#huff puff sorry i’m protective of my boy

[yea-baiyi]

anyway the tgcf extras had hua cheng carve a statue of himself and even his first attempt was a pretty decent likeness except in xie lian’s words, “slightly less handsome”. then he proceeded to carve 10,000 statues of himself at all stages of life which xie lian found perfectly acceptable, meaning he stopped seeing/depicting himself as ugly. it’s there in the book hua cheng doesn’t think he is ugly anymore that was 700 years ago can the fandom stop saying he hates himself now

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (15)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexy mobsters, fluff, established Stucky, angst, implied smut, caring mobsters, pregnant reader,

Indecent Proposal (14)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You freeze the moment your eyes land on the man interrogating you not weeks ago. Brock Rumlow stands right in front of you, eyes dropping to your middle.

“What do we have here?” He dips his head and smirks. “I see you didn’t waste time, Ms. Y/L/N. So, the rumors are true. You moved on really quickly, huh? Maybe we should investigate your boyfriend’s death again and dig a little deeper this time.”

“I told you; he wasn’t my boyfriend when he died,” you try to not sound too scared. “Scott and I parted ways on good terms. We just didn’t work out. Please just leave me alone. I have nothing to do with what happened to him.”

“I don’t believe a single word leaves your lips,” Brock sneers. “They instructed you well. You’re a damn good liar. I wondered why they are so interested in you.” He dips his head to look you up and down. “Your cunt cannot be the only reason. Do you have a connection to the mob, or…”

“Detective,” Steve steps in front of you, blocking Brock’s path. “What brings us the pleasure of your presence?” He has a dangerous glint in his eyes when he looks at Brock. “Do you need diapers or a pacifier?”

“I didn’t take you for a diaper lover,” Bucky steps behind Brock. “No kink-shaming, Detective but this is not the right store to buy you stuff. It’s for babies only.”

“What my polite husband tries to tell you,” Steve sizes Brock up, and narrows his eyes, “is that if you don’t stop harassing our wife, you will regret that you were born.”

“Is that a treat?” Brock cocks his head to glance at you standing behind Steve. “You know that I’m a cop, right?”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and straightens his back to look even taller. 

“Not a treat, Detective,” he says lowly. “It’s a promise.”

“How about we call our lawyer and your boss,” Bucky nearly growls. “I bet they’d love to explain the law and your job to you again. I don’t think that harassing a woman at a store is in your job description.”

“I bet he believed Y/N was alone,” Steve curls his upper lip. “Maybe you would rather be alone with me.” His features darken, and he drops his eyes to the badge in Rumlow’s hand. “We could have so much fun.”

“Maybe he’s scared of being a bottom,” Bucky snickers behind Rumlow’s back. “He’d look good with a collar around his neck, don’t you think Stevie.”

“I’m not one of your boy toys,” Rumlow sneers. “You will pay me the needed respect. I have the right to investigate the death of Scott Lang and to interrogate his ex-girlfriend. We all know you killed him to get the girl.”

“Well in that case,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper the words, “you’re a very brave man for messing with our girl while we are in the middle of shopping for clothes for our baby.”

“Someone might call it suicidal,” Steve adds. He puffs his chest and stares Rumlow down. “We hope you have a wonderful day, Detective. Maybe we can continue our conversation another time.”

“We are terribly sorry, but there are more important things we need to take care of today,” Bucky steps closer to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, offering protection. “If you’d please excuse us now, Detective.”

“Wait, I’m not done—” Rumlow huffs. He can only watch you; Steve and Bucky walk away. You’re trembling and breathing is harder as you are scared to hell and back.

“You need to breathe for me, doll,” Bucky whispers as he guides you toward the entrance. “We will drive home and come back later.”

“I should’ve planted a bullet to his brain right there, in the middle of the store,” Steve grits out. “How dare him to even look at our girl!”

“You called me your wife,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “But we aren’t married, and I don’t think that’s legal. I mean…you’re already married to Bucky and I’m just…”

“You are our wife,” Bucky stops you from doubting your role in your relationship. “We will have a nice ceremony. You can wear a pretty dress, all white and innocent.” He purrs and nuzzles your cheek. “Only for me to rip the dress off your body.”

“Buck,” Steve clears his throat. “We will plan a wedding later. For now, we need to take care of Y/N. And later…” 

He doesn’t say more, but you assume they will do something about Brock Rumlow. You only fear their solution will be final, and get them into more trouble…

“Romanoff, leash your dog and keep him away from our girl or we will put it to sleep,” Steve spits while talking. He yells loud enough to make his husband flinch. “He talked to our girl in the middle of a store. Rumlow is out of control!”

“I’m not his mother nor do I have control over him,” Natasha bites back. “I covered your crimes for years. I’m loyal, and you know it. It’s not my fault Rumlow won’t stop sniffing around. He’s like a dog with its bone.”

“You’ve got one last chance to stop him. If not, we will take care of him,” he says, and steps closer to Natasha. 

“I can’t,” she sighs and shakes her head. “It’s too much to ask for.”

“Don’t act as if you are doing us a favor. We pay you well and make sure you are safe for years,” Steve points out. 

“I did you more than one favor,” she argues and points at Bucky. “How many times did I save your ungrateful asses from getting arrested?”

“All right, well, let me rephrase that, then,” Bucky says and gets his gun out. “You make sure that Rumlow stops scaring our girl, or we will take matters into our own hands. This includes letting everyone in your life know about your dirty little secrets.”

Natasha blanches. She swallows audibly, feeling like a lamb among wolves. So far, Steve and Bucky treated her like an equal, but she’s close to losing their protection and the money she got used to.

“I’ll try,” she sniffs. “Give me a few days. Maybe I can find a way to get rid of him without killing him. I only need to find his dirty little secrets.”

Bucky nods, and hands Natasha an envelope filled with money. “You have a week,” he says. “We want to continue this fruitful business relationship. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, he won’t hurt you, or get close to you, doll,” Steve softly speaks to you while his husband tugs you into bed. “We promise to take care of him.”

“The detective working for us will help us,” Bucky hastily says. He doesn’t want to tell you that they already planned to get rid of Rumlow if Natasha doesn’t find a way to make him stop.

“He scared me, is all,” you whisper and snuggle into the pillow. “I believed he would arrest me, or you.”

“No one will part us, Y/N,” Steve says. “And no one is brave enough to try…”

Part 15.2

Tags in reblog.

[snowflakeanimelover]

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: (Y/N) Rose has no choice but to explain her purpose of lying to the Shelby family. More questions are made than answered, and Thomas Shelby has to think quickly on what he wants to do with Rose.

Warnings: Cussing, swearing, typical Peaky Blinders violence, readers true self is revealed, Relationships end and begin

Notes: Sorry if it’s a bit odd. I’m really trying to get Thomas’ personality down, and trying to copy their speech mannerisms and how they talk.

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Chapter 2: The Interrogation

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The air was tense as the Shelby brothers stared at the woman before them. Confusion and anger took over their expressions, but Tommy kept his stoic demeanor. All three boys held their guns tightly, pointing the barrels right at Rose.

”What the fuck is happening, eh?!” Arthur shouts, feeling panicked but trying to maintain composure.

The call of her name leaves Thomas’ lips, grabbing her attention just by a little. He’s in disbelief, confused about seeing the woman he knows to work in the bidding shop for a few months now killing a man. Never had he seen her like that, and never has he seen her look so different.

The sounds of guns cocking and being taken out reverberated in the air as women in the same style of clothing surrounded them, pointing their weapons at the Shelby’s. They are outnumbered.

A woman approaches Rose, standing beside her as she holds her hat and trench coat. Rose shrugs on her coat, and sets the hat on her head as she smiles. “Now, now,” she mutters, sticking a toothpick in her mouth to chew on, “I don’t want to fight.”

Rose looks up, observing the boys before her. Her eyes soon meet Thomas’ and she can tell he’s angry. He feels betrayed. “Let’s talk, yeah?” She offers, looking relaxed and confident.

“Shut the fuck up!” John takes a threatening step forward, his hold on his gun steady. “What the fuck is this, eh? You’ve been lying to us this whole time?!”

His words are cut short when Thomas rests a hand on his arm, slowly lowering his gun. “That’s enough,” he demands, tone stern to his brothers. “Lower your weapons.”

”Tommy,” Arthur tries, refusing to lower his gun.

”I said lower your gun!” Tommy yells out at Arthur, frustration boiling in his system. “We’re outnumbered.” Arthur soon realizes that, eventually lowering his weapon.

Rose smiles, her hands shoved in her trouser pockets. “Very good. I knew you were smart, Mr. Shelby,” she says, nodding to Thomas.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

In the sunlight, dust danced in the air of the cold room, illuminated by a window. Rose and the Shelby brothers sat at a small table in an empty warehouse. She was on one side, with the brothers on the other. Some of her girls stood around the room, guarding and protecting.

Rose leans back in her chair, smiling as she observes the faces of the big bad wolves. “Well?” She starts, motioning towards them to start, “Shall we start with questions?”

Arthur and John knew to leave it to Thomas to ask the questions. After all, it’s his business. Although they fidgeted, ready to fight and protect themselves if needed, they sat, staying silent. Thomas readjusts himself in his chair, taking his time as he pulls out a cigarette to smoke. After he puffs out the first round of smoke, he turns to Rose. “Rose, was it?”

Rose nods, “That’s right. My last name, that is. What I’m known for,” she adds.

“What else did you lie about?” He asks quickly. She looks at him for a moment, studying his expression. It’s stoic, as always. She has noticed, over the months of observing the Shelby’s, he doesn't like to show his emotions. “Where you came from? What you did for a living?” Thomas continues.

Rose huffs a small laugh, “Where I lived before here? No. What I did before the betting shop?” She pauses, looking up at the ceiling to think, “that one was partially a lie. I was a farmer girl, just not anytime recently.”

Thomas doesn’t ask anymore questions, his eyes narrowing at her in judgment as he thinks. Rose then leans forward, sighing as she gets down to business. “We can talk about me all you want later, yeah?” She starts, resting her arms on the table, “You see, Mr. Shelby, I’m not here to pick a fight, start a war, or be your enemy.”

”Then what are you here for?” John pipes up, clearly itching to get some words in.

“I want to be your ally,” she answers.

“Ally?” Arthur scoffs. “You really think we’d let you be our ally after lying to us about every fucking thing?” Rose knows him to be the hot headed one out of all of the brothers. The oldest is itching to shoot her in the head, she can tell. But the thought of that doesn't faze her.

Thomas stays calm, continuing to smoke as he ponders the situation. Rose continues to explain, "I make sure my allies are reliable, people I can trust. Like everyone else. But I ensure my allies are good by doing more than what others do."

Rose leaned back a little, raising her arm to wave at someone who stood to the side. One of her girls stepped forward, giving her a file of some sorts. “You see, I lied so I could be on the inside of your organization. I wanted to see what you were capable of, what you deal with, and how you do things.” She flipped open the file, looking through the papers in it. “And what I’ve noticed, Mr. Shelby, is that you’re good. You’re honest, keep things in order. You’re smart, capable of a lot.”

Rose turned the file around and slid it over to Thomas for him to look at. "These are the major gangs and families that you are either allied with or doing business with, right? I've noticed that you're having trouble with some of them."

Thomas leans forward and picks up the file, examining it with his blue irises and glancing her way in question.

"You can trust me, Mr. Shelby," she says with a confident smile, leaning back in her seat. "I can help you with your business, guide you in finding the right allies, and ultimately contribute to making you successful."

Silence soon takes over the room. She observes their faces once more, both John and Arthur looking over Thomas’ shoulders to look at the file. Their expressions were in disbelief, yet unable to believe everything she told her. Thomas doesn't seem to want to respond right away, his mind spiraling on what to do.

Rose eventually sighs, standing up from her seat when she realizes he needed time. “I’ll give you a few days to think about this,” she states, “When you decide, my girls are around. Ask them questions if you’d like.”

She suddenly stops before leaving through the door held open by one of her members, “Oh, and I’ll send my right hand woman on the third day, see what you decide.” With that, she leaves, all of the women in the room following close behind. The door shuts loudly behind them, leaving the Shelby brothers alone in the room.

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The Shelbys were not to be messed with. They were the founders of the Peaky Blinders gang from Birmingham, England, operating in the Small Heath area. Anyone who betrayed them or tried to take them down never stood a chance.

The Shelbys have endured war, hardships, and pain. They grew up poor but slowly gained prominence in the city, becoming powerful and relatively wealthy. While they have money now, it's not as much as they desire, and not enough to make them comfortable.

The Shelbys always seem to face tough times, but they consistently manage to overcome every challenge that comes their way.

The laugh that escapes from Arthur's lips is undeniably one of amusement. Did that woman really think she could convince them? He thought this whole situation was just a joke. It was so ridiculous that he was certain his brother wouldn't fall for such words from a woman like that. However, when he turns to Thomas to see if he was laughing along with him...

He wasn’t.

John looked worried as he watched his brother Thomas staring at the file in his hands, the cigarette in his hand long forgotten. Arthur’s laugh slowly faded, along with his amused smile. “You can’t be fucking serious, Tommy,” he muttered.

Thomas doesn't respond, staring at the words and pictures on the file.

“She’s a fucking lying whore!” Arthur shouts.

”A good one, at that,” John comments slowly, fidgeting with his hat in his hands.

Thomas suddenly clears his throat as he tosses the cigarette somewhere in the room and stands up from his seat. The file in his hands lands on the table in front of John. "Burn it," Thomas orders, walking towards the door.

"Tommy!" Arthur calls after Tommy in annoyance as he leaves the room, giving John a nervous glance before storming out.

John gazed quietly at the file. After a long minute, he picked it up, slowly stood out of his seat, and followed the instructions given to him.

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The low murmur of activity in the main room leaked through the walls into her office, creating a distant but constant background noise. In the midst of this, Rose sat at her desk, cradling a warm cup of tea in one hand while the other propped up her chin. Her gaze was fixed on nothingness, lost in deep contemplation of the recent events.

The woman standing next to her, her right hand man, had noticed her boss had been like this for a better half of an hour. Daisy couldn’t help but to glance at Rose here and there, seeing if she was even alive. She was in such deep thought, it almost looked dangerous.

Daisy takes the courage to clear her throat, rocking on her heels as she stands there. “Was it really a good idea to pick them?” She finally asks.

Another long minute passes, making Daisy worried to think her boss was actually dead. However, Rose takes a deep breath and slowly sips on her tea, before setting it town to reply. “Do you not trust them?”

Although Rose wasn’t looking at her, Daisy glances away, observing the many books on the shelves lined alongside the wall. “I only trust you, Miss Rose.”

Rose smiles in amusement, nodding her head. Daisy has always kept to that saying for as long as she has known her. “Thomas is a good man.” She hums as she shuffles in her seat, leaning forward to get back to work.

”Not the Shelby’s?” Daisy perks up, “Just Thomas?”

”Arthur is a hot-headed man who refuses to let go of war and can be quite reckless,” Rose starts, her hands shuffling over her desk to look for a pen, “John is reckless, as well, but is loyal to his kids, wife, and family. Finn is a teen boy who just follows his brothers. Ada wants nothing to do with the Shelby name.”

”And Thomas? Well, he’s far different than his whole family combined.”

Daisy nods. She has always known Rose to be smart and very observant. Just by being a simple counter in the Shelby’s Betting Shop for a few months, she has learned all of that about the Shelby family without hardly ever speaking to them.

“So you like him?” The right hand woman concludes, a small smile gracing her features.

”I’d watch your mouth if I were you,” Rose says sternly, but she, too, had a small smile on her face.

Daisy smirks, biting her lip to hold in her giggle. “Yes, Ma’am.”

[rotnow]

RANDOM FACTS OF MY KJ OC

*smoothly strolls in with sunglasses* hi, lets forget that I didn’t post on this account for a long time ok? Ok

#1 : The Artist and The Journalist

- As mentioned before in I think its the story of how hachi met emily(?) she and Viridian have beef of sorts. I have dug up some secrets on why they are like that! Apparently they have different views on what is beautiful in art. When Emily came to paris to interview Viridian, the blonde artist wasted no time into showing off his beautiful artwork to her expecting Emily to react to it like everyone has with the words “beautiful”-

Emily : eh

Viridian : …..I’m sorry?

Emily : I mean its okay but-

- oh boy that was just the beginning of the spiral these two would take. Obviously confused (and upset), Viridian asks at Emily’s answer to which she replies that it isn’t her style of art. That lead to her showing Viridian the ugliest piece of art he has ever seen in his life.

Viridian : What is that.

Emily : What do you mean? Its a cat

Viridian : Its a cat?!

Emily : Obviously!!

-In the end, Emily finished her interview with Viridian and left paris with this meeting burned in her mind. The same could be said for Viridian.

- Basically : Emily = Ugly art, Viridian = Beautiful art

-Oppisites in friendship 🤗❤️

-Or maybe Emily just really has a poor taste in art. Can you imagine her failing art class

Bonus :

-One time Joker decided to show Emily his art skills when she was visiting the sky joker (I WILL TALK MORE ABOUT THIS I SWEAR-). Hachi, who was holding his giggles because of how hilarious the girl’s reaction will be once she sees Joker’s skill, sat next to Emily on the couch as the two of them waiting for Joker to show his amazing artwork.

-Once finished, Joker revealed his artwork with a “ta-da!” And instantly Hachi laughed at how silly the painting was much to the phantom theif’s annoyence.

Joker : oi, Hachi! Stop laughing!!

Hachi : pfft-AHAHAHAH! I’m sorry but its so funny pfft-

Joker : I worked hard on this! (He really didn’t) Anyway Emily what do you think?

-Emily could only smile blankly at the drawing right in front of her. It wasn’t bad…it was..okay?

Emily : oh yeah It looks great you know I like that chicken-

Joker : Its supposed to be a dog.

-Hachi’s laughter only increased at this, someone please let him breathe. Meanwhile, Joker huffs and puffs as he aggressively points at his painting to redeem himself stating why the dog looks like a chicken to Emily who was squinting her eyes trying to understand Joker’s drawing.

-Sure Emily likes ugly art but she can classfiy Joker’s art in another catergory.

#2 : Friends steal from friends, right?

-No because I was just thinking about this randomly on a roadtrip today

- Just because Emily is on friendly terms with a phantom theif does not mean she is protected by his antics of stealing. Really, she should have just seen this coming when her uncle frantically called her at 8am stating that Kaitou Joker has sended in an advance notice to his mansion.

- Ring! Ring! Ring! Our fav boy Hachi politely answered the phone only to be yelled at by a journalist. Emily was NOT happy that Joker was stealing from her family. She demanded Hachi to call Joker, “its just a small talk” she stated not wanting her favourite ninja to be involved in this.

-Hachi sighed at this and turned to the smirking Joker who was expecting this call.

Hachi : I told you she would get mad..

