbursts would burn and simmer, like the crust on a volcano.

You stepped outside- to have a moment to yourself. Calming down from such a heightened situation- it wasn't good for you to let it bubble. But with jihoon- raising him, it was hard.

The silence of the evening gave you some peace of mind. And despite the situation of your day. You were beginning to feel relaxed, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of cars- cats- and the occasional dog barking.

"Tough day?" Changbin beckoned your attention, his large arms crossed over the balcony, you glanced to your door, having realized he heard everything.

"Yes- well, tough to my standards anyway." You laughed lightly, sighing. Changbin tilted his head at you, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "If it helps.. I know a lot of guys who went through this rebellious phase." he gestured to your apartment door, seemingly talking about jihoon. "They usually outgrow it, yknow, teenagers always act out. I know, I sure did."

You chortle at that. Palming your head as you looked out over the city, finally, you turned to meet changbins eyes, his presence having grown closer, right next to you on the railing. Comfortably, you sat with him for a second longer. "You? Rebellious?" You grinned. The fun- gentle man next to you, the one you've known for at least four years. And still have yet to properly get to know each other.

He laughed, his face scrunching. "What? Do I not seem rebellious enough?" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, pouting. You laughed again. "No, no, I just wasn't expecting that, considering you're a -" You stopped short, remembering what jihoon had said earlier, you cleared your throat in the silence. He finished for you, glancing out to the city as well. "A cop?"

He leaned back over the railing with a sigh, nodding his head. "I heard that too. He's a bit cocky, considering he lives next to one." Changbin murmured. You shook your head, embarrassed on behalf of the teenager under your care. "I'm sorry-" "don't be. I gave my mom a hard time, too. He'll learn." The man shrugged off your apology, another drag of his cigarette, before he dabbed it out, fiddling with the end.

"But I'm not his mom. He has a reason to give me a hard time." You sighed heavily, letting the words flow before you cut them off, biting your lip. Changbin noticed, he's a keen man, a detailed man, it was a part of his job. He shook his head, twisting his body towards you.

Before he could come up with a sentence, you smiled gently. "Thanks for calling me, I hate when he does that" you groaned, remembering how upsetting it was to witness the young man attempt to brute force his way into getting another schoolmate to buy the pair of shoes they laid out.

Whatever jihoon had been doing wasn't legal. And you knew- you know. So, of course, changbin would know too - he was a cop after all, a detective to be exact, it was his job to notice these things. "Maybe a little juvie would do him some good," you sighed, a poor attempt at a joke- yet changbin still laughed heartily.

"If you need someone to scare the piss outta him, let me know, I've got a few people in mind." Changbin pocketed the end of his cigarette, bumping your elbow with his just as he left.

Wednesday. Always full of woe.

The downpour of rain filtered out the chatter of the company hongjoong was kept in. Barked laughter and forced smiles as the people around him conversed. The only person to take any interest in it was on his right. Seonghwa could make up excuses for the lack of attention his partner was providing. But the grin on the peak of hongjoongs cupids bow was driving Hwa wild with curiosity.

"What has you so happy?" The taller of the two murmured under his breath, his companion heard it - and with a clear of his throat, peaked over his glasses to the dark-haired man. "I'll tell you later"

Seonghwa sighed, bringing his glass of champagne to his lips. "Later couldn't come sooner," he replied with a sigh.

Hongjoong was in a better mood than he had been any other time of the week, with the stress that comes with a business- especially as big as this one- he could finally catch a breath of fresh air.

With one long sigh, the car door finally snapped shut, with seonghwa sitting right beside him.

"Where to?" Jongho, the leaders trusted men (and occasional driver) asked as he glanced through the rear view mirror, his brown hair framing his eyes. Hongjoongs smile perked up, seonghwa had noticed. "You know where jongho" hongjoong waved his question off with a smile, shrugging into his large fur coat.

Seonghwas attention turned back to the blonde seated next to him. "So? Where to?" Seonghwa copied jongho, questioning the shorter- yet beaming man. Hongjoong shifted in his seat, his grin faltering when his tongue poked his cheek. "You'll see." hongjoong kept the secret, seonghwa could argue– but it was typical of the younger to be so secretive sometimes.

Once the sleek black car had rolled to a stop. The evening had set, and finally, the moon was beginning to cast its beams across the streets. Seonghwa took notice of the passing buildings. Unease, unsure of the surroundings- matz hadn't stepped this far out of their comfort zone in a while unless there was a meeting. So the rural area, compared to the city, was a stark contrast to his scenery setting.

Practically bouncing out of his seat, hongjoong ushered seonghwa out of his own as soon as the fur covered man swung open his door. Of course- he was happy about something. And seonghwa was beginning to have a clue.

His eyebrow tilted up at the bubbly, shade wearing man- contrasting against seonghwa who was dressed in the best suit for the earlier occasion. He pocketed his hands, watching hongjoong with curious eyes.

In his right, hongjoong spun with the proudest grin on his face. Gesturing to the open area, a park, where seonghwa had recalled only ever passing by once- back when they were meeting with another acquaintance. Hongjoong beckoned the older man over, lacing his hands over a railing, with one other foot on the steps. He stood proudly over the peering hill, a grin still prominent on his face.

Ah. That's what it was. "You could have just told me," seonghwa mentioned with a sigh, running his hand over his hair and fixing any loose threads. Joong chuckled, "it wouldn't be special that way" he sighed, leaning on the railing- childishly, unable to sit still. Seonghwa laughed airily. "I suppose so, considering it's a wide district." Seonghwa murmured, taking his spot next to the blonde.

Hongjoong shifted his body towards the taller, still looking out over the railing at the quiet below. "It's ours now." Hongjoong whispered, almost unable to believe it himself- crime wasn't easy in this area, the cops were strict, which ended up with tight attitudes and unwilling participants.

But finally, hongjoong found a willing distributor, and he seemed permanent for the time being- until he could be replaced.

"I've got a few of them out here already, watching." Hongjoong gestures to four distinct areas, seonghwa perched his arms on the rail. Glittery lights catching every which way. He turned his attention back to the ecstatic man. "And who's watching them?" He hummed.

There was hardly any trust for the underlings, not to say they weren't loyal to the cause, just that they were easily swayed and amateurs, so of course, seonghwa had to ask.

"Mingi"

Seonghwa took in a hiss of breath, the most loyal of all- a little clumsy though. Hongjoong could sense seonghwas thought. "This one is his. He practically begged for it." Joong sniffled a laugh, recalling the plead of the other member. "He said he could take care of it."

There was a silence for a moment before seonghwa spoke up.

"Do you trust him?" He asked. Hongjoong tilted his head, sliding his glasses to lay on the top of his head. He turned his face towards seonghwa for the first time during their conversation, and nodded.

"I trust you, don't I?" Hongjoong answered.

Thursday.

The following day was just as bad as you thought. Things may seem easier the next morning. But jihoon had still ignored you, even as you prepared him a breakfast along with his fresh uniform. A scowl on his pouty- still childish face. It made you want to turn in and wave the white flag.

So, when you sit at the empty kitchen table, staring at the packaged food –that had been coldly left behind– and reminiscing on how you could hardly get the same treatment from your parents growing up, do you begin to feel the ache of missing your best friend.

You couldn't dwell on it. Not when you had work.

