#custom made glass splash backs

[hoseoksluna]

ICHOR | jjk

pairing: idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

warnings: crying, capitalism, death metaphors, sadness, jungkook is sweaty and is wearing that nike shirt he wore in his working out live, has fluffy hair!

note: hiii, bubbas, so this is fluff fic is partly for @frmisnow bc she inspired me to write this & i also want to make her feel better with this sacchariny-sweet jungkook, partly for me bc i genuinely wrote in detail about what i went through at work these past two days. and, also, for all you guys because i made you go through reading about such evil jungkook in my last berries fic. i hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. here's to a bit of happiness in our lives *cheers with an imaginary glass of imaginary pink, glittery, strong, fairy alcohol*. <3

You used to be a goddess, the ichor in your veins carried the color of roses, glinted with flecks of gold that would radiate your skin from beneath, make any heads turn, especially the one you loved the most. Customers at work smiled upon seeing your cordial aura, close-knit even though they were mere strangers, preferred to go to you amidst the flock of your other colleagues around. They would become radiated just the same, joy so terribly evident on their faces as their smile would grow. They would frown upon seeing the state of you at this current moment—curled up on your bed while the heat of the beginning of the summer clings to your near bareness, coming through your wide opened windows, the white, translucent curtains billowing up and down in their strange, but magnolious dance. 

You’re not Aphrodite. You’re not Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy and mirth, either. 

You’re the slain fawn at their feet—for their very own feast and for the feast of those aforementioned customers, who stand behind the dryly bloodied cause of your death. 

Work was hell, to say the least. 

You always thought death was a kind embrace, not a tight clasp of doom around the nape of your neck, your mental strain and disquietude the half moon marks that ever so slowly deepen. You mimic the movement on the hem of the linen shirt you wore for the day, one that you were too drowsy to take off when you arrived at home, having only a slight wisp of an energy to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tightness of your jeans and crawl onto your bed, knees to chest, on your side. You bunch up the fabric in your fist, wrinkling it, but you hardly vanquish the cuts that your anxiety slashes on your skin. You thought it would alleviate you of your tenseness, but as it seems—it only worsened it. 

You don’t even have tears to shed. Wept them all out in your manager’s office while she harshly, yet calmly reprimanded you for your mistake and the gravity of the fact that you almost lost your precious job, that you can’t imagine living without, washed over you and pained you like a splash of salty water in your eyes. Wept them all out when you breathed in the crooked, paralyzed expression of disappointment in her face—and that’s the sole thing that emptied out your system of that ichor, wiped out your reputation of being a good, reliable employee that everybody liked. 

Now the next unfolding of your days spent at work shall be filled with silent judgements and secretive gossip, the big talk of the entire building—something that will hang by the strands of your hair for every head to turn to until something else comes along. Another topic, another fuck-up. That’s the face of modern capitalism, the absurdity of day-to-day normalcy its features, and you’re so sick, so repulsed to be staring at it every single day of your life that you yearn to not be anymore. 

Death has flattened over you, but has not finished its job. It was Dante who described the process of hell in his Divine Comedy and you hate him for the rotten pulchritude of his mind because you find yourself to be standing in the middle of inferno with no guide—no Virgil, no Beatrice—to hold your hand and lead you through this scalding maze. You’re all alone, your mistake carving the branches of the trees burning down in your hell over your burdened, heavy heart that has been longing for the company of another ever since you walked out of your manager’s office. 

Your face screws as another agonized emotion rises in you. You can’t stand your aloneness, can’t stand your burden—and before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have already tapped on your boyfriend’s name in your history of calls. The screen of your phone is cool against the fever of your cheek and you rub your face harder against your duvet, staining the strawberry pattern with the particular tinge of your makeup, which must have been the color of your ichor. 

You wince, the rings prolonging in your ear, your impatience running thin. 

Then, your heart drops once you hear the broken whisper of your Beatrice, faintly, barely, which causes your heart to spread its longing. Damn iPhones and their bad service. 

“Jungkook?” you call out, nonsense coming through the other end—and you repeat his name until his voice smooths out, relief sinking in like a stone in a pond. 

It turns out you were exchanging each other’s names and the intimacy of it curls the smallest of smiles on your mouth. You miss him; you need him. 

“When are you coming home?” you ask, wishing to descend into the emitting waves of the call, slide through them until you spring to wherever he is, no matter how tired you are—you’re willing to cross the distance. 

You hear him turn on his blinker and your heart almost does it for you. 

“I’m driving home right now. I’ll be there in ten,” he says and your relief expands in your chest, taking a small weight off of your heart. You place your palm against it. 

“Okay.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Why do you sound so sad?” 

Your mouth curls downwards. “Something happened at work.” 

An inhale of breath. “Screw that, baby. I’ll be there in five, okay?” 

A whimper. “Okay, drive safe.” 

And your Beatrice didn’t lie to you. Soon, you hear the banging of the front door closing, the tossing of his keys and the prodding open of your shared bedroom door. The hastened footsteps, hefty on the floating floor, the squeak of the mattress as his knee dips on it and the glide of his hand up your thigh. All before you use the last of your strength to focus your swimming vision on him. 

Hearing him alone helped you take a step further in your inferno. 

And then you can smell him. The scent of sweat clinging to his favorite ivory Nike shirt, interlaced with his natural, poetic scent, creating something divine that blesses you with the strength to place your palm on top of his hand. Your coworkers hugged you earlier, clasped your hands in theirs in reassurement and more than welcome it, you absolutely despised it. Lingered in their affection only because you thought you should let yourself be consoled, for you know they care about you. But his touch… that’s not something you sense your body to want to run away from. On the contrary, it seems to be something that it’s missing. 

You can’t part the stream of your new tears with your other hand. 

You spill, completely. 

Jungkook coos, squeezing the bare flesh of your thigh as turns you onto your back and nudges himself between them, plopping his body on top of yours. And then, he’s kissing the place your undone shirt made for him, trailing his lips up your neck, where he stays, where he conjures a garden of fluttering gardenias, their tender petals tickling you. 

“What did they do to my princess?” he murmurs against your skin, his words muffled but heard clearly by your ears. You sob, your chest shuddering in violent staccatos against his, unable to settle, unable to speak. Jungkook lifts his small head and frowns, his thumb swiping your tears away while the rest of his four fingers cradle your cheek. You lean into the balmy safety of the realm of his palm, gaze fixed on the wrinkle between his brows, mouth letting out puffs of soft, gentle exhales. He kisses your chin, the corner of your mouth, the wetness of your other cheek—buries his nose into it, right beside yours, inhaling you, giving you fresh air to breathe in. “Don’t cry. I’m gonna decapitate them.” 

The whisper, the hand that parted the stream. You whimper and he steals the traces of your despondency, pecking the new, smooth surface, planting roses to bloom, its roots bestowing you with the ability of speech. 

Two sentences, two miles further in the inferno. Your burnt down trees are lost in the far distance, swallowed by the fire, yet the forest shows every sign of growing anew the longer Jungkook’s heart beats against your breast. 

He’s so benevolently patient with you, not rushing you with your explanation. It all the more drives you to disclose it to him—and you open your mouth to speak, your fingers following suit, helping you with your words as you drag them through the soft mop of his fluffy hair. 

“I made a mistake yesterday while closing up,” you croak out, licking your lips. Jungkook lifts himself onto his elbows, clutching your shoulders, keeping the close proximity intact. His warm grip is a stability you lean on, one you appreciate with every broken shard in you. “I did it five minutes earlier and somebody came in. I sent them away and they filed a complaint against me. They wrote an email to my manager and I… I almost lost my job.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepens and you thumb it, wishing it away. You don’t want to mar his beautiful face because of your foolishness; you want it to remain that soft ball of light that he always is, but then you realize you’re asking for the impossible. His mouth flattens, pity flashes across his round eyes, which helps you perceive that if he didn’t react like this, he wouldn’t love you—and his love is the air you breathe; his love is the ointment you need for your sadness. 

As if he heard you, he kisses you delicately and you sail—skip the purgatory and land in paradiso, a meadow of wildflowers overlooking a cliff that opens the restfulness of the sea, scattered with windswept petals of those lost blossoms, coloring the surface with pinks, whites and the greens of their leaves. 

“Did your manager yell at you?” Jungkook questions, his lips lifted a millimeter above yours, his thumbs fondling the fabric of your shirt upon your shoulders. 

“No, but she was very strict with me. Told me not to cry—”

His breath wafts over your face when he looks into your eyes, displeased. “She made you cry?” 

You cried because through her words you comprehended the gravity of your mistake and its repercussions, not because she deliberately used them to open the dam of your emotions. It’s precisely why she told you not to cry, giving you a hint of her perpetually nonexistent compassion. And you tell him. 

“No, she didn’t. She was very professional with me and made me realize what I did after I apologized. I cried because I was so scared of losing my job, of disappointing her and shit like that.” 

Jungkook purses his lips, shaking his head, curly strands rippling like the tremor of leaves. “She should’ve dropped it after you apologized. Five minutes is nothing, baby. You did nothing to deserve to be treated like that.” 

Your chest heaves, his love and reassurement sifting sand into your bloodstream, the color of ichor. “I know but… you know,” you trail off, indicating the realm of respect all peers must have for the management that you don’t really want to venture into, not when Jungkook had to deal with it as well in his music company. But unlike you, he broke out of its clutches. It cost him tears, frustration and weight loss, but now he’s a free bird of paradise. You don’t wish to make him remember his cage. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah, baby, I know, which is why I’m telling you that you didn’t deserve that.” 

Your chin quivers, the negative thoughts that wore you down in his absence returning at full speed. “It affects my mental health when I’m bad at my job.” 

Brows rounding upwards, his eyes flick to your chin, a glossy wetness coating them. He pecks it before he gazes into your irises. “But you’re not bad at your job. You just closed a few minutes earlier. You’re amazing at your job. You make people happy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he says, meaning every word with the way he presses each one into your pupils. You feel its magnetism and you take it. “And I’m proud of you. Every day. You work so hard. Come home tired every day. Deal with people who aren’t always nice to you with kindness that I envy. I’m proud of you, you hear me? You didn’t make a mistake. You did good.”

And there it is, the stampede of your bloodstream—Jungkook has seeped the entirety of the sand until he emptied out his hand and your ichor charges forward, its light like a bud flaring open beneath your skin. And you're floating on that sea in paradiso, your braid adorned with the wet petals that swims back and forth to his arm that holds your body steady upon the surface, the names of the Greek goddesses lining every perimeter, sinking within. 

You’ve become them, all over again. 

“Thank you, Ggukie,” you whisper, running your hand through the front bangs of his hair, gripping them. It’s as if you’re holding the petals. “I needed to hear that.” 

He pouts, touched by the love name. “I know. You need to rest now after such an emotionally exhausting day. No more tears, okay?” 

You nod, feeling whole, feeling like you can face tomorrow with more courage. “Okay.” 

You pout, mimicking him, asking for a kiss and he gives it to you in that same delicate manner, plunging the entirety of the summer’s heat, molded by his hands, into you, making it bearable for you. 

Looks at you for a long time, after. Smiling. 

“You know, I didn’t take a shower after the gym for you,” he says, quirking a smile on your face.

You’re intimately acknowledged with the reason why, yet still you ask: “Why’s that?” 

He reciprocates the smile. “I thought you’d help me wash up. My muscles are sore and all. I lifted the double amount of your body weight.” 

You bite your lip. You’re willing to wash every inch of him with your utmost care. You deem he deserves it for enlivening you, but you’d much rather stay here, inhaling that dizzying scent of him. 

“I’ll do that, but let’s stay here for a little while.” 

Jungkook nods, kissing your jaw before he finds a comfortable place on your bosom, listening to the rush of your ichor, the sun rays upon the sea of that paradiso, inching you closer and closer to God. Augments the ending of that Divine Comedy. 

Doesn’t lead you to the final installment of death, but pushes you to life full of that brisk wind, the humming of the sea and the song of swaying wildflowers. 

Holds your hand. 

Doesn’t let go. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 1

james potter x reader time travel au | 3k words | contents

page 1 | next

00:00 — 1 JANUARY

James waited until he’d fallen into his childhood home, half-plastered and sad and staring himself in the eyes through his bathroom mirror. His gaze seemed colder, lonelier than usual, and when he splashed his face with cool water it chilled him to the bone.

He’d never been unsettled by solitude, never minded much retreating to an empty bed at the end of a long day. Until then.

That’s when he knew he had to go back.

+

“Pardon me.”

The voice from behind you was so sudden and deep that you jumped, whipping around clumsily to meet it.

“God, you startled me!”

Laying eyes on the man responsible, you instantly released any ill-will you had.

“Hi, sorry,” he said, and you were already quite smitten.

He was young, though surely not any younger than you. Handsome too, in a dismantling way, like he might take you apart if you were an old clock, just to see what made you tick.

And if he wasn’t young and handsome, he’d still gain a little credit just in looking so guilty for spooking you.

“Hi.”

This was January, and you were out on the veranda, so your breath escaped you visibly. You were aware of it trickling upward as the handsome man smiled shyly and introduced himself.

“I’m James.”

Leaning up against a white banister, you snuggled further into your shawl, watching him. He was a few steps above you, and taller by a lot anyways, so it posed a bit of a strain.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lovely name,” James commented, not missing a beat. It surprised you, but you rallied easily.

“And yours.” You sipped your drink, and when he hadn’t formed a response, decided to elaborate. “Classic.”

James ducked his head in a dashing sort of way, adding a little humility to the lethal mix of attractive traits he contained.

“Yeah, but don’t let it take any precedence. It's strangeness across the board for the rest of me.”

Your lips curled up at the corners.

“For some reason I think that’s true,” you teased, eyes shining with mirth.

There were lots of ways to be flirted with, several of which left a bad taste in your mouth and a loneliness that felt unquenchable in your chest, but this you liked.

James spoke like he was on his toes, constantly steeped in anticipation. If possible, he seemed to savor every moment while simultaneously rushing into better, deeper territory.

He came further down the steps then, and you appreciated the relief on your neck. The smell that drifted off of him was like honey and biscuits, perpetually warm on your senses, even in late winter.

“So how do you know Marlene,” James asked, and you felt the tightness of excitement in your chest realizing that he was going to stay and talk to you.

“Work,” you told him, “she’s a madwoman. Flirts with all the customers.”

James kept a polite distance from you, gravitating toward a patch of light from the windows. He wore a tailored suit that was primarily night blue, which somehow fit him with both strict lines and a charming rumpled messiness.

You wondered if he’d get any easier to look at.

“That sounds like Marly,” James agreed, looking fond. A tiny needle of jealousy pricked you, which was ridiculous, because if this were Marlene’s boyfriend she’d have been shouting it from the rooftops.

Clinging to that affirmation, you asked, “you two are familiar?”

Each of James’ hands held the opposite bicep in a half-hearted cross, aiding a small shrug.

“We went to school together.”

You nodded, growing envious for new reasons.

“That seems to be the theme around here. I’m sad I missed it.”

James smiled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it was boarding school? We had to share dorms all year.”

Fiddling with a ring on your finger, your gaze skipped to the square orange portal that led to the party inside. The window was one on the back wall of the parlor, and it became devastatingly easy to pick out the school club from the others inside. Marlene lounged beside other sharp girls and well-dressed guys, all of them laughing and bickering like siblings. You craved to be at the heart of it more than anything.

“Co-Ed?” you asked abruptly, tearing away from the vibrant crowd to see James’ face contort.

“No,” he laughed. “I roomed with Sirius, Remus and Frank.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Four to a room?”

James’ laugh thickened, his spectacles glinting white as his head tossed back. His amusement was acerbic, corrupting your bewilderment until it was lost to a goofy smile.

“I do feel much better, thank you,” you said. “Private school sounds awful.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, now,” he chided lightly.

An army of wind marched around the corner of the estate then, fighting through your thin shawl. James’ eyes traced your shivering frame as he stepped ever closer.

“Erm, hey, I was wondering—”

The patio door opened, delicate glass inlaid with iron, and yet your moment with James seemed the thing to shatter. A fair-skinned man stepped out, a hunt in his eyes, and you hoped whatever it was for wasn’t James.

Nyx-dark hair moved like shadows over the night sky, reflecting the party inside glossily. His head turned, and then he was laying eyes on your companion.

“James!” The man said, his poised effect splitting down the middle, revealing a collie’s energy. He motioned for James to meet him up on the landing. “C’mon mate, Remus has a plan.”

James shook his head simply.

“Do it without me, yeah?”

Something territorial swept over James’ friend’s face, and he suddenly looked you over. You were embarrassed to only warrant a millisecond of his attention.

“Bollucks,” he declared, challenging James to disagree. “Let’s go.”

Then he returned swiftly inside, leaving both French doors and your chest swung open. James sighed, the weight of a lost battle on his shoulders, and found your eyes again.

“Sorry, that’s Sirius,” he explained, and you supposed that would make sense.

“The roommate,” you provided. James nodded.

“I swear he’s nicer.”

You wouldn’t say you found him rude, just unfriendly. He certainly seemed warm, as did everyone at the party, but to a select few people. A select few that didn’t include you.

You said, “I’m sure.” If James thought someone was nice, they probably were. He seemed a good judge of character. Unless you had very poorly judged his character, which you wouldn’t put past yourself.

James winced. “I have to go. But, um—”

“James, mate, come on,” Sirius called from inside, and then he and another, taller man poked their heads out to check his progress in detaching himself from you.

“Alright, one second!”

You’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the people pleaser overriding your system, but you said, “it’s alright, James. You can go.”

It didn’t make him look any less torn. His head whipped back and forth between you and his friends, trying to find a solution.

Of course you wanted him to stay, but you didn’t want to hold him hostage, so you tried your best to look supportive of whatever he chose.

In the end, he stepped close to you, brows pinched with regret.

“I won’t be long. Will you—would you stay?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, choking back the clawing barrage of disappointment.

“‘Course,” you said.

James blew out a breath, relaxing his tense posture.

“I really swear it. Back before you can say ‘private school,’ yeah?”

You laughed weakly, taking a long look at him for memory.

“Yeah.”

Reluctantly, James backed away from you, then turned to climb the steps toward his friends. They were sagged with impatience, hanging onto his every step the same way you were, except for different reasons. In a way, you were more jealous of these two than you were of Marlene, because they were like James’ brothers. They knew him better than probably anyone, you guessed.

James hopped up onto the landing and glanced back to you, frowning slightly. The light from inside caught his lenses just so, hiding his eyes from you, and that small detail alone felt like the end of all things.

Then, Sirius and his accomplice took each of James’ arms and hauled him inside, shutting the doors behind them.

Shivering again, you watched the three of them appear in the window, heads bowed together in conspiracy. James looked different there, like something out of a movie. He snapped right into place with the rest of them, glittering and masterfully made.

It was clear he had a world of his own—one that you would likely never penetrate, no matter how badly you wanted for it, no matter how long you waited in the cold.

Marlene would forgive you for running off, but you’d never forgive yourself if you got sick for a silly dream, so you left the party and made peace with the what-if that was James.

+

James fell headfirst out of the cramped coat closet, cursing as his legs tangoed and lost to a tall pair of rain boots. In his fall, he took down with him three raincoats and a hanging organizer (six hats, a bucket of gloves, and five and half pairs of sandals).

He was already tired and fuming when he entered the closet, and now he felt he’d completely lose it any second. Disengaging from his fight with evil clothing, he scooched on his bum to the scrunched up hall runner that paved the Mckinnon’s entry.

Near the end of it someone cleared their throat, and James looked up to see Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the nosiest blokes in the world. Fantastic.

“Look who we have here,” said one twin, the other smiling wickedly, ready to pick up the second half of their routine snooping.

“Off for a snog-sesh with someone, are we, James?”

Battling to his feet, James let out a long-suffering sigh, already moving their way.