Joker : She isn’t really *He takes the phone into his hand* hello-

Emily : WHY ARE YOU STEALING FROM MY UNCLE

Joker : hey I haven’t done that yet

Emily : WHY ARE YOU GOING TO STEAL FROM MY UNCLE

-Stay strong, Joker. He has been standing there with the phone for about an hour listening to Emily rant and demand him to call off the heist. But come on, we all know this sneaky phantom would not do that and is going to go through with it.

——————————————————————————

Hmm thats all I got for now, I apologize that I havent posted in a while I just finished with exams hehe so now I’m free! ‼️

I hope you have a very nice day/night! Till we meet again!

-Huhu

[yeojaa]

come over, pt. i

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  this is pwp.  smut in the forms of:  kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex.  use of the pet name shy girl.  wc. 6.2k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life.  author note.  this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang​.  while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way.  tysm for reading!  (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that.  You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library.  He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room.  (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).  

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.  

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights.  You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.) 

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas.  It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed.  One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!"  You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks.  The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs.  You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands.  “Stop stealing all my chips.” 

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered.  (You know better though.  Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for. 

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips.  They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar.  (Note to self:  thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,”  you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows.  “I’m just—“  Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades.  “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout.  You aren’t actually.  The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter.  It’s just annoying.  You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls.  It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good.  People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail.  One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.) 

“Pay attention to the movie.”  The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time.  You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.  

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were.  Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin.  Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him.  The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised.  You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite.  You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful.  You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.  

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery;  he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong.  Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,”  he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room.  Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.”  It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight.  Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level.  It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him.  "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest.  It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.  

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh.  Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt.  It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up.  A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention.  It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit. 

A part of you wants to run from the room.  Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck.  It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop.  (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook."  You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away.  Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out.  Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.  

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests.  (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most.  Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw.  A sigh escapes before you can help it.  "Shy girl,”  he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not shy,”  you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you.  "We're watching a movie."  You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it. 

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips.  A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear. 

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be.  You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation.  Term paper due the next morning?  He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night.  Break something at a house party?  He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.”  He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's."  Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks.  So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh.  The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not.  They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt.  So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed.  “What’re you—“  The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people.  (Okay, not a lot, but enough.)  You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.  

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you.  There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck.  They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick.  Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day.  (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,”  he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky.  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending.  You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality.  You hope it doesn’t.  Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.  

“I’m not.”  

“Oh?”  There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach.  You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features.  “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he?  Of course he did.  Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though.  Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you.  Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet.  It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though. 

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair.  It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.  

“Oh my god,”  you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of  relief.  You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots.  “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in.  It’s his fault, after all.  

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed.  Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit.  You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth.  You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists.  Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this.  Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip.  There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands.  You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth.  A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels.  “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue.  You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.  

You want to be his pretty girl. 

"I want you.  I need more,"  you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth.  He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked. 

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips.  When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers.  They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease.  The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.  

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing.  (You swear you see stars;  you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving.  It feels so good to have him between your legs.  You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats.  Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself.  It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?”  You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.  

“Fuck.”  He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy.  He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves.  “You want a taste?  Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”  

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs.  You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.  

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.  His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else.  Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip.  It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy.  You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb. 

“Please.”  You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand.  You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing.  "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself.  It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.  

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs.  “Open up, ____,”  he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full.  “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind.  If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length.  A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives.  You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip.  Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away.  (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?"  You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie. 

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you.  The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion.  He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag.  Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand.  He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch.  It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more.  For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants.  As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.”  He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek.  You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up.  “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat.  It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now.  Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls.  When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks.  “Is it my turn yet?”  You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs.  Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.  

“Your turn?”  The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful.  It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed.  Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal.  “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,”  you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose.  Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did.  It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight.  He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared.  You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.”  Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air.  The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter.  Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me,"  you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks.  Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,”  Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck.  He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin.  You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit.  “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement;  or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees.  You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return.  You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need.  "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable.  Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.”  Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain.  You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes.  They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.  

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t.  It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?”  He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric.  Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.  

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.”  It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist.  You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core.  It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half. 

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help.  Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion.  “Oh my god,”  you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in.  “You’re so big.  I c-can’t—”  You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck.  A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder.  The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness.  “You feel so good, Kook.”  You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper.  “Please, move,”  you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you.  He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven.  When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out.  It sounds like that, anyway.  With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently;  you can practically feel him in your throat.  (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier.  You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake.  They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat. 

There’s slick all across your thighs.  You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in.  It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half.  "Harder, p-please."  Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes.  "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut.  Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits.  Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used.  You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking.  The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop.  A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?”  It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway.  (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward.  (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.)  "Like it so m-much.  Feels so good.”  You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him. 

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length.  You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years.  You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.  

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer:  every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much.  With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring.  "R-right there,"  you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?”  He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops.  They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.  

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.  

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care.  The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts.  He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered.  “Perfect,”  he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it.  You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more.  “So sensitive.  Such a shy girl.  Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon.  He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind.  It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves.  Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision.  Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over.  "So big.  It's too m-much.”  And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed. 

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap.  When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over. 

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit.  It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude.  It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses. 

"Kook—please—come for me.”  You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).  

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high.  You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop.  It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared.  “Are you okay?”  You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours.  He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,”  he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time.  “You’re welcome.”  It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for.  You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.  

“You too.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle​

[drabbles-mc]

Could you do a HC on how the Mayans men would react to a girl getting hit on at a bar and the guy not taking no for an answer, like they don't know her or anything. I feel like they all respect women enough to at least do something about it; ya know?

All of the Mayans men wake up every day and drink a full pitcher of Respect Women Juice. They will not tolerate disrespect in their house. HC’s under the cut!

(I couldn’t decide if i wanted to do third person or reader insert for these but I settled on reader insert. Hopefully it works alright)

Bishop:

-Senses the tension immediately 

-My man sits back and watches the entire clubhouse all night. He knows everything that’s going on. And when he notices that some guy is refusing to leave you alone, he instantly gets up and goes to intervene.

-He’s not hot-headed about it. He doesn’t have the time or the energy for that anymore. But he places himself between the two of you, looking back and forth, “Everything alright here?”

-The guy would try to brush it off and reassure him that yea, of course everything is okay you can leave now. But Bishop wouldn’t have any of that. He’d cut him off mid-sentence, “I wasn’t fucking asking you.”

-He’d turn to you and ask again if you’re alright. You’d give a slight shake of her head no, not wanting to stir up drama but also not wanting to deal with this dude anymore. And that’s all it would take.

-”I think you should leave,” he wouldn’t yell. Just state it as a fact. But when the guy would try to argue that’s when he would get a little more heated. He’d step in closer to the dude’s face, but not putting hands on him, “I said you should fucking leave.”

-Bishop only uses yelling and brute force as a last resort. Very rarely does it ever come to that. He would follow the guy all the way to the clubhouse door, making sure that he actually leaves before going back to check on the poor girl that he was harassing. He 100% lingers close for the rest of the night to make sure no one bothers you.

Angel:

-King of being the Fake Boyfriend.

-My tall boy might be emotionally illiterate sometimes but he can read a social situation. When he sees a girl scrambling to try and come up with excuses to make a guy leave her alone, he has no problem inserting himself into the situation. 

-Smooth as fuck walking up to you, greeting you while resting a protective hand on your shoulder. Instantly setting the tone to whoever is talking to you that this was a useless endeavor.

- "Hey, querida,” he’d wait for you to look at him, “Sorry, didn’t see you walk in. You get a drink already? Want me to get you something?”

-The look in his eyes would let you know that he’s offering you an out to the uncomfortable situation that you’re in. He’s not trying to flirt--he’s just trying to drive away whatever asshole wasn’t catching the hint that you didn’t want to talk.

- "Who the fuck are you?” this is a problem that the guy did not see coming.

-Angel would look at him, eyes narrow, “I’m her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?”

- The question is rhetorical. It doesn’t matter who the guy is. Angel doesn’t give him a chance to answer. He steps closer to the guy, towering over him. He looks down at him and is practically begging the guy to say something stupid so he has an excuse to physically throw him out the front door.

- He doesn’t get the chance, though. The guy reads the cue, knows that it’s a fight that he will not win, and walks away.

- Angel would turn back to you, “You good? Sorry about that. Didn’t seem like he was getting the hint.”

- You’d shake your head, “He wasn’t. Thank you, I appreciate the assist.”

- “No problem,” he’d pause, “But forreal did you get a drink already? First round on me.”

Ezekiel:

- Y’all remember the casino scenes with the cops? That’s how he handles shit.

- Master of keeping his cool in frustrating situations. Completely follows your lead. He sees a lot of weird interactions being on the serving side of the bar, always clocking what’s happening in front of him in case he has to step in.

-He’d notice you rolling your eyes and giving short answers. He’d also notice that the guy either isn’t picking up the cues, or is willfully ignoring them. EZ catches your eyes a few times, silently asking if you want him to step in. You shake your head--the guy is annoying but harmless for the time being.

- Then he tries to touch you. Casually reaching for your shoulder, trying to rest his hand on your knee. You recoil, trying to create more space between the two of you. He doesn't care though.

- That’s when EZ can’t keep it to himself anymore. He’d sigh, not looking up from the glasses that he’s cleaning, “I don’t think she’s into you, man.”

- You and the man would both turn to look at him, each of you with a surprised expression on your faces. You’d stay quiet, wanting to see how the situation was going to play out. The man next to you would scoff, “I don’t remember you being part of this fucking conversation.”

- “I might as well be if I have to sit here and watch it. You’re the only one out of the three of us not suffering from how uncomfortable this is.”

- His commentary would ruffle some feathers. The man next to you would get defensive, “No one asked for your fucking opin--”

- Knowing that EZ had your back would give you a little extra confidence, “You should listen to him,” you nod, “He’s right. We’re suffering.”

- He’d be caught off-guard by the two of you teaming up on him. Realizing it wouldn't be worth the fight, he’d huff and walk away. EZ would watch him and chuckle, calling after him, “Least you could do is pay your fucking tab!”

- You’d laugh, glad to be done with the uncomfortable situation, “His drink and whatever you want are all on me tonight. As a thank you.”

- He’d give you that little smirk, “Don’t mention it.”

Coco:

- Zero tolerance policy.

- Not coy or polite about it at all.

-Instantly uses himself as a barrier between you and whatever guy it is that’s not leaving you alone. He might not be the biggest guy in the MC, but he sure as hell carries himself like he is when the situation calls for it.

-Will not hesitate to get nose-to-nose with whoever is bothering you. If someone wants to invade your space, he’ll invade theirs. Fair is fair.

- “You really can’t take a fuckin’ hint, huh?” he’d shake his head.

- “What’s your problem?” the man’s voice would sound confident but the look in his eyes would show that he really didn't want a problem with whoever this guy was getting in his face.

- “You. Fuckin’ beat it,” he’d jerk his head towards the door, “Don’t come back, either.”

- Coco carries himself with the confidence of a man that will make someone pay dearly for coming back uninvited. Confrontational situations usually resolve themselves quickly. People tend to not want to mess with him if they can avoid it.

-When the guy inevitably leaves not just you, but the clubhouse altogether, Coco finally turns back to you, “You good, ma?”

- You nod, watching him light up a cigarette, “Uh, yea. I’m good. Thanks for that.”

- He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke, “We’ll make sure that fucker never comes back.”

Hank:

- The only thing that Hank Loza drinks is Respect Women Juice. When he runs across someone that doesn’t, it gets out of hand really quickly.

-Bull in a china shop.

- The same man who is usually calm and cool and collected, physically removes whoever it is that is causing a problem. The guys have tried to teach him deescalation skills but it never sticks. It’s the only thing that Hank gets heated about so they all let it go at this point.

- Hank isn’t a small dude. When he steps toe-to-toe with someone he almost always out-sizes them. They get about 5 seconds to hear what he says and leave on their own before he removes them on his own.

- “You should leave her alone,” the friendly suggestion is really anything but.

- The guys are almost always cocky, not thinking that anything is actually going to happen to them, “Or what, tough guy?”

- They ignored their first and only warning. What happens next is all on them. Hank grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the ground. His voice is quiet, which is way more terrifying than yelling, “Let’s find out.”

- Hank lifts and carries the guy out, on the brink of dragging him like a caveman. The guy is yelling in protest, trying to swing, but Hank is unfazed.

- He throws the guy down the steps of the clubhouse, giving a final warning not to come back. No longer in an agumentative mood, the man takes off in a desperate attempt to avoid getting further tossed around.

- When he goes back into the clubhouse, the rest of the guys have moved on from the situaiton--to them it was business as usual for Hank. You, on the other hand, didn't see the situation unfolding that way at all. He walked back up to you, the anger gone from his face, a gentle smile there instead.

- “Are you alright?” he looks you over as if to make sure you didn't get hurt in the midst of it all.

- “Yea,” you nod, “I’m...I’m fine. Thanks. You...you didn’t have to do all that.”

- He’d chuckle, knowing that for him it was the only course of action, “Of course I did,” he’d gently rest his hand on the outside of your arm, “Let me know if anyone else gives you any trouble.”

Creeper:

- The smaller version of Hank, tbh. Constantly out here Respecting Women.

- Remember that scene where he catches a shotgun that’s tossed to him and immediately starts shooting on the highway?? That’s the energy he has when dealing with men who disrespect women.

- Cannot easily lift and remove men the same way Hank does, but he will throw hands without hesitation.

- The guys told him no more threatening with guns in the clubhouse. So fists will have to suffice.

- Does not offer a warning to the guy. If someone is being pushy or rude, they don’t deserve a heads-up. He will try to get your attention in some way first, to make sure that you want him to intervene. If he thinks that it’s going to get out of hand, or if you let him know with a pleading look that you could use the assist, he is instantly throwing himself into the middle of it.

- He’d catch your eye, motioning back and forth between you and the man in front of you to ask if you need an out. You’d give him a slight nod and that’s all it would take.

- Walking up, he grabs the guy by his shoulder and turns him around, “Hey, motherfucker,” he’d shove him towards the door of the clubhouse, “Leave.”

- Caught off-guard, the man would shove him back. Fully-bruised ego shining through, “Keep your hands off me.”

- That’s when you’d hear the first crack of a fist colliding with someone’s jaw. Your eyes would go wide, not ever having seen Creeper get like this. His focus would be completely on the man stumbling towards the ground in front of him, “I said get the fuck out.”

- It usually doesn’t take more than one punch to get his point across. HIs muscles aren’t just for show--getting clocked by him fucking hurts. They’re lucky that he’s not big on wearing rings.

- Once the threat is neutralized, he instantly shifts back into his quiet, gentler self to check in with you. He sees the surprise in your face at how things unfolded and he holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m done, promise.”

- It’d get you to laugh. You can see it in his expression that it’s almost like a switch he can flip on and off. “Um. Thank you. That...isn’t what I was expecting. But thank you.”

- “Are you alright?” he’d sit down next to you, mindful to give you some space.

- “Yea, I’m good. How’s your hand?”

- He’d chuckle, “All good. Nothing new.”

Okay this was a lot of fun. I love all these dorks. Hope you enjoyed! xo

[levis-hazelnut]

Levi x Reader How To Be The Perfect Boyfriend

Summary: Levi advising others on how to make a woman happy (because men just seem to be oblivious to this and don’t know how to be the perfect boyfriend).

1. Always make time for her, brats. If you try to push her away, she'll find a way to get you to spend time with her.

As always, Levi would wake up after a couple of hours of sleep, which wasn't very healthy for him, and he would start his day. He has breakfast, has a half an hour break to do whatever he wants before his squad awaits him on the training ground. Once their training session finishes, he heads to his office, getting ready to make a start on the paperwork that resided on his desk. And that's when she comes in with a tray and a smile adorning her lips. She placed the tray on the wooden surface and gave him a cup of tea with steam dancing around over it. Levi quietly thanked her as she took her own cup of tea and sat on the edge of the desk. After taking a sip, smoky hues glanced at the face of the person he loved (though, he would never say that aloud unless he was in the mood to be sappy). He shot her a questioning look since she was just staring at him, her tea long forgotten. "What do you want?" he inquired. Without a single word leaving her lips, she leapt off of the desk and made herself comfortable on Levi's lap. He bit back a huff when she buried her face into the crook of his neck and placed butterfly kisses over his skin. "(Y/N), I have a shit ton of paperwork to do." "And...? Are you prioritising your work over me - your wonderful, loving, best ever girlfriend?" she sassed back, removing her face from his neck.

"You know I'm always putting you first. It's just that I want to finish this and deliver it to Eyebrows so he can get off my back." "Fine," the curt word left her lips as she got off of the raven-haired male. "I guess you don't love me anymore." The last thing he saw was a pout before she disappeared into his bedroom. He knew she was doing this just for attention, but he couldn’t sit around like this. Sighing, Levi ran a hand through his hair and scraped his chair against the floor, standing up and walking into the room his girlfriend decided to retreat to. She laid on her side, beautiful, (E/C) orbs on the radiant sky outside the window that was slightly ajar, letting a refreshing breeze into the room. Levi laid behind her, his chest barely brushing her back as he looped his muscular arms around her waist, tugging her closer to him. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could bet that she still forced on a pout that deterred a smirk from appearing. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he hummed, kissing the back of her neck. "I can leave the paperwork for later since I don't have to finish it until tomorrow." A smile sprang onto (Y/N)'s lips when she twisted her body around and snuggled into Levi after pecking his lips. He let a smile of his own conquer his lips, even though he was still mildly irritated that she always finds a way to make him waste time. "I love you, Levi." "And you know I do, too, otherwise, I wouldn't be here cuddling with you." 2. Do not call her 'brat' (unless you don't wish to reproduce).

There she was, training a bunch of poor excuses of soldiers meant to protect humanity. Yeah, well, forget about them, they have no significance. Only the woman teaching them does. She stood there with a wrinkle formed in between her brows, yet a miniature smile rested on her soft lips. Her arms were crossed over her chest as her melodic voice sounded over the hushed voices of scouts who had the fucking audacity to talk over her. She could obviously hear them, but being the generous person she is, she didn't bother in shouting at them. Or maybe it was because she knew it wouldn't make them stop. Anyway, back to her beautiful self: her luscious tresses danced with the faint breeze that caressed her face, which held glistening eyes, a boopable nose, and lips that Levi made swollen. Then, let's go to her amazing body that Levi has caused to ache and covered it in love bites and such. If you're getting sick of the description, just imagine the sexiest goddess and multiply her beauty by fifty. You'll still be nowhere near imagining the woman standing there, but it's the closest you could get. Once the scouts got to training and (Y/N) just watched over them, her boyfriend came into sight as he approached her. "Hey, my love," she beamed. "Hi, brat," Levi replied and was about to peck her nose, however, that didn't happen when he stumbled back when his girlfriend pushed him. A frown danced on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" "Don't call me 'brat'," she growled and edged closer to him before thrusting her knee into a place that seemed as if it had an effect on the boys watching as they all winced and let out sounds of pain. The Corporal dropped to the ground as his 'wonderful, loving, best ever girlfriend' smirked down at him before facing her squad. "Girls, this is how you deal with jerks that don't know how to treat you right. Now, get back to training!" After her little piece of advice, (Y/N) turned back around to the groaning Levi, sprawled on the floor. "Love ya, my honey," she piped and crouched down to peck his forehead. Fucking brat... Levi thought once her lips touched his skin. 3. Show that you love her; randomly attack her with affection, or just cheer her up when she's down, or simply keep her company while she's relaxing. Cheesy shit like that (do excuse my language, dipshits).