Jihoon is as difficult as his mother. Purgatory thoughts playing in your mind over and over. Although your best friend Lia wasn't shy from being mean - borderline - a bully, she was still loyal and caring, and she loved jihoon. She would have had the best lines to say and tell; to convince him to get his act straight. But she wasn't here. And as his godmother, you had the responsibility to play mommy.

You really wished she was here. She'd know how to take care of these things. You've always been the softer one in the duo.

It's past 12, and you have an early shift tomorrow. You sit at the kitchen table, dazed and daydreaming as you wait. When you think over what could be happening, bile rises in your stomach. Jihoon hasn't returned home, and his phone is apparently off. He has been gone for hours. More so than usual.

What can you even do?

The front door is quietly unlocked in the silence.

You spring from the kitchen chair, watching the door be pushed in, followed by a hooded figure who doesn't bother to flicker on any of the lights.

Your hands are spinning him around the next second, although jihoon is taller than you- the veracity of your movement tugs him to face you.

You pull the hood down next, glaring his bruised face in-between broken orbs and clenched teeth, looking at the fresh cuts along his lip and nose. "Where have you been?" You say, as calmly as you can muster. Jihoons shoulders fall. "Out," he mustered, shrugging his shoulder past you to pull off his jacket.

You pull him back by his upper arm before he can go any farther. He winces but makes no move to push you off. His head is tilted towards the floor, and his breathing is labored - tired from whatever activity he had just gotten up to.

"Jihoon, your mom wouldn't want this -" his hand snakes out of your grasp as if you burnt him. "What did you just say?" He scoffs, clicking his tongue. You don't falter. "Yo-" "No, no, you don't get to do that. You don't get to use that against me cause I don't even know what she was like." You go to cut him off. "You know that's not true-"

His foot meets the stool as he kicks it frustrated, a silent curse coming from his mouth.

"I don't know if anything you say is true, I don't even know if you're really someone she'd leave me with to take care of. It's all just bullshit anyway, right?" His snarky tone wavers, his throat pinching close the longer he stays on this subject.

"I'm going to bed" he brushes you off once more when you attempt to reach out.

And you have the same lump in your throat. You don't know what to say yourself. You don't know how to fix this. You don't know what you're doing.

Friday.

Halfway through your shift, do you get another dreadful call- voice-mail this time, since you can't answer your phone during school hours. On the other end is changbin- but this time, he's just dropping information off for you.

"Hey y/n, I'm sorry to be telling you this, but -" he takes a heavy sigh, "one of my colleagues told me about seeing a kid similar to jihoon.. coming from this new operation we're in the middle of. It's a big nightclub - full of colors - hell, you can see it from a mile away, so just ask around. It just got up and running, we - don't tell anyone I said this - but we're looking at charges if he happens to be caught in there. It's not safe for him. that's all. Call me when you get this- we can go together. Do not go on your own. I'll talk to you later."

The end of Friday is full of dread. The streets are full of characters for the night. Fools and drunks and corner girls and the occasional normal group of friends, no matter who it is- you ask.

"The club full of bright lights?"

A man finally repeats your question. He's not entirely sober, nor is he blackout either. He points over his shoulder, giving lazy directions. But as you go, you thank him. Changbin was right. You couldn't miss it from a mile now that you were in a neighboring alleyway- heaving from having run everywhere to find this place.

The front is guarded with men in jackets, smoking cigarettes, and scaring the stragglers who stare a little longer than they should.

You power through, attempting to blend in with a crowd of rowdy girls who are easily let in- You're stopped by the collar of your shirt, pulled out of it and faced to face with a scarred man, eyeing you up and down.

"Are you trying to sneak in? Hey, why didn't you just ask to be let in? What kind of shit are ya trying to pull?" His heavy palm smacks your cheek, pat pat, your skin reverbs from the tiny hits- its a slap to your pride in a way. You scowl at the stranger.

"Theres someone in there I need to get" you defend yourself, pushing the man off your collar. His snarky grin drops into a scowl, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lip dangerously. "I'm not buying that princess." The man flicks the ash your way, glancing to the other man on the door.

Your appearance is a contrast to everyone else. Your in your best dress for parent-teacher day, having cut it short to find jihoon. You stick out like a sore thumb. Fuck. You're really not getting past this guy.

You had to do something.

"He's underage! He's a kid, a kid shouldnt be in there- If I can't go in and get him- I'm gonna call the cops!" You're making a scene now- you're panicking, you have no idea if jihoon is okay, no idea whether or not he's doing drugs or getting himself hurt.

You're scared for him. But the glance in both of the men's eyes is your top worry. Threats about the cops coming around seems to gather attention, onlookers glancing your way and beginning to crowd the front door. "Cops?" The first man laughs, snatching your arm up with an icy grip that has you hissing in pain. "Are you threatening us? Ma'am, that's not proper. We're running a business here." His tone is attempting to be lighthearted, but the danger behind his grip and smile is driving the breath out of your lungs.

You're dragged inside by the same guy, the lights, the music- everything screams danger with this situation, not only that but the faces- the troubled people around here is nothing safe. You catch glimpses of people snorting different color substances off each table, tiny shiny and distinct pills littered around. Smoke and the burning smell of cigarettes- and something else, something heavy and damp, funky smelling. Earthy. You body makes contact with the door to a room and you're pushed into it abruptly.

Your feet stumble forward towards the middle of the room, where you finally find your balance. Cards are placed on a wide and round glass table and this place smells the worse of the earthy smoke, it clings to every surface, making you cough. When you do, the man in the center of the red velvet couch in front of you peaks up over his glasses.

His hair is white- silver almost, long enough to tuck behind his ears. He gestures with a ringed finger to the man with you to speak.

"She's threatening to talk to the cops."

"She a regular?"

"No, never seen her around here before"

The silver haired man takes a heavy sigh,, he parts from the woman and men around him to meet you face to face. He's tall- intimidating. His height is no joke. He scans you up and down with dark eyes. Emotions you can't grasp on his features.

Whoever the people are, they aren't bothering to look your way, quiet and head down. Sheep's amongst a wolf. He's obviously in charge here. "Look- I don't know who you are but you have kids in here- this isn't a place they should be-"

The flicker of a lighter sounds through the quiet room. The sound of music muffled behind the door gaurded by the man and another. You watch the silver haired stranger take a drag of a cigarette after flipping his lighter closed, the red pulse of light igniting in front of you, it silences you quickly.

"Listen." He starts with a hum, nodding his head as the smoke hits your face, he takes your hand in his, gently patting his large, calloused fingers over yours. You hesitate to let him have it, unsure of his motive. "I understand your concern, but we don't have kids here sweetheart, we don't allow that. Youth is important to our future, right? Isn't that what everyone thinks?" He glances around shortly, switching out the hand holding the cigarette to cage your palm in-between. You can feel the heat of it, see the ash starting to form at the top.

"That's not true." You whisper. His eyes squint. "You calling me a liar?" He murmurs, stepping closer.

"I'm calling bullshit" you hold your head high.

It's silent. Air so tense and thick, you can't tell if it's the smoke or the feeling lingering in your chest. But this man, he's not safe. None of this is. And you're really testing your luck here. "I need-" you start again. But the sudden burn of specks on the back of your hand makes you whimper in pain, attempting to draw back your limb from the man.

He holds it tightly in his, flicking ash onto the back of it, the sting makes you hiss, before he brings the cigarette back to his full lips, your fingers pale from the force.

He takes a drag, blowing it in your face once again.

