#i THINK it's leather i tried looking at the other black dress shirts and suits in the series

[todayisafridaynight]

shoulda known sawashiro was a freak enough to puncture a guy's eyeball in when i realized he wears a leather dress shirt

[mrchiipchrome]

Princess Treatment

W.C. - 2.4 k

a/n: if you've seen this before, no you haven't

--------------------------

Ever since Ella was little her mum had told her that she had a ‘princess attitude’, that she only expected the best and anything less than that was unacceptable. She was also told that no boy would ever keep up with it, lucky for her, she wasn’t even into boys. 

When you met Ella you were 14, and yet you were already more than a couple heads taller than kids four years older than you. It was no surprise that people were a bit scared of you, tall and rather buff. 

But Ella saw through it all, all the snide comments from the other girls and all the rumors, she saw that you only wanted love from people, to love people just the same as anyone else. So when she started dating you only a year after your official meeting it only surprised the ones still believing the rumors and the ones who were making them up.

Ella was already getting the princess treatment when you were strictly friends, being somewhat of a people pleaser might’ve had something to do with it. But nonetheless she loved you with all your flaws, just like you did her.

The lovey dovey attitude never disappeared, even as you transitioned from being immature teenagers to being mature adults, you were still acting like lovesick teens who just fell in love for the first time. 

And not surprising was that the princess attitude never really disappeared, she was still letting you carry her training bag for her and give her massages. It wasn’t like she demanded you do these things for her, you just did them like you knew exactly what it was that she needed. Though when she was cranky her mood definitely changed drastically, princess behavior turned up to the max.

The only thing that really bothers you about the whole thing is your teammates' excessive teasing. It made you uncomfortable and you felt as though you couldn’t properly express your love for your girlfriend without being ridiculed. Despite the amount of years you’d spent around your United teammates, you were still closed off around most of them, the only exceptions being Alessia, Mary and Ella.

And while the three tried their best to get you out of your shell, it was futile to even try, you could only work and be open with them on the pitch, where you were doing your job.

Your teammates obviously felt your absence, so in an attempt to get you to open up a little, they put team bonding at a bar, thinking that a few drinks would loosen you up. 

———

“How do I look?” It had been a while since you’d been at a bar, and you didn’t exactly know what the latest club fashion was, so instead of overcomplicating it, you just settled on a black button up tucked into navy dress pants and a brown leather belt. 

“You look good enough to eat baby, are you sure we can’t cancel and take the evening for ourselves?” Ella almost had you convinced, but when you remembered exactly how many team bonding sessions you’d missed just because of that reason, you stopped. 

“No, you already know how many team bonding outings we’ve missed, they’re going to think that we’re avoiding them.” Your shorter girlfriend’s hands come up to rest against your chest, her fingers fiddling with the upper buttons of your shirt, popping two buttons open before you take her hands in yours, pulling them up to your mouth, pressing light kisses to the backs of her hands.

“You look so gorgeous my love, but maybe you should go with other shoes? I know how you get after a while of wearing heels.” When she looks up at you with the slightest attitude, the little glare that shines through every once in a while, you put your hands on her waist and pull her body flush against your own. “Or I can stop being an idiot and let you wear whatever you want.” 

Ella hums at your response, lips resting featherlight against yours, her breath ghosting over your lips as she tells you to;

“Wear that navy suit jacket, it’s warm and your arms look nice in it.” And with that she pulls away, frustrated to no end. As you turn around to get the jacket from where it’s draped on the bed, a hand slaps your ass.

“How have I never noticed how good your butt looks in these trousers babe?” The fact that she’s a hundred percent serious is what amuses you, and even though she asked you to, Ella pouts when you put your suit jacket on, apparently not happy to not be able to shamelessly ogle your ass anymore.

“Come on love, Less is outside and I’m pretty sure that she’s going to get the wrong idea if we keep her waiting for too long.” You send the girl a wink before ushering her out of the house with minimal effort. You kept your hand on her lower back, leading her towards the back seat before you took the shotgun seat.

“One more second and I swear I was going to report you two missing.” Alessia rolls her eyes at the two of you, fake annoyance spreading across her face, and you both act like you don’t notice her huge smile.