The sun beamed down on the training grounds (though, the sun could never compare to her smile) where scouts were lazing around because of the heat smouldering them. Levi could care less since he wasn't in the mood to scold them or train them. So, he headed over to (Y/N), who took cover under the shade of a tree that loomed over her as if protecting her. She sat down cross-legged on the emerald grass, leaning her back against the trunk of a tree as she had a book in her lap. As to not disturb her too much, Levi quietly neared her before settling on the grass beside her. She gazed at him with a tender smile touching her lips before facing the book again. He draped an arm around her shoulders and made her rest her head on his shoulder as he started to run his hands over her (H/C), silky tresses. The action soothed both of them. Shortly, lips softly pressed against the top of her head, which made her put the book down as she lifted her head off of Levi's shoulder to face him. A smirk stained his lips and (Y/N) leaned forward to kiss him. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair as she placed a single hand on his shoulder and shuffled closer to him. Teeth gently nibbled on her bottom lip and she parted them, letting his tongue slip into her mouth and dance with her wet muscle. A soft sigh left her lips and vibrated against his before they pulled away. (Y/N) licked the string of their combined saliva away, leaning her forehead against Levi's. No words were spoken, but that didn't matter since no words were needed. ~/~ Everyone had distress written all over their faces after another miserable expedition. Many losses, many injuries, many disasters. And everyone included (Y/N). She was in her room, lying down in her bed with the covers encasing her as she quietly sobbed, clutching a piece of fabric against her chest. Marie, her best friend that she's known ever since she joined the Survey Corps, had died on this expedition. She hadn't been there to try to save Marie and she blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for being a terrible friend. "(Y/N)?" Levi softly called once he padded into her bedroom. He got no response, except sobs as he approached her. The raven sat on the edge of the bed and gently tugged (Y/N) onto his lap and cradled her, tucking her head under his chin. He hushed her like a mother to a child and rubbed comforting circles on her back.

He knew anything he tried to do would be useless since it was her best friend that she lost. Losing anyone was difficult, but losing someone that was close to you was something that no one wished to experience. "... I-I wasn't eve-en th-there in h-he-er... last mo-oments-s..." "Shh. It’s not your fault, my love." With some more calming words, her sobs soon quietened and there were only a few tears. Levi forced her to get ready for bed and sleep since she hasn't rested since they came back from the expedition. Her boyfriend changed into something more comfortable before crawling in next to her. He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend protectively and pulled her close, promising that he'll keep her safe, no matter what. ~/~ The (H/C)-haired female stared out of her open window, watching over the scouts that messed around on the training grounds as a subconscious smile fell on her face. She was so engrossed in the azure sky, the puffs of white, the luminous spotlight and the scouts, that she didn't even hear her office door open. She continued smiling and staring until a fit of giggles suddenly took over. She tried slapping away the hands that tickled her sides and squirmed in her spot before slowly dropping to the ground as fingers proceeded to tickle her further. "Levi!! Stop, stop!! Levi, seriously...! I'm going to pee myself!" she said in between giggles and pants, trying to push the human on top of her off. Soon, there was no movement, only (Y/N)'s chest rising and falling as she caught her breath and gazed into grey hues. Once oxygen was back into her lungs, slightly chapped lips moulded with hers for a slow dance as she was pinned to the floor. "What was all this for?" she whispered with a grin when their lips parted. "I was bored and you were off guard." "Hm. I love you so much, Levi," she hummed and brushed his ebony locks back from his forehead. "I love you so much, too," he murmured before smashing his lips against hers once more. 4. Never call her a monster when she's on her period. Also, always attend to her needs before said monster comes out.

Levi just barely dodged the book that was thrown at him as he retreated into his office, trying to take cover from the monster that lay in his bed. Though, he shouldn't call her monster anymore since the book was launched at him for that very reason. Not wanting to interact with the beast any further, he sat at his desk and finished off the pile of paperwork that decided to wander onto the surface. "Levi!!” At the scream of his name, the aforementioned male's hand had slipped and caused the ink to ruin the page. He clicked his tongue as quietly as he could before getting up and leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Yes?" "Could you get me some mint tea, my darling?" she asked with an innocent voice. "Okay," Levi said and walked away, leaving to get (Y/N) tea, being the amazing boyfriend he is. "Levi!" What's the fuck is wrong now? Levi groaned internally before facing her once again. "When you come back, can you cuddle with me?" "... Sure." "Okay. Thank you, my sweetheart." Finally, he was able to leave his office and not have to her screaming his name. Yeah, she was in a bed, but he would prefer if he was in that bed with her as she screamed his name. However, he can't do that right now. Levi made (Y/N) her tea before going back to his room and giving it to her. She took a sip, let out a satisfied sigh before yanking the short male down onto the bed. Damn, even though she's in pain, she's fucking strong. His chest collided with hers before he rolled onto the side, embracing her and rubbing circles on her abdomen that seemed to help her. "Levi?" "Hm?" "Do you hate me?" "... No." Ah, the hesitation. Why did he hesitate? If he didn't, everything would be fine. "I said: Levi, do you hate me?" she repeated, gritting her teeth. "Of course not, darling. I love you more than you could ever imagine." Ugh, those words made him feel nauseous, but if it meant he could keep his head, he would say it.

Well, it's not like he was lying. 5. Help her. She may be terrifying and strong at times, but she still acts like a damsel in distress when she's perfectly fine.

Levi sat at his desk, pen in hand as his eyes grazed over the words written on a piece of paper that resided on his desk. It was almost fucking midnight and he had to send in this report to Erwin by tomorrow morning. Distracting him from his work, (Y/N) stumbled into his office and dropped a tray that held two cups of tea. He barely regarded her before getting back to his task, knowing she was glaring at him, but decided to do nothing about it. "Levi!" "What do you want?" he muttered. "Would you mind helping me?" "You're the one that dropped it." Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists before standing up and storming over to his desk. This is when he finally decided to look at her when she towered over him with her index finger pointing towards him. "You're such a jerk, you know." "I know. Go clean up that mess." She sighed and flicked his forehead before doing as he said, no matter how impolite he was being. Once she wiped up the tea with wipes and a spray, she started to clean up the shattered glass. As she did that, Levi crouched down in front of her and helped his girlfriend, who just stared at him. "Stop looking at me like that, just be grateful I'm helping your clumsy ass." She smiled before quietly hissing in pain. Concern flickered in the raven's eyes, but soon confusion appeared when she was still smiling. "I'm fine. I just got a bit of glass in my finger." The female with (E/C) eyes stood up and put her finger in the light so she could see the glass. A shadow prevented that from happening as Levi took her hand and easily removed it before putting it into a tissue. "Thank you, my love,” she beamed. 6. Push bitches away. Once you do that, show her that she's the only one you want.

Levi had been forced to go to a ball of sorts with Erwin and Hanji. But of course, he despises snobby shitheads and pigs flaunting their money, so why would he want to go to an event full of those creatures? After much complaining, Erwin had told him that he could bring (Y/N) along, and that had shut Levi up. And there they were, dressed in formal clothes as they followed Erwin around, conversing with people. "This shit's boring as hell," Levi murmured to his beloved who had hooked her arm with his. "Do you want to dance?" "Are you stupid? I hate dancing." "Oh, come on, baby. We've danced before." "Yeah, I did that for you. I'm not doing it again. Not even if it would get rid of titans." "Fine... Could you get me a drink, please, then?" "Sure." She let Levi go over to a table and get drinks for both of them as she wandered over to Hanji who was talking to some woman. The brunette gave (Y/N) a grin before introducing her to the woman she was talking to. "It's nice meeting you, (Y/N). And I just want to say that the man you were walking with is gorgeous." "Yes, he definitely is," she smiled. Only Hanji knew that it was a fake smile. "I'm lucky since I've been with him for a few years now," she made sure to add, so this woman knows to stay the fuck away. "Oi, you lot, get off of me," Levi snarled, trying to push a couple of women away and making sure not to spill the drinks he was holding. "Well, you have nowhere to go, do you now?" one of them spoke, batting her eyelashes and dragging a finger from his collarbone down to his waistband. He put a glass down on the table and slapped that hand away before it could go further, shooting the woman a glare. "Touch me one more fucking time and you're going to lose that hand," he threatened darkly. Levi doesn't care who he's talking to, be it a woman or not. No one touches him like that. Yeah, right now, he sounds like a dickhead for treating women like this, but he would be even more of a dickhead if he didn't attempt to push them away when he has the most perfect woman by his side. "And I actually do have a place to go to. You see, my girlfriend over there wants to dance. You know the one in that icy blue dress? Yeah, that's her. And, oh look, she sees me so she's going to slap every single one of you if you don't fucking get your shitty hands off of me." Hm. Looks like that scared them, Levi smirked mentally once they all decided to move away. He straightened his clothes and passed (Y/N) a glass of wine as she glared at the women that scurried away. "Come, let's dance," the Corporal slipped her hand into his and led her to the other dancing couples. "I thought that you didn't want to dance." "I will if it means that those b*tches will leave me alone." The (H/C)-haired female gave Levi a tender smile (she knew that it wasn't because of that reason) as she placed one hand on his shoulder as the other clutched his hand. The raven's other hand rested on her waist before they swiftly danced as (E/C) and grey clashed. (Y/N) lifted her hand off of Levi's shoulder and he spun her around before bringing her back close to him. Soon, their dancing slowed down and all they focused on was each other's eyes before standing completely still amidst the other couples that moved their way around the hall. Levi rested his forehead against the one of the woman he loved, their lips barely brushing. However, a couple bumped into them which disrupted their moment that felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Levi caught his beloved before she could tumble over. Looking to see who it was, grey hues met blue and brown ones. Hanji and Erwin. "Tch." "Hi, (Y/N), Shorty! Keep your kissing for later." 7. If you love her as much as you claim to, propose. That will make her feel as if she's the happiest woman alive (and it will make you feel as if you’re the happiest man alive).

(Y/N) and Levi laid in bed together, entangled in each other's arms with their legs overlapping as they peacefully slept. (Y/N) had her face hidden in the crook of Levi's neck as her chest pressed against his. The raven tucked her head under his chin as his arms rested around her naked figure. They had stayed up most of the night, doing things. And the good thing is that everyone had a day off today so they could sleep in as much as they wanted. They may miss breakfast, but that didn't matter. The sunlight scattered through the curtains in Levi's bedroom, resting on his girlfriend's face which caused her to close her eyes tighter as a frown settled onto her visage. She turned away from the light, which meant turning her back to her boyfriend, who quietly groaned. He subconsciously tugged her closer to him and buried his nose in her hair. A yawn left her lips as she slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times. She smiled at the feeling of Levi's arms that kept her warm and safe before closing her eyes again. When she did that, she felt light kisses peppering over her neck, causing a sigh of delight to leave her lips as lips trailed down her spine. He went further down and nipped on one of her butt cheeks so she let out a small yelp and lifted her foot to kick him. Of course, however, she had no idea where she was aiming. A grunt sounded and the grip on her loosened. "You really don't want kids, do you?" he grumbled in his husky, morning voice that also hinted with pain. "You want kids? Even though you hate brats?" she snapped with her back still facing him. She felt his hands travel over her hips to find her hands. He acknowledged which hand was which and took her left one in his. "If they're yours, I want them after we get married," he hummed, slipping something light and cold onto her finger. "... Wait... No. Are you joking? Levi, I swear, if you're joking, I'll straight-up murder you," she threatened after turning around to face him when she noticed a smile resting on his lips. "I'm not joking. I'm being serious," he chuckled lightly. "I love you, (Y/N). I don't want to lose you and I always want you by my side. So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?" "You idiot, of course, I will," (Y/N) sobbed and embraced her, now, fiancé. "I love you so fucking so much." And that, brats, is how to be the perfect boyfriend. You're welcome, dumbshits - by Levi.

[zodiyack]

first of all, i really love your blog. you write so good✨🥺 i binge read ur works a lot. i wonder if i can request a shelby!sister wherein her family comes home one day and see her sleeping on the sofa, tired but all bloodied because she fought back to some drunk dudes before coming home. then they fuss around her, being protective and angry asking who did it and she just gets annoyed cuz they woke her up while she was sleeping and then her saying she dealt with it and just goes back to sleep.

Thank you, my love! That means so much to me! I’m happy you enjoy my works!

Your request is under the cut, thank you for requesting 🥺💕 Had to add some Pol luhv and I’m sorry I might’ve strayed a tinsie-bit so uh- enjoy

A Shelby Like The Rest

“What the fuck?” John is the first to walk through the door, toothpick dropping from his mouth as it falls open wide, similar to his eyes.

“What is it?” Arthur grunts behind him, gun at the ready. He too stops when he sees what his brother had seen, expression similar but only for  a second. His skin begins to turn a shade of red. “Tommy! Get in here!”

Right on cue, Tommy and Pol make it through the door. Ada following shortly, Finn soon after. Ada and Polly are the first to get any closer to you as you slowly rise from your horizontal to them- vertical to you position on the sofa, both giving silent glances at each other in agreement to inspect you carefully. You rub your eyes before squinting at the two.

“What are you doing?” Your groggy voice informs them that you’ve only just woken up from a seemingly deep slumber. “Pol? Ada? What-” Your eyes lift to your brothers, narrowing more as you scan their faces. “The fuck you lot staring at?”

Finn snickers but quiets when John nudges him harshly. The boys all stand back, allowing their sister and aunt some space to check you for injuries. When they come up empty handed, they make their ways forward at a calm pace, as if any faster would scare you. Like you were some wild steed in need of care.

It clicks in your mind as they grow closer, a rage bubbling inside of you just barely strong enough to push past your sleepiness. “I’m not a child! I’m alright!”

“What happened?” Tommy’s voice is stern and the question that leaves his mouth comes off as a demand more than the inquiry it actually is.

“Nothing!!”

“Nothing? Fucking Nothing!” He looks at your other siblings and aunt before facing you again. “If it was fucking nothing, why the fuck are you bleeding, eh?”

You snap with annoyance. “It’s not all mine!”

They all wait with anticipation yet mutter quietly in shock. “Who’s blood is it then? If it’s not all yours-”

“I don’t know. Someone’s.”

“Y/n. Who’s-”

However, it’s just his luck that you’re too tired to continue dodging his questions. In all honesty, you would do anything just to return to your comfy little spot on the cushions. “Some drunk bastards! They picked a fight with the wrong Shelby, that’s all.”

“What drunk bastards?”

“Some.”

“Y/n. Answer your brother’s question. What ‘drunk bastards’? Do you know their names?” Polly intervenes, just as upset as your brothers.

“No.” You huff, having had enough. “I don’t know their names, and no, they did not hurt me. I am fine, and I would like to go back to sleep if you’d be so kind.”

The silence is awkward but gives you time to lie back down and turn, your back facing them as you huff and readjust in the sheets. You get comfortable, sighing contently and yawning. Just on the edge of sleep, your brother decides he’d like to participate in interrogating you.

Finn shrugs. “So you’re alright then?”

“Yes! I’m alright!! I dealt with it! Can I please just go back to sleep now?!”

Your family stares at you a minute longer before nodding and walking to the other room, each bidding you goodnight as they pass. Your aunt is the last person to exit the room, the noise of her heals layering over the small cackles of the fire. Polly bends over the side of the sofa, face lit with an orange tint due to the hearth’s dancing flames in front of your makeshift bed, and kisses your forehead softly.

She rubs your head with just the right mix of roughness and tenderness, your eyes fluttering in relaxation until she pulls away. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You return the words with another yawn. Polly is about halfway to the door before she stops and says one last thing. Her voice sounds sweet but the hint of sarcasm dripping from her tone snaps your eyes wide open and a nervous laugh leaves your lips.

“Just- don’t get blood on my sofa.”

Aka, I dunno how to end this

Tags: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @darling-i-read-it, @cai-neki, @thewarriorprincessxo, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow

[cinnamonrusts]

first date with the sparda boys --

Your first date with Dante/Vergil   -- f!reader + mentions of alcohol + lots of fluff

DANTE-

“Devil May Cry?” your voice is chipper and tone polite, “No, Dante isn’t here at the moment. Can I take a message?” an older woman sounds off her concerns and the need for immediate attention from the legendary devil hunter himself, “I’ll be sure to pass that message on once he gets in!” the call ends and you slam the phone’s receiver down with a hard thud.

You add another tally to a long list of marks on the back of a pizza order receipt. Curses escape your lips as you continued to be annoyed by the barrage of calls. Soon, you start to mock Dante’s voice and the words he left you with, “Just gotta run a quick errand, I’ll be back in a jiff!” your head bobs side to side as you stick out your tongue whilst imitating the man.

“I’ll be back in a jiff! -- yeah fucking right...,” you jot down the woman’s name beside her tally, “..idiot.” A voice startles you, “Hope you’re not talking about me!” it was Dante. He closed the door to his building behind him as he sauntered in, smile on his lips. “Dante!,” you push yourself back from his desk and wave the wrinkled receipt in the air, “If you’re going to lie about how long you’re going to be gone. Hire a fucking receptionist, because I am not one!” 

As you approach him, he lends out his hand and snatches the paper from your fingers. His opaque like eyes examine the list that you made out for him, “Wowzah. That’s a lotta people.” his opposite hand strokes his scruff, “We can worry about this tomorrow,” he crumples the paper and stuffs it into his front coat pocket. “Why don’t we go out for some fun? Since my trip lasted -- a little longer than expected.” his lips spread to that shit eating grin he always sports and you can’t fight back your trembling lips that turn from a frown into a smile. Why does he have to be so charming?

“Fine -- but you’re buying!” your eyes squint and your index finger is pointed at his nose. As you turn to grab your things from upstairs, Dante yells out, “With what money!?” you stop on the third step and face him, “Guess that’s for you to find out.”

With nightfall in the air, the wind turned cold and you dressed accordingly. Wrapped in a maroon pea coat and a black beanie to protect your head, you walked down the stairs to see Dante waiting in the same spot. His eyes locked onto you as you jogged down the stairs, he watched every movement you made and how focused you looked on each step. You shove your hands in your pocket as you approach him, he’s still staring. “What?” you ask with a shrug, a slight warmth rises in your cheeks. His lashes blink several times before his brain processes your question, “Nothing,” he answers. The man towers over you in height greatly and he places his strong palm on top of your hat, then proceeds to give you a hearty noogie. “Aw, look who looks all cute all bundled up!” he jokes.