"I don't like being called a liar." He pouts into his words, dusting the ash across your skin with his thumb, a warning at most. But it stings slightly when he flips your palm over to examine the lines.

"You come in here and threaten my place, I've only been nice to you this entire time." He holds his free hand over his heart. "What do you want exactly, sweetheart?" He squints down at you. The nickname makes your stomach lurch uncomfortably.

"I told the guy at the front. There's someone in here i need-" "and who is that someone?" You go quiet, squinting up your nose at him. He stares back for the next seconds. One.. two.. three-

There's the stinging burn to your palm, it aches and you screech in pain. Attempting to bring your hand back from the heat. A cigarette that is searing into the soft skin in the middle of your palm. You wail at it, a pain so uncomfortable you forgot it even felt real. The ash darkens when he puts it out. Smearing it across your palm. His eyes are unlike what you've seen, no remorse or mercy, just evil.

"I'm not going to ask again. Giving me attitude when I've been sweet-" "i-im not please-" you beg, anything to stop the pain and sting on your palm, to get the man before you to stop before he does something else, something worse. "Shh, quiet, I'm talking." he pats his palm over the open wound. You whimper once more, tears welling in your eyes. It hurts.

Before his lips fall open again. The door behind you swings open.

It's the other man from the front door. Followed by.. a few individuals, you can hardly see with the blur in your eyes.

"Raeun?" The second man to walk through questions. He's taller- his body adorned in what seems to be the closest thing to a suit. A pair of glasses and short- almost buzzcut black and blonde hair. Raeun- the man who grips your palm looses his grip, and you pull it as quickly as you can to your chest.

"Mingi" he huffs. "Come to join so soon?" He laughs, glancing to you. The man, from towards the entrance does the same. "Yeah, Came as soon as I got the go ahead" mingi replies plainly, walking further into the room. "Leave" he gestures to the people across the couch.

An array of limbs and people pass you, but- when you turn to leave, you're stopped by him. "You, stay." Mingi swings his finger out to call you over to him. Gesturing to the couch.

You really don't know what's going on. But mingi is gentle as he grabs your palm, glancing for approval- you don't respond.

"Seonghwa said no more burns, whats this then?" Mingi tilts the wound towards raeun. The same man scoffs. "She said she was gonna call the cops." "And you think this was gonna stop her?" Mingi groans, letting your hand go. You cradle it back to your chest, watching the tall man step up to raeun.

"Get your shit and go, you're out" mingi turns on his heel, stepping back out of the silver man's way to let him leave. Raeun scoffs loudly, "you can't kick me out of here, I made this place what it is-"

"Yeah and where did that lead you?" Mingi waves his hand out to the club. Raeuns face drops even further into anger. "Fuck- is this about her? We can just pay the bitch off-"

"Raeun" mingi hisses his name. The tension could be cut with a knife and you try everything to make yourself smaller in it. "Get. Out." Mingi points to the door.

Raeuns fit seems to cease, a smile creeping up his skinny features. "Oh, you got the position didn't you? The captain finally gave you something huh?" Raeun laughs loudly, holding his stomach that pokes out of a silky cheetah print shirt.

"Which means you're out." Mingi confirms. "Go." He says once more, it's a threat, the tone speaks for itself. Raeun doesn't bother once more, kicking the door open on his way out.

Your heart drops when the door slams shut behind him. Your labored breath calming to accommodate the quiet in the room. Mingi heaves a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the far side of the couch. His hand rakes through his messy hair, parting the spikes to docile them down. With a single hand in his hair and another reaching out for a glass- presumably full of whiskey, mingi finally glances your way.

You're a shaking aching mess, it doesn't take a genius to notice you're not for this lifestyle. You're dressed like a librarian in the midst of a nightclub for fuck's sake. Your palm is clutched tightly, as if you're attempting to squeeze the pain away. Your eyebrows are knitted and you're curled into yourself. Lost in thought.

"What are you doing here?" Mingi breaks the silence. You jump, turning your head his way.

"I'm looking for someone." You quietly answer. Mingi nods, lifting the whiskey to his lips. "Who?" He asks before he takes a gulp of the alcohol. "A boy, his- he goes by jihoon, he's five-eight- probably taller now- i - we haven't checked in a bit, he's got messy an-and curly black hair- it, well.. he hasn't let me trim it in a while and-" your rambles encourages a bubble in your throat, a sob beginning to form.

You could have gotten hurt worse, you still can, you could die here, you could be trafficked, mingi seems capable of it if he was able to test someone like raeun. And now the only thoughts in your mind are how you wish jihoon hadn't been mad, how you wish he could know you love him- in case you do happen to die, or end up missing. How the last thing you did with him was argue.

Your throat closes in when an image of the younger version of the boy shows up in your minds eye. The sob breaks out "he's just a kid, he's all i got- I'm all he's got, I don't want him here, please" you beg, for his sake, more than yours- mingi is so quiet, his aura is scary, he's not like anyone you've ever met before.

"Hey," he calls softly, your face twisting to see his. His eyes have caved, soft and understanding, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to go get your boy, and you're not coming back. You hear me?"

Mingi makes his statement clear just as he gets up to leave.

The breath lodged in your throat exits as you nod. The dull ache of your hand plays at the back of your mind - finally, you'll be able to see jihoon, and you'll both leave.

You'll leave. Together.

There's no windows in this room. There is no light besides the TV in the corner. It flickers with a show you don't know, a familiar actor beating down on multiple men. Your eyes are blurry - and you wonder if you happen to have a first aid kit at home, possibly - if you haven't used all of the content on jihoon from his many fights and bruises. It feels like an eternity while you wait, hoping for light in the darkness.

You hope jihoons okay.

Your hope is answered when the door once again swings open. Mingi is holding jihoon by the scruff of his neck, pushing him into the room, but he sidesteps out of the way to let someone else in.

The cast of the club lights create a halo around the man, the beads of the entrance jingle when he steps inside, like crystals, the light bounces off every inch of the glass beads, illuminating the man in the fur coat from behind.

His hair is a vibrant blue, His nose has a define point, his lips are naturally plump- He's pretty. Which is a surprise. And you thought Raeun was the boss. No.. it's this man. With his cream colored fur coat and his tight leather jeans, a buckle with a silver star to top it off and a sheer black and white top. His shoes are leather, reptilian in design. A pair of dark glasses slotted against his forehead when he pushed them up. Your eyes meet.

It's dangerous. He's dangerous. Everything screaming. This is the type of man you'd see on TV, draped in luxurious brands and with a snarky attitude to come with it, a past- and scars along his figure, fuck- this guy is no good. He's a snake in man's skin. A wolf in sheep's clothing. And you can tell.

"Mingi" his eyes never stray from yours, as if stalking prey, his voice is light and inviting. Mingi glances his way, then yours with a silent response to the man "captain." He pushes jihoon forward and drags the hilt of his shirt up. You stand- to protest, to tell them don't touch him.

But the ink along jihoons skin is a sign of surprise. Of fear to your racing heart.

"Your boy here," the captain pats the young boy on his shoulder, jihoon grimaces, head down turned. "Has our symbol, he has the mark of ateez, and that means he won't be leaving anytime soon."

The lines of an 'A' are sharp, a circle to encase it, it spans almost the entirety of jihoons left pec. It's fresh ink. your stomach churns and twists. You think you're going to be sick.

"Jihoon is one of ours now." He finishes, clicking his tongue.

"Jihoon?" You quietly call. For him to say it's a joke, a sick one- but his face remains the same. Furrowed and ashamed.