Arriving at the bar fashionably late, you immediately spot the huge group of women standing around the bar, seemingly ordering their drinks. Ella pulls your hand to go in their direction, your feet drag against the floor in reluctance.

You listen as your girlfriend and your best friend greet the women, the best you can come up with is a meek wave. 

“A coke please. Oh and just make the sweetest and fruitiest drink you can for my missus.” Your teammates look on in confusion and slight disappointment as you order a nonalcoholic drink for yourself. It was clear that they barely knew anything about you, you weren’t a big fan of the taste or the loss of basic cognitive function.

“Y/n is our designated driver, me and Less are planning on letting loose tonight.” Ella answered their unasked question, the team nodding in disappointment.

Finding a booth big enough to fit the whole team, Ella immediately settles herself on your lap as soon as you sit down, your ice cold cola being set down on the table in favour of wrapping your arms around your soon-to-be fiancée’s waist, your hands setting in her lap. 

Everyone settles into comfortable conversations with each other, you’re content to listen to the voice of your girlfriend and Alessia, tracing shapes into her thigh and taking a swig of your now nearly flat and room temperature cola. 

“Baby, my feet hurt.” Ella stops her conversation to tell you, the tight shoes squeezing her and the high heel likely poking against her heel.

“I told you this would happen, my love.” You tell her lowly, acutely aware of a majority of your teammates' eyes on you, seemingly more engaged in your conversation than their own.

“No you said ‘I know how you get after a while of wearing them’ you never told me what would happen.” Your girlfriend sasses back, saying it as if it were fact.

“Alright, then we’ll do the usual?” Ella gets up from your lap to undo the straps of her shoes as you undo the knot of your laces, sliding your shoes off your feet and onto hers. They were a few sizes too big, despite Ella being known as the bigfoot of the team, and as she settles back onto your lap, most of your teammates look on in some sort of shock.

“Did Ella just extort you out of your shoes Y/n?” Maya asks, like she wasn’t familiar with your girlfriend’s attitude. Being put on the spot like that makes you more than uncomfortable as you shift in your seat, thankfully your slightly tipsy best friend notices it and helps you out.

“Have you seriously not noticed Ella’s obvious princess attitude? God, where are you when Y/n’s away and I have to deal with it.” Alessia joked with the younger girl, teasing her about her ignorance towards her friend and national teammate.

“So you just do what she asks you to?” Millie asks, and you look at her nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah, pretty much. Ella deserves everything in this world and if I can give her even a fraction of that then I’ll do whatever she needs me to.” You answer sincerely, there was nothing to lie about there, she was your everything. It wasn’t like they would remember it in the morning either way, they were all pretty wasted.

“Awww baby, you never told me that. I love you so much.” Ella smothers your face in kisses, seemingly forgetting the bright red lipstick she’d put on earlier. The red lip marks nearly blend into the skin of your face as you blush heavily at her actions, face closer to a beetroot than anything even remotely human.

“I think it’s time to round off the evening now before poor Y/n gets an aneurysm.” The women around the table laugh at your now significantly drunker best friend, both the blonde and the brunette being wasted by now.

Getting Alessia to pick up Ella’s shoes, you steal yours back for a more comfortable fit, Ella sneaking your jacket from its place on the chair. Turning back to see Ella basically drowning in the fabric of your jacket might be one of your favorite sights ever, she was just too adorable. 

Your hands slip around the back of her knees, the other clutching closer to her rib cage as you carry her in a bridal grip. Ella runs her hands over your flexed muscles, whistling to show off how impressed she was. Another dark blush covers your face at her drunken actions, clutching on to her legs a little tighter in an attempt to expel the embarrassment.

Ella keeps on babbling about nonsense as you bring her out to Alessia’s car, the blonde herself stumbling around behind you. She’d given you her car key at the start of the night to keep safe, and you had to shift your grip on the midfielder to be able to unlock the car.

Slinging Ella over your shoulders haphazardly, you make sure to keep a secure grip around her thighs in order to not drop her. Alessia giggles at the squeal escaping your girlfriend’s mouth, sounding almost like a creaky door.