“Yeah, your mum,” he snarked.

As they both laughed, James prepared to push between them, but they parted before he had to. He walked through their flank, relieved yet nervous—the typical reaction those two elicited.

Leaving them behind, the narrow hall forked off into several different rooms, offices and kitchens and a library. James played here even before he was in school with Marlene, so he knew every corner like it was his own home. He headed for the parlor.

Even for someone who had never been in the house, finding James’ destination would be easy. All they had to do was follow the music.

In the parlor, chaise lounges were hardly visible under old school friends and their families, the walls lined with business partners and gossiping aunts. Smaller children ran amok, like birds weaving between a forest of mingling adults. The hearthfire hissed and spat, bound to take down at least one fashionably dressed lady before the year was over.

James swept his gaze over the bobbing heads and flying hands, looking for someone in particular. Sirius’ thick black hair beat like a raven's wing near the back of the room, so that’s where the bespectacled boy went.

On his path, Remus stood glued to a wall, looking very antisocial. He pinged from one crutch to another, taking up new residence at James’ side.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Had to take a piss,” James said casually. He’d grown accustomed to small lies like that, since no one knew about his little habit.

Remus didn’t question it, just picked through the crowd to where Sirius was.

“Padfoot,” James called, and he didn’t have to say anything else. Sirius excused himself and met the two of them without question, a silent understanding that forged the undercurrent of their friendship.

James led them all into another hall, one closer to the crystalline patio doors.

“I heard,” James started, “that Marlene has a pot stash somewhere ‘round here.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, and James knew he had them. Even if they came up dry, the two of them would snoop just to snoop, and Remus obviously wanted away from the party anyways.

“Whereabouts do you think it is,” Sirius asked, looking at a mounted painting like it might be involved.

“Dunno,” James said, “but if we split up I bet we’d find it before the new year.”

Sirius grinned, and it spread onto Remus’ lips.

“I can take downstairs, and you and Pads can go up,” Remus said.

James shook his head.

“No, you two can go.” The two of them gave James skeptical looks, but he shrugged. “I have heavy footsteps, they’d hear me up there.”

Sirius’ expression cleared, and then he was nodding along. “Right.” He took Remus’ arm in his grasp and pulled him along. “Let’s go, Moony. I bet we can find some before Prongs.”

James heard Remus object that, “it’s only in one place,” before their conversation was lost by distance. Then, he turned around and pushed through the back doors, praying you were where he left you.

You were. Just like last time, your back was turned to him. You were staring at the clear sky, gripping your wrap close to your chest. James remembered that he’d startled you before, so he latched the doors as noisily as possible. You still didn’t come around.

He supposed that was for the best, actually, since he’d changed something already. He crept down the steps, feeling terrible for sneaking up on you, and wondering what you might’ve been thinking about that kept you so distracted.

“Pardon me,” James begged, and you spun around in shock.

“God, you startled me!”

James smiled, and your eyes trailed all over him. He couldn’t say he minded, since he was doing the same.

You reminded him of a mouse—shy but necessarily bold, holding yourself up outstandingly well as a stranger in a roomful of friends. That was, until you dipped outside and didn’t return.

“Sorry, hi,” he apologized, really meaning it this time. As expected, you smiled shyly, golden champagne tilting in the glass you held.

“Hi.”

A swath of mist escaped your mouth with the exhaled greeting. James had to remind himself that you didn’t remember the first time this happened, so you wouldn’t know his name.

“I’m James.”

You leant back, neck craning to keep his eyes. James stepped down to accommodate you, and your brows smoothed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s a pretty name,” James said, getting bolder. It was hard to hold himself away from you.

You dropped your head then, smiling primly at the stone steps.

“Thank you,” you said, instead of complimenting James in return.

James blinked. What happened?

“Yours—”

“I’m—”

James paused as you both spoke at the same time, looking at you the way someone might look at a tricky puzzle.

“Sorr—”

“You can—oh.”

Fingers pressed to your mouth, you looked at James, a tentative smile in your eyes. James sighed, and then laughed strangely. He motioned for you to go ahead, only to find your hand unfolding into the same gesture. Both of you stared at each other for a beat before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You go,” James said finally, smiling. You just shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

James squinted at your rosy cheeks, his lips picking up at the corners. You could lead a horse to water, he supposed.

The temptation to learn more about you began to win him over, so he bent a few rules.

“So you work with Marlene, I hear,” he spoke, fibbing ever so slightly.

You smiled a bit, none the wiser. “I do, yeah.”

James looked inside, checking for dark hair or an itchy sweater, but Remus and Sirius were still missing. Good.

“What’s that like?”

Brows furrowing, you followed his gaze.

“It’s…interesting. She’s really nice, but she—”

“Flirts with all the customers?” James supplied, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stared at him for a tick. “Yeah. You must know her?”

“Childhood friends,” James decided, nodding. When he turned back to you, you were raking your eyes over his dressy outfit, lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes found his, and you looked away. James thought he saw a flush to your cheeks.

The wind whipped around the corner then, and James began shouldering his thick jacket off, finally doing what he’d wanted to do before.

“You must be crazy,” he said, coming closer. “It’s freezing out here.”

You braved a look at him, and alarm sunk into your features.

“No, James, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Don’t be polite, lovely, you’re shivering. Here.”

James slowly held his coat over your shoulders, leaning back to watch you carefully. He saw the moment you accepted his offer, sinking back into the warmth the garment still held.

“Thank you,” you breathed as James pulled away. He shoved his cold hands into his pockets, now looking to conserve heat.

“‘Course.”

Though his hands weren’t on you anymore, James stayed just as close as he was moments ago. He could smell the champagne in your glass. He glanced around to the garden, to your feet on the step, just below his.

“D’you want to head inside?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight, I think.”

Your lips turned up, and James hoped to God he’d get to kiss them.

“That sounds lovely.”

+

James flipped his phone open, the small screen giving off just enough light in his dark room to make him squint. He was wondering what you’d put for your contact—a smiley face, maybe, or a heart? He hoped you put a heart. It took his brain far too long to catch up to reality.

With a shock of gut-twisting dread, James realized he’d been so wound up over kissing you that he forgot to ask for your phone number. Your phone number.

He groaned, glancing at his bed longingly, but he knew he wouldn’t fall into it very soon. He’d go back a hundred times before he slept that night if it got him one date with you.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[flowersandbigteeth]

Your alpha gangster claims you

General Plot: You are a humble omega working in a bar and are kidnapped by an alpha!

I just wanted to do some alpha and omega smut and it's my birthday...so here ya go

Alpha (Jude) x omega female reader

Word Count: 2k

W: noncon/dubcon, alpha/omega dynamic, size difference, nsfw monster smut, some vague violence and choking, knotting and biting

You huddled behind the bar whimpering as you covered your head. Around you guns popped and bottles burst into splashes of the fluid inside. Maybe you were screaming, maybe not, but at some point it became silent. Only your breathing seemed to echo in the room.

You gasped, panting into your knees. This wasn’t something you were used to. You were just a waitress at your uncle’s bar, an omega who no one paid any attention to most of the time. He’d gone out for some supplies, leaving you alone to watch the place. Clutching your chest you heard the heavy crunch of footsteps approach you. 

“Poor little omega is terrified, I can smell you from here,” a deep voice said, deeper than a beta’s voice…an alpha. 

You gulped and tried to make yourself small, shivering. There was nothing you could do. The horror and shock from the shooting were forcing your body to produce omega pheromones, calling an alpha to come claim and protect you. Your scent was strong and sweet, filling the destroyed bar. 

You’d been polishing glasses, keeping an eye on your one table a handful of guys who were talking quietly just a few minutes ago. Suddenly, someone, you hadn’t had time to see who, burst through the doors and started shooting. You’d ducked behind the counter and that’s where you were when the alpha’s form loomed over you, his eyes glowing, backlit by the bar lights. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took him in. He was huge, as all alphas were, eight feet tall and wide, with big teeth that barely fit in his mouth, sharper than a betas. He was dressed in a suit that must have been custom made to fit his enormous body. Dark hair fell into gold eyes. 

He holstered the smoking gun he was carrying and crouched down to look at you. His thick fingers roamed over your sweaty cheek and he drew them back tasting you. He smirked. 

You’d been sheltered from alphas coming from a poor but genuine family of betas, who loved you. They hadn’t sold you to one of them as most parents did when their child’s undesirable omega traits emerged and they kindly kept you hidden away when you were most vulnerable to kidnapping. 

This alpha was the first one you’d seen up close. You whimpered, overwhelmed by the musk he was putting off. It smelled strangely pleasant, but the familiarity scared you. He was a stranger. He shouldn’t be touching you. Your cheeks flooded with color as slick poured from your pussy, responding to his pheromones. He drew in a heavy breath and smiled. 

“You smell good little omega,” he purred, hoisting you up like you were luggage under his arm. 

“W-wait! W-what are you doing?” you howled.

He frowned. 

“This will be easier if you are quiet,” he hissed, his forearm locking around your neck. 

You gasped for a breath that would never come until spots formed in front of your eyes, bleeding together to black.

—

You woke up rubbing your cheek on something warm and soft. Looking around you found you were in a nest. Not your nest at home, full of your childhood blankets, but a nice one, to say the least. You were surrounded by soft blankets with designer logos on them, fluffy pillows, and stuffed animals. 

You hopped up to your knees to find two things. One you were chained to the wall by a collar that looped around your neck. Two, you were wearing lacy white lingerie that was more expensive than anything you could ever afford. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” the deep voice of the alpha said. 

In a streak of sunlight he sat in a chair in front of the window, smoking a cigar and spinning some amber liquid in a stout glass. Shadows from the still early morning cast his face in stark relief making him look even more monstrous. 

“W-where a-am I?” you stammered, “W-what’s going on?” 

He smiled at you and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. 

“I’m making you mine, angel,” you said, smirking, “I’ve never seen such a pretty little omega in my life…as for where…you don’t really need to know that. You’re somewhere safe.” 

You squealed. 

“B-but you- y-you’re…” you sputtered, not really sure what you were trying to say. 

“But I’m a gangster?” he laughed, standing up and crossing the room to you. 

You tried to squirm away from him, his scent invading the safety of your new nest. He crouched down and pulled your chin between his fingers, gathering the drink and the cigar in the other hand. The smell of cigar smoke mingled with his smell.

“That only means I can protect my little pet like no one else can, the name’s Jude” he said, smirking at you, “what’s yours or should I just call you angel?” 

“(Y/N),” you stammered.

He got up, putting his burden down on a side table and started to slowly undress, his fingers surprisingly nimbly removing his gun holster and unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. You watched in awe as he revealed his rippling muscled body, your cheeks pinkening and slick dampening the little panties you were in. He sniffed the air and bared his big, sharp teeth while he shucked off his pants. You felt your skin heat, starting to burn as his pheromones sunk into it, the extended exposure triggering your heat. 

“Are you getting ready for me, angel?” he cooed, stalking across the room towards you, his massive erect cock bobbing in front of him, “are you gonna take my knot and my bite like a good little girl?” 

You tried to scurry away, but he was on you like a panther, pushing you down into the soft floor of your nest. You whimpered and trembled underneath him as he sniffed you, aroused by your omega scent, but not just any omega scent. His omega was shaking underneath him and that made his cock painfully hard. 

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothed you, petting your hair, “you were made for this, angel.” 

Kissing you, he forced his tongue past your lips, possessing your mouth. You tasted him, bourbon and tobacco, a bit sweet on your palette. His kiss was wet and possessive, making you take him, forcing your tongue to respond to his. 

He jerked away from you and pushed your head into the pillows, propping your ass in the air, so he could bury his face in it, drawing a squall out of you. 

“Mmmm,” he grunted, inhaling you and dragging a long lick over your pussy at the same time. You felt his thick fingers prod your puffy lips, shoving the flimsy fabric of your panties to the side as he explored you with the tip of his tongue. You moaned and whimpered into the pillows, shuddering under his touch. 

“That’s it. Cry for me,” he said into your pussy, his deep voice carrying. 

That’s just what you did as his fiendish tongue flicked over your clit until you were sobbing in an orgasm. Pleased your pussy was sopping, he shoved two large fingers in, pumping you mercilessly to stretch you open. 

“You’re tight, angel,” he purred, “but you’ll take it.” 

You screamed at the rough invasion, whimpering as his big hand found your breast and he kneaded it. He was hovering over you, his massive form making a cave over your body. He was so much, his scent in your space and your nose, all over you. His pheromones made you dizzy and sensitive, producing more and more slick as you prepared to be bred. 

He pulled the cup of your bra away from your nipple tugging at it, while he fingered you open. You sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body and mind were grinding against each other. Your biology wanted it.You needed to be marked, knotted, and bred by a strong alpha, but your mind was aware you were chained to a nest, who knows where and you were scared. 

Your biology won as you felt his cock nudge your entrance. Slick streamed out of your pussy, leaking down your thighs. He didn’t give your virgin cunt any mercy, roughly thrusting inside and rutting you with a fierce pace. All you could do was scream and drool as your body was savagely jerked down on his cock over and over again. Holding you by your tits, he used you, making your tender core his playtoy. Your fingers scrabbled hopelessly on the blankets, trying to ground yourself, but there was nothing you could do. He was strong and large, throwing you around like a doll.  

“You’re gonna take my knot, angel,” he grunted as you felt it swelling at the base of his cock. 

You tried to wriggle away, but it was no use and your body was made for this. You wailed as he forced it inside, fucking you with it, in and out, before it got too big to be used to torture your little entrance. 

“I-I- can’t!” you gasped, sure it wouldn’t fit inside of you. 

“Yes, you can, my love,” he purred, kissing your wet cheeks gently, “you can take it.” 

Finally, he jammed it in, painting your womb with cum and roaring his dominance. 

The swollen knot was thrust deep inside of you making you moan and cry, your eyes crossing from being so full. You were barely aware of him dragging your neck bare by the collar around it and clamping his teeth down on the spot where it joined with your shoulder. You screamed at the wild orgasm that overtook you, clouding your vision. Your omega body knew this was right and was rewarding you. You were supposed to be bitten, knotted, and claimed. He rocked his knot inside of you, his cock still hard, unlatching his teeth from you. Your brain was so close to shattering you didn’t even feel the pain of the bite. 

His thick fingers found their way to your clit and one pulled the hood back and circled the tender nub. 

“N-no, n-no,” you whimpered, not sure you could take anymore, but his other fingers found your nipple and he played with you like an instrument he was tuning all the while rocking his knot inside of you. 

You exploded in a squirt of slick and a scream, your cunt clenching down around it and forcing more of his cum deep past your cervix. He gasped into your ear at the pleasure of being milked. 

“Good girl, I told you, you could do it,” he cooed and you couldn’t help but preen at his praise. This was right. You’d been claimed and knotted. At that moment his cum was sealed inside you where it should be. You went slack against him, purring, his scent finally blending with yours in an appealing musk that perfumed your new nest. 

“I’m going to take good care of you, angel,” he whispered as he got comfortable with you spooned beneath him, his knot linking you together. 

He pulled your sleepy head up to him to look at you. 

“You have two choices,” he told you, his voice a commanding baritone, “you can stay chained in this nest like a fuck doll if you want to be a bad little omega or you can stand by my side as my woman and be treated like a princess, which will it be?” 

You hummed with exhaustion and surrender. 

“I’ll be a good girl,” you agreed quietly and he smirked, leaning down and covering your lips with his. 

“I figured as much,” he said smugly, petting you as he finally let you rest and drift off to sleep.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 16

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Deep inhale, deeper exhale* Okay. You ready? 

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Blood and peril, violence, angst, and yet another cliffhanger. (Last one, I promise!) 

Part 16: Soldier Boy

You fled with Jon, Frank, and Loco to escape the bowels of Vought Tower. 

You all were lucky that the Security & Surveillance room hadn’t been caught in the blast, but on the monitors you had seen it carve through the center of the building like a beam of light. 

You could freak out about that later though. Now you were in flight mode, just trying to survive and evade falling debris and unsteady ground. 

Frank kicked through a locked door on the way to the nearest stairwell. You and Jon made it through, but a huge chunk of debris fell, cutting Loco off from the rest of you. 

You gasped and went to the doorway, trying to see if you could help push it out of the way. But more of the ceiling was still falling and threatened to crush you. Frank pulled you back, even though you knew he was worried too.

“Just go!” Loco said. “I’ll find another way out.”

“Head east,” Jon said. “There’s another stairwell by Human Resources.”

“Vought HR. What a fucking joke,” you couldn’t help but quip. But after Loco took off, you grabbed Frank’s arm and headed down the hall. You could see the “EXIT” sign up ahead. It led to a gray door, where several people were fleeing down the stairs. 

Including Dr. Tonya Baker and three of her guards. 

You and Frank stopped her before the door with your guns raised. Frank killed each guard with precision, while you kept your gun aimed on the good doctor. She raised her hand in wide-eyed surrender, but her other hand held a briefcase. You gestured to it with your gun.

“What’s that? Open it up,” you said. When the doctor hesitated, you pointed the gun back in her face. “Now.”

Gritting her teeth, she obliged you by entering the code that would unlock the briefcase. Jon took it from her and showed you its contents.

There were several files and blue vials of what you assumed were Compound V. However, you noticed three small white containers that weren’t like the rest. They were labeled: Soldier Boy. 

“What are these?” you asked. Dr. Baker was tight-lipped, until you pressed the gun between her eyes. 

“DNA samples,” she answered reluctantly. Your face fell, then hardened into a glare. 

“Well, fuck that,” you said.

With your gun trained on the doctor, you grabbed a glass container and smashed it to the ground, making her flinch. Stale-smelling yellow liquid splattered on the floor, and you realized then what kind of “sample” it must’ve been. Jon grimaced; some of it had splashed onto his shoes.

“Thank you,” he groused. 

“Oh, I’m not done,” you said. And you did the same to the last two containers. You took the briefcase from your father and gave it to Frank. “Take this and Madam Fritz here to the S.A.”

“What are you about to do?” Frank asked, though he took the briefcase from you (and laid a firm hand on Dr. Baker’s shoulder). “I don’t like that damn look in your eye.”

You turned to the scientist. “Did you see anyone else still in the building?”

“A few,” she admitted. “Mostly in the lower floors. Admin, Customer Service, R&D.”

Your eyes flew wide in alarm. Yvette, your friend who worked in Customer Service. She could be trapped down there…

Jon turned to you with a frown. “The only way they’re getting out is when the Fire Department comes to collect the bodies.”

You glared back and raised your gun at him next. 

“Guess who’s going to help me get them out?” You glanced at Frank, who didn’t look pleased. “Don’t make that face. I’ll be fine.”

“The tower’s literally falling apart as we speak!” Jon exclaimed. He tried to push your gun away from his face, but you held it aloft. 

“Move your ass or catch a bullet,” you snapped. “We’re going to Customer Service first.”

Ben continued to fight Black Noir.

He still wanted to cave in Stan Edgar’s skull, and it had the added benefit of giving Butcher and his team the cover they needed to try and escape the tower. That wasn’t in his mind though. He was focused on his two targets. 

He’d grabbed a discarded gun from the floor when he’d gotten back up to his feet. He now used it to shoot Stan in the leg, to stop him from fleeing. The man cried out and went down hard on the newly installed tile. 

Ben raised the gun again to shoot him between the eyes, but Noir stopped him. He grabbed Ben’s arm and hurled him over his shoulder. He landed in the broken shambles of Stan’s desk, and the impact further destabilized the top floor of the building. 

Parts of the ceiling had already begun to break off, and Stan noticed. He tried to drag himself towards the door while Soldier Boy was distracted. Blood trailed after his bleeding leg, but he was determined, fighting for his life. 

In fact, he almost made it. 

But just when he was a mere three feet from the door, a massive panel of the ceiling (along with a silver light fixture), crashed down over him. If the concrete hadn’t crushed his bones, the ceiling light would’ve impaled him—right through his chest. 