Tears well up in your eyes once again. You've failed - failed as a guardian and failed your best friend. You failed the little boy you were given, and you've failed his father and future.

"Please. Please- okay- he's a child- he's only fourteen!" You plead with the man, slipping to your knees, desperate as you are- you're willing to do anything to prevent jihoon from throwing away his future.

The captains' fingers hold a coin- something you haven't seen before then. The men peer back at you in the dark of the room. "I-" "the ink is already there." He nudges jihoons left side, the boy groans in pain, most definitely sore.

"There's no changing that," he nods towards you, flicking the younger boy's cheek. His eyes are demeaning when he stares down at your figure. This all seems like a joke to him. With one final glance to your shaking body, the vibrant haired man turns away towards the door.

"Please. I'll do anything." You beg.

His steps falter. The coin makes contact with the metal of his rings as he plays with it. It dings every so often, like a clock in the silence over and over.

Clink, clink, clink, clink- ...

"Don't make promises you can't keep." You can hear the perk to the man's voice, a smile through his tone. "I can keep it." You confirm without another beat, gulping back your tongue.

"I can keep my promises."

"I swear on my heart."

[serxinns]

I was thinking of doing this trope but I wanted to give it to you!! So we all know class 1A is obsessive and sickly in love with their darling. But think of it- if the darling was secretly yan as well. So one night as a student goes snooping through y/n’s room they find a hidden diary and it is how they love their classmates and know little things- and how they stalk them too. But y/n doesn’t really notice the class is yan too!! I think it’s cute idea

OMG YES BRO THIS IS LIKE UNHEALTHY OBSESSION IN A NUTSHELL

It all made sense it actually would've all made sense

Now when you 1st went into the class you were so elated you just wanted to hug everyone and anyone you you were just a t the most innocent little sweetheart that needed to be protected and coddled you were always brought gifts and adorable little cards whenever they felt sad or gave them little dolls of themselves you were very protective of them which made their hearts swoon you even didn't mind of their coddling and disturbingly obsessive nature! You were just perfect

But something was weird going around like why Denki felt like being watched when he was in the middle of changing or another day Hakagure and Mina were shocked when they saw their rooms in a mess and hakagures lucky shirt was gone and Mina's favorite socks were missing strange but it wasn't you right..but even the more they hung out with you the more strange behaviors they notice

Like when you knew strangely what Bakugo's favorite food was and how he liked it and made it in a all might theme bento box but bakugo didn't mind ofc he thought it was secretly adorable but off or how you would give strong hugs to kirishima or whenever he got hurt you'll quickly get protective and even bring a medkit with you even tho it was just a small scratch,

Ochako noticed how one of the plushies you gave her had a strange blinking red light on their eye... or Mina felt a dark aura behind her when she was talking to Kendo but it was just you at 1st she would brush it off now it felt suspicious or whenever izuku ask for information about you, you would try to add a bit more saying "well my quirk is that but do you know my hands get softer and warmer the more I use my quirk " or "did you know i also use this type of shampoo" it was almost like you were trying to impress him. But they all brushed it off cause it's no way they thought it was you!

That was untill one day..

Sero was on the way to invite you to hang out with him and the bakusquad he went to your door and knocked, There was no answer so he pushed the door and was prised it was open he knew it was wrong to sneak in people's rooms but he can't help it You just was so addicting so he checked to see if the coast was Cleary and slowly went in shutting your door behind him he started snooping and looking under your bed for stuff he can keep but that was until he saw a small little (favorite color) diary with stickers on it and a do not open on there sero thought it was cute and open it

At 1st the pages were innocent just talking about your day and your interests and all that sero just sighed dreamily but as he flipped to the next page he was shocked there were little doodles of Kota and you were explaining how adorable and quiet he was and he admired how much he loved animals and was thinking into going into his room and see what type of animal he like so you can gift him it.!? Sero's eyes were wide open and as he flip to the next page he saw that you did the same think with Sato, then tokoyami, then Mina, then on and on it goes he realized how each chapter were pages dedicated to them!

He got up quietly put the diary in his shirt hiding it and quickly opened the dorm door quietly shut the door and started walking away needing to tell the others

When Sero made it to the comment room Mina saw him and jumped and ran to him looking around to see if you were there and pouted to see no "Hey Sero where y/n I thought you were gonna get her what gives!" She said hands on her hips and looking sternly at him "I didn't find them but I found their diary.." now everyone in the common room was eyes on him curious of what was in the diary "a diary sweet dude! Lemme read it!" Denki was about to snatch the diary out of sero hands untill iida protested

"what made you think reading someone's private property is just wrong" "Oh please don't act like Mr goodie two shoes when I saw you getting your pair of shorts your just as bad as all of us class rep," Jirou said with a sly smirk while iida glared at her about to say something but bakugo harshly interrupted "ARE YOU DUMBASS IS GONNA CLMOUR AND BICKER OR JUST OPEN THE DAMN BOOK ALREADY?" Iida and Jirou got silent and looked at each other while Denki got the book out of Sero's hands and began to read it let's say if his jaw was in the ocean it would've dropped down to where the deep sea critters

Some students noticed this and they started to look im the diary one by one they pass it to another curious student and their reaction was just the same at the time everyone reaction was shocked even Bakugo looked slightly surprised they wanted to say something but they couldn't they were just speechless untill they heard you skipping down the halls Mina quickly grabbed the book and threw it under the couch and everyone acted normal trying not to either question you or to jump up and hug you and squeal

"Hey guys have you seen my diary!" Everyone started at your bright smile faced "n-nope no diary here hehe.."

Everyone else joined in stating they were either in the common room or in their dorms you looked at them for a second and signed "aw darn clumsy me probably left it in the lunch room be such a shame if someone read it"

most of your classmates could've sworn they felt venom in your voice when you said that which sent chills but adoration at the same time "Anyway I'm gonna go to bed see ya in the morning" Everyone said goodnight to you waving and all and they were left alone with their thoughts

They were gonna have to talk to you tomorrow afterthie

[cathedraldecay]

2004 // 2022

HE’S BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR 18 YEARS

[peramess]

TW: Smut, Blood Sex, Swearing, Gore, Murder, Crazed Reader, DARK WRITING, Bit of Angst, Etc

Paring: Michael Myers X Female Reader.

A/N: Holy fuckkkk???? I posted???? Ohhhh my goddddd???? Anyway, i hope this it good for ya! :P

A harsh sound of sawing sounded throughout the small, dim room, the four concrete walls housed many cracks and patches of old, muddy colored blood, the ceiling was crumbling within itself, the old wood molding and in one of the corners, a wet substance dripped from a broken pipe sticking out of the ceiling, the ground was covered in new and old blood, and bits and pieces of human skin and bones. You hummed softly over the sound of your sawing, the music helping you concentrate on your task at hand.

Quite literally, you snickered to yourself as you waved the sawed off hand into blank, cloudiness eyes of the corpses face that laid bare before you on a metal table, before tossing the hand into a steel bin full of other decapitated limbs and blood.

As you threw the hand, your hand caught your gaze almost immediately.

Taking a moment to stare down at your hands, wet blood staining your skin all the way up to your shoulders to which was dryer and crackling over your skin but that didn't deter your fascination. It was art in your eyes, and you reveled in it. The smell, the dark color, the warmth of being submerged in it, even the taste. Everything about blood pulled you in, warmed your insides alit, creating this air of pleasure and destruction and power around you. Just looking at it, breathing in the coppery tang filled you with pleasure and joy.