When the car is unlocked, you carefully open the door and make sure you don’t bump the midfielder’s head, buckling her in and ignoring the way her hands travel over your body like they would at home. Making sure that her hands are inside the car so that she doesn’t get hurt when you close the door, you quickly move towards the passenger door, making sure to open it for the blonde. You were a gentlewoman after all.

After helping both the girls to buckle in, you finally get in the driver's seat, ready to transport both of them back to your house. 

They talk absentmindedly during the whole ride, light music floating through the air in its soft glow. Every once in a while you feel Ella’s hand moving up and down your bicep, seemingly entranced by the muscle. 

“Girls, we’re home. Less, the guest room is ready for you and there’s a pair of pajamas on the bed. I’ll come up with some paracetamol for you tomorrow, trust me you’ll need it.” The girl laughs at your words, exiting the car and walking up the driveway to the door of your house. 

You exit the car as well, unbuckling your girlfriend’s seatbelt and throwing her over your shoulder again. Alessia doesn’t seem to mind the wait, standing in front of your door calmly, picking at her nails.

When the click of the door being unlocked echoes through the calm night you rush into the house, leaving Alessia to close and lock the door behind you.

The blonde utters a quick goodnight before leaving you to walk up the stairs to your bedroom, the guest room on the bottom floor of the house. Ella grumbles when you place her back down on the floor, her feet likely aching still from her high heels.

“How about you take my advice next time, pretty girl? No stilettos okay.” Ella nods a little, her body swaying in an unstable way due to the alcohol still rushing through her veins, leaning against your body as you try your damned hardest to unzip her dress and get her into a comfortable pair of pajamas. 

She’s basically half asleep when you slip the oversized t-shirt over her head, the material reaching just above her knee. Pulling her into the bathroom, you make sure to brush both her and your teeth extra carefully, both of you having had sugary drinks that night.

You lift Ella up to sit on the bathroom counter as you get a makeup wipe out of her bag, carefully swiping it over her entire face, over her eyes and lips, all around her face. When you’re done, she puckers her lips for you to kiss, and when she tries to deepen the kiss even more, you pull away.

Taking out another makeup wipe from her bag, you pass it over your face, wiping away the red markings on your face. Ella frowns as her artwork is removed from your face, her pout quickly being kissed away.

Leading Ella to your bed, she quickly gets under the covers and then gestures for you to get in with her. She quickly forgets all about getting you under the covers when she sees you unbutton your shirt, mesmerized by the muscles of your stomach and arms. 

She gets up from the bed to run her fingers over them again, seeing goosebumps forming under her nails. But just as quickly as the naked skin appears, it gets covered back up again by a t-shirt, the shorter girl seemingly very disappointed with that.

She grumbles all the way until you’ve slipped in behind her in the bed, pulling her frame into yours. It fits yours like a puzzle piece, nothing more, nothing less.

Like always, Ella falls asleep in your arms rather rapidly, her drunken state impairing her ability to stay awake.

In the end, Ella’s mum had been completely wrong, she had found someone who willingly put up with her princess attitude.

[eggyboyoart]

I was gonna post a vid on tiktok bc I have more followers there but i'll post it here because-

When I die, I wanna be reincarnated into Redacted Tumblr as a beautiful Lasko/Gavin spicy fic-

Anyway, I drew the D.A.M.N. boys + Imperium AU :D Please look at them, its late and I'm tired.

I also have a speedpaint of them on my yt (eggyboyoart) so if you wanted to look at that as well, I would be rlly happy :))

(TW: Spoilers for Imperium AU)

I wanted Lasko to look super light and soft and cloud-like while also being kind of elegant?? He looks so poofy :D

I hc that he takes rlly RLLY great care of his hair, like- mans has a 23 step routine to keep it untangled and soft :))

The hair routine also helps him relax and de-stress after a long day

I also headcanon that he wears a lot of light, soft sweaters with a button up underneath for that academic soft boy look

In the Imperium AU, he got the scar across his eye from a wayward daemon who tried to attack him in the D.A.M.N. daemon haven.