You smack him away with the back of your hand with an angry look, “It’s like 20 something degrees outside! I’m not half demon like you, asshole. I don’t generate heat like a furnace,” you snap. Dante proceeds to fix the pom-pom on the top of your hat, “Sorry to pinch a nerve, short stuff.” you jab him in the chest with a closed fist and a poorly hidden smirk, he laughs it off and opens the door for you.

The bar isn’t too far down the road from Devil May Cry. On occasions you would go with Lady, Nico, and Trish for girl’s night out there. The building was pretty incognito and fit well for the neighborhood it was in. Just above the entrance was a crooked wooden sign that simply read, “The Raven”. Dante held the crudely painted door open for you and you ducked under his arm that held it open. Immediately you were struck in the face with the strong smell of tobacco and cheap liquor.

Your male companion took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled loudly through his mouth, “Can’t get over that stench. Smells just like home,” his eyes gaze across the rugged crowd that frequented the joint. Some of them wave at the devil hunter while others hide their faces in their glasses. Dante placed his hand on your shoulder and led you to the bar, the two of you sat on two stools that felt like they could give way at any moment.

Dante greeted the bar tender, “Raymundo. Two gin and tonics, up.” The man behind the bar gave the Sparda a wink before going to work on the order. “You gonna pay me this time, Dante?” Raymundo asked once finished, he slid the two glasses in your directions. Dante caught his and took a gulp of the drink before answering, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all I got.” he leaned over on one side as he dug into his back pocket to fish out his wallet. He opened up the dark leather bifold and stared into it with a depressed look, “All I got is a $20.” Dante pulled out the crisp green bill and reluctantly forfeited it to Raymundo. “No, Dante. Let me,” you attempt to dig into your coat pocket but Dante’s hand is immediately on your wrist with a tight grip. “No. I promised to take you out.”

Raymundo smiled as he took the money, “Aye, Dante. Out on a date, hmm?” “Yes.” Dante answers, “No.” you add,  both answers in unison. The bartender let out a hearty laugh, “I think I’ll trust the lady on this one. Rest is on me, Dante.” Raymundo patted the bar a few times with his palm before leaving the two to yourselves.

Dante turned toward you with a smug look, “So, this isn’t a date?” You scoff as you take a sip of your drink, “No. More of a payment for my duties, since you never pay me anyway.” He chuckled, “So, killing demons for pleasure doesn’t cut it enough, huh?” Dante took a drink, “Well, we’ll see if you change your mind by the end of the night.”

A Few Too Many Drinks Later --

A snort escapes your mouth as you throw your head back in a obnoxious laugh. Dante laughs just as loudly. The two of you remanence of old times in the earlier days of demon killing, when you were just a newbie in the crew. “You -- you literally were knocked on your ass trying to fire that shotgun!” Dante nearly had tears in his eyes as he went through the memory step by step.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given me a shotgun meant for a giant!” you leaned into him as you started to feel your face warm up. Both of your giggling died down to a silence as you snuggled your head into the bend of Dante’s arm. He could smell his own breath that stunk of alcohol as he looked down with his opaque eyes to see your content face that was pushed up to him.

Dante could feel the call of his instincts; his fingers ached to run through your [h/c] strands that peeked out from under your hat. His palms cried to feel the natural warmth of your skin on his rugged hands. How would you react though? Would you get angry? Or would you allow him?

The Sparda gave in to his desires and took a piece of your hair around his finger, then lightly twirled it around his digit. This caused you to stir from your spot, your [e/c] orbs flickered up to him with a glassy look. “Hmm, that feels nice,” you smile softly. Dante smiles in return, his pounding heart was now slowing as you reacted better than he thought. “Hey, let’s go home.” he offers and you comply, pushing off of his body and taking a slight wobbly step. Dante comes to your aid, one hand wrapped over yours and the other at your waist. “I’m good,” you insist and the two of you leave the bar.

When the two of you reach the front door of Devil May Cry, the only light on the street is from the pink neon sign above the entrance and the small street lamp beside. Dante attempts to lead you up the concrete step but you stop him with a tug of the arm. He turns around to ask what’s wrong but sees you looking up into the sky with wonder. White specks fall from the darkness above and drift slowly in the breeze, the light reflecting off the flakes. You put out your palm to catch the snow and observe as it melts quickly in reaction to your heat. 

“Snow?” Dante asks as he too sticks out his palm. The small specks soon turn into bigger pieces that stick to yours and Dante’s hair/clothing. He takes a step down from the step to approach you and chuckles once he notices the flakes are sticking to your lashes. “You’re a snow angel,” the Sparda smiles. “Does that make you a snow demon?” you ask and Dante ponders for a moment before nodding quickly. A giggle comes from your throat and you watch as snowflakes drift into his scruff. “You got something there,” you say as you push yourself up onto your toes. Instead of brushing it off, you place a small kiss on his lips.

Dante is both speechless and motionless. He did not expect you to kiss him. Like, this was literally the last thing he would ever expect. Was this a dream? Were you going to vanish in a puff of smoke once he woke up. The man blinked several times to see that you were still there before him. His hands quickly found their way to your biceps and held them tightly, now it was his turn to kiss you. Dante kissed you like he always wanted to and his heart was pounding harder than it was at the bar. When he pulled away he asked, “You’re okay with this, right?” he wanted to ensure you were of sound mind. You smiled, “I’m not really that drunk,” one more kiss, “are you?” Dante shook his head, “I got a hell of a tolerance, short stuff.”

Your brow raised, “Was that a pun?” Dante laughed, “Maybe. Was this a date?”

You bit your lower lip as you looked in the distance in thought, “I think it was.”

VERGIL-

Ever since Vergil moved in with the devil hunter crew, he was reluctant to socialize much. Dante would often beg for his brother to do -- brotherly things with him besides hunting or training. The elder Sparda brother would brush his twin off with a huff through his nostrils and continue burying his face in his books.

Vergil peeked your interests as his mysterious nature reflected the one of your own. Despite feeling as if the others were like family, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were an outsider looking in. You felt as if Vergil felt the same way and just wanted someone to pry at his ironclad bindings. But every time you tried, you felt an overwhelming sensation of nervousness and backed out like a schoolgirl.

But tonight would be different --

Everyone was gone for the night and the only people left in the building was Vergil and yourself. He was shut up in his room and you were downstairs, bored. So, so, bored. You sat at Dante’s desk with your feet up on the mahogany, he would freak if he knew your dirty boots were on his desk. Only he could do that! Metal music screeched through the speakers of the lower level and you tossed a rubber band ball in the air several times as you suffered through the only track.

When the ball dropped from the air, you missed the catch and it bounced off your fingers, then slammed hard into the main speaker, hitting the power button. The music abruptly cut and you could hear the floorboards creaking from above. Your eyes flickered to the ceiling and remembered that Vergil was home too. You quietly made your way up the stairs and down the stretch of hall to his door. Your hand extended to knock but you hesitated, what if he didn’t want to be bothered? He seemed to be unfazed by your presence whenever you interacted. Vergil never seemed happy nor angry to see you, his face was often void of much emotion and was hard to read.

You bit your tongue as your knuckles drummed across the door lightly, then you took a step back to give him room to answer. There was no sound from within, so, you tried again. Still no noise and no answer, you assumed that either a: he left or b: he didn’t want to be bothered.

You turned to leave,

“Come in,” his cool voice calls from behind the door. The heartbeat in your chest quickened in pace as you slowly approached the knob, you sort of wished he had just ignored you; but you decided it was too late to back out and took hold of the knob to turn it. You pushed the door open just enough for you body to slide through and stopped at the threshold. Vergil was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back facing you, his head was bowed as he most likely was buried in his literature. “[Y/N],” he spoke. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you asked, a bit nervous. He didn’t move, “Everyone else left. Who else would it be?.” Duh, idiot! “Heh, that’s right,” you paused with awkward silence, “Well, I’ll just leave you to --,” you turned to leave but Vergil spoke up. “No. Stay,” you stopped and slowly turned on your heels to see that he now was facing you.

His strong features looked as if they had been carved by heavenly beings. His skin was dry yet looked like porcelain. His Caucasian tone seemed like it was glowing in the natural light that peeked through his single window and his dark circles gave him character. Half demons truly were beautiful. Would it be a sin to indulge in their devilish delicacy?

You accepted his invitation to remain and decided to politely observe his room. It was empty for the most part besides his bed, a dresser, and an old shelf that was filled with different books; the antique caught your attention and you approached it. Some books looked new with fresh covers while others looked as if they could crumble at the slightest touch. Vergil’s eyes watched you steadily as you eyed his collection. You raised your right hand and gently stroked the spine of a worn, red leather book decorated in gold trimmings. “Do you enjoy reading?” the man asked.

“I do,” you answered with a smile, your eyes remaining on the interesting red book. “I can tell you do as well. From day one, actually,” your head turned to look at him, “You always got your face buried in some sort of book.” Vergil hummed in agreement, closed his book, placed it on the bed and stood to join you at his bookcase. “I see you’re interested in this one,” his strong forearm stretched past your face and his fingers wrapped around the book to pull it out.

“A collection of morbid poems,” he licked his right index finger as he flipped the book open with his left hand. “I acquired this book was a young boy, I think it was fitting for the time.” His blue eyes scanned the yellowing papers as he looked for the poem that fancied him, you studied his features again as his orbs darted across the pages.

“Ah, maybe you’ve heard this one,” he cleared his throat, “Ladies and gentlemen, skinny and stout, I’ll tell you a tale I know nothing about;” his tone was rich during his narrative. “The admission is free, so pay at the door. Now pull up a chair and sit on the floor.” Vergil paused for a moment and motioned for you to join him on the corner of his bed, you followed and he sat close to you, your knees just barely touching.

Opening the book back up, he continued,

“One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight; back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. A blind man came to watch fair play, a mute man came to shout, ‘hooray!’“ his eyes occasionally flickered to the side as he read to see if you were enjoying what he was reciting, almost smiling when he could tell you were.

“A deaf policeman heard the noise and came to stop those two dead boys...,” he stopped at the middle of the poem as the rest of the page seemed to have been torn out. Your fingers  instinctively reached to touch the part of the page that was missing but Vergil lightly took your hand to move it out of the way as he closed the cover.

“How does it end?” you asked but Vergil shrugged, “I’m not sure. I was never able to find another copy of this book to figure it out.” An idea dawned on you and your hand rested on his hand that was at his side. “Say, why don’t we check the library here? There’s books that look older than most of yours, I’m sure there’s a copy there!” you smiled and Vergil looked at you with the softest expression you’ve yet to see. He could feel this twinge in his stomach. It felt warm and kind of fuzzy. Why was he feeling this? He wasn’t sure if he remembered it or liked what it felt like but he knew that you were the origin. He agreed to your proposition.

Vergil watched patiently as you wrapped yourself in a puffy grey coat and blue scarf. You stopped mid scarf wrapping to ask, “Is that all you’re wearing?” Vergil was wearing his coat which seemed to mostly for fashion and not functionality. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” his brow scrunched. “Nothing. It’s just -- winter -- outside.” The Sparda smiled. He. Smiled.

It was as if a train smacked right into you because not only did he smile but you made him smile.

He took note of your struggle with the scarf and took it into his hands. “I think I will be okay,” he said as he properly tucked your scarf. “Blue is a good color for you,” he added. The entire time you could feel your face turning several shades of pink, and you prayed the half demon didn’t notice.

As the two of you walked across town, the wind blew harshly and you struggled to continue on without complaining. “We should’ve got a taxi,” you cursed as you hugged yourself tighter. Vergil on the other hand seemed unfazed, despite the fact that his breath was visibly wafting in the air above him. “Taxis are a waste of money. Traveling on foot is faster,” he was several feet in front of you; Vergil noted your struggle and decided to stop. “Here,” he wrapped his arm around you with his coat draped over your frame and pulled you close to his side. “Better?” the Sparda asked. His body felt like a radiator, warmth oozed from him and you could barely notice the freezing temperatures anymore. “You half demons sure are warm,” you noted and he hummed.

The library was nearly empty when the two of you entered which gave you free roam of the massive building. You led Vergil to the top middle floor and all the way into the back where all the poem books were kept. He felt like a child in a candy store, the library had a collection of what seemed like hundreds of books and each section seemed to stretch for miles.

“If they have it, it’ll be here,” you noted. Both of you paced the bookcases in search of the copy but to no avail. You let out a frustrated breath as you were ready to accept defeat. “Don’t be upset, [Y/N]…,” Vergil spoke up, “I -- enjoyed this time with you.”

He was leaned against one of the cases with his arms crossed, his eyes lingering on you and a ghost of a smile on his lips. You approached him slowly.

Now face to face with the half demon, a few inches separated the two of you from touching. Vergil closed his eyes impulsively but when nothing happened, his eyes opened quickly. You weren’t trying to kiss him or anything -- but instead, you were pulling out an identical red book to the one that he had in his bedroom.

You opened the book in search of the morbid poem of dead boys when Vergil’s hands slammed it shut abruptly.  It was as if a foreign force hijacked his body because before either of you could think, his lips were on yours. They were not soft by any means and were pushed hard onto yours but there was meaning behind it.

He was quick to pull away as he had a grip on his mind once again. Vergil attempted to push you away and walk out of the library but you stopped him with a yank to his coat. “Where are you going?” you asked. His face was cold and void again, just like you were used to seeing. “Stop hiding behind your tough guy façade, Vergil.” your hand grazed lightly under the line of his jaw once he was close again, “I can see you’re just a man who needs and wants more than they would like to admit.” you lowered your voice to a light whisper, your warm breath against his skin.

“Now,” you gave him a small kiss on his lower lip, “let’s see if this poem is worth finishing.”

[statticscribbles]

Bird Knowledge

Summary: Theseus/Reader;Just because Newts studying to be a magicalzoologist doesn’t mean Theseus isn’t good with creatures

While Newt would complain about the lack of magical creature classes, dumbledore had managed to snag a group of students for free period to hopefully subdue Newts desperate need to sneak off to the forbidden forest. “Now we’ve managed to bring in a hippogriff for you all to study and learn from. Hippogriff’s are very proud creatures and you must show them proper respect.” Dumbledore drones on and you shift until you’re standing next to Thesues who had been dragged by Newt to the meeting. He seems bored but you can see he way his gaze moves around the group; and settles on the hippogriff with slight disappointment.

“Now will each of you come up in a line and bow to the hippogriff and then we will see if he considers you a friend if he bows back.” “Hey Y/N; glad you could make it.” Newt nods and you smile getting in line behind Theseus who’s disappointment seems to lessen. “Hey Y/N. What’re you doing here?” “I wanted to see a Hippogriff in person; I’ve only ever heard you two talking about them and I feel left out.” You pout and Theseus has a small smile on his face. “You could have said something; you’re not missing much they’re just like any other creature.” You don’t even have to look at Newt’s face to feel how offended he is.

“Come on Newt I’m just trying to save Y/N from disappointment; I don’t want all our talking to have gotten her hopes up.” His arm drifts around you slightly before he pulls back shrugging. “There’s not much excited besides riding them.” He says nonchalantly and Newt rolls his eyes. “You cried when one of the baby ones sang to you.” “They can sing?” Theseus nods. “Like birds; they sometimes have specific songs for each other; or people they like.” You grin at Theseus. “Wow that incredible; have any of the ones your mom bred sung for you?” Theseus laughs nodding.

“They like to wake me up with it; which is helpful in the weeks before school; but not at five in the morning when a tree branch falls.” You nod shuffling forward as Newt finishes bowing to the Hippogriff which allows him to stroke his head. Newt grins nudging you when Leta walks back from curtsying and the hippogriff offers a half bow Dumbledore advises her not to try to pet him. Theseus is next and you hold your breath; before he can bow the hippogriff nods, almost dropping its front half to the ground. Theseus sighs. “Duncan; really?” He chides and the hippogriff pops back up chirruping slightly. “Duncan?” Leta rolls her eyes and Theseus smiles.

“I’m not good with names; Newt’s much better than I am.” “You know each other?” You question before Dumbledore nods to you and you step forward curtseying as Leta did confused when the Hippogriff bows fully and nudges its head into your hand. “Oh, um; hello Duncan.” You hum as the Hippogriff greets the rest of the students and most of them move away; both Newt and Thesues move closer and you follow both of them towards Duncan. “Duncan here was Thesues’ before he left for this year.” “Your hippogriff? You have your own hippogriff?” You stare shocked as Theseus strokes Duncan’s head.

“Well sort of; Newt and I help our mom raise the babies that she breeds during the summer; Duncan was a little smaller than average; still is.” You glance to the Hippogriff that’s almost level with Thesues’ head and he grins. “He’s only a little smaller than average.” You shake your head. “He’s much more impressive than average to me.” Duncan seems to puff up and you watch Thesues frown. “Y/N; don’t say that to him; he has a big enough ego as it is already.” “Well if you’re the one spoiling him that’s your fault; but I do think he’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a creature so impressive.” You nod earnestly and Duncan chirps again; nudging his head away for Theseus to step towards you.

“Duncan; Duncan no.” Theseus glares but Newt grins. “What?” You question and Newt glances back to where Dumbledore is talking to students. “He wants to offer you a ride. Here.” Before you can say anything Newt’s half lifted you onto Duncan’s back, you settle behind his wings and let your fingers run into his neck feathers. “Don’t pull his feathers out. Stay low.” Newt warns before he offers a whistle and Duncan takes off. Theseus returns from where Leta had called him over and you find yourself stunned into silence at how the sky looks. “This is incredible Duncan; thank you so much.” Your voice is quiet with awe as he hovers letting you take in the sunset over the lake. You can hear shouting from down below and you laugh a little. “I think we should go back down; I’ll protect you from Theseus; don’t worry.” You grin as Duncan swoops down. you climb off his back stroking his head and turning to see Theseus glaring.

“I’m sorry about-“ “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was! How easily you could have been hurt!” Theseus sighs shaking his head. You grin carefully keeping yourself in front of Duncan who’s head bows to rest on your shoulder. You stroke his head feathers and he makes a pleased noise as you continue.

“Y/N You could have been hurt.” He sighs in the common room after class and you shake your head. “I don’t think Duncan would have hurt me.” “Of course he wouldn’t have! He won’t hurt what I care about.” “Really?” You tilt your head and Theseus nods shrugging off your curiosity. “Of course Hippogriffs usually respect the leader; to Duncan I’m his leader.” “What does that make me? The leader’s friend?” Theseus doesn’t answer instead choosing to retreat to the boys dormitory. You turn to Newt when he appears.

“Newt; I had a question about hippogriffs that Theseus ignored!” You pout and he grins. “So he said that Duncan wouldn’t hurt me cause Theseus is like the head hippogriff leader to him or whatever; and I asked what does that make me; and he just left!” Newt laughs, shaking his head. “Hippogriffs live in a sort of herd life until they mature; so to Duncan, Theseus is like an older brother; and you’re basically his girlfriend; so Duncan wouldn’t hurt you.” “I’m basically his girlfriend?” You turn to look at the boys dormitory and then back to Newt. “Well yeah I mean Thee talks about you all the time; and;” he drags out watching the doorway before he grins back to you.