Closing your eyes, you let out a silent, breathy groan as you placed the bloody hand saw onto the metal table, the toothed blade bathed in red substance as it glinted under the rustic, metal pendent lamp. You would've admired it, taken a photo of its beauty, had you kept your eyes open, but you didn't, you couldn't help but sink into the desire of being bathed in the wet blood on your hands. Bringing them up to your face, you began to rub one hand over your neck and the other over your features.

Oh, how badly you wanted to surrounded by it. To be immersed fully, to drown in it. It's... It was absolute Heaven.

"Fuck." You whispered breathlessly as a heat pooled down into your groin, you could feel your face pull into one of pleasure as you covered yourself with the blood from your hands, and a delightful hum thrummed your entire body.

Wetness bloomed within your panties, the fabric becoming coated with your desire, as your breasts tingled and your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your messy top. You knew your fixation with blood was abnormal, strange, disgusting, disturbing to others, but you couldn't give a fuck of what others thought and saw you. Most of your victims claimed you a monster, and you decided that yes, you were and you loved it. Besides, they deserved it, to be gutted like the fools and pigsty they were. To be given such treasure, such beauty, within themselves and only for them to waste it and not fall under the depths of its magnificence befuddled you, offended you so deeply that you had to do something about it. They do not deserve this. They do not deserve to hold that pureness within their selfish body's.

At the age of sixteen, you were finally free of the constant, looming pressure of your peers and their ignorance when you made your first kill. You were free from your shackles and lived amongst the gods as you rubbed your face and neck in absolute beauty. But of course, it was short lived, after your second attempt to reach that holy place once again, you were interrupted by the bigots who swore to protect those lower to them, thus being hauled off to Smith's Grove Surgical Hospital. The wretch that was taken from you was your last unsuccessful kill, of course, you killed the cop who found you first, and the lawyer that was put on your case, and a few nurses at the hospital.

A smile crept onto your lips as you reminisce the screams of utter terror they gifted you so freely, they're fearful gaze watching on as you tear them open just to paint yourself with their hidden beauty.

"As I bathe in the blood of the unworthy, I step closer to divinity, and my place amongst the Gods is assured."

Those words, those words were spoken by you each time you bathed yourself in their essence, and even now you speak those holy words, the smile on your lips growing as your chest rumbled from laughter.

If only they knew this pure ascendance, to know where their true beauty lay just under layers of skin and fat. But, of course, they don't. The absolute idiots. Why? Why do they not see?

"Why was I placed in a world of vermin?" Your smile fades as you are pulled from your high, your words just a mumble, "They're so fucking blind, so fucking stupid to not see." Your features twist with disgust, your palms fisting with anger as you stared at the wall before you, "To live amongst these... these hypocrites who cry and fear they're own beauty within themselves yet pledge themselves to wars, to the destruction playing on their radios and TVs, wasting themselves away for the horror they read on newsletter's I would gladly bestow onto them for free. and yet I am the monster." You huff, your body bending forward and you place your hands onto the blooded table.

I will be that in they're eyes, and I will proudly wear that badge with a smile, as long as I can make them see, to witness their magnificence being fully appreciated and cherished instead of it being wasted by their stupidity.

Breathing in and out slowly, your agitated nerves dwindling into embers then ash as you watch a trail of blood drip down of the table and onto the floor with fascination.

"Tell me, Michael," You spoke softly, your gaze stuck the the magnificence before you, "Are you like the pests that roam with blind eyes? Or are you like me? A... monster? A monster that sees their own potential, their own worthiness and holiness?" Reluctant, you broke your gaze away and rose up to turn behind you, to look upon the man standing in the opening of your doorway. You knew Michael from your unwelcomed stay at the hospital. But you only met him when you were there after a year. You were seventeen then, and he, sixteen. It was obvious from the moment you two met, you two would be inseparable.

And, of course, someone knew that before either of you did. Dr. Loomis, your shared psychiatrist. But one thing he didn't see was just how you two would become fast friends.

Ms. Ursula - or, in your words - Mrs. Cuntface. She was a widowed nurse who pushed her rage and frustrations onto patients as long as the higher ups wasn't looking, an absolute bitch. She was assigned to sit in the room you and Michael were placed in, to watch how you interacted and to chart it down for Dr. Loomis as he was busy with another rowdy patient of his. You and Michael didn't say much at all, well, only you spoke - just a little - he spoke not a word towards you nor to the nurse. He only stared, his bright blue eyes hollow of emotion staring you down from behind his black mask. You could tell it was self made, from the cracks and wrinkles, you guessed it was made from paper mache, (you don't really know though since you never made anything out of the stuff), his hair is a dirty blond and unkempt as it hangs over his shoulders, and a throng of strands hid the mask some. But one thing you noticed out of everything else, was his wrists chained to the table, just like yours.

Was he like me? Does he fall witness to the desire of ascension just as I do?

"I like your mask." You spoke with a small tilt to your head and you noticed his head slowly following your movements. "Can you tell me your name?" The only sound that was made after your question was from the nurse huffing in annoyance. You ignored her and tilted your head in the opposite direction to see what he would do, and as you predicted, he mocked your movements at a gradual pace. You smiled at that and then introduced yourself, all the while moving your head side from side with him following along.

"Will you shut up!" The nursed would yell in pure annoyance as she sent you a firm glare. You only smiled in return, "Make me, worm." You had giggled as you gazed into her eyes, her features pulling into one of rage, and the redness flowing up into her face entranced you. But it was short lived as she stomped onto her feet and rushed to your side with a raised hand, slapping you across your face. But, you only laughed as your cheek began to burn.

Laughed as she then yanked your frizzy hair back, snapping your head up to hers. Her face was so red with pumping blood that it made your heart stutter, the rage in her eyes absolute and her sneering mouth forcing crinkles around her old, ugly face.

No. That will not do. You thought, your chest seizing from disgust that rolled over your excitement, it needs to go. That beauty shouldn't be hiding behind her disgusting, wrinkled skin. No. No. No. No. I will not have it.

Her voice was muted to you even though her lips moved in a rapid pace, her yells and cusses towards you all silent against your beating heart bombing into your ears as your stomach churned with determination to rib by her offensive wrinkles and spotted skin.

And even though her hold on your hair was tight, the rage and need didn't quiet, quite the apposite, in fact. It burned you, gutted you so deeply that her skin was still there. IT. NEEDS. TO. GO.

With a powerful surge, you rose, your lips parting quickly as your teeth sunk into the meat of her nose and upper lip. Her screams was lost to you as blood filled your mouth. Yes. Yesss. You could almost cry from sheer happiness as your tongue tasted the sweet, sweet blood gushing into your mouth. And you moaned in pleasure.

She tried to pull back but it wasn't easy, your teeth had deepened into her skin so much that even she knew if she continues, her skin would be ripped from her. But she wasn't thinking clearly, panic and fear forcing her frantic hands to push you away, and with a snap, her skin was torn from her as she fell against the table, her trembling hands holding her face as she screamed and sobbed.

Your sour mood was no more as the blood pooled from the large gash behind her hands, painting her body with the art you've allowed to be set free. You laughed, the joyous sound forcing your lips apart and the skin fell from your mouth and onto your lap.

So beautiful. So, so beautiful.