He wears his hair tied back into a low pony tail to seem more 'professional', bc my mans is the ACADEMY PRESIDENT :D

Imp! Lasko wears a black suit with a white button up and either a red or light blue tie (gotta keep it professional when you're tormenting daemons and chasing after uninterested freelancers :|)

IDK why but whenever I imagine Damien (original timeline), its always with rlly short hair

idk I feel like if he had long hair, it would make him too warm around his neck and that'd make him uncomfortable and grumpy (well, more grumpy than he usually is anyway)

gotta keep the neck open for air flow (and easy access-)

I think he wears a lot of sleeveless clothes (tank tops, sleeveless hoodies, etc and shorts bc of the heat

Damien is a chronic khaki shorts wearer, I'M SORRY-

Imp! Damien is royalty so obvs gotta keep it professional

I feel like he would have other priorities than cutting his hair so it mostly just gets slicked back out of his face

The scar on his neck is from a failed assassination attempt (our boy damien stays livin', unlike Angel-)

I feel like he still wears sleeveless shirts but also wears a fur cape (like, one of those white ones with the black spots with the red velvet) which seems counter intuitive.

I am relieved to say that Imp! Damien doesn't wear khaki shorts :D silver linings, guys-

I wanna start this off my saying, Imp! Huxley might be one of my favourite characters

Hes just, such a piece of shit and I don't want to change him, I want him to stay exactly how he is, thats the POINT-

Freelancer bought him neon jewellery for his lip piercings and he screamed when he got them

also a sweater wearer like lasko but he likes his sweaters to be oversized, but because hes just big, his sweaters are like blankets for regular sized ppl

he has his hair kinda long-ish bc freelancer enjoys playing with it and he likes making his friends happy so he keeps it kinda long just for them-

Imp! Huxley is a piece of shit and we love him for that

He doesn't have friends so his hair is shorter

He probably wears tactical gear/uniform bc he is an enforcer, but its all like a dark green which looks rlly good on him

no neon piercings for Imp! Hux as much as I hate to say it

GAVIN OUR FASHION ICON-

He knows clothes like he knows freelancer's body- IN AND OUT. Hes got that shit LOCKED DOWN

Freelancer gave him the heart glasses as a gift

Gavin never saw the appeal of piercings until freelancer said they would look hot on him, REALLY enjoys all the different types of jewellery

Probably wears patterned button up shirts (with as many buttons undone as possible) with skin tight jean/leather pants

Imp! Gavin dresses like hes homeless, theres no time for fashion when you're trying to survive in an dystopian magic world where everyone hates you :P

I hc that when a Daemon gets low in energy/emotions, they can't keep their 'glamour/human form' up so they forcibly have to take on their more daemonic traits (horns, coloured eyes, markings, tails, claws, etc)

and bc of the shit hole that the Imperium AU world is... :|

I also hc that only sex and sadism daemons have coloured sclera

[lenreli]

content with splitting hairs [Dreamling Week Day 6 - Monochromatic]

[AO3] | [Dreamling Week '24 Masterpost]

Title from KMFDM's Spit or Swallow!

E, 5.8k. Hob dresses like how he wants to dress. Morpheus’s wardrobe is so ― dull, suits upon suits in black and white, an insanely boring monochromatic tableau, even his casual clothes are just the most basic black, no frills or patterns, drilled into him by his parents.

-

Morpheus tries to think ― but can’t, with the screaming and guitar riffs coming from the club, with Hob’s hands, covered in dark fingerless gloves as they go under his dress shirt, buttons ripping off along with his suit jacket. 

And he doesn’t want to think ― wants to only feel and not overthink as he tends to do as he whines, even with his earlier wariness to enter such a dingy club bathroom, but he can only grab onto Hob’s leather jacket as they kiss, cold metal of a tongue piercing pressing against the top of his mouth, breath tasting of cheap whiskey. 

“You came in here wearing this?” Hob asks, disbelieving as the zip of his pants gets pulled down, darkly-lined eyes staring at him and Dream swallows. “Terrible,” there’s a creak of leather as Hob kneels down and his eyes widen, brain stuttering as his dress pants get pulled down, and his cock, newly free, twitches under the other’s stare. 

Whatever words he’s means to say come out as a garbled whine as Hob swallows him, cold metal against the underside of cock making him gasp, head thunking against the bathroom stall as he holds onto brown-grey hair, touching near the other’s ears, shells of them full of spiked earrings and he definitely doesn’t think as Hob does a stellar job of redirecting his brain through his dick. 