“He talks about you to our mom; he asked for advice about talking to you; I saw the letter.” Newt’s face lights up as he hasn’t been interrupted yet. “He said he wants to date you.” You’re about to respond. But Newt falls forward his legs bound by a rope and Theseus glaring from the doorway wand lowering. “What was he saying about me?” Theseus narrows his eyes as Newt struggles to stand back up. “I was just telling her about that time you got locked in with the baby hippogriffs and they puked on you and you-!” “You said you’d never tell anyone that!” Theseus hisses as he helps Newt up and you giggle. “It’s okay Thee; I’ll take it to my grave.” You grin at him noticing how he stutters slightly. “Thanks Y/N; you’re such a good person.”

“I know; it’s why you love me.” You watch Theseus swallow nodding. Newt returns to the dormitory and you realize you’re alone with Theseus with the knowledge he wants to date you. “Thank you for letting me ride Duncan; it was incredible.” “It was nothing; really it’s not that impressive if you’ve been on a broom before.” “I have; and being on Duncan was incredible!” You nod sternly and Theseus sighs shaking his head before he sits on the couch; you sink next to him and bump his shoulder with yours. “Seriously Thee; thank you.” “It was nothing.” “No please; let me pay you back somehow. Pleaseeeeee.” You whine grinning at him when he pinches his nose. “Okay.”

“Great; think about what you want from me!” His face pinks slightly and he chews his lip. “I have an idea; if you don’t want to I understand.” “Okay; tell me?” You grin and he huffs. “Will you go out to hogsmeade with me?” He rushes and you grin back. “I’d love to Theseus.” He smiles and you nudge him, trying not to think about the implications of a date on his end; or how you’re a little more than excited about it being a date. You groan pulling out the transfiguration homework you have, he rolls his eyes fondly and offers you out his notes. “You know I owe you for this as well right!” You shout up and Theseus grins. “We can settle your many debts tomorrow.” He laughs when you release an over the top sigh and sink off the couch, to return to your dorm trying to avoid the thought of the not date tomorrow.

“Ready to go?” You grin at Theseus who nods, you follow him out towards hogsmeade and wondering what he’s planned for you to pay him back. You laugh a little, understanding dawning as he makes a beeline for honeydukes. “Really Thee?” He grins back at you as you walk through the doors. “We have to have something from here. You know we do; it’s tradition.” You smile and nod; grabbing a chocolate frog and hesitating before grabbing two more; you’re not expecting Theseus to buy much; he’d usually only ever by the lemon drops that lasted for hours and the pumpkin candies that he never admitted he bought for the tiny pumpkin shapes they came in.

“What is your obsession with those? You already have all the cards twice over.” “I’m determined to find you on one of these one day, better start looking now.” He laughs shaking his head and you grin heading over to the counter. “Not so fast.” He plucks the frogs from your hands pushing them forward with his things. “Theseus!” You frown and he just grins. “It’s part of the payback.” “Okay; fine.” You pout when he walks you towards the three broomsticks. “You better let me buy you a pumpkin pastie.” “Or what?” “I won’t look for you on any of the frog cards.” He arches an eyebrow. “I can live with that.” He grins and you scowl gathering snow into a ball to pelt him with it.

“You’re awful Theseus! This isn’t me paying you back at all! This is me getting into more debt to you.” He laughs throwing one back at you but you manage to dodge it. Of course you don’t dodge the one after that it splattering fully on your face and you stumble back. Theseus offers his hand out and you look slightly confused before taking it walking forward to the three broomsticks; jerking slightly when he doesn’t move with you. “Thee?” “Sorry.” He mumbles and you turn looking confused back at him.

“For what?” You step closer and he turns slightly. “I messed you hair up.” He nudges a loose strands and you laugh. “You didn’t mess anything up; now come on.” You grin tugging his hand as he follows you towards the door. You shake off the last bits of the snow and Theseus drags you to a table in the back grinning when a plate of pumpkin pasties and two butterbeers are pushed onto the table. “Theseus what did I just say?” “Well before we got in it was that I didn’t mess anything up; have I?” he pouts and you sigh angrily biting into one of the pumpkin pasties. “I have an idea.” He perks up leaning forward. “How about; in order for me to pay you back; we spend tomorrow doing anything you want. We can go flying; or sit in the great hall or library all day.” “Okay. That’s it?” Theseus looks slightly confused.

“Yes; is that okay?” “Well isn’t that what we’re doing today?” You nod at his question. “Well yes; but I mean I’m sure you’re not too fond of dragging me around hogsmeade and getting hit with snowballs.” “I mean the snowballs aren’t the best; but I get to spend time with you.” Theseus freezes slightly and pulls his drink over chugging half of it. “Mum says you should come over for Christmas break to see Duncan.” “Your mum said that?” “I said that?” He amends and you grin. “I would love to come over for break; if your parents are okay with it.” He sighs slightly and nods.

Support My Writing?

[lokust]

I AM GOING TO PREFACE THIS BY SEEING THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT TWO CHARACTERS FROM A VAMPIRE MOVIE. I AM NOT WRITING FANFIC ABOUT THE BIBLE

@pamcake21 sorry this took so long, I literally lost all motivation to write for like three months but I’m back and I’m better.

_________

Comforting.

________

“My darling…”, Eve sighed, finding her husband moping on the couch, again, “You’ve got to get up and do something other than sleep, feed, and pout”.

He looked up as she sat beside him and pulled him to her chest. He stayed silent, curling into her comfortably.

She ran her fingers through his rather unkempt hair, lying her cheek against the top of his head, “At least tell me what’s wrong, my love”.

He had been like this for days, probably a week at this point. She didn’t know what was wrong with him and she hadn’t asked yet, only for the sake of allowing him to gather his mind and his thoughts.

He sighed, letting out a small puff against her neck. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, trying to find the proper phrasing for his emotions, “I’m not sure. We’ve been on this earth together for hundreds of years. Sometimes I feel like it’s time for a break”.

Eve’s breath hitched in shock and fear, and Adam shot up, realizing what he’d said, “No. No, that is not what I meant. Not a break for us. I could never- I mean, you… you make my life worth living, and you have for hundreds of years. I could never ask for a break from you. I just…”, again, he had to think before he could speak on his feelings.

“I want a break from this life. We lived through the greatest eras of science and music, and the greatest evolutions of religion and art. We’ve watched the world grow, we’ve watched society progress. We lived through plagues and famines and hundreds of thousands of natural disasters”, Eve listened intently as he spoke, and she understood where he was coming from, “We’ve lived our lives, Eve. We’ve lived a hundred lives. I’m exhausted”.

Eve sighed, nodding as she pulled him back to her, rubbing his back soothingly in hopes he would relax, “I know. I know, my darling boy”, she cooed, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I understand, alright? But there are no breaks in life, as much as it pains me to say. We just have to live until we die, and there’s no telling when that could be for us”.

He nodded with a small hum, “I know, and honestly, I’m not ready for the end. At least not… not the end of this. Of us”, he whispered the last bit of it, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiled, looking down at him with nothing but pure love, “Don’t you worry, love. There will be no end to us”.

He huffed out a small laugh, but the smile on his face was uncontainable.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, cuddling as per usual with Adam laying against Eve’s chest.

It was peaceful and they were happy… but Eve could only handle so much silence.

“You know what else will never end?”, she asked, a smile growing on her face as the tone in her voice put Adam on edge.

Oh he knew that tone and he knew it well.

“…What?”, he asked hesitantly, and he suddenly found himself lying on his back with Eve hovering over him.

“This”.

Before he could react, Eve pulled one of his hands up above his head and started pinching at his sides. He choked out a surprised squeal, biting his lip to conceal his smile and his bubbling laughter as she skittered her nails against his bare skin.

“You really should stop sauntering around shirtless all the time. You’re beautiful but you’re also dreadfully sensitive, sweetheart”, she teased, a taunting but warm smile on her face.

He reached for her wrist with his free hand but he found that one pinned above his head almost just as quickly.

“You’ve occupied both my hands. However do you expect me to tickle you now?”, she asked, a thoughtful expression on her face.

He just shook his head, tugging at his arms just to feel the weight keeping them in place. Slowly, a shy smile grew on his face as more giggles bubbled in his chest. He knew she was going to tickle him and the anticipation was killing him but he was so excited he was practically shaking.

“What are you laughing about? I’m not tickling you, dear~”, she sang, though she knew exactly why he was giggling. He knew it was coming.

She leaned down and nipped at his ear with her fangs, eliciting a small squeal as he tensed up tried to scrunch his neck to protect his ear, but she kept nibbling and nipping and he broke into helpless cackles as he tugged at his arms again.

“Eheheheve! Eve, wahahait!”, he giggled, curling his fists as she worked her way down behind his ear and against his neck, nibbling and peppering little kisses. He squirmed and writhed underneath her, attempting to turn his head to hide his neck, but she started nibbling at the other side.

“Why are you trying to hide from me? Don’t you like your tickles?”, she asked with a small hum, breathing in to blow a raspberry on his collarbone. He squeaked and shook his head frantically as he kicked out behind her.

“Nohohoho! Quihihihit it!”, he was at war with himself. She was kissing him and giving him sweet little raspberries, and he just wanted to cuddle up to her and let it happen, but the other part of him was screaming about how horribly ticklish it was.

The farther down she moved, the more nervous he got. He knew she’d attack his ribs with raspberries and she did just that, suddenly moving to nibble at the sensitive area before making a show of taking on large, deep breath.

He squealed and tensed every muscle in his body, bracing himself for what was coming, “Eve- Eve, nohohoho! No, plehehehease! PleheHEHEHEASE, FUHUHUCK!”.

She blew the longest raspberry she could muster, and he threw his head back in pure joyous laughter. He tried to pull his wrists out of her grip, but he knew she wouldn’t budge.

She blew raspberry after raspberry all over his rib cage, and she even alternated between raspberries and nibbles from time to time.

The raspberries elicited loud cackles, whereas the nibbling and kissing got snorty, squeaky, hiccupy laughter.

He tried to bring his knees to his chest in an attempt to protect himself but because of their position, it was impossible, so he lay there as curled up as he could get while he laughed his heart out from the tickles.

She slowed for a moment, placing small kisses in the spaces between his ribs and allowing him a moment to breathe.

“P-Plehehease”, he breathed out heavily, “Hahahave meheherc-eee! Nohoho!”, he squealed when her lips connected with a particularly sensitive spot near the very bottom of his rib cage on his right side.

“Are you done sulking, my love?”, she asked, giving him a warm smile as she spoke. He nodded in return and blushed when he made eye contact with her.

She let out a find huff of a laugh, “That’s good. I’m glad I could get you feeling better”.

He smiled as warmth spread throughout his chest and he relaxed in her arms.

“Now…”, she said, “Shall we get that smile back on your face?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head frantically, but it was too late. She took a deep breath and blew a raspberry on the same spot that had him squealing just moments before and he shrieked, arching his back as loud desperate cackles fell from his lips.

“NAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHEASE! EHEHEHEVE, LET GOHOHO!”

She just shook her head, “I’m afraid I can’t, my darling. I’ve gotta tickle you until that smile is permanent”.

He squealed and shook with giggles as she blew multiple small raspberries around the area before she took a deep breath and blew another long one.

He knew he’d be there for a while, but he was okay with it.

[yellowocaballero]

Prequel to ‘The Crow’s Funeral’: How Agnes + Gerry met, then proceeded to set Jon on fire.

Exactly what it says on the tin. This exists because I was rereading TCF and went “hey did I ever figure out how Agnes and Gerry met”. I didn’t, so this is it. Rest under the cut. No specific warnings except for the fact that, shockingly enough, Jon had gone through a lot of character development prior to the start of TCF and was actually a complete asshole for a year or two. 

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot.

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid.

Agnes was back. 

Gerry didn’t know how she had found him. His hiding place was pretty well hidden, thank-you-very-much. Adults were always trying to barricade themselves in houses - stupid, when the nightshades could drift through shit - and kids were always trying to hide in closets or attics. But Gerry was the perfect mix of adult and child - or, as they’re known, teenagers - and he had way too much experience stripping houses down for the possessions of the recently deceased. 

So Gerry knew about crawl spaces. Like in the Magician’s Nephew, some older row houses had little secret tunnels between each house. You couldn’t quite get into each house normally, but there were always gaps and weak points and hatches. Even better, at the very top there was a hidden attic where the generator and power box lived. It was small, and there were definitely some gross animal corpses that Gerry could have sworn moved, but it was mostly safe. So much as anything was safe. 

But, somehow, Agnes had found him. Gerry didn’t know what she was doing exploring row houses for fun, but judging from the scent of smoke that’s been in the air lately he didn’t want to know. 

The sharp rapping echoed through the small attic, directly under the hatch with a huge heavy space heater dumped on it. Gerry had other means of entry, and Agnes thought that was the only door. Please! As if Gerry would live somewhere with only one escape exit. That was just asking to get stuck in a nightmare for a month. 

But, then again, maybe Agnes had never had to worry about that. 

“I brought food!” The high, clear voice called out - slightly muffled from the ceiling/floor, but unmistakable. “It’s Twinkies! Come down to eat it!”

“No way!” Gerry called down back. “I bet you put offal in it!”

“What does offal mean!”

“It’s, like, organs! Go away, lady!”

“I told you!” Agnes called back, weirdly delighted. “My name’s Agnes! I’m a Princess!”

“Princess of what, being lame!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, Princess Agnes!”

“Fuck me yourself!”

Ugh! She was so annoying! This was her fourth fucking time coming by here, and ever since she had realized that he was just a teenage boy she had been leaving food in front of the attic door. It was always weird food, too. Didn’t she know what humans ate?

Stupidly on cue, Gerry’s stomach rumbled. Ugh. 

“Go away,” Gerry called back, eager for her to just leave already so he could eat the shitty food she had undoubtedly left. “I don’t feel like getting turned into a candle today!”

For some reason, she didn’t reply to that. Gerry wondered if she was trying to fool him into thinking she was leaving, but joke’s on her - Gerry could hear footsteps all the way through the house. He waited with bated breath for a minute, two minutes, slowly growing confused why she wasn’t either yelling at him or leaving. 

He’d never tell her, but he kind of enjoyed fighting with her. 

Finally, she called out, with an emotion in her voice that he had never heard from her before, “Is that why you won’t come out? You think I’d turn you into a candle?”

Gerry was flabbergasted. “Yes?” he called back. “You turn everyone into candles.”

“...it’s not just because you don’t like me?”

Aw, man. Gerry abruptly felt a little bad for the flame monster cult leader lady. She couldn’t be any older than him. “You’re really nice,” Gerry called back, feeling like an idiot. “I just didn’t make it this far by not being careful! Thanks for the food, though!”

A longer silence this time. For some reason, Gerry felt a weird kind of anxious. Not the normal level of ‘aaah im gonna get eaten’ anxious. But something different. He couldn’t describe it. 

Finally, Agnes called back, “Do you want me to stop bothering you? I’m sorry if I’ve been harassing you. I’m not good at - at all of this.”

Gerry sat in his own silence, sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater on top of the hatch. His baggy jeans clung to his legs, slightly sweaty and definitely unwashed, and his raggedy thin black jacket was also a little sweaty. His hair was plastered to his head, limp and dirty. Wherever Agnes went, heat followed. 

People who made dumb decisions didn’t live very long. Gerry had lived for quite a while - well, he was fifteen, but he had made it all year without getting eaten, which was really quite impressive. 

And he had made it alone. When he woke up in this green and terrifying world, Mum hadn’t been there. He had looked for her for months. He had almost been ripped to shreds in Pinhole Books. She wasn’t in any of their usual London hideaways, either. Maybe she was outside of London, somewhere far away…

In all of Gerry’s books, he’d pack up his backpack and set out to look for Mum. He wouldn’t stop until he found her. Then he’d find out that she’d been embroiled in some plot to stop all of this, and he’d help her, and she’d hug him…

But it wasn’t a book. No matter how strange this new world was, fiction couldn’t begin to match. And Gerry didn’t really miss his Mum. Not really. He missed the fact that he was alone. He missed the fact that she was powerful and smart and talented, and definitely would have been able to protect the both of them. Gerry had to protect himself now, and he missed that safety more than he ever missed Mum. 

Gerry wondered if Agnes was lonely. How could she, with a whole cult?

It was a stupid decision. But Gerry had always trusted too easy, anyway. 

He stood up and pushed the space heater with a thick, screeching grinding sound that scraped uncomfortably along the wood. With a final heave, he pushed it off the hatch, and reluctantly bent down to lift the hatch and unfold the ladder. 

“If you turn me into a candle I’m giving you an allergy attack,” Gerry called down, and the girl known as Agnes Montague smiled up at him brilliantly. 

***

That wasn’t how Agnes and Gerry started. But it had been, maybe, how they got going. 

Agnes, Gerry found out very quickly, was a hot-tempered girl. Save the jokes. She was always dressed like a sixties hippie, and her long red hair was always somehow glistening and clean. She let Gerry touch it, very carefully, and - yep, even the hair was wax. What a weird person. 

After a bit of frantic introductions and suspicious squinting from both sides, Gerry and Agnes had eventually sat down cross-legged from each other as Gerry stuffed Twinkies in his mouth and she eyed them warily. She had eyed them with a bit of trepidation, but Gerry’s obvious joy at eating them must have made her curious. That was one thing Agnes was: curious. Almost to death. 

“You really live up here? And you’ve never gotten trapped by a nightmare?”

Gerry shrugged uncomfortably, sucking at his fingers. “Yep. I run around town a lot too, cuz I get bored otherwise. It’s easy to evade all of that shit if you know how.”

“Wow.” It was probably her being a fire person or whatever, but Agnes’ eyes seemed to sparkle a little bit. “My cult members barely even let me outside by myself, and I can set shit on fire. You’re really weird for a human.”

Gerry couldn’t help but puff out his chest a little, even if he would have preferred her to use any other word than ‘weird’. “That’s what happens when your Mum trains you since birth to be a demon hunter.” He faltered a little. “I’m not sure if she knew this would happen, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Your mum knew?” Agnes gasped. “I thought nobody knew about the Entities before the apocalypse!”

“Your cult members must have known, right?” Gerry pointed out, and Agnes nodded in concession of the point. “Yeah, there were always a few of us. Not a lot, though. Tight-knit community, everyone knew each other. Hobbyists, you know. It sucked. Most of the people who got involved in the supernatural were jerks.” Actually, now that Gerry thought about it… “That crazy apocalypse prepper Salasea must be coming out like a bandit right now.”

Agnes nodded sagely, as if she knew who Salasea was. Maybe she did? Gerry had always gotten the impression that if all of the demon hunters knew each other, then maybe all of the demons did too. Eventually word about Mum had really started to get around. 

“You’re the first interesting human I’ve met,” Agnes said thoughtfully. “Most of them just - like, scream, you know? Or pretend I’m not there. Like if they don’t acknowledge me then I can’t hurt them. And, like, that’s the way it works for a lot of these things! But I’m a person too, you know?”

“You really aren’t.”