Ben watched the scene from where he half-lay on the ground in the rubble. His eyes marginally widened, but then his mouth quirked in satisfaction. One down…

His hand closed over a metal rod, yanking it from a piece of rock and wood, and he got to his feet. When Noir flew at him again, Ben lodged the metal rod deep into his exposed ear. If it had worked for Maeve on Homelander, he’d figured it could work on Noir.

And it did. The supe remained mute, expressionless, but the projectile lodged into his ear canal still made him wince. He clawed at it with shaking hands, trying to get it out. Ben didn’t give him a chance—he drop-kicked the other supe into the large glass window.

They’d given this clone Homelander’s strength, but forgot to give him flight, it seemed. Because the supe fell and kept falling off the side of the tower. 

Ben stood there in the center of the destroyed room. 

He panted for breath, only then did he notice his own fatigue. His limbs felt heavy, and it nearly buckled his knees. He forced himself to stay upright. Ben would never admit it, but whatever that gun had blasted him with, it did a number on him. 

Ignoring how his hand shook, he raised it to his ear. 

“Stan Edgar’s dead,” he said. “So is Noir, probably. I’m headed down.”

Hughie helped Butcher to the van in the garage, but he stopped short. An ex-military-looking guy was walking toward him with a briefcase in hand, and leading a doctor in a lab coat with the other. 

“It’s you!” M.M. recognized him with a sharpening gaze. “From the airport. You’re one of Soldier Boy’s men.”

Frank gave the doctor over to M.M., informing them that you had asked him to put Dr. Baker into custody. At the mention of your name, Annie’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God, she’s still in there!” she said. She turned on her comm and called your name. “Where the hell are you?”

“Uh…little busy at the moment,” you replied. 

Predictably, Soldier Boy got on the line next. 

“What? Where the fuck are you?”

Annie grimaced at the man’s tone. But she marveled, because she could hear the depths of his worry for you.

“Still in the tower. Some people are trapped on the second floor,” you replied. Soldier Boy’s growl of frustration came through. 

“Where are you exactly?” he demanded.

“Admin department, second floor,” you told Ben. You were prying open the door to the former when the ground beneath your feet trembled. “Oh shit!”

You needed both hands to stabilize yourself against the wall, but it was Jon who helped you stay upright. And he finished what you started, wrenching open the door and letting out a crowd of desperate people clamoring to get out. 

Once most of them passed, you and Jon slipped inside the large Administration office. Inside were various cubicles, conference rooms, and internal offices, one of which was Customer Service. That was your goal as you jogged through the halls. Jon fell into step with you.

“Look,” Jon began. “Everything I did—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said sharply. “I don’t have time for a meaningless heart-to-heart with you.”

You called out for Yvette, or anyone still trapped inside one of the offices. You heard a distant voice respond, and you followed it. You were led all the way to the end of the hall, where a chunk of debris had fallen outside of a glass office door. Inside was a group of about ten people.

“Okay, hold on!” you told them. “Stand back from the door.”

You and your father worked to clear the debris. But he looked up at you with something you’d never seen before in his eyes, though you refused to acknowledge it now. 

“When I came back from Vietnam, I saw what this country had become. How these asshole supes had taken over the goddamn world,” Jon said, though it was labored between bouts of lifting. 

He briefly grasped at his chest in pain. And you remembered then that Ben had broken at least his arm and collarbone. He even wore a cast on his forearm, which you finally noticed beneath his jacket sleeve. 

“You were different from your sister. Even at a young age, I saw that spark of fire in you. Hardheaded, even at the best of times,” he said, with a flicker of a smile. “I just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to handle this snake pit of a fucking world.”

He paused to look up at you. “But you were strong in spite of me.”

You had to stop and catch your breath. As his words registered, tears began to burn in your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Nor did you respond.

Once the doorway was clear, you were able to open the door and let the people out. The last of them was Yvette, and her son Devon.

“Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw you. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, and you returned it. 

“Are you okay?” you asked in relief. She tried and failed at a smile. Still weeping, she took her eight-year-old son’s hand and guided him out along with her. 

“Well, now we are. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later. Come on,” you said. You flashed Devon a smile and reached out your hand. “Hey, Devon. Let’s go, buddy.”

He was crying, but he nodded and grabbed your hand too. 

“He had a stomachache,” Yvette whispered to you. “I pulled him out of school early. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, we’re getting out,” you told her. Jon brought up the rear to make sure you all made it out of the office unit safely. 

You made it down to the gift shop on the first floor, but a small crowd had formed at the back exit to the garage—which by now, was the only safe route out of the tower. The lobby was completely destroyed. 

The problem was, the garage exit was now blocked by debris as well.

“All right,” Jon sighed. “There’s another way, through the custodian entrance—”

Three shots rang out. You ducked and took Yvette with you, but you choked on a gasp when you looked back…

Jon had a gloved fist punched through his chest cavity. 

You watched with wide eyes as Black Noir revoked his arm from your father’s body with a wet, horrific sound. You gasped when Jon fell to his knees.

But to your shock, the supe glanced right past you, Yvette, and Devon. His pale gray eyes focused on only the men in the room. He then strode forward and began picking them off one by one.

You shakily pointed out a large aisle of A-Train merchandise for your friend to hide behind. Yvette pulled her son in that direction, while you went to your father where he laid on the ground. 

With difficulty, you rolled him onto his back. You then laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other hovered over his chest. Blood pooled through the gaping chasm in his Vought-issued black jacket. 

Your lower lip trembled, and you realized then that you were crying as he struggled for breath. Even after everything he’d done to you—to your family—it still hurt you to see him like this…to know that he was dying. 

And there was no time. Not to save him, or for resolution…

“Dad,” you tried, but he stopped you. His brows were furrowed with pain, but he gripped your wrist tight. 

“Run,” he said. He held on for a moment or two longer, but when the light faded from his eyes, you closed yours. 

You struggled against a sob. His grip eased from your wrist, and you laid his hand to rest on the ground. 

Protect yourself, your sister’s voice reminded you. You couldn’t stay out in the open like this. Black Noir had finished with the men, and now was starting in on the rest of the survivors. It seemed that without a handler, the clone had no orders to fulfill except his own. 

With a ragged breath, you retrieved the gun from your belt and had to leave your father behind. 

You joined Yvette and Devon behind the A-Train aisle and warned them with a finger over your lips to stay quiet. You pressed a shaking finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Ben, where are you?” you asked. Maybe he heard the tremor in your voice, because you certainly read the concern in his.

“You’re not on the second floor. Where are you?”

You closed your eyes for a beat. “On the first floor. The garage is blocked and Noir has us bottlenecked.”

“I’m almost there. Just stay put,” Ben said. His tone was firm, and it reassured you. You nodded, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere in a hurry,” you whispered.

You could hear the agonized screams of people dying in the room, but you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you looked back at your father’s body on the cold ground. But with a determined breath, you looked at Yvette and Devon, who were clearly terrified. 

You cocked your gun and nodded at them to move forward down the aisle, but to stay low to the ground. The custodian entrance was on the first floor, but it was in the east wing of the tower. You were in the west wing. The only feasible way out was through the blocked garage exit, just up ahead. 

But so was Black Noir. The only thing you could do was stay alive long enough for Ben to find you. Because there was no way you could exit the room the way you came without Noir spotting you. 

Fuck. This wasn’t going to be easy. And all the while, the tower could come crashing down at any moment. The tremors in the walls and in the ground were increasing with every minute as pieces of the floor above continued to fall. 

A nightmare, for which you’d surely need copious amounts of therapy, if you survived this. 

No sooner had that thought filtered through your mind, when a katana flashed above your head, decapitating a cardboard cutout of The Deep. Yvette and Devon yelped in fright, but you grabbed them and shoved them forward into a sprint down the aisle with your head bowed. 

Bullets ripped after you, into the ground and the rows of merch. You turned a corner and stopped behind a large metal shelf lined with Queen Maeve plushies. 

But the three of you screamed when the katana ripped through the shelf, and one of the unfortunate plushies. 

You all stumbled into the open, where Noir soon found you. He raised his katana level with your face, and your eyes grew wide. But before the blade could slice into you, Noir was yanked back and thrown across the room, into the far wall with a heavy impact. He recovered, of course, but he paused.

Because Soldier Boy now stood between him and his targets. 

You looked up at Ben with relieved tears in your eyes—both for him saving your life, and just at the sight of him. He mostly looked all right, if a bit worse for wear. You knew you were much the same, dusty, bruised, and tearful. 

He flashed you a quirk of a smile. 

“Go, get out of here,” he said. 

“We can’t,” you started to say, but an explosion behind you made you flinch. You turned to see that the debris covering the garage exit had been cleared. It its place was M.M., Annie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, the latter waving a spare stick of dynamite. You smirked, even though your eyes glittered with unshed tears. 

“Okay, let’s go!” You reached for Devon and helped Yvette pick him up.

However, the dynamite blast had ruined what small semblance of stability was left in the ground floor. The ceiling began to fall—first near the exit, then right behind you, cutting you off from Ben. You gasped, but you didn’t have time to call out to him. 

And you heard M.M. and Annie calling out to you. All you could do was push Yvette forward, then drag her back when a massive chunk of concrete nearly fell on her and her son. 

But that’s when you lost your footing, and your balance, tipping backwards with a halting shriek.

You were trapped. Ben knew it the moment the wall of debris cut you off from him. He heard your voice, your scream, but he knew he couldn’t help you until he finished off Noir, for the last time. 

“All right, Earving. Let’s make this quick,” Ben said. “I don’t know if there’s any part of you left in there, but this would be a good fucking time to come out with some last words.”

The gray-eyed supe just stared back at him. His katana was drawn, and he slowly slid back into a crouched stance. Ben’s body tensed as well. The effects of Noir’s gun were still making his hands shake, but Ben clenched them into fists. He couldn’t afford weakness right now. 

So when Noir ran forward, Ben waited for the supe to come to him. He dodged the swipe of the blade, and threw out smart punches and combinations that started to push Noir back.

The blade came down again, but Ben blocked it with his shield. It cut through the top of it. But Ben used the momentary pause to kick Noir straight in the chest. He tore the blade from his shield and threw it away. Then he tossed his shield like a fatal frisbee. 

The supe narrowly dodged it, but he couldn’t escape Ben grappling him to the ground. He put all his energy into lighting the nuclear fuse in his chest. 

It was hard to keep it steady after the destabilizing gun, but no matter how Noir thrashed, Ben squeezed around his neck with all his might to keep him pinned. With a ragged yell, a flash of power escaped him. It fried through Noir’s suit, though it only lightly burned his skin. 

When the power ran its course, Noir lost his strength. The clone was now powerless. 

Ben grabbed a knife from the other supe’s belt, and he was able to break skin, stabbing into the center of the man’s chest. He didn’t let go until the clone’s gray eyes were truly lifeless.

Ben drew in ragged breaths. Gathering his strength, he pushed off of Noir and managed, with difficulty, back onto his feet. He felt satisfied, but maybe there was a bitter tinge to it. This thing had been created with Homelander’s DNA, and ultimately, Homelander had been a product of Soldier Boy.

Of Ben himself. 

He knew it wasn’t his fault. That lay dead with Stan. But Ben knew that he’d wasted a lot of time. For all his bravado, he had let himself be manipulated and controlled. For fame and money and women, and everything else that came with that.  

“Soldier Boy! Are you there?” he heard your friend call out. It broke him out of the haze of his exhaustion. He shook his head sharply to focus. 

He called back for you, nearing the wall of debris, but you didn’t answer. He was able to break some of it away, enough that he was finally able to see Yvette’s worried face. 

“Where is she?” he asked. A coil of dread stirred in the pit of his stomach. 

“She’s hurt,” said Yvette. 

The coil tightened, as did Ben’s jaw. 

“All right, stand back,” he ordered. He grabbed his discarded shield and held it aloft. 

“Okay, go ahead!” she said. 

He used his shield like a battering ram to get through the pile of wood and concrete. It loosened even more of the trembling ceiling and plunged the entire clearing with dust. Ben waved a hand through it, coughing as he stepped inside. He found Yvette and her son, but his eyes were drawn to you.

You’d fallen on your back, and a slab of concrete was pinning your leg. He moved it with a grunt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy impact. He examined your leg next; he was no doctor, but he could assume it was probably broken under the weight of concrete. 

Okay. Doctors could fix a fucking leg, he reasoned. He was more concerned about your head. Had you hit it on the way down, or had you smacked it on the hard tile when you landed?

Your hair was loose, and he slid careful fingers through it. He felt a small knot forming behind your head. He touched your pale cheek…

And then he saw it. 

You weren’t lying entirely on the ground. You’d fallen on a small pile of rubble, and sticking out an inch below your shoulder was a thick piece of rebar.

Fuck, he thought. Your pulse at your neck was still beating under the pads of his fingers. 

But then, he paused. He was starting to hear something, a deeper tremor than the occasional rubble falling from the ceiling. 

“Are you guys okay?” M.M. called. With all the debris, he couldn’t quite get to you all. But maybe he could find a hole underneath the rubble to squeeze you out of. 

“The tower’s coming down!” Ben barked. 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get the fuck out of here,” M.M. replied.

“No, the whole fucking thing. It’s coming down now!” Ben said. Yvette grabbed her son and huddled closer to you and Ben. He quickly stood and surveyed his surroundings in search of a larger shield. 

The only thing in reach was a large metal shelf. It would have to do. 

He grabbed it and ran back to you, just in time for the world to start falling. 

Ben blinked dust and plaster out of his eyes and coughed it out of his mouth. He was holding God knew how much of the tower on his back. The metal groves of the shelf were digging into his spine and between his shoulder blades. 

When his vision cleared, he saw that Yvette was knocked out, bleeding from a cut on her temple. Maybe a stray rock had hit her. 

Her son seemed all right though, if covered in dust. 

“You okay, kid?” Ben asked. He nodded shakily, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe he was still alive. Ben could understand that.

However, you were the one he was worried about. He called your name, but you didn’t respond. Ben looked up at the kid. 

“Shake her a little, would ya? Not hard.”

The kid nodded, biting his lip. He gently shook your arm, calling your name. Eventually you coughed and opened your eyes on a moan of pain. Ben let out a short, relieved breath.

“Hey…how you doin’?”

“Hurts to breathe,” you admitted, coughing up more dust. But you cried out when trying to get up disturbed your shoulder. “What…?”

“Don’t move,” he warned you. “You’re uh…you’re pinned down.” 

With trembling lips, you turned your head and saw what held you—the rebar protruding just beneath your shoulder. You let out a ragged breath. 

An inch lower and it would’ve been your heart. 

The problem was, you were sure you would bleed out anyway the moment you were freed from the rebar. 

“Don’t look at it,” Ben said firmly. “Look at me.”

You blinked up at him with watery eyes. You finally realized that he was kneeling, holding up a massive shelf to cover all four of you. 

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” you asked. A tear streamed down the side of your face. 

Ben nodded. Really, it was taking all the strength he had left to hold up this piece of shit, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

“I can do this all fucking day,” he said with a smirk. “But maybe check in with your friends so we can get the hell out of here.”

Letting out another shaky breath, you raised the hand opposite to your pinned shoulder and pressed a finger to the comm in your ear. 

“Are you guys still there? Did anyone make it out?” you asked.

For a moment, it was silent. You looked over at Devon, who was quietly crying. You reached out your free hand to him, even if it made more blood weep from your shoulder. He grabbed your hand, and you gave his a comforting squeeze. 

“It’s okay, Dev. We’re getting out soon,” you tried to sooth him. Devon nodded and squeezed your hand back. 

Ben watched the exchange with interest. You seemed to have a good way with kids…

“Hello?” you repeated into the comm. Your voice was weak and raspy, even to your own ears. You released your shaking hand back to the ground. “No one’s answering…where’s Yvette?”

“Knocked out for a bit, but she looks fine,” said Ben, nodding to where your friend was lying on the ground. 

Though he realized he was starting to lose you when your eyes closed. 

“Hey,” he barked. “Stay with me.”

The near shout forced you to open your eyes, but they were already starting to droop. Ben finally noticed the blood slipping away from you, starting to pool beneath your arm. 

“I’m awake, just resting my eyes,” you said. Not very convincing. 

Ben experimentally lowered an arm from supporting the shelf. He moved slow, and he heard shifting rubble above him, but he managed to balance the shelf on just his back. He grit his teeth at the strain.

Even for him, the weight was immense. He didn’t know how long they could wait for someone to get to them. But he could see the kid was frozen with fear.

“You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Ben said.

The kid was tearful, but he nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Devon.”

“All right, Devon. You know who I am?”

“…Soldier Boy,” the kid replied in a small voice. His large brown eyes were filled with tears as he sniffed. His short hair and dark tan skin were covered with dust, so Ben could see the path of his tears down his cheeks and neck. He gave Devon an attempt at a smile and nodded. 

“That’s right.”

Finally, some of the debris near Yvette cleared a small hole above the ground, revealing Kimiko. Her eyes widened with excitement, her mouth falling open in a quiet gasp. She smiled and ducked her head back out. Ben frowned in confusion as he heard the French guy and some of the others babbling. 

“Hello?” he snapped. “The fuck is going on out there?” 

M.M. peered in next and took in the four of you with relief. He met Ben’s gaze.

“They’ll need a stretcher,” Ben said, gesturing at you and Yvette. “And a medic.”

“Okay, we’re gonna see if we can open this hole a bit wider,” M.M. said. He frowned at the narrow space inside. “It’s gonna be hard to get a stretcher in here.”

“Just get it done,” Ben said, beginning to lose his patience. He was carrying the tower on his back, and you were fading before his eyes. 

M.M. nodded and was gone. But he returned soon after with Kimiko, and both worked together to open the hold wider without dislodging more debris. Once they had a big enough hole, M.M. peered in.

“Okay, who’s first?”

“She is,” Ben said, nodding down at you. “Bring the stretcher.”

Once again, M.M. disappeared.

Ben looked over at Devon. 

“She’s hurt bad. We’re going to get her out first,” Ben said, gesturing at you. “I’m going to need you to hold her down, by her shoulders. After I take out the rebar, you’re going to put pressure on the wound. Got it?”

Devon looked unsure. 

“Got it?” Ben repeated. More tears slid down the boy’s cheeks as he shook his head.

“Listen, you little sh—” Ben started to snap in irritation.

But at the last moment, he stopped himself. He remembered how you were with the kid earlier, tried to think of what you might say right about now. 

“Uh, you can do this,” he said, gruff and a bit awkward. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Devon said in a small voice. 

At that, annoyance slowly drained out of Ben. He reached out and grasped the kid’s shoulder, firm, but gentle.

“You won’t. You’re going to help her,” he said. “Just hold her down, and I’ll do the rest. All right?”

He hesitated, but Devon nodded and wiped his face dry. 

“Good man,” Ben nodded. “Now come on, over here.”

Devon moved so that he was behind you, holding your shoulders down.

You grimaced and made a sound of pain. But Ben was quick; he braced your shoulder with one hand and slid the rebar out with the other. He forced himself to remain stoic at your resulting screech of agony. 

But Devon couldn’t. His tears came down anew, and he immediately released your shoulders. Ben moved you more fully onto the ground and instructed Devon to put pressure on the wound, leaning his body weight into it. 

“Stay awake,” Ben warned you. He knew you were having a hard time, and tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, onto the ground below. You forced your eyes to open, so you could look up at him.

“Ben,” you tried, but if this was going to be an if I die speech, then he didn’t want to fucking hear it.

“Don’t talk,” he said sternly. “Just keep breathing.”

“Listen,” you insisted. With difficulty, you grabbed onto the metal embellishments on his suit, finding purchase on his chest. 

“You are strong. You can do anything you want, you know,” you said, smiling wryly. “Including, being a better man.” 