She was gasping for air, drowning in her own blood. You continued to laugh, chanting those sacred words over and over as you rocked back and forth in glee, the cuffs bounding your wrists clinking against the table from your movements.

You watch as she staggered to her feet, her wet hands pulling at the tables sides to help her pull herself up as she gasps and sobs for help, her upper half falling over the table as she heaves. And you watch as Michael, now standing, his hands still bound just as yours are, reach for her head. He struggled slightly as he pulls her to him by her hair as she thrashes and turns in his hold and you rushed to your feet and pushed your knees onto the table. Now with better access, you bent down and sank your teeth into her screaming face once again, tearing into her cheek and pulling back before diving back again and again until there was nothing left. All the while, Michael, had held her in place as she thrashed and pulled away from you both but he never let go, not until she ceased all movement.

You couldn't stop laughing, the art under you too pure and too joyous for you that just the thought of holding in your happiness was far too cruel.

"You did amazing!" You told him after your fit of laughter, but the smile was just as big and bloody as before, you stared at him, your chest heaving with excitement, "You helped me set her free!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "And-! And look! We both are wearing masks now!" You laugh and laugh as he only stared, and even though he stood there emotionless, his eyes told you a different story, he was proud, happy to find someone like him. "You're like me." You gasp with a laugh, "We're partners now! You and me!"

Is he? You think now as you stare at him, the dim lighting in the room showing very little of him as the upper half of his body was coveted in shadows. He helps, yes, but he doesn't express your joy, your fondness for the art you shed, you see that now. He... He doesn't see.

Your heart quaked heavily at that, your stomach rolling in fear. If- if he doesn't see... I can't... - I can't be with him. I won't be with him. He's... Just like them.

"Tell me you see, Michael!" You yelled, your body slumping against the table behind you, your hands bracing the side of the cool, metallic table. Your chest now panting with terror as your eyes weld in angered, pain-filled tears.

He stood, unmoving, his hands limp by his sides, his legs locked to that one spot and it angered you more by his lack of response. You knew he couldn't speak - or atleast, won't - you knew he was a statue until he wanted to move, but it just angered you. He knew how important this was to you, knew how highly you thought of your artwork, of you masterpieces, and yet, he just stands there!

"You don't see..." You gritted out with hatred. How dare he! How dare he steal your heart! Your love! Your help! Just to fucking throw it out once you realize who he actually was. "You don't see. You don't see!" You yelled now, spinning around to bang your hands against the table, reaching for anything in your rage-filled state to throw and smash onto the floor and walls, "You don't see! YOU DON'T SEE! YOU DON'T SEE!" Shaking the table until you push it over in your rage, the body and handsaw crashing onto the floor with a loud thud, you screamed the words over and over.

You paused, your body wracking with shudders of determination and hatred as you looked for your handsaw, and quickly found it by the barrel of blood and organs. Racing towards it, you snatched the tool from the floor and turned to face him, but he was already there, in front of you, just an inch or two away. You sneered up at his masked face with betrayal, "You worm! Do I mean nothing to you!?" You screamed, raising your hand that held the blade to aim at his chest and jumped on him, usually, his tall, secured build wouldn't move for anyone, but for you, he allowed himself to fall back onto the floor with you on top of him, and he watched with admiration and greedy lust at your rage, your furry. He enjoyed this side of you: all passionate rage, of blinding hatred that tinted over your face, and watching you bathe yourself in the blood of your enemies and those who get in the way, he enjoyed the death you brought forwards, the destruction painting you. But, no, he doesn't see your fondness for the blood you call godsend, he doesn't see why you seek it, need it, breath it. He doesn't care for it. Never did. He only killed those who get in the way, he doesn't relish in they're demise because he truly doesn't care.

But one thing he never understood was why he cared for you. Why he would bathe himself in the red substance just to see your eyes light up with that dark excitement, to tear into his clothes and force his mask up to bruise your lips against his. Just thinking about it made his cock harden and rise, and as you screamed, your body moving against him, you directing your powerful rage at him, burned him with lust. He doesn't care why your angry, but he does know that if he doesn't try to calm you, there will be consequences.

So, he pushed his mask up halfway up his face with one slowed hand, the other gripping around the front of your throat, choking you slightly as he forced your mouth down onto his, ceasing you of words. Before you could react, he already began to move to ripping your clothes off from your back, first your thin top, then second, your leggings, then third, your soaked panties.

Fuck. You thought, your anger subsiding slightly as the cool temperature of the room nipped at your bare skin now, your body shuddering as his strong, callused hands palm your ass as he tongued your mouth. His tongue was hot and wet against yours, and you groaned as you could taste a coppery tang along with him, his taste, his spit.

Your breasts rubbed against the fabric of his jumpsuit once you threw your shredded clothes away, your nipples becoming sensitive and your pussy blossoming with heat, your core empty, needing to be filled by his cock which you felt under your inner thigh.

With your rage sated for now, you pulled back and growled at his jumpsuit, and with quick, shaky fingers you found the zipper to his suit and pulled it down, reveling his hairy chest and navel and then his cock which sprung free.

"Fuck, baby." You groaned as you looked down at him, even without blood he was a masterpiece, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't look much better without it. His chest and cock was tainted red with heat and you palmed up his chest before scraping your nails down to his navel, his body rumbling with a silent, affirming growl as he, in turn, grope at your ass and thighs, pulling you to grind your wet, hot pussy against his hot, hard cock.

Moaning, you allowed him to move your hips for you, your clit gaining glorious friction on his cock as your juices coax the skin between you. Pressing your hands again his stomach, you grinded hard against him, moving your hips with his, his hands was tight with their hold on your skin, but you loved it, loved to be marked by him, to be bruised by his desire for you.

"Fuckkk." You gasp breathlessly, your head falling back and eyes closing in bliss. The pleasure was great, but it wasn't enough, you know this, as well as he does, but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy the thick, hard member rubbing against your pussy. It just wasn't enough to make you come, is all - well not without blood, of course. But that doesn't deter your lust for him, for his cock. So, without hesitation, you reached in between you both and gripped his hot cock in your hand and aimed his head at your entrance, and before you could even push your hips down, he did it for you.

His hands now grip your hips, pulling you down as he thrust upwards into your tight pussy. Gasping at the intrusion, your walls and core aching by the girth of him, your body burning with fire as your moans were pulled out of you as he forced you down and down again and again, his own hips moving up. Your nails scratched his stomach, his body quivering and shuddering as pleasure raked his body from head to toe, your pussy hot, and wet, and tight just for him. He watches your breasts bounce, you hair along with it as he uses your body for his needs, but he knew you love it, too, loved to be taken however he wanted you.

All of a sudden, he sat up, one of his hands moving to the back of your head to grip tightly at your hair, yanking your head back as he bites and mouths at your neck before pulling your gasping mouth against his in a heated kiss. Both of you ragged of breath, both chests heaving as he fucked you down onto his cock, your breasts rubbing just right against the jumpsuit, creating a strong shiver from within your body as you gasp into a rough, biting kiss that leaves you both panting and needing for more.

With a surprised gasp, you felt something wash over your body's as a loud bang sounded into the room. Opening your eyes, you saw Michael was now covered in blood and looked down to see your own body covered in the same substance. And just underneath your body's, an enormous amount of blood pooled around the both of you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You gasp loudly as you realised that Michael pulled the large barrel of blood on top of you both, coating you both from neck down in blood as limbs and organs splayed around you.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." You moan with a breathless smile, your orgasm now high on it's peak. Fucking your hips down with renewed vigor, you claw at his shoulders as you move to suck his blooded neck into your mouth, filling your taste buds with its metallic taste.