“I have feelings,” Agnes said firmly. “But maybe the reason why you’re still safe isn’t because you’re a super cool human hunter, Gerry.”

“It has to be a part of it,” Gerry said aggressively, eager to assert his masculinity and how cool he was.

“Of course,” Agnes allowed, making Gerry huff. “But I think it’s because you aren’t scared. You were wondering how I found you, right?” Gerry nodded slowly. He had been wondering how Agnes had caught on that he was living here. “It was because I felt a person - I can always feel body heat - but I didn’t taste any fear. I was setting some row houses on fire just to feel something, and you weren’t feeling anything either!” She set her expression firmly, almost bravely. “I think we’re the same.”

“A goth human teenager living in an attic and a flame princess of the fire cult?” Gerry asked skeptically. They couldn’t be less similar. Gerry lived each day in - well, as Agnes pointed out, not fear, but he was constantly just trying to survive. It was all he had ever known, but he knew that others didn’t live like that. He had known when he was a kid - that other kids were normal, were happy - and he knew it now. That a small handful of people in this world were having a blast, and that everyone else suffered. “We’re nothing alike.”

But Agnes faltered, just a bit, and Gerry just a little bit of that loneliness in her expression again. “You’re the only other kid who’s had a conversation with me.” She paused a beat. “Besides, like, Callum, but he’s a baby.”

Maybe, in a schoolyard or a town or a world, Gerry and Agnes weren’t so similar. Maybe they’d have nothing in common. But maybe, in this world that was both so isolated and so unified, they could be a little similar after all. 

“I’ll allow it,” Gerry said graciously. He wanted to shake her hand, but he deeply knew that it was a bad idea. Instead, he broke his Twinkie in half, and held out the other one to her. “Friends?”

Agnes eyed the Twinkie warily. “Do you become friends by asking to be friends with someone?”

“I dunno, I don’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

But she took the Twinkie. It was a start. 

****

Of course, Gerry and Agnes were far more alike than they had first thought. Mostly in the fact that their evil mothers had killed their fathers (which Gerry had the sneaking suspicion wasn’t a universal experience) and that the both of them were actually kind of literally protagonists of a YA book.

Well, Gerry had always been the protagonist of his own life. But he would write a story about Agnes too: about the spoiled princess who rejected her destiny. Who had a really cool previous life where she was all dramatic and sad and stuff, who died tragically only to be reborn as a magical teenage girl. Seriously, it was right out of a Sarah J Maas novel. 

  Maybe they latched onto each other too quickly, but it was the kind of latching on when you made friends with another kid at the orientation to summer camp and then religiously stuck to the kid once the actual camp started until you got another friend. Maybe. Gerry's never been to summer camp, how was he supposed to know. 

But Agnes was sharply quick, surprisingly kind, and fiercely protective. Gerry had never met somebody who cared as much as her. It was really weird. He supposed that people like her, the powerful and destructive, had the privilege to care. 

Agnes snuck over more and more often, and sometimes Gerry went to go visit her. Eventually they started roaming the streets together, loitering in businesses and committing general acts of tomfoolery. Gerry was an old hat at tomfoolery - he had only been vaguely supervised most of his life - but Agnes encroached every second of minor rule breaking with cautious glee. 

Not that there really were rules anymore. Even if you were the kind of juvenile delinquent that got adults yelling at you and caused minor or major property damage, it wasn’t as if the cops were going to come and take you away. Either you got away with it, or you were eaten for a while. This was very natural to Gerry, and after a little bit of convincing it came easily to Agnes too. Maybe they really were well-suited for each other after all. 

If Gerry’s Mum could see him now, she would call him ‘dreadful’ and ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘badly behaved’. But...she wasn’t there, so she could hardly complain. Served her right.

Months - maybe - later, Gerry and Agnes were hanging out in Gerry’s crawlspace again after a long day terrorizing demons and old men alike. They were splitting a blood orange - literally - and letting the sticky juice (juice?) run down their hands, laughing as Agnes imitated the look of shock on the old man’s face. Sitting down on the floor, flavor bursting sweet on his tongue, as Agnes teased him for dropping peels everywhere...Gerry was almost happy. 

Rookie mistake. 

Agnes sensed it first, stiffening slightly as her body pulsed slightly warmer. Gerry scooted a little further away from her carefully as she turned to look at the thin plaster wall, brow furrowing. 

“Is it a nightmare?” Gerry whispered. “Or a person?”

“Neither,” Agnes whispered back. “It’s…”

Then Gerry heard it too: the clack of nails on hardwood, and a sound so terrifying it made his gut tie itself into knots. It was a growl, bestial and wet. Something was snarling outside.

Gerry stopped breathing, sitting absolutely still. The sounds of sniffing and snarling were loud and distinct, and he couldn’t help but stare at the sticky, juicy, smelly orange in his hands. Agnes was also still, far more completely than Gerry ever could be, carefully listening. 

He wanted to whisper to Agnes, make a game plan, but the monster would hear them. Part of Gerry wanted to tremble in fear, but that wasn’t useful. He forced himself to calm down as best as he could while keeping his breaths minimal. Remember Dune. Fear was the mind killer. Fear is the little death. 

But then Agnes smiled at him faintly, making a gentle gesture with her hand. Agnes was a literal fire messiah. She could take almost any monster. Gerry had never seen her afraid of anything, just contemptuous or annoyed. Having her there with him was more reassuring than any book quote, and Gerry exhaled softly as he smiled back at her. Agnes was going to torch that monster, and it would be super cool, and they’d high five, and -

“Daisy? What are you looking for?”

Agnes’s expression stretched into terror. She mouthed ‘fuck!’, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t breathe, and her chest never rose and fell, but she abruptly started trembling.

For the first time, Gerry reached out to reassure her. But her body heat had abruptly tripled, and Gerry was forced to pull back. In the small, unventilated space, it quickly became overwhelmingly hot. 

“Shut it off!” Gerry hissed, as quietly as he physically could. “They’ll feel it -”

“That is the most dangerous monster in the world,” Agnes whispered, and Gerry fell silent. “Don’t move.”

For the first time in a very long time, in an apocalyptic world built on terror and fear, Gerry felt afraid. 

A faint yipping echoed through the space, almost like a dog. It could never be mistaken for a dog. 

“Well, yes, there’s people everywhere. Other places have more people, even. Why can’t we just go there?” Another bark, a low bass cut. “Oh, if it’s a Hunt, then it’s alright.”

The heat was growing oppressive, and Gerry frantically motioned for Agnes to cut it out. He was withholding his own ragged breathing, and abruptly Gerry felt as if he couldn’t breathe. It was just making him more scared, the sweat trickling down his neck -

There was another yip, so close it might as well be made in his ear. It clearly came from directly in front of him. 

Gerry couldn’t help it - he screamed, overwhelmed with fire and heat and fear and the wolf at their door. 

The wall exploded.

Dust and insulation burst outwards in a fine white cloud, and Gerry and Agnes were abruptly coughing intensely and the wall cracked, folded, and collapsed inwards. Gerry was showered with fragments of wood and plaster, stifling another scream, and screwed his eyes shut against the sudden influx of light. 

He cracked them open as quickly as he could, unwilling to meet whatever was in front of him with his eyes closed. Instantly, overwhelmingly, Gerry was brought face to snout with a giant wolf.

Gerry firmly believed that people weren’t meant to see apex predators up close. Nobody should be able to touch a bear, was Gerry’s opinion. What was an anaconda? Gerry was on the opposite side of the room. He wasn’t afraid, but he hadn’t made it to the ripe old age of fifteen without being highly cautious. 

It wasn’t right, staring this wolf in the face. Every inch of it stood out to him: the slobber, the snarl, the canines almost as long as his hand. It was silvery white, with a thick ruff and coat, and Gerry watched in awe as the wolf snarled and - 

And stopped snarling. It started looking at him curiously instead, bushy tail sweeping gently side to side. 

The immediate problem almost solved, Gerry was able to take in the figure behind the wolf. 

He was a guy. Unfairly tall, Black with curly hair drawn tight into a ponytail. Sharp features, undercut by unnaturally green eyes. He was in a suit that looked like he had put it on three months ago and had never changed. He was...wearing a trenchcoat? He was just a guy!

“A human!” The man - monster? Guy? Nightmare? Avatar? - cried. “Oh, good job, Daisy! You’re a fantastic investigator.” The wolf - Daisy was a stupid name for a wolf - barked lowly. “Yes, it is like an oven in here, isn’t it?”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. He was still cowering on his ass, covered in dust and plaster. This guy was Agnes’ monster? Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else. “Who -”

“He’s even talking!” The man exclaimed, as if he was a dancing monkey. “They never talk to me voluntarily, you know.” Daisy barked again. “I think it’s cute! Kids are so repetitive, but this one smells great. Good job, Daisy.” 

Before Gerry could protest the man stepped forward and looked down at him, and a sick realization trickled through him. 

The man had nothing behind his eyes. Bright green, sick and churning, radioactive and poisonous. His expression was absent and vaguely curious, like a child watching an ant crawl through its anthill. Slowly, intensely, the man’s placid expression broke into a sharp and demented smile. 

It wasn’t the smile of a human staring at a tasty sandwich. It wasn’t even the smile of a monster drawing a human into a nightmare. It was the smile of a child holding the magnifying glass to the ant: triumphant, because now the child got to see what happens when an ant blackened to a crisp. Elated, because they were the child, and not the ant. Victorious, because they could only remember the distinction in the act of causing harm. 

“Statement of -”

“Leave him alone!”

The monster exploded into flames. 

Agnes leapt from her position in the crawlspace, slightly tucked away out of sight, and shoved at the wolf hard. The wolf yowled, her handprints blackening its fur, and it retreated snarling. 

It was not the first time Gerry had seen someone set on fire. It happened a lot, when you hung out with Agnes. But the man burned, in bright and beautiful red-hot flames, crackling and searing the skin and air and sky. His mouth was open in a silent scream. 

Something green shone from within the flames. 

Then the flames were gone. It was as if he had never been set on fire at all. At most he smelled vaguely of burning flesh, and his hair had broken free of its ponytail to settle in fuzzy waves. 

The monster looked mildly peeved. 

Agnes grabbed Gerry, leaving red-hot scorch marks on his hoodie, and yanked him behind her. Gerry was not embarrassed to say that he absolutely hid behind Agnes as she put herself between him and the monster and his wolf. The wolf who was now snarling deeply at them, and the slightly irritated monster who shook ash off his unharmed trench coat. 

“I don’t care if you called dibs on him,” the monster bitched. “You don’t get to stop me in the middle of a - oh, Agnes!” The monster’s expression brightened as he snapped his fingers. “Agnes Montague, right? Your cult introduced me to you at - what was it -”

“Annabelle’s annual party five months ago,” Agnes said flatly. Her wax hair was still burning at the ends, and although Gerry couldn’t see her expression he knew it had to be fierce. “Nice to see you again, Jon. Now stay away from him.” 

“If you called dibs then you shouldn’t have let me try to eat him,” Jon - which was the dumbest name for an evil monster - complained. He smelled his arm, grimacing. “Setting me on fire’s downright rude, Agnes. Didn’t Jude teach you any manners?”

“Go away!” Agnes yelled. Gerry realized quietly that she was still shaking. “He’s not yours! He’s the one thing you aren’t allowed to hurt!”

Jon frowned at her. Gerry could practically see it: Did_not_compute.exe. It simply didn’t make sense: that there was something in the world that he wasn’t allowed to hurt. That there was something in the world that was not his. 

Before Jon could speak again, his wolf barked harshly at him. She kept barking, completely indecipherably, as Jon’s expression screwed up in uncomprehension. “What does it matter if they’re children.” The wolf barked. “I mean, I don’t actually care if we piss off the Desolation or not.” Bark, bark. “Why are you always guilt tripping me!” Bark, bark, bark, bark. Eventually Jon’s expression turned somewhat abashed, and then downright embarrassed. 

“Right, right.” He turned back to Agnes and Gerry, a little sulky. “Sorry for trying to eat your human, Agnes. In my defense, he was quite -” The dog yipped. “ - innocent, and I’m sure he’s very fun. Great. Well, this was a waste of time. Call me if you get tired of him, Agnes.” 

Jon turned to go, and Gerry could not see his back soon enough. The heat had died as Agnes calmed down, her arms crossed over her chest and scowling fiercely. 

“Apologize to him!”

Jon froze, halfway across the room. Gerry quietly wanted to die. 

The monster slowly turned on his heel, looking at Agnes with a faintly flabbergasted expression. “You can’t be serious -” The wolf barked again. Gerry had the impression that the wolf was in charge of him. “Stop ganging up on me -” Bark. “I don’t know how to talk to humans, don’t make me!” A very firm bark. 

“Do it,” Agnes said firmly. “Or I’ll set you on fire again.”

Unbelievably, the monster groaned. He turned to Gerry, fluorescent eye twitching. “Alright, alright! Listen, uh - kiddo? Kiddo. I am very sorry that you tasted - I am very sorry that I tried to scar you for life and consume your trauma. I cannot stress enough how it’s nothing personal. There.” Weirdly enough, he looked a little proud of himself. “Hah. Totally rocked that talking to a human thing.”

“Uh,” Gerry said, too dizzy with the events of the last ten minutes to care very much about what he said, “is the wolf in charge of you?”

Even more unbelievably, the man brightened. “I’m her assistant! Not very many people pick that up. You’re very bright, little human. Do you want to pet her?” Jon glanced at Daisy, who looked unimpressed. Very loudly, he hissed at her, “Do children like petting dogs?”

The wolf, somehow, seemed to inform him that yes, they did. 

They were in too deep now. Gerry walked up and petted the wolf. It was fucking awesome. Agnes groaned and pulled him back again very quickly. She seemed a little jealous. The wolf yipped at her and Agnes reluctantly petted the wolf too. 

Jon clapped his hands. “Well! That was very unpleasant. I won’t ask what you’re doing hiding in a wall, Agnes. As a personal favor to you.”

“Thanks,” Agnes said flatly. 

“Tell Diego and Jude that I’m not doing it. Or eating your human. As a personal favor to you.”

“Definitely will.”

“Fantastic.” Jon’s eyes glinted, in the soft light of Agnes’ flames. “I’m very happy you’ve reincarnated into that fun child’s body, Agnes. Children are so tempestuous and impulsive. I wouldn’t have tolerated an adult setting me on fire. You understand that, don’t you?” 

Agnes nodded, almost shakily.

“You understand that for an adult, that would have had very different consequences.”

Agnes nodded again.

“Fantastic!” Then Jon was beaming again, all carelessness and laziness. “Have fun, you little delinquents. Come on, Daisy. I’m famished.”

He swanned off, wolf following closely on his tail. But the wolf looked back as it crossed the threshold, large yellow eyes piercing in a way that Gerry just couldn’t name, before they both disappeared. As slowly and terrifyingly as they had come.

Ten seconds passed, then fifteen. 

Agnes crumpled to her knees and bent over the floor, shaking, and her hands pressed hot scorch marks into the wood. She was still shuddering, and Gerry bent down next to her. He couldn’t physically comfort her, but he could put his hand close to hers on the wood. As close as possible, yet never touching. 

“We are so lucky to be alive,” Agnes breathed, before abruptly groaning. “I set him on fire! I set The Archivist on fire!”

The title tickled something in Gerry’s brain, bringing up an insane amount of questions, but he brushed them all aside. Gertrude was dead - or at the very least, very far away, where she was no good to him. She had to be, otherwise he would have noticed her cutting a swathe through Britain by now. 

“Who is he?” Gerry asked. He didn’t really want to know, but...well, he was himself. He wanted to know everything. It was kind of his whole thing.

Agnes sat down on her knees, rubbing her forehead, and Gerry cautiously sat down next to her. “He’s the monster who sold the world. The most dangerous man ever made.”

“The most dangerous man in the world gets bossed around by his dog?” Gerry asked, before the words sunk in. “Wait, I thought that was Jonah Magnus!”

“Jonah Magnus doesn’t kill people because they annoy him!” Agnes snapped, before she groaned into her hands again. “And I set him on fire…Diego is going to kill me!”

“For what it’s worth,” Gerry said awkwardly, “I’m glad you set him on fire. He was kind of a dick.” He paused again, uncertain of how to say it. “And...thanks for caring, I guess. You really don’t have to.” He shrugged, unwilling to state what had always been unsaid between them. “I’m a human. These things happen to us. You just have to deal with it.”

That was the way of the world. It had always been that way, even before the apocalypse. The strong and powerful and important like Jon kicked around smaller people, and the smaller people just hoped they survived it. 

Gerry was a survivor. Nobody had ever saved him before. Maybe because nobody had ever saved him before. 

Agnes tackled Gerry in a tight, pressing hug. She wasn’t hot at all, just mildly warm - an incredible act of effort and concentration on her part. Her arms were solid and unyielding, never mistaken for flesh, but she clutched at him with a unique desperation. Gerry cautiously hugged her back, letting her bury her head into his shoulder. 

“Not to you,” Agnes whispered. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not even The Archivist.”

“You can’t promise that,” Gerry whispered. 

“We’re family.” Agnes separated from him, stubbornly fighting boiling tears. “And I’m sick of just dealing with it.”

Gerry opened his mouth, then closed it. “Family?” He said weakly.

Agnes blushed hotly. “If you want!” She tightened her fists on her skirt, winding the fabric between her fingers anxiously. “It’s just that - I know you don’t have anyone...and I have my cultists, but they don’t really care about me, not like you do...and I know it used to be different, that family used to mean something different, but I don’t care about what old people thought family meant. I care about you, and we’re sticking together, so that’s what we are.” She faltered a little. “If you want.”

“Siblings, then,” Gerry said faintly. “If you want.”

And he did want it. More than anything, Gerry wanted this. 

When Agnes smiled at him, and she hugged him tightly again, Gerry was halfway certain that yet another disaster was about to befall them. He knew that meteors were going to strike, that the ground was going to open up and engulf them, that the world would end in fire and ice, because Gerry was so happy it clenched his heart. He was so happy he couldn’t breathe. 

“It’ll be okay,” Agnes said into his shoulder, “we’ll never have to deal with Jonathan Sims again. I promise.”

****

It was not a promise Agnes kept. 

They ran into him again. And again. And again. Eventually, after meeting a monstrous golem of fear and suffering that induced paralyzing fear so frequently, said simulacrum of human experience became slightly tiresome. And you realized that he was, actually, really not that bright. Or at the very least not very mature. And that his wolf sister kind of wore the pants in that relationship. That he and his wolf sister were like Agnes and Gerry, in every possible way. And that he was, weirdly, deeply kind. And that he loved, so bright and pure and fearsome that it had brought down the world. That he was capable of loving Gerry. Maybe even, given enough time, anyone. 

Many months later, as Gerry, Agnes, Jon, and Daisy sat in an ice cream shop splitting blood orange ice cream (with real blood!) and bickering endlessly about if Friends was the Flesh or the Stranger, that Gerry thought he might feel something familiar in his chest. 