-

Hob dresses like how he wants to dress. Morpheus’s wardrobe is so ― dull, suits upon suits in black and white, an insanely boring monochromatic tableau, even his casual clothes are just the most basic black, no frills or patterns, drilled into him by his parents. No chains or mesh or leather, even though he now lives in his own apartment, far away from his parent’s influence, an adult.

Once, he vaguely remembers the disgusted way his parent’s steered him away from a spiked choker as a teen, saying various disparaging things about the people who wear them, and of course their son won’t have a phase like those degenerates. 

He doesn’t mean to spill this to Hob, considering they only just met recently. Morpheus blames the mind-blowing sex, as he worries if he’ll have to leave Hob’s apartment, stuffed full of odds and ends―”wow, if I ever meet your parents, I’m punching them in the face,” Hob says near his chest and he freezes, digesting the words as he settles himself back on Hob’s lap. 

“That is a bit much,” he offers tentatively. Hob laughs, the other’s hands trailing up his back, dress shirt loosely covering him. 

“I’ve been known to be that,” Hob says with a wriggle of his brows, the eyebrow piercing glinting blue in the light. “Well, no time to waste!” Hob chirps, pulling them up and Morpheus’s breath leaves him as they go to Hob’s bedroom. “Mesh shirt?” Hob glances at him, a hand on his beard as he opens his wardrobe with a flourish. 

Morpheus’s eyes widen at the explosion of things in the other’s wardrobe, leather items falling out of the wardrobe as Hob grumbles and puts them back haphazardly, pulling out a black fishnet shirt and putting it against his chest. “How?” He breathes, staring at not only the black and chains, but various colours of all types.

“Bit too much at once, got it,” Hob nods and puts the shirt back, going into his wardrobe and picking up various shirts. “Mainly op shops, or stuff I’ve made myself, or got from others. Stolen.” Hob takes out a black shirt, giving him a critical look before shaking his head and putting it back in. “Ah-hah!” Hob grins as he takes out a long-sleeved black shirt with spikes on one shoulder, as well as leather straps joining the shoulder from either side. 

Blinking, he gently takes the shirt, heart beating absurdly fast as he takes off his dress shirt and pulls on the other’s shirt. Looking down at his hands, he touches the spiked shoulder in amazement, the straps crinkling under his hands, and he notices silver along the cuffs, spiky bracelets that are stapled on. 

“Well?” Hob asks, rocking back and forth on his chunky platforms, wide grin on his face. 

“It’s,” he frowns, having no frame of reference for how ― right he feels, like something’s slotted into place, weight crumbling off of him as he feels the soft black fabric. “Yes.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Hob shouts and Morpheus feels himself smile, out of control with the rightness that settles within him. Then Hob leans in to kiss him, hands framing his face and he shivers, falling into the other’s mouth easily as they make their way to Hob’s bed, messy and unmade. “Also, you look unbearably sexy in my clothes,” Hob purrs and he whines, tugging off the other’s leather jacket, the mesh shirt underneath as they continue to kiss, getting more deep and heated. 

-

“Stolen?” He says once his brain boots back up, hands on Hob’s thighs as they rest, the other’s bed messed up even more as he rests on Hob’s chest. 

“Mainly when I was younger. Now I’m a responsible adult,” Hob says, kissing his hair and going down to his temple. “Mostly,” Hob amends. Morpheus hums and touches Hob’s nipple, the piercing on it taking his attention. “Morpheus,” he hums, fascinated by the silver ring ― until Hob pokes him on his shoulder and he blinks, looking up at Hob’s face. “I have to get ready for work soon.” 

Morpheus freezes, climbing off of Hob, the air cold after the heat of the other’s body, “then, I should―” 

Hob rolls his eyes and pokes his forehead. “You’re staying right here for now. I just want to,” Hob looks around and pulls on his leather jacket, getting a pocket watch from an inside pocket and Morpheus blinks at it, confused as Hob goes back into his wardrobe, looking at various items and throwing them onto the bed near him. “This one’s definitely you,” Hob mumbles, pulling out a black and frilly shirt, joining the rest of the items, including ripped jeans and some spiky chokers and bracelets. 