He does see... He sees me.

@vomitgoth-snuff I hope everything was to your liking!

[rwrbmovie]

Taylor Zakhar Perez for HOLA!

[moon-blanket]

A silly little Blurb about early Freelancer and Gavin :)

[Read on ao3]

Gavin was not made for mornings like this.

He was made for the darkness of night. Neon lights of dingy bars, hidden corners of alleyways, and messy, heated nights in pitch black bedrooms. Quick fixes to scratch the itches of mortals, easy supplements of emotion he needs to survive another night– always a means to an end.

Sure, the awkward morning-after was a custom he was more than familiar with. Sneaking out before his bedmate of the hour ever woke up had become a well-practiced art by now. Sometimes he even had the uncomfortable pleasure of seeing them off for the day, parting ways as he begins looking for another meal. Another way to get by.

It's never been anything like today.

The Freelancer sleeps peacefully at his side. It's their first true day off in what has felt like the eons they've had this routine together. With no work or classes to scramble off to today, they've given themself the gift of sleeping in.

It's a shame that he couldn't partake as well, but in this moment he can't find the means to care.

They've twisted themselves into a position that he thinks cannot possibly be comfortable. Half on their stomach, half on their back– facing him with the most serene expression he's ever had the pleasure of witnessing grace their face.

They're beautiful like this.

His eyes follow the outline of the parts of their body left exposed by the covers they've neglected in their sleep. The rise and fall of their back as they slowly breathe, the dark spots that bloom across their skin from their late night tryst, their hair wildly splayed against their pillow and draping delicately in their face.

Sunlight streams through the window, the morning light hits their frame so perfectly, the curves and angles of their body practically glowing in the warmth of the sun. He thinks he finally understands the meaning of true worship.

Gavin does not know much of human religion, not enough to know who to properly thank– but he will gladly give the proper kudos to every god, every sovereign in the stars, that guided him to his Freelancer.

His Freelancer...

There's a pang in his chest he's unfamiliar with when the thought passes through his mind. It's a little frightening.

He doesn't know how long he stays there and admires them. Eventually he watches as their body awakens, their eyes open to reveal the prettiest color he's ever seen.

When they gain their bearings, recognizing his form as he lays beside them, they flash a sleepy smile as another pang courses through his non-existent heart. One that he begins to welcome as they move to cuddle into him.

He's starting to believe that he could learn to love mornings as long as His Freelancer is beside him.

Thank you for reading. :3

[noraunor]

My little sunshine.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

๑ | Synopsis : angel dust hated everyone, including his parents. He hated them with burning passion but apart from you.. You were his delicate little flower and he'll do anything to his power to shield you from this sacred world.

๑ | Tw : angst, toxic household, toxic parents, mentions of death, mentions of blood, maggots will be mentioned, cursing, mentions of drugs.

His loss and ruin.

Anthony was never fond of his parents, two adults would always shoots him nasty words and called him names, he was the black sheep of the family.

He despised his family, well excluded from you, you were nothing but a delicate little flower that he could never bring himself to hate you, even though you came from the woman he hated. Don't get him wrong a little part of him still loves his parents, but the treatment they give him erases the love he feels from them and from their constant arguments.

But you, oh you.. So innocent, so precious. He wanted to protect you from everything. And so he did.

Anthony hugged your shaking small frame, your little hands gripping at his shirt as you buried your face into his chest, crying as you listened to the shouting outside of his room, Thuds and crashes echoed around the house.

" shhh.. Shhh 's ok toots, I got ya.. Anth is here with ya.. Shh.. " your older brother ushers you as he ran his fingers to your ( insert hair length) blonde locks.

Your body shook and flinched when a loud crash echoed outside of his door.

" a-anth.. " you cried more, gripping at his shirt like your life depends on it.

" 's ok sunshine.. It'll be ova' soon.. " he kissed your forehead as he hugged your smaller frame, also afraid of the quarrel just the other side of his door, his parents fights were never that violent, there fight right now is far worse than their previous fights.

Anthony pulled away from your figure as he looked at you with an assuring look " hey.. How a bout a little song? " he smiled as you sniffles and slowly nodded before curling once again to him.

Anthony smiled as he started patting your head softly.

" you are my sunshine.. " he started " my only sunshine.. " he pulled you closer to his chest , completely shielding your form from his door.

" you make me happy.. " he looked down at you, eyes were shut tightly closed, nose were scrunched and knitted brows with your little lips quivering, nose and eyes were already red from crying. " when skys are grey.. " he cupped your cheek with his hand and wiped the tears under your eye with his thumb as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him. His heart melted at those big doe eyes and your baby blue hues.

He smiled warmly as he wiped more of your tears, you already started to calm down, completely drawn to his voice.

" you'll never know dear, how much a love you. " your frown from earlier were already replaced with a peaceful smile, your eyes fluttering from sleepiness.

" so please.. Don't take my sunshine.. " he cuddled closer to you " away.. " he finishes his song.

" anth.. " you little voice called out.

" yes sunshine? " he hummed as he ran his fingers to your (hair length) locks. " please don't leave me.. " you whimpered. Anthony cracked a smile before kissing the top of your head.

" never plan on it sunshine. "

" promise? "

" promise, now close those pretty little eyes and go chase some sheep's. " you giggled at his words before curling closer to him. By now, your parents seems like left the house adding more to your serenity.

That's right, you're his delicate little flower, his sunshine, his only source of light. He'd do anything for you, fight anyone for you, you're his darling little sister, his little sunshine.

Growing up, the both of you were inseparable, well you both always have been.

The two of you ran away from your parents house when they started to get violent with the two of you, especially your father.

The two of you lived in the streets, stealing here and there in order to live. The two of you did everything together, you don't mind the fact the you no longer have a home and parents to have, atleast you have your older brother.

The both of you had each other's back.

You and Anthony currently staying in the woods away bit far from people for safety. And it wasn't that bad at all.

Anthony found a job, he was earning a lot that you both finally bought a small house. You were able to wear decent clothes again. But the case is, he never told you what his job was.

Anthony would always come home late and bruisies over his neck, you teased him for that thinking he finally have someone. And not knowing what actually happened behind those.

He also started to act weird, like he always looked lost and high, you shrugged it off since it's his business. You respect your brother and trusted him he won't do something very stupid. Oh how wrong you are.

You were alone in the house tonight, anthony hasn't come home yet and you were just cleaning the house when a banging noise erupted from your door.

You sighed irritatedly as you yelled "coming" as you wiped your hands to your skirt and opened the door.

" jeez, do you have to- " you were hit in the face.

Your body slammed into the ground, before you could even recover, your hair was picked up harshly making your hands fly out to the cultrips hand, then you felt the air from your throat got restricted due to the cultrip gripping at your neck.

You gasped as you tried to claw his other hand. You looked down to see a masked person but you can tell it was a man.

You squrimed under his grip as you gasped when he slammed you onto the wall with his hand gripping at your neck.

" where the fuck is Anthony?.. " he growled and you whimpered.

" WHERE IS HE?! " he yelled as he lessen the grip he had on your neck for you to speak.

" i-.. Dont- k-know- " he growled.

" he- ha-hasnt.. Come.. Home y-yet- " you cried, your mind was reeling with thoughts, what did Anthony do that made this man barged here? Be this violent? Who was this man? Why was he so angry at your brother? More importantly, where is Anthony?