Ben looked down at you with knitted brows. Sweat slipped down his forehead, but he didn’t know what to say to you. 

Until you let go of his suit, and your eyes started to close. 

“Fuck. Stay awake, damn it!” he snapped. It was an effort, but you opened your eyes. 

Then Yvette started to rouse, raising a hand to her aching head. 

“Oh, thanks for joining us,” Ben remarked, unable to disguise most of his snark. Devon helped her sit properly. 

When she saw you, paler than ever, she gasped and took over putting pressure on your wound. 

M.M. then finally returned with the stretcher. He beckoned Devon out first.

“Come on, little man.”

Ben opened his mouth to snap a protest, but M.M. shook his head. 

“It’s too narrow. They need to come out first to make room.”

Devon eyed the jagged concrete around the hole they’d created. He seemed scared to attempt taking M.M.’s hand to leave. 

He looked back at Yvette, who encouraged him forward. But he also looked over at Ben. 

He was frankly surprised the kid was looking to him for reassurance. Again, he thought of what you’d said to Devon earlier. 

“It’s okay,” Ben said. “You’re going home today. Trust me, son.” 

Devon stared at his face for a moment, and nodded tearfully. 

When M.M. was eventually able to take the boy’s hand, he met Ben’s gaze, which was mostly covered by stoicism. 

Devon made it out of the cave, followed by Yvette. While she climbed out, Ben took over putting pressure on your wound, even though it made the shelf creak. He grunted against the pressure on his back. 

Then M.M. finally slipped in the stretcher. Ben roused you by tapping on your cheek. He accidentally left a smudge of your own blood there.

“Come on, baby doll. Work with me here,” he muttered. You whimpered in response.  

You were so pale, but you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You’re a fighter, Ben reminded himself, as he helped M.M. maneuver you onto the stretcher.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he said.

“Wait,” you croaked. “Wait…how’re you getting out?” 

Ben quirked a smile. 

“I’m right behind you.” But he then glared up at M.M. “Hurry the fuck up. She’s still bleeding out.”

M.M. shot him a dark look, but he ignored Ben in order to help you. After you were taken out on the stretcher, Annie called out to him. 

“The fire department’s about to come in with pressure bags, so you can drop the shelf,” she said.  

True to her word, Ben started to hear a sharp whirring—the sound of something inflating. 

But as soon as they started, the ground shook. 

And the walls once again began to collapse around him. 

AN: *cowers in the corner* Please don't hate me! I promise, you're going to like the ultimate outcome of the next chapter (despite the teaser lol).

But I would still love to hear your thoughts on this one! What did you think of Jon's ultimate fate? How did you like Ben literally holding up the Tower?

(And did you catch the small Captain America reference? 😏)

**Side note: I hope you all enjoyed "Love Actually"! It's a far cry from where we are right now in BMD world lol...

Next Time:

Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

Keep Reading: PART 17

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[revengeghoulette]

Matcha Latte w/ Rose

Part 1: The Meet Cute, Barista Swiss x Professor Mountain

Part 2 3

Playlist: The Rosy Crown

I’ve had this idea written down since February, because a friend made me a matcha latte with oat milk and a splash of rose and I was like yup this is definitely Them. I also definitely did not describe my dream of owning a book & coffee shop.  No mentions of matcha this part, but definitely next part. Divider by @ghuleh-recs

@divine-misfortune bc i really enjoyed your tags :) @obsidianghoul, @gottagho-st @foxybouquet @rainsbasspick @hypnoneghoul bc Swissalps

Slightly edited, might go back in and edit some more

Swiss works at a quiet little bookstore and coffee shop owned by an elderly couple. They’ve been training him to take over the business since they're too old to be doing this sort of thing, and want to leave it to a local who will take care of their business. He’s always wanted to be a businessman and run a little local shop. A safe space for all the so-called weirdos in the community, especially the college kids trying to figure out who they are. Fresh baked goodies round the clock, fresh coffee, a bookstore with an upstairs quiet area for studying with sleeping pods in case anyone needs a place for the night, or just needs a nap. 

Once he officially became the owner, he changed its name to Rosy Crown Bookshop and Cafe. He hired a few teens, a handful of part-time college kids, and his friends Mist and Sunny, who help run the bookshop side of things and do other management stuff. 

Swiss enjoys working as a barista and running the cafe. He enjoys seeing all the new faces at the start of the semester, but mostly, he enjoys the fact that his coffee shop is the go-to study place. He also hosts study sessions, trivia nights, and other little destressors for students. During midterms and finals, the cafe would be open 24/7 for those procrastinators and extreme studiers. Mist, Sunny and Swiss don’t mind staying open for them and working long hours. 

The start of a new semester was around the corner. New faces were slowly starting to roll in, exploring the bookshop, trying the seasonal drinks, and a few asking for employment. Many nervous freshmen calm down after chatting with Swiss, knowing they have a safe space to come to for studying.

Swiss was finishing opening the coffee shop when he walked in. He’s tall, slender, wears glasses, tousled reddish brown hair that matches the autumnal leaves outside. Swiss was taken aback by this beautiful man… wait no. Ghoul? There’s a certain scent to him. He was too distracted to notice that he was ringing the bell for assistance. Snapping out of it, Swiss walks behind the counter to take his order. 

“Hi, welco-” Swiss starts, but never finished.

The man looks up the menu, only to say “12 oz drip coffee.” 

Swiss is shocked at the man’s abruptness, “oh sure, name?” 

“Mmmm…ark. Mark,” the hottie answers with some hesitation. 

Swiss smiles because it reminds him of those customers that like to make up names for their orders like Obi Wan or Rapunzel, “Mark?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, ca-can we rush this? I’m late for my first day,” the ghoul man stammers out

“You got it!” 

Swiss turns around to fill a cup with drip coffee. Before handing the cup over, he scribbled out a little message on the sleeve, “Good luck” 

“Here you go, on the house,” Swiss slides the coffee across the counter. 

“No, I have to pay,” he insists, fishing for his wallet in his messenger bag. 

“Mark, I’m serious. It’s on the house. Now go before you're even more late,” Swiss shoos him away playfully. 

The day goes on smoothly, but Swiss couldn’t get Mark’s smile out of his mind. 

“Whatcha doin’ there Swissypoo,” Mist pokes Swiss while he’s staring off into the distance as she wraps her apron around her waist. 

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Swiss tries to play it off. Mist chuckles because she doesn’t believe him, but won’t push it. 

The entrance bells ring announcing the arrival of a customer.  Swiss stands up a little taller, and dusts off his apron. Mist looks between the customer and Swiss. There’s something there, so she hangs back, refilling the caramel sauce squeeze bottle, watching them interact. 

“Hi, welcome back,” Swiss smiles at the man. 

The man in front of him looks almost embarrassed, apologetic, “Hi, I’m- uh, sorry about um earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” he brushes him off. 

“I’ve felt bad all day so I thought I’d come and buy a little celebratory pastry,” the stranger flashes him a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little bit. 

“How did today go?”

“It was actually pretty good, thank you. Can I get a slice of the carrot cake please. Can you make it to go?” 

“Absolutely,” Swiss grabs the slice and places it on a box, scribbling ‘For surviving the day’ on the lid before handing to him, “Here you are.”

“Thank you! I’m Mark, by the way. I know I told you earlier, but I wanted to properly introduce myself.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark. My friends call me Swiss.” Swiss extends his hand for a hand shake and Mark meets his hand, static shocking both of them. 

Mist was right, there was something there. She was definitely going to question Swiss once this guy leaves. 

“What the fuck was that?” Mist pushes Swiss to the back of the house, slapping his arm. 

Laughing, Swiss pushes Mist away by pushing her forehead, “What do you mean?”

“Dude, sparks were literally flying. C’mon spill.” 

“Nope! My shift is over, BYE!”

With that, Swiss takes off his apron, and leaves the shop. Mist is flabbergasted by what just happened. 

Mark came in every morning that week to get coffee before jetting off to work. Everyday Swiss would write a little something on the sleeve of the coffee cup, or on the napkin with his pastry. Mark has never mentioned them, but Swiss is hopeful he saw them. 

It’s Saturday, and he’s not expecting to see Mark, but it’s a nice surprise to see him walk in and take a seat at one of the corner tables. After setting his bag down, he walks up to the counter. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Well, hello stranger. Can I get you your usual?” Swiss asks as he’s about to turn around. 

“No, actually. I was wondering if you could make me your favorite drink. I don't usually drink like those fancy coffee drinks, but my TA was giving me shit for always drinking the same thing, so I wanted to explore different caffeinated drinks, I guess, and I didn’t know where to go, so I figured since we kind of have a rapport I could ask you. Oh my goodness, I'm rambling, I'm sorry!” 

Swiss smiles kindly at him, chuckles a bit. “TA? Are you a teacher?” 

“I’m a professor at the local university,” Mark explains. 

“Emeritus Tech? I graduated from there! But yes, why don’t you go sit down, and I'll make you something” 

Mark takes a seat and pulls out his laptop and a book. Swiss returns with a latte. 

“This here is a vanilla latte. Everyone says ‘it's basic,’ but it’s a good beginner coffee drink if you’re just starting to explore the coffee world. You can change the flavoring and the type of milks used. It’s vanilla flavoring, a shot of espresso, and milk with some foam on top,” Mountain lifts an eyebrow at the design on top, “It’s a swan,” Swiss answers his unspoken question, flashing him a smile, “I used oat milk because I find that it gives it a creamier, slightly thicker consistency. Enjoy. I’ll make my rounds.” 

Swiss leaves Mark to his own devices, but he watches him from behind the bar. Mark takes a cautious sip from the mug, closing his eyes and savoring the taste. He didn’t know coffee could taste so good. He just stuck to drip, because he was too scared to order or make different drinks. 

As the afternoon crowd slowly started to leave, Swiss began cleaning around, organizing shelves and restocking books and coffee supplies. Mark’s eyes would often wander to Swiss. He’d catch him dancing, humming to himself, reading the summaries of books before shelving them. Mark was entranced by Swiss’ silly little shenanigans.  

Mark stayed late to finish his lesson plans. Swiss occasionally brings him water, or a sweet treat against Mark’s wishes, but he still eats them. Mark wraps up his plans, grabs his things and leaves, waving goodbye to Swiss. 

Swiss switches off the open sign after staying open an extra hour just for him. He grabs a rag and a bin to clean off the table Mark was sitting at when he finds something scribbled out on a napkin. 

“Thank you for all the notes on my coffee and pastries. Call me -M” with his number written below. 

A giant smile forms on his face, he looks at the note again because he doesn’t believe it real. He’s so happy and excited that his tail unglamours and wags with happiness. 

From across the street, Mark watches as Swiss’ tail wags, admiring the dimples on his face. He’s so beautiful, Mark thinks. 

Swiss finishes closing duties and gives Mark a call after locking the door, to keep him company while he walks home. 

“Hello?” a groggy voice answers 

“It’s Swiss, sorry is this too late? I can call at a different time.” Swiss starts to panic, scared he woke him up. 

��No, no. It’s okay. I was just dozing off on the couch. I- I, thanks for calling, I-” Mark breaks out into a quiet giggle, “Oh this is dumb, but I wanted to hear your voice,” Swiss blushes hearing Mark say that, “Oh, also, you have a cute tail.”

“Wait. You saw that?!” Swiss is shocked. He thought he was alone, or at least, didn't think anyone would be paying attention to him. 

“Sure did, and my name's Mountain, not Mark, and I also have a tail.”

Swiss is relieved by the confirmation that he’s also a ghoul. 

“Mountain… I like it. It suits you.”

They talk as Swiss makes his way home, and late into the night, way beyond their bedtimes, and fall asleep on the call. 

After that phone call, Mountain went to the coffee shop every day before and after work. He’d sit in his usual spot and do some grading, or read a book while waiting for Swiss to get off work. 

Mountain’s become a regular, and the employees start to recognize him and his order, as well as some of his students. The coffee shop has become a secondary office where students stop by just to ask him clarifying questions, or sometimes they’ll set up a meeting to discuss larger topics. 

He’s met Sunny and Mist during the shift overlap, and they sometimes sit with him to keep him company when work is slow. They all know they’re ghouls living amongst humans. 

Sunny loves to discuss books. Keeps him updated on the latest book releases and also customer drama. Mountain is a big time consumer of customer drama. In return, he gossips about his students.

They’ve also discussed hosting some sort of reading or book program in collaboration with the bookshop. Talks about hosting Q&A’s with a variety of subjects have come up. 

On a quiet Friday night, when Swiss’ shift ends, Mountain walks him to his apartment as per the routine now. Once at the entrance, Swiss turns to him and meets his eyes. 

“I want to ask you something,” Swiss starts. Mountain waits for him to continue

“Would you, maybe, want to go out with me?” 

Mount eagerly smiles and nods, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, and if you didn’t do it this weekend, I was going to ask. Yes, Swiss, I’d love to go out with you.” 

“Would you wanna come in? Stay the night perhaps? We can watch a movie, and have some frozen pizza? Neither of us have work tomorrow, and we can sleep in?”

“I-” Mountain starts, but is met with Swiss’ puppy eyes, “I can stay, yes.”

Swiss sighs in relief, grabbing hold of Mountain's hand, guiding him inside the building while rambling on about tonight's plans. Mountain laughs, squeezing Swiss hand a little tighter, sending a little thank you to whatever god made this happen.

Part 2: The Date... coming soon.

[shegatsby]

Ngl I've been thinking about this for awhile, imagine Hannibal Lecter with a Burlesque dancer like in the movie from 2010 with Cher and Christina Aguilera, reader as Ali/Christina would be really cool

A/N; Hi! Thank you for this request, i love that movie so much i sometimes listen to its songs. I had fun writing this. Happy Ramadan!

Words; 1.413K

Warnings; None.

‘’Hey! Y/N!’’ you heard a voice from the director of the show, ‘’It’s your turn now!’’ you looked at your reflection on the mirror for the last time, hair done, nails done, a nice lingerie that had rime stones on it… you were young and sexy and that was enough for your confidence. You’re good at climbing into a huge champagne glass which is filled with water and soup and big sponges and do your number. Years ago when you were a child you grew up watching burlesque dancer and the numbers they did on stage and climbing into a tall glass always entertained you, it was a classic. You were the only one who could do it right in your group, the stage was set, you had two dancers either side of the glass, dancing to the rhythm. When you walked to the stage the spot light found you and your audience started screaming for you, getting good reviews was a part of your every night. You loved the attention, slowly getting rid of your gloves you noticed someone. You knew your regular customers and this man was on the same spot, which was the VIP section, alone, drinking his champagne and admiring you from afar. He never flinched ever and you could tell that he liked dressing up and keeping everything pristine. Most of your regulars loved to send you gifts, mostly flowers, perfumes etc. However, this one never sent you anything, you started to get curious about him and asked your crew, they only knew that he was a psychiatrist and that’s it.

You moved on the stage like delicate swan, so elegant and all of the eyes were on you. As you danced to the rhythm and slowly undressed you felt his burning gaze, you knew that after the show you were going to get lots of presents except from him.

He never made a move. Most of the regular spectators loved to send you drinks and presents after the show but this particular gentleman only occupied his seat at the VIP section every week, drank his champagne, ate his luxurious dish and watched you from afar. ,

Human mind is tricky, the brain loves to focus on that one person who doesn’t have his focus on us.

Nonetheless you were intrigued by him.

Thanks to the help of the dancers on the stage you climbed into the champagne glass, your rime stoned lingerie shining under the spot light. The water was cold just how you liked it. Moving around in the glass, splashing water has always made your audience smile and left them satisfied. Maybe because of the fact that your lingerie was soaked and your damp body shimmered under the lights…

When you were done you were escorted back, it felt so cold so you wore your pink robe, people you work with congratulated you, and you kindly smiled. Before you could open your dressing room’s door and throw yourself on your pink fluffy couch your boss, an old lady with long silver hair and kind blue eyes stopped you, ‘’A gentleman is inside, he has an offer for you.’’ You were puzzled. ‘’Thank you for the heads up.’’ Before you walked in you checked your hair and make-up, and then you walked in.

He was sitting on the pink couch, when you entered and as soon as he saw you he bolted to his feat. ‘’Miss Y/L/N.’’ he addressed you and you smiled. He had a dark grey 3 piece suit which fit him perfectly, he looked odd in this room of pink. He extended his large hand and continued, ‘’It is a pleasure finally meeting you in person.’’ You held his hand and you felt a sudden rush to your  stomach. Why did he have such an impact on you? You noticed the way he emphasized the word ‘’finally’’ he was also aware of you noticing him for weeks. ‘’Please.’’ You gestured him to sit back, you sat across him. The sudden realization hit you, you had your soaking wet lingerie underneath your pink robe. His face didn’t give any clues whatsoever. ‘’Allow me to introduce myself, I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ You nodded gently, legs crossed. Melodies from the stage floating into the room, in that brief silence you wondered why did your boss allow him inside? It usually never happens.

He must have persuaded the old lady with something… most likely money.

‘’Y/N Y/L/N. At your service.’’ You replied with a soldier tone to break the ice and caught him smirking a bit. His maroon eyes looked into your eyes directly, you felt shiver running down your spine, he was intense. His gaze found the pile of presents resting on the table at the corner of the room, was that annoyance written on his sharp face?

‘’May I ask the reason why you are here Doctor Lecter?’’ you attracted his gaze again, you could feel your palms getting sweaty, his presence made you nervous and you didn’t even know this person.

‘’I would love to hire your service for one of my dinner parties.’’ He bluntly said, he seemed like a guys who would go and get something, a true dominant man. Also the way he used ‘’your service’’ didn’t go unnoticed, he was respectful. His hand went inside his jacket’s pocket to pull out a check book, he wrote something and ripped the page, you were excited when he handed it to you.

When you saw the price you were shocked.

‘’But this is too much-‘’ you said with wide eyes, holding the check as if it is something fragile, ‘’Burlesque is an art and I’m never shy spending money on art.’’ He replied, you could sense the strong undertones. ‘’When is the party?’’

You accepted his offer, this was the first time you went to do a number to someone’s home. He mentioned that his home was enough to bring your essentials. For a week you practiced and practiced. You felt like you needed to make him proud, even though he paid you and this was your job you just wanted to be perfect at it and have a good time.

He didn’t lie, his home was like a castle, more than enough for your show. You were ready and also small group of your dancers were ready too, everything was set.

Dancing so close to the audience didn’t make you nervous at all, you felt alive, the music felt like it was running through your veins, you were one with it. You could feel the public’s eyes were on you in an awe of your art, the energy was immaculate. You could also see the host of the party, Doctor Lecter, holding his drink in one hand, the other in his pocket, his maroon gaze focused on you and only you. Almost predatory.

The champagne glass act made the audience sigh in excitement, it seemed like this was the first time they experience this and it feed your soul.

After the show you went upstairs to change because Doctor Lecter wanted to introduce you to his guests. You were touching on your make up when someone knocked on your door.

‘’Come in.’’

It was Lecter himself. ‘’You are a vision.’’ He said leaning on the door, you smiled. ‘’I have a gift for you.’’ He walked towards you, ‘’You didn’t have to Doctor Lecter.’’ You said when he opened the velvet box he was holding, a golden necklace was in that box, 24 karat you assumed. ‘’Please,’’ he said, ‘’Hannibal.’’

‘’Hannibal you already paid more than the actual price and this…’’ you were blushing, ‘’I’ve wanted to give you this for so long,’’ he confessed, ‘’but I was waiting for the right time.’’ You watched him place the necklace on you through the mirror, both of his hands found their place on your shoulders, he knelt and he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, he turned to the mirror to see your face and lock eyes.

‘’Looks good on you.’’ He said, you touched the necklace, ‘’Thank you, you are so generous.’’ His aura was heavy, his manly cologne filled your nostrils. You were intoxicated, it was wrong, he was your employer. ‘’I hope we will be more close from this night on.’’