Something that clenched his heart, something that made him so happy he couldn’t breathe. Something that felt like fire and ice and meteors and disaster.

Jon must have felt it. He looked at Gerry, surprised, with ice cream slowly dripping from his spoon and congealing on the table. “What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? Agnes, is he ill?”

“No,” Gerry said, wiping at his eyes. “I guess I’m happy again.”

Everybody stared at him, slightly dumbfounded. 

Daisy barked. 

“You’re quite right, Daisy,” Jon said. 

He didn’t tell them what she was right about, and Gerry never asked. He already knew. 

[thatgoblin]

Taken

A Zemo/Reader fic

Summary: To get to Zemo, John Walker takes someone precious to him to lure the Baron out.

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight violence, implied death

No smut this time around, just some hurt comfort. ^-^

Words: 2668

One moment you were closing at a café in Switzerland, the next moment a handsome blond man with an American accent was asking for you by name. You didn’t recognize him at all, but your gut was telling you something was off about the man. He was fidgety, almost like he was nervous or on something. While you finish closing the shop, he continues to talk to you about needing your help in finding someone. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can be much help,” you say as you put the last of the chairs in place.

“I’m sure if you knew who I was looking for, you’d be able to help me find them,” he says, pushing the subject as he steps closer to you. You took notice, remembering the quickest distance to the back door. There was really only one person that you could maybe help find and that would be a big Maybe. “I’m looking for Baron Helmut Zemo. I’m pretty sure you would know where to find him.”

“Again, I’m sorry, but I don’t know a Baron or anyone by that name,” you say, trying to keep your nerves calm. The last time you spoke to Helmut was a month ago on a phone call. He’d been in prison for acts of terrorism, but you still loved him. Even when he took a darker path to deal with the loss of his family and country, you stood by him as everyone had abandoned him to rot in a German prison as if he’d be in the complete wrong. 

The two of you had met shortly after he and his wife had separated amicably. While they were still legally married, they lived in different homes while both raising their son. It wasn’t your place to judge and you had loved the boy as if he was your own. A year later Sokovia was destroyed and both of your worlds shattered. While you tried to keep moving forward, doing your best to help, Helmut couldn’t cope. Revenge was all he wanted, even above you. After he was arrested, you found out from the news and then a phone call. Slowly, the two of you rekindled your love into something new. There was no way to get back what you had, but it was something at least and it was something you could live with.

“I’m pretty sure you do. I looked at his prison call logs and there’s only ever one person who he calls and that’s a number listed under your name,” the man says, holding up sheets of paper with your number listed for numerous calls. 

“If you know he’s in prison, then you know where he is. Now, I’m closing, so please leave the store. I have an early morning shift and I’d like to go home,” you say, putting your hands on your hips as you glare at him. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I need you to find Zemo for me. Now,” the man says, tucking the papers away before moving closer into your space. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t get him on the phone now, I won’t have a choice.”

“You should leave, now,” you say as you back away to give you space. “I’ll start screaming and then the police will come.”

The man sighs and shakes his head. Before you open your mouth to alert anyone, he was on you with his hand over your mouth. 

“This wasn’t plan A,” he growls. 

Despite struggling as hard as you can, the man is able to overpower you. It was if you were wrestling a bear, there was no way for you to win. In a few quick movements, his arm was around your neck and squeezing. Just a couple of moments had you black out. 

When you awake again, your head is throbbing and your neck is stiff. Groaning softly, you try to sit up, but find your wrists bound behind your back along with your ankles as you lay on your side. A thick piece of cloth is tied around your mouth tightly, muffling any noises you may make. Whimpering softly, you try to pull and tug to see if there are any weak spots, but the man or whoever has tied them made sure they were not coming off without a knife. Glancing around you see you are in an old factory with high windows that were covered in dust as chains hung from pulleys next to huge vats.

The night air is freezing, your breath visible in big, white puffs. You still don’t know where you have been taken. It wasn’t Switzerland, and while you had worn a coat to work, you were left in your work outfit of skinny jeans and a plain black v-neck tee. The outfit offered little protection from the elements, making you shiver.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice says, catching your attention. It’s the man from before, but now he’s dressed up in a Captain America suit that had been altered. The image looks like a bastardization of the man Steve Rogers once was. “Now, I’m going to take off the gag. Then I’m going to have you give me a number to reach Zemo. Got it?”

You’re trying not not to panic as thoughts of what was happening run through your mind. Why did he want Helmut? Helmut was in prison, right? What was he going to do to you if you didn’t do what he wanted? What was he going to do to you if you did?

His gloved hand pulls the gag from your lips as he holds up the phone for you to give him the number. It was a long shot, but you had one that he gave you for if anything happened and you needed help while he was locked away. You weren’t sure who would pick up on the other end, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Giving him the number, your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you hear the ringing. 

“Liebling?” A voice says over the phone. Your eyes tear up at the sound of his voice. It had been so long since you’d last been together that just that one word had you nearly falling apart. He sounded excited almost. Had he been waiting for you to call him?

“Unfortunately no,” the man says, putting the phone to his ear. “It seems I did find the easiest way to get to you. I will say you certainly have taste.”

His voice is smug as he smiles down at you. The urge to kick out at him was there, but you also didn’t know how he’d react. Most likely it would be violent. 

“I have something of yours and you have something of mine. Now, we can make a deal for an exchange or I can keep this new toy for myself. I’m sure they’d look real nice with those lips-” The man starts, but is cut off. You can only imagine what Helmut had said to silence him. “I’ll send you the address. You have two hours.” 

The man shuts the phone, ending the call as he squats next to you. 

“Just let me go,” you plea, grunting as you struggle. “Helmut is not someone to play games with. All that will happen is your death.”

“Oh, I doubt it. See, I have something very precious to him. He won’t risk you getting hurt,” the man says. “If he knows what’s good for you and him, he’ll give me what I want without trying to be a hero.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to be? A hero in that joke of a suit?” You snap, glaring at him. “Steve Rogers must be rolling over in his grave with you in-” A hard slap knocks your head into the floor, making you see spots. 

“You will respect me,” he snarls before shoving the gag back into your mouth. 

You lie on the ground with a throbbing cheek and temple as you watch the man pace back and forth as the both of you wait for Helmut to come. What did he have that the man wanted back so badly? There were so many things that could have been taken easily from other men, so why Helmut?

At the hour and a half mark, you hear a door open from the other side of a vat that you were by. Stiffening, you look to see the man stand up straight with the Captain America shield at the ready on one arm and his hand on his holstered gun. 

“Walker,” Helmut says. “I am here and have held up my end of the bargain. Now, where are they?” You knew his voice so well, the way it would get lower as he became angry or higher when he was feeling mischievous. The tone he had then, it wasn’t one you knew, making you even more on edge. 

“Give me the serum first,” Walker says, standing in Helmut’s eye line.

“I don’t think so. I see that Y/N is alive then I give you the serum,” Helmut says, his voice nearly a growl. Walker huffs, but does as he’s told. Stepping over to you, he hefts you up by an arm to drag you out into Helmut’s view. 

“There,” Walker says, holding you up as you try to stay balanced with tied ankles. Looking over, you saw Helmut. A sense of relief washed over you at seeing he was the same. Freshly shaven, wearing a rather ridiculous coat, but still the same Helmut you knew and loved. “Now, the serum.”

Helmut on the other hand has his poker face on. There was nothing but a blank slate with a slight frown to hide anything that may give a plan away. His stance said he was in control and would remain in control no matter what happened. 

Taking a few steps forward slowly, Helmut pulls a small vial of blue liquid in it from his coat pocket. Making sure every move is telegraphed, he sets it on the ground before rolling it to Walker. The blond stopped the vial with his foot, keeping hold of you a moment before leaning down to cut the rope on your ankles and grab the vial. 

“Now let them go, do not make me ask again,” Helmut says, keeping his gaze leveled on Walker. 

“First I see if the serum works,” Walker says as he pops the lid of the vial off before jerking your gag off to force the vial into your mouth to take a forced sip. It was bitter with a metallic after taste, making you cough and gag. A few moments of breath held silence pass as you look to Helmut scared and confused as your stomach turns suddenly when the substance hits it. “Looks like it’s not poison,” Walker chuckles before downing the rest of the vial. Smashing it on the ground, Walker grunts as he lets go of your arm before falling to his knees as he begins to vomit violently. 

You step away out of his arm’s reach, fearing he would grab you again. Helmut is quick, rushing over to grab you to run. 

“Quickly,” he says, grabbing your arm to run before you realize how severely sick Walker is. Trying not to fall, you focus on running with Helmut to a car that is waiting for you. “Sit,” he instructs as he pulls open a door for you, letting you collapse into the front passenger seat. 

“What was that stuff?” You manage to ask as your stomach starts to cramp. 

“Ipecac syrup,” he says as he pulls out a knife. Slicing through the ropes on your wrists, he tore  them away to toss aside. “It won’t kill you, just make you sick. Is there anyone else here with him?”

“No I don't’ think so,” you say, shaking your head before quickly regretting it. Your stomach is angry with him, but you were safe. 

“Stay here, do not get out of the car for any reason. I will be back, I promise,” he says, tilting your face up to look at him. “I promise.” A soft kiss to your head and he was rushing back into the warehouse with his coat tails flapping behind him. 

You wanted to beg him to stay, to drive the both of you away from that man and place. Except every time you opened your mouth, your stomach threatened to empty itself. So you sat there, grasping the door frame as you sat leaning over the side of the seat in case you weren’t able to keep your last meal down. Closing your eyes, you had meant to take deep breaths to help ride the nausea out, but instead you were gifted with Helmut’s scent. It was musky with a hint of tobacco and motor oil. It was familiar and comforting because it meant that Helmut was there and if he was there, then you were safe. 

How many times had you tried to recreate it but failed to do so? Something to help with the heartache of him leaving you for vengeance instead of trying to put his ghosts to rest. It wasn’t fair at all how he was back in your life, but he was and you weren’t sure for how long. Should you hope for something, a life on the run with him? It would be better than pining for him in a different country. 

Your stomach settles, having only had a tiny bit of the syrup, you are able to sit up again in time to hear gunshots go off in the warehouse. You whip your head around to see the door still closed. A minute later Helmut walks out, his face that same blank slate with a slight frown. Without a word, he walks around to your side to shut your door before going to the driver’s side to step in. 

“Helmut-” You start, but stop at the look he gives you. It wasn’t angry or upset, no, it was fear. 

“We will talk at the safe house. I do not want to linger for long here,” he says, taking your hand to press a kiss to your cold fingers. Without letting go of your hand, Helmut drives you two to the safe house in question. It is almost an hour away, but the more distance between you and the warehouse feels better. 

Once there, he parks then leads you inside. He’d shrugged his large coat off to wrap around you to offer some sort of warmth till he could get you some proper clothes for the weather.

“Zemo!” A voice yells, followed by several pairs of feet marching towards you. Two men rounded the corner to find you and Helmut standing in the foyer. Their brows are furrowed and mouths set, but once they saw you, the anger melted into confusion. Even though they seemed to not be a danger, you can’t help pressing against Helmut in fear. “What the hell is going on?” One in a brown leather jacket asks.

“I told you, I had business to attend to,” Helmut says, his arm tightening around you. “I am finished and have returned.”

“That’s not much of an explanation,” the other man says, his left arm made of metal. They look between you and Helmut, waiting for one of you to speak up.

“I know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my guest needs to be shown to their room,” Helmut says with a smirk as he leads you away from them. “They are friendly, they won’t hurt you,” he says softly into your ear. “Come, let us get you cleaned up. I know you must have questions and I will do my best to answer them.”

Despite still being confused, the fact that Helmut is there comforts you. If anyone was going to keep you safe no matter what, it would be him.

[joopiterjoon]

Heel | KNJ

Pairing: sub!Namjoon x Gender-neutral reader

Genre/Warnings: +18, drabble, smut, ceo!au or some shit, foot fetish, slight degredation, SUBJOON RIGHTS

Wc: 1.7k

Songspo: What You Want- Cody Vavrik; Do It For Me - Rosenfield

a/n: eheheheh it’s a pun because it’s a shoe and a dog command. I’m drunk. Please enjoy this drunk smut. Also ANYONE CAN WEAR HEELS AND CALL SOMEONE A DOG OKAY

“Excuse me,” you interrupt the man busy at his desk. He glances up, then takes another look. You don’t hide your smirk as you puff out your chest and continue, “Mr. Kim asked for me.”

“He did?” The boy blinks twice. After a pause, he shakes his head and taps at his keyboard. “Ah, yes. Please, right on through.”

With a wink, you straighten your clothes and head on over to his closed office door, the gold nameplate glinting in the sun setting over the cityscape.

Namjoon sits there in his chair, trying to hide a smile behind clasped hands, but you can tell he's excited. You school your expression and saunter over. The click of your heels echoes off the marble floor, and you swear Namjoon’s knuckles twitch at each reverberation. With the skyline serving as a backdrop through the windowed wall, a large desk adorned with various files and plaques facing you, he looks every bit the powerful man he is.

But you’re more powerful. To him, at least.

"Mr.Kim," you start, watching your fingers trace the edge of his desk as you walk closer. "How do you think this works?"

"Huh?" Namjoon asks. You fiddle with one of the small, glass awards he got from some function or another. When you don’t clarify, he rolls back from his desk and rests his hands lazily between his spread legs. Interested to see if he’s hard, you finally give him your attention and can’t help but chuckle. His eyes take you in, eager, wide like a greedy child looking through a shop window. His hands hang limply between the growing bulge in his pants, always easy to see in the way his slacks fit so tightly and bunch of his thighs. 

You place the orb on the desk firmly and Namjoon jumps in his plush leather chair. You line the tips of his heels with the edge of his shining leather oxfords, but pause when he leans towards you. He realizes his mistake, balling his itching fingers. You trace your hands absently over your hips just as he is probably wishing to do. "Do you like summoning me here at your own whims?"

"Oh," Namjoon starts, the smile dropping from his face, plush lips parting to make an excuse. "I-"

You give him a sharp look, and he sucks in a breath. "That was a yes or no question."

"Yes," Namjoon murmurs. The sound is deep in his throat and raspy, too quiet to echo off the walls. Just like this side of him that lurks below the surface, no one could hear or see it. They’d laugh at the idea that Namjoon Kim wanted nothing more than to be ordered around on his hands and knees. That in the room willing all his power and glory, you’d have your every which way with him and he’d take it. That anyone would dare talk back to him and he’d take it. Beg for it.

No one knew or would have assumed.

No one but you.

You hum, a smug smile on your face. "Is that how you want to play? Because that's not how I play. I'm not your toy, Namjoon. On the contrary," you place your hands on his arm rests, hovering inches from his parted lips. This close, you can see the slight dew on his skin, the glisten of his nervous tongue flicking over his lips, the roots of his platinum-dyed hair growing in. As you take in all the tells that he’s starting to lose it, Namjoon’s focused on one place and one place alone, "you're mine."

"Yes," Namjoon repeats, nodding dumbly as he eyes your lips and shoes. His body drifts again as you straighten, eyes falling closed to mask the small frustration as he takes a deep breath through his nose.

"Do your toys tell you when to play?" You ask with a cock of your chin.

"Yes," Namjoon answers. Then he snaps out of it. Shaky hands run through his hair, mussing the perfect coiffe. "No."

You coo at his mistake, dancing your fingers over his shoulders. His breath shudders through his chest, body sinking lower in the chair. His eyes start to fall closed as your gently cup his neck, only to wrap one his tie around your fist and tug him close. To your delight, he moans, body slack under your touch. "That's right. Toys don't get a say. They come out to play when I choose. Did I choose to come here?"

"No," Namjoon breathes, but his mouth twitches into a nervous smile. "Sorry."

You tsk, shoving him back in the chair, which wheels a few inches away. "Show me your sorry."

Immediately, Namjoon slides from the chair onto the floor. His slacks are taught, collar of his dresshirt tighter as he looks up at you expectantly.

You trace the back of your nails over his cheek, snickering at the way he leans into your touch. You’ve seen the way Namjoon’s stared down the opposition, the click of his jaw. Yet here he is, an obedient puppy looking up at you. 

"I don’t think you’re sorry. Look at you,” you nod to his cock perfectly outlined against his thigh. Namjoon’s thighs twist, the lightest blush on his skin shining golden in the sun.

“You weren't thinking up here, I bet," you tap his temple hard enough to rock his skull back and forth. You straighten as you look down Namjoon's body, then press the ball of your heel to Namjoon's straining crotch, rubbing softly. "I bet you were thinking right here, weren't you? Like a mindless, filthy toy."

Namjoon doesn't answer. He just swallows dryly before his head lulls down to watch your foot work him over. When his hips shift forward, you place your heel sharply on the ground between his spread legs, hard enough for the clack to echo off the walls. Namjoon immediately gives you his attention, cheeks now thoroughly flushed and bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

"You like my shoes?" You ask, twisting your foot this way and that. "You should, you picked them out."

Namjoon doesn't speak again. He always gets like this. He spends all day barking orders, but under your watchful gaze, he's nothing but a dumb puppy. He just nods as he watches you show off the red bottoms.

"They got a little scuffed though," you frown. "Because someone made me walk all the way over here."

"I'm sorry," Namjoon rushes, looking genuinely apologetic for once.

"Always with the sorries," you tut, crossing your arms again. "Clean them, then."

"What?" Namjoon asks, eyes widening to saucers. He shifts uncomfortably. You bet his knees hurt against the floor.

"Clean them. Make them shiny and new." As you speak, you grab his tie again, turning him around as you take a seat in his plush leather chair and cross your legs, propping your foot in front of his mouth. "You've heard of a spit-shine, haven't you?"

Namjoon's eyes go cross as he stares at the pointed toe. The leather chair creaking as you get comfortable is the only sound as Namjoon debates his next move. He gazes back up at you and your impatient expression, then back to the small scuffed tip of your brand new shoes.

Tentatively, he leans forward. He kisses the tip and looks back up.

You almost want to squeal, but you simply smile as you lean your head into your hand. "Cute."

Namjoon blushes, but he takes the signal. Again, he kisses the sleek black coating of the shoe. Then, he opens wider, more passionately. You see his thighs shift again, his cock hardening with each kiss to the shoe. His lips catch on the edge, tongue lapping out ever so gently to taste the surface. Then he’s mouth up the side, hand coming up to hold your foot steady as it sways with his increasing intensity.

Until he reaches the fold that meets your foot. Then, with heavy lids, Namjoon watches you as he daringly laps at your foot. You suppress a shiver as his tongue follows the line of the shoe around the ball of your foot. Namjoon laps at your skin, lips gliding along the edge of the shoe, before he follows the line of leather to the back of your heel. Both hands come up now, gently tugging you closer but not enough for a warning.

Finally, you hear it. As Namjoon works his way back down to kiss the other side, he whines. A small, indiscernible sound caught in his throat as your foot twitches in his grasp. He gets eager, your foot shiny with his spit and heel damp with his kisses. You love it, watching him fall apart below you, kissing your heels that have walked the city streets like you’re god. He might think you are.