Tears escaped your eyes as you closed your eyes, mouth agape as he squeezed your neck.

He growled before throwing you to the ground, you coughed as you held your neck already feeling the bruise forming in.

" that fucking dick. " he grumbled as he thrashes around the house.

" p-please.. What- do you want- from us.. What- did he do to make-up y-you this angry..." your voice was croaked due to the choke he had you earlier. The man stopped from his actions before turning to you as he let out a laugh.

" what do i want? " he laughed before walking to your direction and kneeling down to your height as he grabbed your jaw, his fingers dug harshly to your cheeks making you whimper.

" well seems like your dick of a brother didn't tell you shits hm? " tell you what?

" well listen here doll—" his grip on your jaw tightened making you wince. " your peace of shit of a brother took buncha' of my drugs n' money.. After all I did for that brat. " he growled turning away as he spat more incoherent curses at your missing brother.

He stopped from a moment as he chuckled making your heart clenched in fear as he slowly turn back to you.

" say.. Since that bitch took bunch of my precious items.. " your heart stopped as you saw something glimmer to his pocket. " I don't mind takin' somethin' precious from him too. "

Anthony was running breathlessly to his house upon seeing the familiar house, relief flew to his nerves. He need to get you out of here and flee away.

But his heart stopped when he saw the door was open and light closed.

He pants trying to catch his breath as cold sweats run to his face. Oh how he started to pray from the Gods that you aren't harmed.

Picking up his thoughts, he ran to the house only to stopped once he saw how thrashed the place was. Shit.

" s-sunshine?! " he called as he frankly looking around. " Y/N?! " he called again, then his eyes caught a red train just on the loungue of their house. His heart stops.

' No no no no this can't be happening- please this can't be- ' his breath started to get ragged and heavy.

" a-anth?.. " a weak voice called out to him. He turned to the side only to see you.. Leaning on the wall, on the ground with your hand on your stomach. There was also a trail of blood on the wall your leaning in.

" Y/N! " he triped to his steps as he ran to your side as he slowly bring your form to his chest. Blood smudges his shirt.

" fuck- nonononono- please h-hold on sunshine- please bare with it a little longer- Anth i-is here now, big brother is here now.. Fuck- I'm so so so sorry.. " he choked as he gently laid you back to the wall and started looking for the telephone only to see it to be crush.

" FUCK! " he cried

" anth.. " you called again, tiredness was clear to your voice as you watched him grip at his hair.

He turned to you, years were already spilling to his blue eyes as he walked back to your form and hugged you.

" I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry, don't worry- I'll bring you to the doctors ok? Anth will help you heal ok? Please just- please sunshine don't close your eyes.. "

" anth.. I don't think I will be able to make it.. " you whimpered as you looked down to your hand on your stomach which was covered with your blood.

" i.. Lost too much blood.. " you hummed as you looked back at him, you started to see black dots on your eyes, you squeezed your eyes shut before opening them back again.

Anthony lips quivered as more tears escaped his eyes.

" no.. "

" anth.. "

" please- don't leave me.. " he cried. " I'm so sorry I dragged you into this.. Please.. Don't leave me.. " he cried.

" Anthony.. "

He sobbed as he looked back at you, his heart shattered to see a tired look on your eyes, his heart broke more when he saw the sad smile on your eyes.

" can you.. Just please stay? I'm tired.. " you leaned into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your form as he cried more.

" anth..? "

" y-yes.. Sunshine? " he sobbed as he sents you in between his legs, you thighs were resting on too of his legs while he hugged your upper body.

" can you.. Sing for me?.. "

Anthony smiled sadly as his lips quivered. " sure.. Sunshine.. I will.. Sing you a song.. "

You smiled more as you rested on his chest, your eyes never leaving his face.

" y-you are my sunshine, my only sun..shine.. " he started singing, his voice was shaking. " you make me h-happy.. When skies are gray.. " you felt your consciousness slowly leaves your body as you nuzzled into his shoulder. " you'll never knew dear.. H-how much I love you.. " he hugged your tighter. " please.. Don't take my sunshine... " he choked out a sob as he clutched at to your now unmoving body " away.. "

He stayed still for s moment before leaning away from you only to see your now empty blue eyes, you're once lively and bright blue eyes we're now nothing but void and emptiness, blood was dripping from your now pale lips as you still held that small smile. His heart shattered in a millions pieces as soon as he realized that. You're gone.

His shoulder shook as he hugged your tighter as he let out a loud ugly cry as he cradled your body.

Oh how he will never recover from this, he regretted everything, for not telling you and for now coming home sooner, for getting addicted. He never have hated himself more than now. He cried and cried praying for you to call him again and hug him. He cried till he had no more tears to shed, he cried until he had no more voice to scream. He cried until he was left there motionless, just staring at your body watching the maggots eat your body away.

Anthony swears to himself, if he ever have a chance to meet you, he'll be a better brother for you. He prayed the Gods to meet you again.

[jscameron]

You

warnings: implied drug use, implied sex, possessive rafe, domestic fighting, rafe x fem reader. maybe that’s it!

Let me know your thoughts! ❤️

you and rafe have been on and off for 2 years. every time he went on a binge, you would leave. he would hate it. you would fight, and then make up immediately.

it was the same, vicious cycle.

you wanted better, needed better, CRAVED better. but you also wanted him, and you knew he needed you.

“baby, i’m going to quit. i know it’s hard, but please don’t give up on me.”, he begs you. “rafe, no. you know i don’t want you to be this way, but it seems like i don’t matter. your drinking and drugs are more important.”, you counter. “that’s not fucking true, y/n!”, he screams, pupils dilating. “i hate you.”, you calmly say back. “no you fucking don’t.”, he says, as he grabs your jaw with his huge hand, forcing you to look in his piercing blue eyes. “you love me. and you know it. you love fucking me, too. that’s why we always fight, it leads to the best sex. and you know i love you sober or not.”, he says, inches away from your face.

your breathing gets heavier and faster. your heart beats in your chest, as if about to rip out of your ribs any second. he’s looking you up and down. “you getting hot and bothered already, baby?”, his breath fanning over you. “n-no.”, you blush and turn away, trying to deny him the satisfaction of turning you on.

“awe, baby.”, he coos, while trying to put his hand against your cunt through your jeans. you feel his fingers run over you through the fabric, and it makes you melt at his touch. “let me get in you. don’t fight it.”, he says as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.

you start slapping his back playfully, already knowing where this will lead.

he tosses you onto the bed, eyes you up and down. he’s biting his lip. goddamn, he’s so fucking hot. “pants, off.”, he orders as he’s pulling them off of you. he hungrily looks at you in your red, lacy thong — his favorite. “mmm”, he moans. he starts licking you through your panties. “r-rafe, no.”, you try and push him off of you. “no, baby. i’m going to eat you out. and you’re going to take me. i love you.”, he says, as he pulls your panties off. “i’m keeping these, you know.”, he says as he stuffs your thong in his pocket. “yeah, yeah.”, you say annoyed and flustered.

“you’re so important to me. i promise i’m going to get clean. i love you, baby girl. it’s you. it’s always been you.”, he says, lovingly. and you know he means it. “i know, rafey. i know. i love you, now use me already.”, you beg.

“yes, ma’am. happily. you are my drug of choice.”, he smirks as you proceed to have the best night for the both of you.