You could feel your heart racing, was this a some kind of proposal? Only time would tell. Hand in hand you left the room to mingle.

[misc-obeyme]

I got a prompt for diavolo for flufftober! "Stop trying so hard to impress me."

That's always the first thought that pops into my head while listening to no. 1 lol

Hello, anon!

Okay I kinda ran with some of the ideas from the lyrics - specifically where he talks about dancing all night. But I was also just trying to capture the way he sings about being... well no. 1 lol. It's kind of a commanding presence that I think he probably has and that he likely does kind of without realizing.

Anyway! I hope this turned out okay.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

FLUFFTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Diavolo

Warnings: none!

When you arrived at the Demon Lord's Castle, there was a lull in the bustle of the party as you entered. Nobody announced you, but nobody needed to. You looked absolutely stunning in the custom outfit Barbatos had made, as requested by Lord Diavolo himself. All of the demons that were already in the castle paused their conversations to take in the sight of you.

Even more of them watched as Diavolo deliberately crossed the room to greet you. He was in full demon form, standing out among the others like a jewel among rocks. In the soft lights of the party, the gold on his horns and wings seemed to sparkle softly, a glittering that was also reflected in his eyes as he looked at you.

"Welcome, MC," he said. He spoke at a normal volume, but somehow his voice seemed to carry through the space. "I am so thrilled you could be here tonight."

You smiled at him, matching his formality while everyone could see and hear you. "Thank you for inviting me, Lord Diavolo."

The moment seemed to pause for what felt like an eternity until Lucifer entered the castle door behind you. You felt his hand on your back, guiding you down the hall. After him came the rest of the demon brothers, all in demon form. Diavolo greeted them each enthusiastically and the attention of the other demons in the room shifted from you to them.

As you and the brothers began to move through the room, you soon found Diavolo by your side. Due to his fame, people continued to watch him as he remained next to you, asking you questions and chatting about mundane things.

Diavolo launched into an explanation of the food on the buffet table, all of it prepared to perfection by Barbatos. You murmured in appreciation, sampling a few things you knew you'd like to try before they disappeared into Beelzebub.

The castle certainly looked amazing. No expense had been spared in the decorations for tonight. The whole place seemed to shimmer in glossy light, gold adornments, and sparkling guests.

You found yourself next to the most elaborate Demonus fountain you had ever seen. The Demonus was a gold vintage that splashed over the sides of a glass fountain. Next to this was a tower of sparkling glasses. Diavolo filled two glasses and handed you one.

"I know you aren't affected by Demonus," he said. "But this particular variety still has a lovely flavor that I think you would enjoy. It's very rare. We had it imported from across the Devildom."

"You had this much of it imported?" you asked, eyeing the fountain.

Diavolo beamed. "It was no easy feat, but we managed it!"

You sipped at the Demonus. You were pleased to discover that it did actually have quite a good flavor. "It's good," you said.

Diavolo looked positively radiant in response to your praise.

A little later on in the evening, a band began to play. Diavolo bowed to you, which made you blush and caused everyone else in the room to watch you both. He took your hand and looked into your eyes.

"May I have this dance, MC?" he asked.

You couldn't exactly say no with everyone watching. Not that you would have anyway. You smiled. "Of course, Lord Diavolo."

Diavolo escorted you onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer, no doubt having been taught by Barbatos from a young age. He took the lead, moving you effortlessly, but keeping you close to himself. You were relieved to see a few other demons joining you, meaning it wasn't just the two of you.

The music became slower and softer. As it did, Diavolo pulled you even closer to his body, his wings almost creating a sort of shelter around you. His movements were much slower now, making it easier for you to truly look at him.

"You really command the room, you know," you said, taking in his demon form. He was easily the largest demon there. His personality, his presence, it was all larger than life.

Diavolo squeezed your hand, the arm around your waist also tightening. "I am aware of having eyes on me at all times," he said. "They think I'm doing this for them, but the only one I care about tonight is you."

You laughed gently. "Is that why you went to such great lengths? Having Barbatos make me this outfit? Importing rare Demonus? All these gold decorations?"

Diavolo puffed up a little. "Is it not exquisite?"

"Stop trying so hard to impress me," you said. You dropped his hand, stepping in a little closer beneath his wings and putting both of your arms around his neck. "Don't you realize that I like you best when you're just being… you?"

Diavolo seemed so taken aback by this statement that he missed a step. His hands on your waist kept you from stumbling, but you had both stopped moving at that point.

There was something in those golden eyes that you couldn't quite read, though they were so wide as he looked at you, searching your face.

"I have spent so much of my life trying to impress others," Diavolo said, his voice unexpectedly quiet. "Everyone has different expectations of me. It's the burden of being a ruler, one that I shoulder without complaint. And yet here you are, telling me to just be myself."

You ran your fingertips down his cheek. "You don't have to be the next Demon King with me. You can just be Dia."

Diavolo wrapped his wings around you even further before he kissed you in the privacy they created. You put your hands on his chest and felt the rapid racing of his heart.

It was a night to remember. While the other guests would recall the fancy food, drink, and decorations, you would forever hold the memory of the moment Diavolo realized you loved him simply for being himself.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Just like that, baby ❞

Touya Todoroki x ftm!reader | AU, Dabi works as a body piercer, probably inaccurate description of getting pierced | nsfw, smut, p**n with some plot | sub. bttm. reader | wc: 4k

warnings: daddy kink, spit fixation (?), fingering, dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, degradation, squirting, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick though)

masterlist: pt1; pt2; pt3

[ artwork is by @COooGA_ & here's the link to the piece. Please be aware that their content is very dark, do not send them any hate - viewer discretion is advised ]

"Are you shitting me?" Tomura's lips split into a Cheshire smile - his dry lips looking painful enough that it almost made Dabi feel pity. Almost. "You know I never play when it comes to making your life miserable, baby," the pale-haired man sang, cackling as Dabi reached over to swipe the iPad out of his hands. "You're a fuckin' asshole, I got plans tonight!" Dabi's seething made Tomura roll his eyes, turning the screen towards himself as he leans his hip on the counter. "You think I don't know that you're just gonna get your dick wet? The Boy Toy Club again? Really?" those deep magenta-coloured eyes nearly turn into nothing but a speck of red on white as Tomura continues his cackling. Sighing, he runs his hands down his face while he settles on the couch of their parlour's waiting room. Dabi picks at his ripped jeans, inked hands adorned with silver rings curl into fists as his jaw clenches, but Dabi groans as he tosses his head back. "How?" his curt tone makes Tomura damn near giggle. "Toga, she said you dropped the club's condom while taking out your phone." Of course that little fart-face told on him. Dabi couldn't even find himself to be pissed as he runs his hair through his hair, worsening its dishevelled state. "At least I'm not some loser who games his weekends away playing some virgin ass video game and has e-sex -" "Hello?" Both of their heads turn to the door where Dabi's customer stood. You shifted your weight around as they blinked owlishly at the sight of you. "Hey," Dabi gruffs out which earns a cocked brow from yourself. "The fu - I thought I told Spinner to replace the batteries to the sensor" Tomura mutters though he abandons the thought as he comes out of the U-shaped glass counters and motions for Dabi to get off his ass with a glare. You were beginning to doubt your friend's recommendation of this place. They'd been raving and praising the place, as if the Greek Gods had come down themselves to tattoo and pierce mere mortals. The sight before you was anything but...the two men before you were openly sneering at each other as the dark-haired one snatches the iPad from his coworker's hands. "I made an appointment at 9 PM and your Instagram says you're opened until 10 PM...?" The door closes behind you and the cool AC makes you shrug your jacket over your shoulders. The interior of the store was simplistic and with the smell of paint still lingering you figured they must've just upgraded it. The floors were glossy concrete covered with distressed Persian rugs. Like the glass counter, the coffee tables were also glass (the overhead lights exposing every little fingerprint) and framed with steel. It was all cold-looking. Although, the splashes of tattoo designs on the walls along with the Majesty Palm in the corners of the red-bricked walls warm up the space just enough for it to feel inviting. The neon sign above the low couch - where Dabi just lifted himself off - read "Villains Hideout" which bathed the waiting area in the ever-shifting colours of white, blues, purples and pinks. It bathes the moody man in those colours as well. If it weren't for the scowl on his face or the way his jaw clenches you could have admired his tatted-up skin, the way his ruffled-up inky black hair softened his edginess up along with how nice his silver piercings shone and decorated him.

Hah, who were you kidding? The way he clicks his tongue makes heat travel to your groin. Your friends had always shaken their heads at your taste in men. You always liked the ones that looked like they hated everyone in the world though you'd sigh a wistful "except me" that just makes all your friends give concerned glances to each other. So, you drink up his exposed arms and the teasing glimpses of his torso from the opening of the sleeveless, oversized, tee he was wearing. There was some rock band's logo at the front and you tried to see what it was - that was your defence when Dabi had suddenly called out your name...for the third time. "Huh?" Tomura wasn't in the room and your ears warmed as Dabi stared at you expectantly.

"(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), that's your name, right?" You nod frantically. He briefly eyes you but gestures to the curtain door with his chin. "The last room down the hall, Tomura's setting it up. He's the ass - the guy with the blue hair" he scrolls down the screen and then huffs in amusement. Your eyes meet. Wow, you thought, his eyes are super blue. "A tongue piercing?" his smirk makes you wonder if he's just as mean in bed as his demeanour is. The lopsided grin on your face makes him take in how you were just his type. "Why? That's too hard for you?" an upside-down grin crawls on his face as he exhales through his nose. "Go, I'll be there in a minute", it seemed as though there was something else he'd like to add at the end of that sentence. A purr of a nickname maybe. But Tomura was still in the store and Dabi, although a crude and usually impatient man, felt himself squirming in anticipation as you walked past him. Since your jacket was now snuggly around your shoulders, the cropped length gave Dabi a peek at the expanse of your back. The condoms in his back pocket seemingly warmed up as Dabi chuckled from where he stood, just as eager as he was. Guess he was getting his dick wet after all.

Tomura greets you as he's wiping down the leather seats of the black chair. You return it with a smile, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you take a quick look inside the room. "Small room" your remark makes Tomura snort, shaking his head. "It's Dabi's unofficial spot" "Dabi? That's the guy's name?" Tomura nods, electing to not tell a complete stranger - and customer - that it was his chosen name. Or tell him that Dabi was related to a VERY rich man that he estranged from for reasons unknown (despite their years-long friendship). "He's a little rough around the edges" It almost sounds like a warning to your brain. It must be considering the glance Tomura gives - as if checking your expressions closely. "But he's good at what he does and we're sorta short staffed at night" Toga and Spinner were still apprentices. He couldn't make 'em stay all night here. (Tomura could but he'd rather die than admit he has a soft spot for those weirdos). You wave away his concerns, reassuring him you don't mind. Tomura focuses on wiping the seat down but his eyes linger on the flesh of your hips that were exposed from the backless body suit you were wearing. Paired with a pair of black pants and cropped faux fur lined jacket with a pair of boots - you looked like you weren't heading home after this. He prods. "Tongue piercing's are pretty straightforward, healing is a bit of an ass though" you laugh softly, nodding. "I heard, can't eat much for a week or so, right?" "Yeah, when I got mine I also couldn't stop fuckin' drooling" You laugh with your eyes squinted in amusement. He wants to ask about your plans after, to tell you that despite alcohol being a disinfectant it wasn't a wise choice to be downing shots at a club with a fresh tongue piercing. But he hears your breath hitch and the smell of smoky cologne enters the room. Dabi stands behind you, grinning as he places one hand on the top of the doorway making you feel smaller than him. "Jesus, Tomura, how long does it take ya' to sanitize the room" The man gives him the finger and you glance at Dabi's long legs as he walks in. "I'm only doing this because of you, you ungrateful donkey" The insult catches you off-guard. You hide your chuckles by pretending to cough, clearing your throat after. Eventually, Tomura leaves. He tells Dabi something about closing the store up properly and after a few more insults between them his footsteps fade away to the staff room, then out the hallway and finally out the entrance. By the time that happens, you're already seated and your jacket draped over an empty chair. Dabi's putting on gloves, the expanse of his shoulder and back makes your hungry eyes drink him in. The mirror in front of him makes it easier for you to see his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. But it makes it harder for you to avert your eyes when his electrifyingly blue ones meet you in the reflection. "You look good" You rub at your elbows, smiling coyly as you murmur thanks. He turns, instruments laid out on some sort of cart that he simply pushes with a gentle push of his boots. Then he settles on the round chair and inches closer. Even while seated he seems to tower over you. "Headin' out?" "Nah, just met up with a friend" Dabi's eyes zero in on your collarbones. Your top was one with a halter neck showing off that beautiful saccharine canvas of (S/C) that was littered in red, pink, and purple. "Just a friend?" His tone is playful and your fingers ache from not being able to caress up those toned arms sitting mere inches from you. "...With a few benefits"

Dabi feels himself getting excited. He hands you a paper cup full of mouthwash. "Rinse for 10 seconds then just spit it back in the cup" You do as you're asked and as you begin sloshing around the bright blue liquid your thoughts wonder if those gloves would feel good as they grip your thighs. He's faced away again as he's prepping to mark your tongue. He's pretty sure he should feel ashamed for finding the way your spit connects from the rim of the cup to your lips hot but Dabi has long abandoned shame. "Sloppy little boy, aren't ya?" He watches your face to see any signs of discomfort, ready to back off if you so much as gave him a confused expression. He feels his semi-hard boner twitching as you wet your lips and give him a boyish grin, handing the cup back. "Nobody's ever complained before, they like it sloppy". "Stick your tongue out," You open your mouth, wet muscle glistening under the lights as it covers your lower lip. He dries it with a tissue, smirking as your tongue twitches at the light pressure. "Just like that, baby"

Oh fuck, your thighs are pressing together and you've no control over it. He's got your tongue in his hold, leaning over you as he attempts to find the right placement. You see him furrow his brows again, sharp planes of his face making you gulp. Closer, a feverish voice pleads in your head, get him closer. Dabi eyes your hand as it places itself on his knee. "Nervous?" You shake your head and he quirks a brow as you tug at the hole in his jeans. You motion to your lap, patting it like he was some sort of call girl. He's beginning to like you more and more. The seat creaks with your combined weight but Dabi's on your lap and he's humming as your fingers slide up the back of his thighs and his hips. His crotch is bumping against yours and your eyes goddamn flutter at the very obvious tent. You feel cool metal and Dabi won't admit it but it is easier to do his job from this angle. He adjusts himself on your lap and you reach up his shirt, he pays it no mind and the taste of bland ink blooms on your tongue making you whine in a displeased manner. "Oh can it, you brat" Dabi chuckles, "I know you want something else but bear with it". He lifts your tongue with the clamp, nodding to himself as he ensures he isn't going to pierce through any nerves. He tells you to breathe through it, not to hold your breath and you can see him moving around a bit to grab the needle. The point of the needle makes a tremor go through your hands and Dabi moves his hips making you grip him tighter. He sure knows how to distract someone - "Big breath in" There's pressure, slight but there, "Big breath out". The needle goes through with nothing but a twinge in your brows and a near-bruising grip on his hips. As you peek your eyes up at Dabi through your lashes, he stares right back with a grin full of teeth and eyes glowing in pride. "Good boy, lift your chin up" You can feel drool slip past your lips and down the cork under your tongue. Dabi brings the piercing into view and you flutter your eyes close but he's suddenly tapping your cheek with the back of his hands. "Eyes on me, pretty thing".

He would've wrapped up the process anyways (duh, you're a paying customer) but you were so obedient just following his commands like some sort of lost puppy he felt his hands getting clammy. God, he was going to enjoy wrecking you. He slides the barbell through and fixes it into place. "S'fuckin' pretty" he lets your tongue hang out as he suddenly pulls away from your lap. He walks to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, tossing his gloves away as he pulls out a can of Asahi beer. You're perplexed but the growing wetness on your underwear makes you content in watching him. He takes a mouthful, places the can down, wears new gloves and settles on your lap again. He's tilting your head, moving you like you're some sort of doll. He leans in and though you're convinced you're the horniest you've ever been in your whole life you hope he isn't going to make out with you. He doesn't, much to your confused-disappointment. Instead, he leans in close enough for your lips to touch only to pour the beer right on your tongue and down your throat. It's a steady flow, it stings like hell but the grip on your chin makes you immobile. So you gulp it down, breathy pants escaping your mouth as you attempt to swallow everything he's giving to you. He's watching every minute detail. The glow of determination in your eyes, the flush cheeks, the sheen of sweat on your temple, the way beer and spit dribble down your chin. He finishes and Dabi leans into your ear. He envies whoever had pierced the beautifully shaped lobes and cartilages, a part of him wanting to mark you with more of his works instead. His teeth on your lobe earn him a squeeze on his ass, and his large hand slithers down to wrap around your throat. "Can't kiss ya' on the lips but I'm sure there's somewhere else you'd rather I kiss, hm?" You nod much to his chagrin. Dabi does a quick once-over on your tongue as he guides it back between your lips but when he makes a move to get his gloves off you whine. Can't really speak much now, your tongue's still tingly and you know it's going to swell soon enough. But as Ursula mentioned, don't underestimate the power of body language (and a few whiny moans). "You want these on?" You nod. "You got a fetish for PVC?" He sounds like he's mocking you so you glare as you wipe the wetness from your chin. He's off you again, laughing at your pout that disappears when your ankles are grabbed and you're sliding down until your legs are hanging off the seat and he's over you. He unbuckles his belt one-fucking-handed. Your cunts practically weeping a waterfall for him. "Show me what I wanna see, baby" he watches your fingers deftly unzip your pants, the adorable shimmy of your hips as you squeeze out of them (he assists but only after snickering like an asshole), then you unzip your bodysuit very appropriate crotch access and finally he sees his prize. "Fuck" your hips cant away as he palms your crotch "You're fucking dripping". The casual way he pushes your underwear to the side makes your heart double in speed, he's staring at your cunt like a starved man. He dips past your folds, sliding up until he reaches your little dick. "Your ‘friend’ must've done a shit job" he said "Your dick's still ready to go" he strokes it, pushing the hood down with those slicked-up gloves and it has you gasping as you arch into his touch. "Your friend should've known better than let a slut like you leave without being thoroughly satisfied or else ya' gonna end up like this, being used like a common whore"

He slips you out of your pants and removes his top. God, he is tatted up. You let your eyes take in as much detail as you can. His hands were inked with all sorts of designs - you figured he started there from how old a few designs looked. But the ones on his neck are deliciously crisp and it was an intricate piece that went all the way down his chest. You wonder what his back looks like. There were swirls of Japanese clouds motif on his shoulder - a sneak peek of the intricate traditional tattoo on his back of red, black and white dragons breathing out blue flames. He snaps you back into reality as he spreads your legs open. "Don't even need to lube you up" he slips two of his slender fingers in and you turn your head to the side, cheek squishing against the leather. His thumb's pressing circles on your dick as he curls and scissors them inside you.

"Holy shit" he guffaws "You got wetter!" He catches your leg before it lands on his chest, brushing it to the side as he curls his fingers again and your choked moan is all he needs to know he's hit that sweet spot. Dabi slips another finger, your used hole takes it with ease as it eagerly clenches around him. "You're practically sucking me in" his cock is straining against his boxers so he grabs at it, squeezing it through the material to relieve it a bit. While there, he reaches back to grab a condom and places it between his teeth. Your eyes are squeezed shut, thighs twitching as he continues the relentless abuse of that spongy bundle of nerves but in a flash, his fingers are gone and you're whimpering at the loss. Your hole clenches around nothing and you're about to throw a goddamn tantrum if Dabi dares deny you of pleasure but find yourself frozen from where you're sat. "Like what you see, pretty boy?"