But when he nips at the back of your heel, you flick your foot out of his grasp. He immediately whines in protest, loud enough to echo off the walls now, getting lost. His movements follow slower, hands dropping, eyes hooded as he realizes why.

“Sorry,” Namjoon rushes, and you realize his breaths are labored now. And you, you aren’t doing so good yourself. You shift in the seat, trying to straighten from where you’d started giving into his small tugs.

“How many times have you been sorry today, baby?” You huff, putting your foot on the floor again. You have a better idea and are tired of playing now. “Is that all that mouth can do? Sputter out apologies at lap at my feet like a dog?”

Namjoon’s dimples pull at his cheeks, hands clenching and unclenching in his laps as you smile at him hard and wrecked on the floor. You spread your legs, leaning back. “Lucky for you, I like dogs.”

Namjoon’s brow pulls up in confusion. “Yeah, they’re cute. Obedient. Hardworking. Sometimes they make mistakes, but they’re quick learners, don’t you think?”

Namjoon nods slowly, watching as you spread your legs farther, dipping low in the seat until he has a clear idea of what you’re going for.

“So come show me what a hardworking, obedient boy you are.”

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Namjoon all but growls, reaching for your thighs to pull you to his mouth. Because dogs aren’t just loyal little pups. They’re territorial and protective. And Namjoon claims you and makes sure your moans let everyone else know what’s his.

© October 2020 JoopiterJoon. Protected by Creative Commons. If you repost my work in any form or say “credit to author” I will find you and ruin you :D Characters only borrow name and likeness from the members. Do not copy, translate, repost, or reuse this work.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Scared - Drabble

Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Murder Mentions

Summary: Andy has twins, the youngest suffers from nerve damage in their hearing. His oldest is suspected for murder and trial was just a few weeks away. His daughter who lost her hearing. Confesses it all.

I’m sorry it’s so short, it would’ve been better if I’ve thought about it more

Love you all!

~~~

10 months earlier.

Andy walks into one of the rooms, hearing the alarm go off. “Hey. Come on. Time to get up,” Andy stops the alarm and walks out, stopping just at the door, staring at the boy in bed. 

“Jake?” He says, “Gotta see those eyes.” The boy doesn’t move and Andy shook his head. “All right. You leave me no choice.” Walking over, the man sits on the boys bed, causing him to groan.

Scrolling through his phone, he looks over, “Last chance.” Andy sighed and raised the phone above his son’s head, pressing the play button to play, Back in Black.

Jacob groans when the music blasts in his ears making Andy grin softly. The boy throws the comfort off him, “I’m up...”

“There he is! Morning, buddy. Gotta wake up your 2 minute sister, now.” Andy stands up and walks over to the next room, stepping in to see her dimly lit room. He gently sits on the edge of her bed and glanced over to her nightstand.

Spotting the two hearing aids on the surface. He gently placed his hand on her back and rubbed it slowly.

The girl slowly shuffles and rolls onto her back. Andy grins, “Morning, sweetheart.” Though she couldn’t hear, she knew what he said by the movement of his lips as she reached over for her earpieces and slipped them on.

“Morning...” She signs, Andy pats her side. “Time to get up, Y/N.” Andy stood up and walked out, heading over to get himself ready for work as the two kids get their outfits on for school.

Y/N jumps down the stairs and spotted her mom, pouring herself some coffee. “Morning, mom,” Y/N signs, Laurie looks over, “Morning, sweetheart. Where’s your brother?” She asks.

Jacob jumps down the stairs and walks over as well, “Can you quiz me on the vocab?” He asked, “I have a test today.”

Laurie hums, “Oh. Good morning to you too.” Y/N grins as Jacob does as well, “Morning, Mom.”

Laurie looks over the paper, “You guys need a ride today, or are you both walking?” Jacob digs into the fridge while Y/N began to go through the cabinets. “Uh, no, we’ll walk. Did you get new waffles?”

Laurie looks over, “I did if you put them on my list. Y/N, honey, also remind me to make you an appointment, you said your hearing aids were slightly ringing, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not bad,” Y/N signed.

Laurie drinks her coffee, “Maybe turn them off for now.” Y/N nods and pulls them out. Andy comes in, placing a kiss on Laurie’s shoulder. Andy leans on the counter, taking a sip of his coffee, “Oh, Claudia Hoffman e-mailed me again,” Laurie says.

“Who?” Andy asked.

“Lizzy’s sister. The travel agent,” Laurie says, Andy nods, “Oh, right, right. Mexico.”

“Yeah,” Laurie says, Y/N looks over and reads the vocabs on Jacob’s paper. She looks up to see Jacob grin at her. He turns, “What about Mexico?” He asked. Andy never removed his eyes from Laurie, “We’re thinking about going there for Christmas. Four of us. What do you guys think?” Andy asked, looking over.

Y/N looks over to Jacob who signs at her, silently before Y/N looks at Andy and grinned. “Sounds cool,” Y/N signs, Jacob nods. Y/N slips on her hearing aids for a second, “You two might be a little more excited.”

“We are,”Jacob says.

“Well, tell your face,” Laurie grins. Jacob looks back to his paper, “You love that line.”

“You do. But I say, yes, yes to Mexico.��� Laurie nods, “Great. I’ll call her. I’ve got an early meeting and I’ll go to Y/N’s doctor to repair her hearing aids so I’m jumping in the shower. Will you finish quizzing the two? Or if Y/N had figured out all the words?”

Y/N grins. “Yeah,” Andy responds, Laurie kisses his cheek and walks away. “Bye, guys!” Laurie calls. Jacob says bye back as Andy walks over. Jacob hands him the paper and Andy reads the next word, exhaling.

“Phlegmatic,” He says.

Jacob pauses, “Um...” Y/N walked back into the kitchen and looks over Andy’s shoulder to see the word.

She signs up at Andy, “Having an unemotional and stolidly calm disposition.”  Andy grins, lifting up a brow, “Looks like your sister knows what’s happening. She might score a 100.”

Jacob looks over and grins at his sister.

.

You sat on your bed, holding your head in your hands. Nails digging into your scalp, you heard the yells. Andy and Laurie were in your brother’s room. Andy screaming at him for what he posted on a social media account he made. Posting a photo you saw. 

Jacob was suspected for murder.

Ben Rifkin was found dead in the park you and Jacob would walk down. You shook under your hands as the yelling ended. You knew something they didn’t and you were too scared to say it.

Do you know what they want to do to you?

You heard your father’s voice on the other side of the wall repeat in your head. You look looked up to see Andy walk in, trying to look soft as possible but he saw how much you were shaking.

You saw his lips move with a soft ‘hey’. You reached for your hearing aids and slipped them on, he sat on the edge of your bed and sighed softly. “I’m sorry you heard that. Did you?” He asks, you lifted your head up and softly nodded. “A little,” You signed.

You lost your hearing when you were born and at the time you never really spoke. You grew up signing towards your parents and twin brother. Andy was the first to learn. At the time, Andy and Laurie hadn’t bought you your hearing aids till you were 8.

6 years later, you grown used to them.

“Hey,” Andy says, “You okay?” He asks. You lowered your head and felt the tears come down. Andy’s face softens, “Sweetheart, if I upset you with Jacob in the other room you can tell me.”

You looked up to him with red cheeks and tears as you lifted your hands up, “Jacob didn’t do it...” Andy turns and furrows his brows, “Do you know who?” He asks.

You felt embarrassed. Humiliated in the family. You were shaking under Andy’s hand. “Ben did something to me...” You signed, you lowered your head and shook it, raising your hands again, “He touched me... and I told him to stop.” Andy held in his breath for what he was about to hear.

How could you?

You raised your head up again, your bottom lip quivering, “I did it...”  You spoke. Andy’s mouth was gaped at you. Shocked. Scared. Andy lets out a huff of disbelief as he leaned over. Elbows on his knees as he shuts his eyes closed. 

“I’m sorry, dad...” Your voice was hoarse, the words barely came out from the crying and years of not speaking. You grabbed your father’s shoulder and tugged him up to look at you.

Your hands waved at him furiously, “Jacob was trying to protect me... He was scared, too. I’m scared... And I messed this up. Just let them take me.” Andy grabs your shoulders, tears in his eyes.

His stern look stared at you, “No, you aren’t turning yourself in. We’re gonna figure this out, sweetheart. I promise...” He says. You shook under his hands as he puffs out a sigh and pulls you into his chest. Your arms instantly go around him, feeling the warm pull you in.

“I’m scared...” You whispered.

Andy’s hand reached up to the back of your head. “I know. We’re gonna figure this out... it’s not your fault. Neither of you. I love you no matter what you two do. This is all fucked up and we’re gonna get through this.”

He promised that.

~~~

I’m sorry, it was the best I could do, I kind of just went with the flow

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[diaryofabeautyfiend]

So in these next few chapters, I’m sorry to say, Reader isn’t very likable. Needless to say she has some things to work out. Please enjoy the oh so fluffy Chapter 6.

Lots of fluff. Some angst.

Small Time Witch (6)

Steve grabbed a few things from his room and checked in with everyone before he went back to your room to help you get home. Everyone looked pretty beat and promised no more drinks. Every time he’s not there and the alcohol flows, someone ends up getting naked. Someone ends up crying. A few of them wrestle. It never ends well.

He got back to your room and Loki was sitting outside. He was deep in thought and looked utterly exhausted. He barely looked up when Steve passed. “She’s fragile, Captain. I have no idea what your intentions are but...be careful.” He stayed in the chair never looking directly at Steve.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I have no intentions. I just want her to be safe.”

“Safe from me you mean?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Steve mumbled

Now Loki was up from his seat getting closer to Steve. The tone of his voice was steady and almost apathetic.

“You think you’re strong enough to defend her from an unseen evil? A soulless foul entity that is controlled by a family hell bent on destroying her? You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re up against.”

He turned his back to walk away not giving Steve a chance to answer but allowing him to roll over and absorb what was said.

Loki turned around and looked back. Steve looked bewildered. “You really can’t even fathom who she is.”

“And I suppose you can?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

“Is this what this is about, Loki? Do you have feelings for her?”

“No more than an over protective brother has for his little sister. But I assure you, that love is fierce. I will die protecting her. No matter who it’s from.”

Loki disappeared from the room. Neither of them knew you were listening. Your heart sank a little when Loki called you his sister. What you felt for Steve was new and exciting. You could tell he was very caring. Loving even. You were sure you could have a nice time together.

What you felt for Loki felt so natural. He fit into your life in a way that just seemed to be so right. Almost like you were meant to be family. Perhaps that’s what he was feeling too. You didn’t do much mind being called a little sister. It did sort of hurt that he didn’t feel more.

When you got home Steve got you situated on the couch. He plated your dinner and joined you. “Want to watch a movie?” he excitedly asked.

“Sure. Have anything in mind?”

“Whatever you want. There are a lot of movies that I’ve missed. I’m catching up though! Still haven’t watched ‘Harry Potter’.”

“Seriously?! Let’s rectify that situation right now.”

By the time Ron played the best game of Wizard Chess, the two of you were tangled together on the couch. He absentmindedly stroked your back. Your head rested on his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a trance. His heartbeat was steady and he was giving off a very warm vibe.

“Are you asleep?” He asked knocking you out of your stupor.

“No. Just very relaxed. Are you ready for bed?”

“Uh yeah. I guess.” You hadn’t gotten up yet. You were too comfortable.

“Y/N?” He patted you on the back.

“Hmm?” You nuzzled deeper into him.

“Come on. Let me tuck you in.”

You groaned and finally relented.

You slipped into an old T-shirt and got under your covers. He came back in from the other bedroom in just an undershirt and his boxers.

“Ok, Princess. Let me tuck you in to bed.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You smiled and his heart beat a little faster.

He kissed your forehead and pulled the blanket over your shoulder as you rolled over.

Sleep took you quickly. He stayed watching for a few minutes. He moved a few hairs out of your eyes making your lashes flutter. He thought maybe he’d go easy on you in the gym tomorrow.

Your alarm started it’s impatient whining at 3:50. You hit snooze. Nine minutes later it went off again. Snooze. A second later you heard footsteps crossing the threshold of your door. “I know you didn’t hit snooze again.” Steve flipped on your light. At some point in the night you took off your shirt. You must have gotten hot. You were lying on your stomach. Steve’s eyes followed from the side swell of your breast down the length of your spine. The tippy top mound of your ass was just peaking over the blanket. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to have you draped over his body all warm and soft. He shook his head to knock those thoughts out. No time for these things.

“What if we skipped the gym today?”

“No, ma’am. Be in the kitchen in 5 minutes or I’m coming in to get you. I don’t care if you’re dressed or not this time.”

You scoffed, “You’re so mean.”

“Oh you have no idea, Princess. Four minutes and thirty seconds left.” You jumped out of bed when you heard the door close.

Sam was already in the kitchen when you walked out. Damn if these boys weren’t prompt. “Morning, Sam.”

“Right back at you, Sunshine. Let’s hit it.”

“Where‘s Steve?”

“Went for a run. We’re going to have some fun this morning. Ever toss around a medicine ball?”

You groaned at the thought, “No.”

“Well you’re going to today.”

You and Sam went down to the gym. Steve never joined you. You didn’t want to offend Sam by asking why Steve wasn’t there. You were a little relieved that he wasn’t around to huff and puff when you weren’t doing something right or fast enough.

After you and Sam finished you grabbed a light breakfast then met Nat. The morning seemed to drag. You wondered why Steve left this morning. By lunch he still wasn’t there. Everyone was chatting and carrying on. You faded into the background. It was time for Loki. You really just wanted to head back home.

“Hey, Lok.”

“Afternoon. I thought we’d try some meditation today.”

“Ok.” He noticed you were a little quiet. Perhaps you were a tired. He pressed on guiding you through a meditation that would help you to balance and focus.

“...listen to my voice. Block out all other noise..” Your thoughts were racing. You fidgeted constantly. Your body never relaxed. All you could think about was Steve. All the mixed signals. You knew he liked you. Why did he leave?

“Enough of this, mortal. You aren’t concentrating.”

“Yes, I am. Keep going.”

He rolled his eyes, “What’s on your mind? Let’s hash it out so we can carry on.”

“I’m just not feeling it today. Can we just go home?”

“No. We need to complete this exercise. Come on. Talk to me.” You sat up and chewed your lip. You didn’t want to talk to Loki about boys.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll get it out of you. You know I can.”

“It’s Steve.” Damn it.

“Did something happen last night?” He hoped not.

“Yes. Not really. Kind of.”

“Either it did or it didn’t, pet.”

“Nothing serious. We just cuddled.”

“My he’s so wholesome.” You hit him with your towel.

“Stop. He’s old fashioned.”

“No, mortal, he’s a man.They’re all alike. If nothing really happened why are you feeling so hurt and conflicted?”

“He left this morning without telling me. I know he has other things to tend to but, I thought we connected.”

He immediately regretted what he was about to say. He didn’t want you to like Steve but here you were. It was better if he let it play out. “You did. I know you did because Wanda and I felt it too. Your heart fluttered. You blushed. The butterflies when he kissed you. Felt it all. Maybe he’s trying not to rush you. Or maybe he’s trying to reconcile his feelings. I’ll tell you this much, darling: Any man, human or otherwise, would be a fool not to like you. Let’s get you home. We’re not going to get anything done here.”

You packed up your bag and waited for him by the front door. Bucky passed you and turned back to talk to you. “What are you doing all by yourself?”

“Waiting for Loki. He had to get his stuff.”

“Steve’s not staying with you again?”

“I haven’t heard from Steve all day. I didn’t think him sleeping in my guest room was a permanent thing.”

“Mmk then. You have a good night.” It felt like he didn’t say precisely what he wanted. Like he was stopping himself from spilling a secret.

“What?” He held his hands up, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I swear.” You took his hand and closed your eyes. You weren’t trying to influence him. You were trying to reach out and read his thoughts. Your sister Margot could do it. You should be able to do it now too.

“What are you doing?” he asked tentatively.

“Why didn’t Steve tell me he was leaving this morning?”

“I don’t know. (Because he likes you too much and he isn’t sure if you’re influencing him to like you or if his feelings were real).”

That cut deep. “Why would I force him to like me?”

His eyes got big and he snatched his hand out of yours. “Not cool. Get out of my head, witch” he growled.

“Tell your friend that I’d never meddle in his life like that. And tell him to stay away from me if he’s so scared.”

“Ok so I’m not a messenger. You’re both adults. You should talk to each other. Never read my thoughts again without my permission. Do you understand me?” His face was so close to yours you could smell the mint on his breath. He felt violated. You were embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” He walked away shaking his head.

Loki saw part of the exchange.

“Want to tell me what just happened?”

“I freak Steve out.”

“I don’t care about that. You were testing a power on an unwilling participant. I told you magick can’t always be the answer. That’s no way to get in good with this team.”

“Sorry, daddy. I’ll behave next time.” You pouted at him.

“I’m serious, mortal. They won’t trust you. If they won’t trust you they won’t protect you when it counts. Believe me. I’m all about self preservation but trust is a two way street.”

Now you felt like crap. Your feelings clouded your judgement and made you act on impulse. More than that, you assumed incorrectly that Loki would condone your bad behavior. The god of Mischief has rules and morals after all. You were foolish to believe he’d allow you to run rampant like a spoiled child.

You drove back home in silence. When you got upstairs Loki went to his room to put his things away. You grabbed a bottle of wine and went to bed. You were feeling very sorry for yourself.

He called out for you, “Bedroom” you answered.

“Turning in already?” He sat on the edge of your bed. You pulled the covers back inviting him to lie down with you. He kicked off his shoes and slipped under the covers still fully clothed. You rolled over to lie on his chest. At first he kept his hands behind his head. After a few moments he let one arm fall to hold you.

Neither of you said a word. You traced the knit pattern of his sweater while he played with your hair. He was giving nothing away. You, on the other hand, were confused and hurting. You sulked like a teenager who didn’t get a note in her locker after third period.

Loki didn’t realize feeling you could hurt this much. He didn’t hurt for you, he hurt for himself. You were hurting him. He didn’t want another soul to know that he was jealous of your feelings for the soldier. He wanted to help you through this. You didn’t seem to want to talk though. You were too busy over thinking. He felt your body getting heavier and slack. Before you fell asleep he tried to remove himself.

“Where are you going?”

“To the other room. You’re exhausted.”

“Please stay with me.”

“I shouldn’t. Rest, pet. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Please. I hate being alone.” He couldn’t refuse you.

He changed into something resembling pajama pants. They hung low revealing the sharp plains of his hips. There was a light dusting of hair on his lower belly. You brushed your finger tips through it as you settled around him. Your head rested on his shoulder. A long arm snaked around you holding you close. One leg wrapped around his. You fit together like twins in a womb. Before he closed his eyes he kissed the top of your head. He brought down his walls and let his feelings wash over you like a wave claiming the shoreline. You sighed in your sleep. This is what contentment felt like. This is what it was like to feel safe. This was the first time in centuries Loki felt this way.