What you’re seeing is his cock, hard and twitching as the head nearly reaches his goddamn belly button. The tip is a shade of red, precum making it glisten but what’s more, is the ladder of piercings that begin from just above his balls to below his head. There were six piercings all lined up and perfect and you can’t tell if it was your tongue swelling up that was making you drool or your want to have him in his mouth so you can feel them on your tongue.

And what a nice surprise - Dabi’s real hair colour is white unless of course, he bleaches his neat patch of pubic hair which you doubt.

He rolls a condom over it, hissing softly and you can’t help but reach down to spread your lips apart for him. Dabi laughs, a warm hand holding your thigh as the other holds his dick to line it up.

“Thank you, baby. Ya’ know, I would usually take my time with pretty things like you but” your eyes flutter close as his head breaches you.

“If we stay here too long, a blue-haired asshole is gonna check the cameras. Can’t have him seein’ my bitch, he’s all mine and I don’t feel like sharin’” he has a rougher accent that slips when he’s filling you up.

“Ah, mpfh! Fuh...fuckkk...” The heels of your palm dig into your eyes as you feel him practically split you open. A burning sensation makes your toes curl, the stretch of his cock is making your chest heave. The feeling of his piercings has you seeing white faster than you register.

“Shit - did you just come?” he’s not even bottomed out yet but the evidence was the way your walls are spasming around him. He pushes your leg up, shushing as you pant out nonsensically about waiting and how it’s too soon.

“Shut up, you can take it, I know you can”

Tears slip past your eyes and it makes his grin sharp.

“Fuck, you’re even pretty when you cry - makes me wanna be the reason you’re sobbin’” he adjusts his hips and it makes you let out the most pathetic cry he feels his resolve break.

He pulls out nearly all the way and for a second you think he’s giving you mercy but he slams all the way in and the yell you let out has him laughing. A hearty laugh that makes him sound like a goddamn supervillain as he looks down at your teary face.

“Told ya’ you could take it” You clench around him, sniffling as you reach down to feel where you two connect. Your dick twitches.

He fills you up just right. His cock constantly pressed against that spot. You inhale wetly, looking up at him with your eyes all sparkly with tears.

You jerk, your eyes said, you fucking asshole.

“I know but I know you coulda’ and you did” his gloved hand swats yours away and he teases your dick making your mouth fall open, drool following.

“Dumb boy’s like you can take anythin’ you’re given” his words were like a siren's call. Whispering, lulling you into an underwater grave.

“Fuck” the way you tightened around him made him hiss. “Slobbering all over yourself from some dick” you whine again, wiping away the drool but he just snaps his hips in and out of you and you’re crying out again.

You’re laid on the leather, a sheen of sweat coating your skin which makes everything sticky and somewhat uncomfortable but with Dabi’s dick inside you, everything else around you barely exists.

You’re twisting on the seat, head thrown to the side as you moan wantonly - like a goddamn porn star according to Dabi. One of your legs is folded to your chest, the other pinned to the side as Dabi fucks into you. Your hands are braced on his chest, nails scratching and leaving red welts but Dabi takes them with pride.

He wishes he could kiss you, he knows he can’t but you’d have to do a follow-up to replace the piercing. He wants you to come again, just to see him, he’ll hurt you and heal you just like he’s doing right now.

You’re sobbing, you came around him again and he loves the feeling of it. The chair beneath you is downright shaking from how hard he’s pounding into you.

“Duh-Dabi!” you squeal, tongue already numb. The way you mispronounce the pleas for him to go harder makes him so riled up you swore you saw wisps of heat on his skin.

“Your cunt feels so fuckin’ good - Fuck! A perfect cock sleeve made just for this” You’re squirming again and Dabi pulls out making you thrash which he reprimands with a slap to your cunt.

“Please -"

He ignores you, ignores his dick that wants nothing more than to fuck you into oblivion again and instead curls his fingers inside you.

You’re done for - the pressure that his fingers bring makes your hips jerk up and down, twitching and moving uncontrollably. Dabi groans as you squirt all over his wrists, hips jerking as weak spurts follow the big splash.

“Fuckin’ love this hole” he places a kiss on your dick and you’ve half a mind to push him away. Especially when he licks it. But Dabi’s not done yet, your fucked out whispers fall on deaf ears.

“One more time, baby, let me feel you around my cock”

“S’too muh...muhhh”

“Shhh, just stay like that. So fuckin’ pretty for me, so good” his cock is inside you again and you’re crying out, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck.

Dabi grabs your ass and you lose the sticky leather. Now you’re in the air as he fucks up into you, the friction of your bodies rubbing on your swollen cock has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your tongue slips out, going a bit cross-eyed. Not that Dabi could see, your face was tucked right between his shoulder and neck.

The camera’s red light was blinking but you couldn’t give a damn.

Dabi’s bringing you up and down his dick. His piercings stimulate your gummy walls, making your breath hitch every time it slips in and out of you, catching on the rim of your cunt. You babble, right into his ear.

“Daddy! Fuh! Fuck!”

Dabi plants his feet firmly to the ground, his back wet with sweat.

“S’too buh-big! Can’t! Ngh!”

“Yeah, you can. Take what Daddy gives you” he grunts and you’re sure your ass is gonna have the imprint of his hands so you leave scratches on his back.

He gives one last thrust and cums, the condom fills up inside you and you shudder. He hears you trying to catch your breath, sniffling in between every pitiful intake of air that have you hiccuping.

The sharp sensation of the metal can Dabi presses against your neck makes you flinch. You murmur that he's an ass and he just laughs. The both of you are in the waiting room, Dabi laying you there for a comfier seat and letting the AC dry you off while he was cleaning up the room. Now that he was done, he was sipping beer with you. The atmosphere was casual, laughably so considering how he just fucked your brains out 10 minutes ago. You pull out your wallet after you're halfway through but Dabi walks away from you. He gets behind the counter and pulls out his card making your eyes widen. "Don't sweat it, think of it as a thank you" the card machine beeps and you honestly couldn't even stand up without your thighs and back going all weird so you weren't gonna win this anyways. Still, you pout. "That's the first time someone's pissed I pay" his blue eyes dart to his phone that's hidden from your view, ignoring the middle fingers you throw his way and the stuck-out tongue. [ Shiggy: His hole's that good? ] Dabi glances at the camera behind the counter, licking the back of his teeth as he saw the red light. [ Shiggy: Think he can take two of us at the same time? ] [ Dabi: Fuck off, he's my bitch ] Tomura sends a screenshot of your fucked-out face nuzzled into his neck. Dabi's dick twitches to life. [ Shiggy: Just wanna test out his head game, think I can teach him a few tricks using that new piercing ] Tomura grins when Dabi tells him they'd have to wait for it to heal, moaning as he squeezes his cock. He goes back to the replay of the feed, of you getting your first orgasm and throws his head back as he cums into his fists just as you came all over Dabi's cock.

[heartfullofleeches]

What if yan emperor was engaged to someone that wasn’t jester? Like his parents set up a marriage with someone else, that hates the jester for “having a affair” with the emperor???

Cold water splashes in your face, the juggling pins in your hands clatter to the floor in front of the culprit. The emperor's betrothed stands before you, shooting you a hateful glare that sends chills frostier than the one's already through you. Several gasps come from the audience, all festivities halted.

"Stay away from my king, your harlot."

Today had been the emperor's birthday; many coming from far and wide to celebrate. Unbeknownst to you, he absolutely hated the day. The year you came into this life was the first one he enjoyed as it was the day your trope came into town and you became friends.

By the next year, the day soon approached and you didn't know what to get him. You had money from chores you did around the castle, and coins the prince would sneak to you. He didn't seem too interested in material things, but you wanted to do something for him.

It was on the day before his birthday that you found what you thought would be a decent gift. It was a little pierrot doll. Lips painted with the same red as the red balls on its white and black shirt, and collar. A rosy blush tinted it's cheeks and a cone hat sat atop its head; beady little eyes and vertical lines through them making up the rest of its face. It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen, and almost reminded you of your old home. Though you didn't know all about the prince's likes, you knew he valued your friendship like no other.

"It's almost like me!" Was your excuse when you gave it to him. "I noticed you seemed kinda down when we're apart, so I bought this so you could remember me by."

The young prince just stares at the doll. You start to panic.

"Ah, I realized that makes me sound a little full of myself when I say it out loud. I'll take it back and-"

"No."

You're taken aback by the authority in his voice. "Huh?"

He hugs the doll to his chest, the first smile in days cross his face. "It's atrocious. I love it."

-

Every birthday after, you'd get him a new doll. As you got older, you bought other things, but the dolls were always the icing on the cake. One of your birthdays, he even had a jester doll custom made, but it spent a majority of its lifespan in your room rather than his.

This year was the same as before. The emperor was surrounded in a mountain of presents from gold to self portraits, but the only time he truly smiled was when he saw your gift; angering his betrothed to the point they could kill you.

The couple were set to be engaged when the emperor was in his early teens, much to his disappointment. It was around that time that he released his love for you. He had dreams some nights of just running away with you, and on others- killing his further spouses entire bloodline.

They were some noble who's family his father had been acquitted with. It was love at first sight, but he never noticed nor cared. They tried with all their might to get his attention, failing at every turn. It was when they saw that little pierrot and the jester on his bed that they finally realized what was going on.

"What is going on here?!"

The emperor pushes through the small crowd; eyes already full of fury. They soften as they fall upon you, the water soaking your outfit. He'd raise hell on whoever did this to you; finding the culprit rather easily - glass still in their hand.

"What did you do to them?" He roars.

They scoff. "Don't humor me. I know this one is the one you're sleeping with it. To think you'd mess around with a literal fool. Do you take me for one as well?"

"That isn't true, your majesty. " You meekly announce. "He is my closest friend..."

Your words stake daggers into the emperor's heart; a betrayal worse than physical tearing the organ out. He had a few advances in the past, but they were shut down by his parents and obvious to you. They warned that if he continued, he'd never see you again. He grabs your wrist.

"Come on.. We're leaving."

His betrothed tries to step between you. "Where are you going? We aren't done talking!"

"They need to change before they get sick. I'll deal with you later. Try to stop me again, and you won't like the consequences."

They shrink under his threatening tone. Shoving through the muttering crowd, the emperor drags you along to your room. He slams the door shut as an outlet for his rage, causing you to jump. His demeanor quickly changes as he hurts to you, pulling the cap from your head and cupping your face in his gloved palm.

"Are you alright, Y/n?"

"Yes, just cold. You should get back to the party."

He frowns. You always gave up your wellbeing for the sake of others, he couldn’t stand it. He reaches for your collar, having to stop himself before he undressed you with his own hands. He scolded himself for even thinking about it, his mind on autopilot when it came to you.

"I'll wait for you outside. Let me know when you're ready."

"Is.. it alright if I retire for the night?"

He sucks in a breath. "That's fine. I'll check on you in the morning."

You hug him, neither minding the dampness of your clothes as he hugs you back.

"I hope you repair everything with your spouse. I'd hate to end the day on such a sour note."

He places his face into the crook of your neck. You're going to kill him with how much desire you sent him. A want that's become a need he'll someday have to have or he'll perish at your feet.

You pull away, much to his sadness, sticking your fingers to the corners of his mouth and pulling them upwards.

"And smile more for God's sake. You'll get wrinkly like your old man if you don't."

You drop your joking tough voice with a laugh, warming the pits of his stomach. He holds a small smile as you drop your hands. You always knew what to do to make him shine.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

The emperor exits your room. Instead of returning to that party, or that demon, he slinks down against your door and reaches into his pocket; pulling out the newest doll in his growing collection. It's the first time in forever that he's alone on his birthday night.

[ohmyamor]

Zoro!Mingi

inspired by the live action one piece netflix recently did...

I've never watched the anime and I know absolutely nothing about the lore, I'm literally just going based off my obsession with mackenyu and mingi so please bear with me

thinking about Mingi as Zoro...

hear me out

pink haired, buzzcut Ming??

just green instead

iconic if I do say so

anyway

you live a simple life on a little, fairly unknown island in the East Blue

of course, you're well aware of pirates, it's impossible to live here and NOT have any exposure to them

or their drama

but nonetheless, you stay out of it

you wake up in the morning in your humble little home and go to and from work at the bar

which isn't even really a bar

more like a hang out spot for people who happen to pass by

at most, the bar has like, 10 customers, but even then, they never get too rowdy

it's a simple life, but you're grateful for the peace and quiet

and the stability

so when you wake up one fine morning, you really don't expect anything to be different today

after all, you've lived here for years, and as mundane as it sounds, every day has been the same, day in and day out

you do your morning routine, splashing some water on your face and making yourself a simple breakfast, some lightly toasted bread with butter

and a small glass of milk

you were craving some coffee, but your stash was running a little low and you were not in the mood to go to the market anytime soon to stock up

so, after getting ready and eating your breakfast, you grab your small satchel and leave the house, heading to work

you wave hello to your boss and your other coworker as you walk in, being greeted back enthusiastically by the latter

after putting on your frayed apron and tying your hair up, you walk back out and began helping your coworker wipe down some of the tables

it was a quiet day, only two lone patrons in the entire building

eventually, your boss had disappeared to some unknown area

(probably to flirt with the owner from the store next door, but that's none of your business)

you had sent your coworker on her break, despite her insistence on staying to help you out

"Unless a band of pirates or the marines show up requesting an absurd amount of liquor, I think I'll be just fine managing the two people here" you said

taking a glance at the older man who was passed out on the table with multiple bottles of beer surrounding him, you continued

"and I don't think he'll be much of a problem anyways"

sighing, your coworker relented and thanked you, taking off her apron and disappearing into the back

the sound of the wooden beads that acted as a curtain clinking together brought you out of your thoughts

"welcome in!" you called out, bending down to grab the rag you had dropped before standing back up

the first thing you noticed about the man was just how big he was

he was tall and incredibly well-proportioned

his shoulders were wide and you could easily see the muscles in his arms thanks to the almost-too-small shirt he wore

wrapped around his tiny waist was a black cloth, and hanging from there were sheaths that carried not one, but three swords

quirking a brow, you allowed your gaze to creep up the man's body and towards his face

his hair was cut short, but it was also incredibly green

he had three earrings hanging from his left ear that swayed with every shift of the man's head

the man's face was beautiful, in a somewhat terrifying way

he had plump lips and a strong, straight nose

he had high cheekbones that could probably cut through glass and his eyes were perhaps the most beautiful, yet most intimidating things you had ever seen in your life

you watched as his eyes carefully scanned the room before spotting your figure

slowly, the man made his way to the corner of the bar and pulled out the seat before sitting down

he let out a loud sigh through his nose and looked over at you

"Three beers please"

his voice was so deep, deeper than the ocean surrounding your little island

"Coming right up" you turned around, grateful for an excuse to do something so you wouldn't get caught ogling

quickly grabbing three bottles from the cooler, you popped them open before placing them in front of the man

you sent him a small smile "Let me know if I can get you anything else"

he nodded in thanks before grabbing the first bottle and tossing it back

turning back around, you busied yourself with wiping down the back of the counter, sending occasional glances towards the green-haired man

a few minutes passed of you sneaking glances towards the man before you were startled by the loud sounds of yelling

looking up, you noticed a group of men, pirates, who had entered the bar

they were loud and rowdy, everything a pirate typically was, and you internally sighed

here we go

the pirates walked up to the counter and obnoxiously sat themselves down, ignoring the loud scraping of the chairs from how aggressively they had pulled them out

one of the men eyed you standing there and beckoned you over with a wave of his hand

grimacing, you placed a fake smile on your face and walked over

"what can I help y'all with?"

you could feel the eyes of the pirates moving up and down your body and resisted the urge to shiver

"get us the hardest liquor you have, in bulk, sweet thing"

you internally rolled your eyes, sending the man a curt nod

"coming right up"

-

an hour had passed since the green-haired man and the group of pirates had walked in

your coworker had since come back from her break, and, feeling bad for the poor girl's terrified looks toward the pirates, offered to take care of them while she attended to any of the other patrons

that unfortunately included the man with the swords who had first caught your eye, but you shrugged it off

he seemed to keep to himself, so you figured you could still admire him from afar

meanwhile, the group of pirates you had offered to take care of were slowly testing your patience

ignoring the copious amounts of alcohol they were consuming (you're pretty sure they were about to drink your work dry), they had become increasingly disruptive

the majority of the group were all incredibly drunk, shouting and yelling at anyone who supposedly looked at them wrong and breaking glasses and chairs, practically anything they touched

they had even begun to shout at you whenever they wanted more alcohol

while, to a certain extent, you were used to this, it doesn't mean it didn't get on your nerves

"GIRL!" a loud shout sounded out throughout the room

you sighed, turning around

"get us more alcohol now!" one of the men slurred

he could barely sit up straight and was leaning most of his body weight onto the passed out man next to him

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid I can't give you anymore," you sent him a strained smile

the man's face dropped and a scowl appeared on his face

"what do you mean? You bitch, you're probably keeping it from us!"

his face turned red in anger and he slammed his hand onto the counter

you barely flinched, staring the man down

"Sorry sir, but you and your crew are being too disruptive so I'm not allowed to give you any more drinks today"

turning around, you were about to begin washing some of the other cups when the feeling of something flying past your ear stopped you

something shattered on the wall right next to your head

the gasp of your coworker seemed to echo throughout the otherwise quiet bar

freezing, you glanced down at the floor only to see the remains of a glass cup

"If you don't want that cup to be aimed at your head, you'll bring us more drinks," the man shouted

you turned around angrily

"get out of my bar," you looked at the man in his eyes

he let out a sarcastic laugh

"I'm not listening to some stupid little girl," he snarled

"I'm not going to tell you again, get out of my bar or I have no problem making sure you and your crew will never be allowed to dock at this island ever again"

Can I actually do that? No. But he doesn't need to know that, you thought, secretly praying he wouldn't realize you were bluffing

the man snarled and within a split second, he was lunging across the counter with his arms outreached, attempting to grab you by the throat

you flinched, throwing your arms up in an attempt to protect yourself as much as physically possible from the angry pirate

but hands never came

opening your eyes, you blinked down at the floor before carefully looking up past your forearms

you saw the pirate who had lunged at you frozen with one leg on top of the counter and two hands outstretched

his eyes were wide and they looked downwards

following his eyesight, you couldn't help but gape at the long blade that was being held mere centimeters away from the man's throat

you followed the blade up its hilt and up the arm that was holding it only to find at the end, the green-haired man

he wasn't even looking at the pirate, sitting almost casually at the counter with his other arm preoccupied holding his beer

throwing the last remaining liquid down his throat, the man wiped his mouth before throwing a sideways glance at the pirate whom he still held his blade against his throat

"I think the lady asked you to get out of her bar."

the man's voice was even deeper, if possible

almost as if his voice broke whatever trance the entire bar seemed to be in, all hell broke loose the second those words left the green-haired man's mouth

the other pirates all but growled, immediately yanking out their own swords and charging towards the man

who still sat completely unfazed

"hey!-"

before you could even say anything, the green-haired man was up and had one of his swords drawn

almost as if he was fighting against children, the man was able to completely knock out every single pirate who had charged at him within seconds

you stood behind the counter, staring at him in awe

he didn't even look like he was sweating

the man stood with his sword drawn and pointed at the pirate who had initially lunged at you, head faced downwards

slowly, he looked up and cocked a brow at the pirate

"your move"

the pirate scowled and, grabbing his hat from where it lay on the bar, walked out of the room yelling profanities

and leaving his passed out crew behind

gaping, you watched as the man gracefully sheathed his sword and slowly sat back down in his original seat

you stared at him for a few seconds before grabbing something from beside you and walking over to where the man sat

you placed another beer on the counter and slowly slid it toward him

he glanced at the beer and then up at you

"A thank you," you started, "for stopping that man from trying to kill me."

the man nodded and wordlessly grabbed the bottle, taking a long sip

" I hate pirates like that," he spoke lowly

you nodded

"part of the job unfortunately," you shrugged

the man hummed

it was silent for a few seconds

"what's your name?" you asked curiously

the man glanced up at you through his eyelashes

bringing the beer to his mouth, he spoke over the rim of the bottle

"Mingi."

you nodded

"Mingi.." you tested the name on your tongue

"Well, Mingi, thank you again for helping me. If you ever need anything, I owe you one," you swore, holding out your pinky

the man, Mingi, looked down at your finger before looking back at you with a questioning look

"pinky promises can't be broken," you explained

it was silent for a moment as Mingi stared at your hand

you were about to pull your hand back, feeling embarrassed that you were using a childish action to make a promise

even if you wholeheartedly believed in it

but then

another pinky linked with yours

looking up, you saw Mingi already staring at you, a small smirk resting on his face

"I'll hold you to that, doll."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the writing gods have blessed me with inspiration and motivation to write

[amalia-uwu]

“You are the best”

Gift Oneshot for Fudgelling-Away @fudgelling-away 💚💚💚

Sans x Female Reader

Undertale by Toby Fox. The rights go to the respective owners!

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich from Pexels.

Warnings ⚠️ : light angst,

Your majesty, I offer you this oneshot.

Please my queen, accept this humble offering!

💚

💚

💚

You came home after a long day.

By the time you woke up..

Things were just going downhill. You hit your toe on the bed. Slammed your head on the table.

It started raining, the wind turned the umbrella around 5 times.

At work not only the manager was being a total jerk, some customers really tested your patience and limits. Too much work paperwork..

Of course, they spilled coffee on you cause why not? This day is already awful! What else could get wrong?

You reached your door all wet, cause someone drove over the puddle on the street as a result the muddy water splashed all over you.

...Great. Just great...

You sighed.

You stepped in.

Sans heard the door opening "Honey?" his soft masculine voice called. He sounded from the kitchen. You didn't have the strength to speak. Your eyes began watering. You felt them burning.

You stood at the door not saying a word.

He came and looked at you. His happiness turned to shock, concern, understanding..

His eyes widen "Oh". He could understand from your face that you could barely keep it together.

"Before anything else, how about you take a shower, then come talk to me? Hm? There are fresh washed clothes and hot water waiting for you. Then come eat and we will talk yes?".

You smiled clenching your teeth and silently nodded.

You left your things and went to take a shower.

You washed your hair, then filled the bathtub with hot water and let yourself relax.

The water warmed your bones and alleviated the soreness and tiredness. That gift box Sans brought you had the best fragrances.

Coconut, rose, mango, floral and many more beautiful smells.

Right now you used lavender.

Eventually you cleaned the bathroom and went to the bedroom.

You saw the clothes he picked up for you, laying neatly on the bed.

Okay, you chuckled.

The shirt was green with heart designs on it.

The pants were a darker shade of green (forest green) with pandas on them.

Your white wooly jacket, with the teddybear-like hood that neatly laid above your bed.

You got dressed and walked downstairs.

He left food for you and a glass of orange juice on the table.

Sans looked at you. You approached him and hugged him.

He hugged you back. You began crying.

Everything that had happened today, came back to slap you hard on the face.

"Bad day?" he asked softly. You nodded.

"wanna tell me what happened?".

"too much work, the manager is a total jerk. On the street someone splashed muddy water all over me, they spilled coffee and... Today is just terrible".

He caressed your hair and gave your a cheek a soft kiss.

You smiled at that.

"Hey, now it's okay! Sshh.. Look, I made you, your favorite food. We can see your favorite movie and eat the cake I baked. Sounds good?"

You broke the hug and kissed his cheekbone.

You loved how his face blushed. That faint blue hue under his eye sockets drove you nuts.

You sat down and you ate the food he made for you. "Mmm" the flavors were so good.

Sans had stopped eating, he was just watching you. He loved the way you eat.

He found you so adorable.

You looked at him. Cheeks stuffed and slightly blushed. You swallowed and said "It's delicious, thank you!"

Sans smiled, man he was adorable when he was getting shy. You wanted to put him down and kill him with kisses.

However, the lady you were. You repressed that desire.. For now.

When you both finished.

You drank the orange juice. You felt better.

You were so happy around him.

Even in bad days. You couldn't help but smile, when you were close to him.

He was the light in the darkness.

You washed the dishes and then laid on the couch.

He brought you closer, wrapping his arms around you. You laid on top of him. Your face on his sternum, listening to the soft humming of his soul.

He was warm and soft. His bones and magic made him a soft chubby teddy bear.

He threw a blanket above you; your favorite color, green.

You smiled and kissed his sternum, were his soul is..

"You are the best" you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

"You make me happy! Thank you sweetheart" you added.

He smiled and caressed your back. He kissed your forehead

"I'm always here for you, y/n. Don't forget that, no matter what. I am always here my starlight".

You smiled "same goes for me sans. I'm always here"

He rubbed your back as you buried your face deeper into his ribs.

"I love you sans" you mumbled and slowly closed your eyes for a nap. You had the best boyfriend in the world.

"I love you too Y/N" he whispered.

This day had a good conclusion after all. You were happy!

💚

💚

💚

The end 😘

Thank you for reading! 💙

[soleilceirinen]

When the darkness comes | Tommy Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 4

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster.

A/N: I'm not sure about how this part turned out. Anyway, thanks for reading it. English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Warning: nothing.

Part 3 - Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Usually, patrolling the streets was boring. Not tonight. You had been following the trail of a ravener demon for about half an hour without it noticing. It was the first demon you had encountered in Small Heath since your arrival. 

Luckily, it was a minor one and not very smart. Its disgusting appearance, a mix between a centipede and crocodile with some scorpion parts, made your stomach turn. Sometimes these kinds of demons were used to follow someone or to keep an eye on something. 

That’s why you weren’t surprised when the ravener moved around all the places that were clearly Shelby territory. More specifically, the parts of Small Heath dedicated to their non legitimate businesses. So, without any doubts, the demon had something to do with the yin fen.

However, you didn't think it was directly related to the Shelbys. 

That is, someone external, maybe the one responsible for sending them the drug so that they could distribute it throughout England and export it to America, was the one controlling the ravener. It could be a warlock’s work. Also, there were probably more than one demon, although you hadn’t seen others, which could be a problem if they decided to attack you in group. 

Tired of walking around the city among piles of garbage and puddles from the same place to the next, you took out of your coat one of your seraph blades and got ready to finish off the ravener.

“Uriel,” you said out loud, giving a name to the blade. Instantly, it lit up, filled with angelic power as it brought light into the darkness.

At that moment, the demon noticed your presence. You already knew that the poor thing wasn’t very clever. It lunged at you with quick movements, trying to reach you with its disgusting insect-like legs. You moved faster thanks to a heightened speed rune. The seraph blade traced luminous arcs through the fog as well as the ravener’s body.

With a screech and a gush of dark ichor, the demon disappeared. They didn’t die, instead, they returned to their own dimension. You observed the light from the blade fading away, it was covered in ichor and it was starting to corrode so you dropped it, no longer useful. At least the ravener’s blood hadn’t splash all over yourself or your clothes. 

You scrunch your nose for a moment, looking around. There were no signs of more demons but the night was still long until dawn. With a sight, you closed your coat to protect yourself from the cold wind and continued patrolling. 

A couple hours later, you headed to The Garrison. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt. 

The warmth of the pub welcomed you like a hug. You appreciated the cosy atmosphere, despite the noise of the drunk customers laughing and talking. So you headed to the bar, where you sat in one of the seats and rested your head on your hand. 

After a while, you felt the presence of someone next to you, so close that their arm was brushing against yours. Slowly, you turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes, blinking lazily. “Good night, Tommy.”

He nodded, watching you closely. “Long night?”

You nodded back. "You have no idea. By the way, I'm not following you, in case you were wondering. I just wanted to get something to drink," you said quietly.

Tommy chuckled and turned to the bartender. He ordered a couple of bottles and glasses before turning to you, placing his hand on your lower back. "Come with me, we can talk in a quieter place." 

Without removing his hand from your back, he guided you to the private room at the side of the pub. After closing the doors behind him, the noise was muffled and distant. You took off your coat and sat down on one of the seats, resting your head against the wall. Tommy sat by your side, watching you like someone does with an exotic animal. He lit a cigarette and started smoking in silence.

The small window opened, revealing the bartender with Tommy’s order. He got up to pick it up and left it on the table. Your eyes followed him, too tired to move.

"I'd like you to try something," he said, pouring a clear liquid into one of the glasses and setting it down in front of you. 

You grabbed the glass and brought it to your face, smelling the contents. "What is it?"

“Try it,” he replied, leaning back in the chair, never taking his eyes off your face. At your expression of rejection, Tommy rolled his eyes and took the glass from your grasp, brushing his fingers against yours and drinking it in one gulp. “It isn’t poisoned, see? I just want you to try it and give me your honest opinion.”

You had learned the hard way not to drink or eat things offered by strangers, more specifically if those strangers were fairies. One could never trust them. However, you had already ruled out the possibility of Tommy being a fairy, right?

"Okay, I'll try it."

Tommy poured another glass and slid it in front of you. You took a small sip and hummed softly.

"Well?" he asked, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray.

You shrugged. "It's sweet, I suppose," you said unconvinced. "I don't drink regularly, so I don't know. It's not bad." 

"Not bad..." he murmured.

You grabbed the bottle and turned it in your hands, looking at the label. "Gin," you read aloud, "distilled for the eradication of the seemingly incurable sadness... Shelby Company Limited, it’s your own gin?" 

"It's part of the business," he explained as he sipped his whiskey.

As you finished the contents of your drink, a sudden wave of warmth spread through your chest, so you rolled up your shirt sleeves. That night you had discarded your shadowhunter gear and had decided to wear a simple white shirt and trousers. You loved wearing pants, it made fighting much easier than a dress or a skirt. 

Actually, from a distance you could pass for a boy or a young man. If you had worn one of those peaked cups, you could infiltrate among the Peaky Blinders and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Up close you couldn’t fool anybody. Tommy was delighted in the way the pants hugged your waist as well as the dark runes spread throughout your body, barely visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

"Do you like horses?" he asked suddenly.

You watched him with a raised eyebrow and nodded slowly, finding the question quite odd. "When I was little and lived in Idris, we had a horse. I used to ride all the time, it made me feel like Boudica. Why do you ask?"

Tommy shrugged. "Have you ever been to the races?"

After seeing you shake your head, he slapped the table cheerfully. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Tomorrow I'll take you to the races. Wear something nice."

“Alright,” you agreed, laughing softly at his enthusiasm.

He sat closer to you, throwing an arm over the back of your seat. You suppressed a smile, men were so easy to read sometimes.

"So, you don’t ride anymore?" he asked after a while. The tips of his fingers began to brush against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You heaved a long sigh. "No. Unfortunately, I had to move to London a few years ago and it's not the same. In Idris I used to live in the countryside,  where I could ride freely, here I feel like I'm in a cage. Everything is grey, smokey and smells bad."

Tommy laughed. "I don't really understand what you mean about Idris but it sounds like a  good place. What made you come to London?"

You looked into his eyes, he seemed genuinely interested. Still, you looked away, focusing your attention on your hands.

"I'm a Nephilim, remember? A Shadowhunter," you saw Tommy nod out of the corner of your eye, "although we're all over the world, because there are demons everywhere, our home country is called Idris."

“I’ve never heard of it,” he commented, sitting a little closer to you.

"Of course, because it is non-existent for mundanes. It is located between Germany, France and Switzerland. Mundanes cannot access it, it is our sanctuary," you explained. "Years ago my parents were sent on a mission, it seemed like something routine and simple but they were ambushed and it didn't end well. They..."

Finishing the sentence wasn’t necessary because Tommy had understood. He squeezed your shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  

You looked at him with a frown. "Don't be sorry, that’s how life works. We are warriors, we must fulfil what has been entrusted to us since our creation, keep the Earth free of demons. Most Shadowhunters die young, that's how it is. We have been trained for it since we were children."

Tommy seemed surprised at the sudden vehemence of your words. Out of the blue, your face had become a hard facade, lacking the typical sparkle of amusement in your eyes. Instead, it seemed to have been replaced by a layer of grief and resignation. 

"They sent me to the London Institute to finish my training there and I stayed. I had nothing to return to in Idris," you said with a sad smile on your lips.

He closed the little space that separated him from you and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes, tasting tobacco and whiskey. Then, you reached up and placed your hand on the back of his neck, where his hair was so short that it was barely there. Tommy grabbed your waist, pushing his tongue deeper in your mouth.

As you began to feel your crotch getting wet, you pulled away from him with a soft whimper and held his sharp jaw in your hand. “At what time will we meet tomorrow?" you asked in a whisper.

“Meet you here at five,” he muttered, staring at your lips hungrily. You released him, connecting your mouths again. 

An overwhelming feeling started to grow inside of your chest, so you got rid of his hands on your waist and stood up with fluid movements. You grabbed your coat and leaned to give him one last kiss. “See you tomorrow, Tommy.”

"Stay a little longer," he pleaded softly, trying to catch his breath.

You shook your head. A small smile threatened to peek at the corner of your mouth. It didn’t reach your eyes though. “I better get going, my night is not over yet,” you said, walking out of the room into the crowded pub. 

Tommy remained there as he watched you disappear without looking back.

[cryley]

Petrichor - Part 1

matty healy x reader (fluff) word count: 2.4k A/N: (moved from @cryley-fics where it was originally posted) ♡ Helloooo, it's Ry. This is actually the first fic I've posted on tumblr and also the first fic I've written in 7ish years. I've recently been yanked back into my 1975 obsession and literally can't stop thinking about Matty, so I decided to write again. Please please please be kind since I am v rusty with my writing ♡ ▹ masterlist ▹ part 1 ▹ part 2 ▹ part 3 ▹ part 4 ▹ part 5

I quickly brushed my hands off onto my apron before walking to the back room. Glancing at my watch, I groaned. It was too early to be awake. Well, I didn’t feel awake, but I tried my hardest to appear coherent. My eyes scanned the shelf full of metallic-looking bags until I found the one I needed. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“Good morning to you too, Atlas.” Grabbing the full bag of espresso beans, I chuckled. “I requested this afternoon off.”

Pushing my way back through the swinging door, I plopped the bag on the counter. The cafe was really quiet in the mornings before we opened. It was nice to see it this way before the rush of equally tired people waiting to get their dose of beans.

“Well if you ever want to switch permanently to mornings, I can maybe convince Lansen.” Atlas stood at the end of the counter tying his apron around his waist. 

I liked working the afternoon shifts, but it is nice working morning shifts when you end your shift at noon. Yeah, waking up at 3 am to get ready for work is the least fun thing to do in the world, but it beats retail. 

I shrugged and continued filling the machine with the beans, “When you’re done clocking in, can you finish setting up while I count in the back?”

Looking over to Atlas, he nodded. He didn’t mind staying out front all morning if I’d let him. Paperwork was his enemy. 

We were both some of the only shift leaders at this cafe. Most employees were either underage, newer hires, or simply just didn’t want the responsibility. Atlas was a very charismatic people-person who is perfect for customer interaction while I was…well let’s just say I liked doing back-of-house paperwork. 

Walking over to my side, he bumped my shoulder to give me the queue that he will take over. Before pushing past the door, I switched on the speakers and put on the “manager-approved playlist” which mostly just consisted of repetitive weird piano and smooth jazz.

I placed the register drawers on the desk and got to counting. My head bobbed to the awkward sound of cups clanging and off tempo trumpet. Checking the clock on the office wall, I stood up and sighed.

Jamming the drawers back into the registers, I heard Atlas humming to the speaker’s music. He always seemed too happy in the mornings. I watched him lightly dance around behind the bar as he made iced tea.

“Going to the restroom quickly before we open in 10.”

I untied my already somewhat messy apron and placed it behind the counter before walking off. The bathroom was well-lit and clean. Thankfully the closers did their job yesterday without me around. 

My tired reflection stared back at me in the mirror. In a rush, I could only manage to throw a beanie over my blonde hair and had to skip the contacts today. I pulled off my round wire-framed glasses to give them one last clean before inevitably becoming covered in splashes of coffee during my shift. I already couldn’t wait to go home and shower.

“Got any plans this weekend?” Atlas questioned as I placed my apron carefully back around my waist. 

I grabbed the keys to unlock the front door, “Going to that show I told you about last week.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot that was today. Makes sense now why you are working a morning shift.” He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair while looking at his reflection on a spoon. 

I rolled my eyes and settled into my usual spot behind the espresso machine. Atlas didn’t mind handling the register. More people to make conversation with.

A couple groups of customers came in over the next couple of hours. Most of them left with coffee to go, but some of the regular visitors made themselves comfortable at their usual tables. Atlas and I would sometimes switch positions with me at the register, but he would often chuckle at my fake chipper small talk, so I would make him switch back with me. 

“Hey Y/N! Hey Atlas!”

I finished my last cappuccino for the small crowd of customers and peered over my shoulder.

“Morning Lindsay.” I smiled, grabbing a rag to clean the counters, “Can you take over the bar for me so Atlas can take his break?”

She nodded as I stood behind the register. Atlas lazily saluted to me before disappearing to the back room. 

Lindsay started to clean and organize the drink area while I emptied the old pot of dark roast, so I could brew a fresh batch. It was nice to breathe for a second after the morning rush of customers subsided. 

“I’m going to go get some more beans from the back. Did you need anything?” Lindsay skipped over to the door while her ponytail twirled behind her. 

My finger tapped BREW, “No, I don’t think so. Thank you though Lin.”

I turned back to the register to check the time, 10 am. Only two hours left and I can leave for the week. I decided to use my time off this week after the concert because I never seem to have a reason to take vacations throughout the year otherwise. At least this week I might be able to take a trip somewhere after I recover from the show. 

The cafe seemed to quiet down until the sound of the door closed. I looked out at the now pouring down rain I didn’t realize started during my shift. A man shook off his dark umbrella before walking up to the counter. He had his head down, putting the umbrella away in his bag. He was a bit taller than me and dressed in a long black coat. It was open just enough to see his forest green distressed sweater over top of a white shirt. 

“Good morning.” The man mumbled in an unfamiliar voice.

It almost sounded like he spoke in an accent, but you couldn’t put your finger on it since it was so low and mumbled. 

“Good morning. What can I get for you?” I fidgeted my fingers, tracing over the tattoos on my arm. 

“Uh, a dark roast please.”

He was definitely British. 

I looked up from my hand tracing over the ink on my skin, “I actually just started brewing a fresh pot of dark roast. If you grab a seat at a table, I can bring it to you when it’s finished if you’d like?”

My eyes finally met his. Oh god. I know this man.

His brown eyes stared back at me. The sides of his mouth curled up to form a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be here for a bit. I have some work to do, so it probably won’t be my last cup either.” His hand raised to his curly brown hair to push it out of his face. 

I finally broke eye contact to turn towards the pot of brewing coffee, “It’ll probably be about 5 minutes. Would you like anything to eat? It’s on the house.”

The dark-haired man cocked his head to the side raising his eyebrows, “Well I would love a scone.”

“I’ll bring it to you.”

He pulled out his phone and tapped it to the reader to pay for the coffee, “Thanks.” 

I definitely knew who this man was. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him before tonight. 

I grabbed the scone from the bakery case and placed it onto a plate using some tongs while the man found a seat at the table closest to the front window. I watched him as he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. He just started to settle down into his spot when I placed the plate on his table.

He cheekily smiled up at me with a wink, “Thank you, love.”

I flirtily winked back at him before heading to check on the brew. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked behind the counter. 

Atlas emerged from the back and placed his apron back on. I checked the clock and replaced the now empty apron hook with my own apron.

“Let me make myself a drink quickly and deliver this man his dark roast before I go on my break.”

Atlas nodded and began to take a couple of lingering orders at the till. 

As I finished pouring myself a hot tea, the dark roast was finally finished. I smiled back at the man at the corner table and realized his eyes never left me. A cup in each hand, I made my way back to the familiar face. 

“Here’s your dark roast.” I placed the cup gently on the table as I glanced down at his tattoos, “Did you need any cream or sugar?”

He caught me glancing and rolled up his sleeves to show off the art, “No thank you, love. I prefer it as is.”

“Nice meeting you, Matty. Enjoy your coffee.”

The man took a break from sipping his drink to look back in my direction. His eyes met mine once more as I blushed through a smile. 

I turned and made my way over to my usual couch in the opposite corner in front of the cafe. I usually took my breaks out on the floor since the back office didn’t get service at all. I could use the hour to catch up on emails. At least I would try to start catching up on emails until I undoubtingly get distracted from my crush sitting opposite me. Placing my tea on the coffee table to save my spot, I rushed to the back to grab my phone and headphones.

“Do you know that guy or something?” Lindsay followed me into the back.

A giggle escaped my mouth, “Not exactly. Just indirectly, I guess.”

She side-eyed me with a cheeky look before grabbing a refill of vanilla sweetener and heading back through the door. 

I could feel the heat rising to my face. Shoving my headphones in my ears, I decided to check the mirror in the office before returning to my tea. Man, I looked terrible. When I had dreamed of meeting Matty before, I didn’t look like I had been run over by a van. Managing to straighten my hair out as much as possible, I took a deep breath and made my way back out to the cafe. Pulling out my phone, I navigated to my music.

“On break” I mumbled over to the others while still staring down at my phone. 

My feet carried me over to the familiar maroon couch until an unfamiliar sight was sat in my spot. Matty. 

“Sorry,” He smirked, “were you going to sit here?”

Speechless, I picked up my tea, “It’s okay. I can sit somewhere e-”

“I’m joking!” He scooted over to the other end of the couch away from the window, “Come sit with me. I could use the company.”

“Didn’t you have work you wanted to get done?”

“It can wait.” He took another sip of his coffee. 

Without much hesitation, I shuffled my way into my seat realizing it was a lot closer to him than it had seemed. I blushed and picked up my tea, eager to take a sip. 

“So you obviously know who I am. Will you tell me about you?” He nudged my shoulder with his own. 

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, “My name is Y/N.”

“Lovely name.”

I smiled, “And after work today, I’ll be getting ready to go to your show.”

“Oh, are you not one of those people who wait outside for hours and hours?” He takes a long sip of his drink, still not breaking eye contact. 

I’m the one to break it first as I look down at my hands and chuckle, “unfortunately I could only get stadium seating. GA was impossible to snag.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And expensive as fuck.” I rolled my eyes at him. 

“Okay, well that isn’t exactly our fault.”

I gave him an accusing look and shrugged. 

“Hey! I promise it isn’t our fault!” He laughed while leaning into my side, “Anyway, you shouldn’t accuse someone of lying when they could get you a side-stage view of your favorite band.”

His body leaning into mine felt like fire flowing through me. He was just a normal person like everyone else. I usually didn’t feel nervous when meeting famous people before. I used to meet loads of my favorite artists back when I went to shows more frequently. Maybe because I was just caught off guard in “the wild”?

“You’re telling me that you could get me side-stage tickets to Phoebe Bridgers?”

He matched my smirk, “Hah Hah. Very funny. I meant my band.”

“Bold of you to assume the 1975 is my favorite band.” I sipped my tea. 

“Your tattoo gave it away.” He lightly grabbed my arm in one hand and pointed with the other. 

I had a lot of tattoos on my arm, but in between some of the larger pieces I had a little box with the words “modernity has failed us” in scribbled writing. 

I immediately blushed. Not just from him noticing my 1975 tattoo, but mostly from the grasp he had on my arm. He rubbed his thumb over the scribbled words decorating my skin. 

“You have a lot of other cool ones too, but I think this is my favorite.” He winked. 

“So uh,” I tried not to stumble over my words, “what else do you want to know about me?”

“A lot actually. I have time.”

“Well, I only have 40 minutes left on my break.” I gestured with my free hand to the clock. 

He let go of my arm to rummage through his bag. I really wished he hadn’t let go. It felt cold and lonely without his warm thumb brushing over my skin. 

“That settles it then,” he handed me his phone, “can I have your number?”

My heart dropped. Is he serious right now? Even if I give him my number, it’s not like he is actually going to reach out to me. 

I take his phone and type my number into the field. I saw that he had already added my name at the top. Y/N (cute barista). 

[fallintosanity]

re the WIP Ask Game, my main interest is of course Providence, but I don’t have any questions about it per se.

Just wanted to leave you a note here to say that fic has been on my mind a lot lately since playing Rebirth, and that at multiple points during my playthrough my brain went immediately to “omg this is giving me Providence vibes!!!” which honestly is a testament to the amazing handle you have on all those characters.

Honestly, any little anecdotal tidbit you’d like to share about that fic would water my crops haha, but if you can’t just want you to know I’ve enjoyed it immensely. The Fifth Act left me wanting MOAR and you took that verse and made it your own; I love it just as much.

Oh wow thank you! that's an amazing compliment <3333

I've had tons of fun with this wild AU-of-an-AU myself and I'm still not ready to give it up. All the real-life stuff aside, a big part of why I stopped updating Providence was because I ran into a really, really bad plot snarl. (Which is not uncommon for me tbh; the second-act swamp is REAL 😭 ) Essentially: too many characters pulling in too many different directions, and at the same time too many other characters snagged in place and holding others back.

But! the good news is that I finally - like, just a couple weeks ago - figured out how to untangle one of the plot threads, which has given me room to work on the rest. Wish me luck...! 🤞

WIP ask meme!

...okay and also just for fun, have a scene I wrote and then cut and which has a small chance of ending up back in the fic idk we'll see

~

The Seventh Heaven hummed with activity, its regular customers scattered around at their usual tables, while newcomers and unfamiliar faces surrounded the bar. Tifa worked the taps, wearing her usual black leather vest and skirt over shorts, her loose ponytail swinging as she moved with brisk efficiency. “Order for table six!” she called, and Cloud shouldered his way through the patrons to take the tray she handed him. 

Table six was Barret, Cid, and Vincent, with Nanaki curled up underneath and pretending not to notice Marlene trying to catch the flame on his tail. “Busy tonight, eh?” Barret chuckled as Cloud dropped the tray off.

“Tifa’s the most popular girl in town,” Cloud answered. He glanced over his shoulder at her; in her ruffled teal sundress and matching high-heeled sandals, her hair flowing loose around her arms, she was the brightest person in all Nibelheim. She caught him looking and smiled shyly, then quickly went back to serving two young SOLDIER cadets Cloud vaguely remembered from basic training. 

“That she is,” Cid agreed. “Speakin’ of, her pa wants to talk with you.” He pointed past Cloud’s other shoulder, to where Mr. Lockhart sat at a corner table with Cloud’s ma, Zangan the martial arts teacher, and Denzel. Ma waved cheerfully to Cloud, ignoring Mr. Lockhart’s scowl. 

Ugh. Cloud didn’t want to piss off Tifa’s dad more than he usually did. “Better get going,” he said to Cid and the others, and hurried over to the corner table. 

“About time,” Mr. Lockhart grumbled before Cloud could greet them. “You’re late, Cloud. You’re always too late.” 

“I kept my promise,” Cloud said, forcing his voice to stay level. The clear glass mugs of mako on the table gleamed like poison; he had to look away as Denzel picked one up and took a long drink. 

“Hah.” Mr. Lockhart slammed his own tankard onto the table hard enough that mako splashed everywhere. “You promised to take care of my daughter. Where is she now?” 

“I did,” Cloud protested. “She’s in Nibelheim. Safe.” 

No, that was wrong. Tifa was here, in the Sector Five slums, behind the bar in her white tank top and black miniskirt. Cloud glanced over to check, and Tifa flashed him a cheeky wink and a smile. 

Mr. Lockhart, though, glared at him. “How many times have you left her behind?” 

The words knocked the air from Cloud's lungs. “I didn’t mean to—” he gasped. “I never wanted—I’d give anything to—” 

The building was suddenly too hot, smoke burning Cloud’s throat as he struggled to breathe. Flames roared behind the bar, eating into the rafters, dropping cinders into Cloud’s hair. Tifa’s wide-brimmed hat hung crookedly from its cord around her neck, and her fringed leather vest and skirt dripped with blood. “I guess that only works for real families,” she said, her voice tired and bitter over the snap of the flames. 

This was wrong. Everything was wrong; Cloud had to get out of here. He reached for Ma and Denzel - except it wasn’t Denzel there, it was Cloud’s younger self. Cloud froze, and that was when Ma grabbed his arm, her fingers sharp as a Nibel dragon’s claws. “I won’t let you take him,” she snapped. Hatred twisted her face as she shoved him away. “Get out of my sight!” 

Cloud staggered backward. Something cold bit into his chest, slid through his lungs, and he looked down to see Masamune’s blade jutting from his ribs, red with Cloud’s blood. He tried to struggle, tried to escape, but Sephiroth’s voice whispered in his ear, You’re nothing but an empty puppet.

Cloud flailed, gasping—

—and suddenly the burning Seventh Heaven vanished.

~

[sonicasura]

Meanwhile at Tachikawa Base

Mina and Hoshina were currently making there way to the bases lab and research deparment. The reason well to get the information on what they found on the soappy sustance that Hoshina had been covered in ( took a 5 man team power wash and an 1 hour in the hot springs to finally be able to pick up a glass of water.)

The hope was maybe it could shed some light on the mysterious Kaiju's origin along with a hint to who the kid could be. They were hopeful for answers primarily due to the fact the head of the department called Mina in an excited tone she didn't think possible for the director.

" Ah Captain Ashiro, Vice-Captain Hoshina so glad you came posthaste"

A man in his fifties a scholar on the inner workings of Kaiju and there general make up. Having cool blue hair and a bit of lanky stance along with customized glass too, that act as a microscope. In all honesty the Professor was eccentric but he still held an air of intelligence and reliability which is how he got the director postion.

Mina: Hello Professor, nice to see you in such high spirits.

Professor: Thank you, nice too see the both of you doing well especially you Hoshina with how many walls you slammed into a couple days ago.

Hoshina: Please don't remind me * Shivers at the memory of crashing into his room door*

Professor: Ah yes yes , oh but enough with the pleasentries your here for answers and valiable information. Now first off the sample we got from the Kaiju, was deconsturcted and cross refrenced through our entire library of Kaiju annnnddd we got nothin'.

Mina/ Hoshina: Huh?

Professor: Yup not a single hit on any possible classification of known Kaiju, in fact the dna structure was entriely different, though we just chalked that up to possible contamination and interfernce from the Soap substance so for now that is on hold.

Mina: So we don't have any viable information which means were back where we started * Downcast*

Professor: *Frown* I'm sorry but that's all we could pull on that front. * A wide smile begins to adorne the Professors face* However there is a major, no a REVOLUTIONARY discovery we made with the soap substance, that I think you too should see.

Surprised and Intriuged by such a grand statement they followed the Professor to a testing room with a secure clear glass testing table with a couple liquids in their.

Professor: Now I was going to give you a run down but I decided to just get to the interesting parts. Now this right here is a blood from a Honju, this stuff is very sticky and takes powerful cleaning solutions normaly to move but, with a drop of the soap substance into the water * immediately pours it onto the blood* the soap begins to break apart the properties immediately turning the once sticky and rather putrid smelling blood into super low density liquid that also removes the stickyness and the smell.

Hoshina: Huh... a little drop of the soap substance did all that?

Mina: Hmm... that would be useful for getting clean up projects done faster but is it even safe?

Professor: That's the fantastic thing, it's completely safe for humans, unlike the super powered chemicals we have to use this get it done, with less hassle and danger, and it's even eco-friendly. To give you an idea a human can bath with this stuff and come out healthy and squeaky clean. Not only that the soap has another property * brings out and acidic proof table with a pulsing slime like substance* this is the highly acidic organ that's found in almost all Kaiju, volitalie stuff the eats away at a great number of things, along with the fact the some Kaiju have an more advanced version were they spit out the acidic fluid.

* Grabs another vial of water and add another drop of soap*

Professor: The soap * Splashes it on the acid*

The acid reacts for only a second before like the blood lowering it's density and moving outwards like a river in all directions

Professor: It again lowers the density and * pokes it with metal stick* immediately and completely removes the acidic effect. Needless to say

THIS. IS. REVOLUTIONARY!!!!

Mina and Hoshina were awestruck by what they were told a tiny drop of that strange soap produced by that Kaiju washed away the blood in an instant, along with the other major effect of neturalizing a Kaiju's acid. Not only was this a revolutionary discovery for Monster Cleanup companies, it would be a major boon to the Defense Force.

Mina and Hoshina looked at each both knowing they were thinking the same thing they need to find that kid along with those strange Kaiju.

Another little snippet as the mystery and intrigue of the Rider and there strange Kaiju cause them to redouble there efforts to get them captured along with No.8 as one will surely follow the other

Considering Bubblefoam's flavor text is 'Just a few drops could turn a swamp into a bubble bath', it probably took a while for them to realize the stuff was harmless to humans. The only concern being overusage as then it triggers 'Bubbleblight' from what Rider accidentally said during the chase with Hoshina. Looks like they are drawing connections between them and Kaiju No. 8.

I can only imagine their reactions upon finding out 8 sees Rider alongside their Monsties as his whelp. They probably know how difficult it is to handle Kaiju who follow their paternal instincts. Best to nab one while the other isn't present.

Edit: Now I have the image of them trying to figure out Rider's face. Do they have a small skull like carapace like No. 8? Or are they a human who been raised by Kaiju?

[blinddreams24]

Recycle

A Mermay Prompt

Masterlist

Prev / Next

Recycle day!

You tossed your custom, tightly woven nets over your shoulder and lifted your gear out of the car, a smile on your face. While you hated that there was junk in the water, you had to admit it was fun to collect trash like Easter eggs. The water would push and hide everything in different places and you just had to search. That’s what the nets were for.

Most of your gear was already on when Cross showed up. You heard him beach himself behind you.

“Hey, y/n. What are you-?” His voice cut off with a splash.

You turned around to see him much further away than normal, staring at you with his head being the only thing out of the water. He was almost glaring at you.

“Y/n.” He almost growled, his voice low and tense. “Why do you have a net?”

You glanced at the nets you’d set on the ground. “Oh! It’s recycling day. I like take a few nets and try to clean up as much trash as I can from the water. I don’t… I don’t hunt or anything. I use nets because trash bags are hard to carry around in the water while nets are much easier.”

“Mmm.” He kept his distance and didn’t speak as you finished putting on your gear.

Once that was done, you slowly grabbed the nets, careful not to scare Cross, and just as slowly waded into the water. You glanced at him and he stared back with a guarded expression. “…Would you like to help? You don’t have to.” You offered one of the nets to him and turned slightly away, leaving yourself open and unthreatening.

His eyes narrowed and glanced between you and the net before backing up.

You shrugged. “Your choice.” Nozzle went in your mouth and you got to work.

The first part was always the easiest. Large clumps of trash could easily be scooped up into your net leaving you to grasp for the smaller pieces that tried to drift away. Plastics, styrofoam, metals, and glass all made their way into your net. You were careful to keep the fish out of the trash in your hand. The other nets were tied to your belt(no fanny pack this time) and gave you a little resistance as you swam. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

You felt Cross follow close behind you, watching you work, and figured looking at him while he was skittish would probably scare him off so you didn’t.

Until he swam at you.

You didn’t have time to turn around before an arm hugged you from behind to hold you still, something on your belt clicked, and he darted away again.

He didn’t speak and when you turned around you couldn’t find him. You checked your nets. One was missing.

Maybe he decided he would help.

When your net was full, you tied it off and headed back to the beach. Hauling yourself and the heavy, water-laden net was difficult but you managed. Once done with that, you went in for another round, this time without a companion.

Your net was halfway full when Cross came back, hauling a full net of trash. Your smile beamed at him as he sheepishly approached.

“I… I saw that you closed yours.” He looked down at his bag in embarrassment. “I don’t know how to close it.”

At least he was trying.

You gestured for him to hand you the net and you slowly showed him how to tie it off. Then you offered him another net.

He snatched it and shot off towards the beach.

The rest of the day was spent collecting trash and teaching Cross a few things when he had questions.

Until you found an intact glass bottle.

You gestured excitedly at Cross and swam up to the surface of the water. He was going to love this! He followed you.

Water ran down your face as you surfaced and pulled the nozzle out of your mouth to talk to Cross. You poured some of the water out of the bottle. “These bottles make cool sounds when you blow on them! Watch!” You took in a breath, put the bottle to your lips, and blew.

The same eerie tone from the other day filled the air but this time you could feel the small spike of fear you had at the sound. Your breath wavered and broke out the sound, overwhelmed by the memory of the strange siren. He’d almost killed you, hadn’t he? His hand had reached for you and there was nothing you could’ve done. You weren’t afraid of him when he approached because of the song. Was that how he normally hunted? Sing you into a state of peace and attack you while you didn’t understand what was happening? You could still hear that haunting tone.

The bottle was yanked from your hands.

“What do you think you’re doing, y/n!?” Cross snapped, worry lacing his voice. “Do you have a death wish?!?”

You just stared down at your now empty hand. He’d almost taken your life and you might have just called him. What were you thinking?

Cross seemed to finally notice your expression and his hands grabbed your shoulders. “Y/n? Have you heard that sound before?” His eyes searched your face.

You didn’t look him in the eye. You just nodded.

“Was it from a siren?”

Nod.

“….Holy shit, y/n.” He sighed and hugged you. “How are you alive?”

You found your voice but it cracked. “I… I brought you food… heheh, he ate it all. Sorry.” You leaned into the hug.

“You have got to be the luckiest little urchin I know.” He gave a breathy chuckle. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

“I’m fine. He…” You blushed in embarrassment. “…He pet me…”

“Pfft!” Cross laughed and pulled away to look at you. “He pet you??”

“Yes! I don’t know why! He… He just… He said ‘thanks’ and then left.”

“Woah! He talked to you? What did you feed him?” Cross grinned at you, his genuine smile calming your nerves.

“Just some homemade sandwiches. Nothing special.” You shrugged it off.

“Yeah, pizza is better than whatever you could make.” He teased.

You punched him. “Rude! My food is awesome!”

He chuckled at you and grabbed your fists as you swung at him. “Sure. Live in your denial. I’m not changing my mind until I taste it.”

“Fine!” You were now trying to get your comically small hands out of his with little success. He kept grinning at you as you struggled. “I’ll try to get some to you, if the others don’t eat it first.”

“Others?” Cross became serious again. “Did you meet a different siren?” His voice strained with worry.

You shrugged. “Just Killer. He’s been surprisingly nice to hang out with for the past few days.”

“Killer came back?!?” You yelped when Cross yanked you forward to check every possible surface he could find, which finally freed your arms. “Did he hurt you?? Are you okay?? Oh my stars, y/n!!” He fussed.

“Cross! It’s fine! He didn’t hurt me.” You weren’t going to tell him about that night on the cliff. “We played with a frisbee the other day. He’s chilled out since then.”

Cross deflated into the water with a sigh, his head still peeking out. “You’re gonna give me a soul attack. I’m gonna die.”

“Oh you big baby.” You teased, slashing water on his face. You glanced down at the half-full net on your belt. “C’mon. I still have work to do. You can yell at me while I clean.”

He did.

Cross lectured and fussed over you for the rest of the day, constantly touching you on your arms and shoulders as if he expected you to disappear.

At least he wasn’t avoiding you and your nets anymore.

You smiled.