Staring down at the items, he picks up the shirt, black and flowy as more clothes pile up, silver chains and mesh shirts. “What are these for?” 

Hob doesn’t answer, looking through a drawer in his wardrobe to pull more items out, throwing them on the bed. Then, once he looks at the pile, he looks around again, eventually going under his bed to look for something as Morpheus watches in confusion. “These are for you!” Hob chirps once he emerges with a black duffel, artfully ripped to reveal black lining, sides covered with studs as he puts the clothes and jewellery into it.

“You can’t just―” Morpheus protests, eyes wide at the amount. 

“Sure I can. Have you seen that?” Hob points at his wardrobe, still overflowing with clothes, “I rarely, or never have worn these anyway. Plus they’ll be there for you to wear!” Morpheus gapes, eyes filling with tears as he swallows back the emotions as the duffel is zipped up and presented to him. “Phone,” Hob makes a grabby motion and Morpheus complies, finding his phone along with pants, which he puts on as Hob puts in his number. 

“You can’t be serious,” Morpheus says as he holds onto the duffel, still in disbelief at the weight that’s inside. For him. And outside the bedroom window, he can see the sun starting to come out. 

Hob smiles and pulls him in by his pants for a kiss, deep and filthy as a hand returns his phone to his pocket. “Like a grave.” 

-

“This feels like a bit much,” he mutters to himself, even with his normal suit, the normal shined shoes ― and the spiked choker around his neck. For work. He could almost feel his parent’s aneurysm at the thought. “Hob?” 

Hob, next to him, gives him a slow, lingering look in between bites of yoghurt and muesli. “Maybe a bracelet too?” Dream shakes his head, which stops as a finger goes under the choker, “working on a Saturday? Really? What kind of Hell do you work at?” Dream tries to reply, but he can only shiver as the finger drags, nail edge pricking into his throat, “no, I know it’s pretty bad, I didn’t need an answer for that.” 

Hob’s finger leaves his throat and Dream scrambles his thoughts together as Hob eats more of his breakfast as Dream looks at his watch. “Where do you even work, anyway?” He asks, somehow not catching it with all the time they’ve been spending together. Though, they have mostly been preoccupied. 

“Uni teacher,” Hob says with a shrug, and Dream gives him an incredulous look, “I’ll even give you my campus and you can sit on one of my lectures yourself if you don’t believe me.” 

“I wasn’t―it’s just very surprising, what with,” he gestures to Hob’s form, which at the moment is only bright pink boxers. “I will, very soon,” he promises, already working out how he can get a free weekday. 

“I’m used to it, though I usually tone it down some while at my job. Not that I don’t think there’d be a problem, but it’s usually with the other teacher’s where those kinds of judgments appear, and I’d rather not deal with that,” Hob explains.

 -

Dream is nervous as he walks into work, going through the whole floor of people who work under him, expecting ― gasps, mean comments, but all he can see is some people just doing a double take as he goes into his office. Throughout the day as he emails clients and goes through his day, no comments or nothing, and soon enough he feels comfortable in the choker, fear dwindling and being replaced by an odd sort of confidence. 

Throughout the day, he tries to make sense of this new feeling, so alien ― and wondering if Hob was right, and maybe he should’ve worn one of the spiked bracelets that Hob gave him. Or even the new pointed boots he recently bought, black and leather, patterned with skulls and flowers. 

He only places the confidence in how happy and sure he looks after Matthew, one of his assistants, goes “nice necklace.” Dream starts, not expecting the compliment, or how pleased it makes him feel. Lucienne, next to Matthew, gives him a look. 

“Thank you,” he says with a tiny smile, feeling even more sure of himself as Lucienne raises her eyebrows in shock. 

“It does look very good on you,” Lucienne concedes, measures of can we move on in her tone. Matthew gives him a look, which Dream doesn’t react to. 

“I know,” he says quietly, the confidence leaving him temporarily. “However, we must discuss next steps for next week.” 

“Must we,” Matthew mimics sarcastically, Lucienne ignoring him as she launches into her report.

-

Morpheus follows the campus signage carefully, checking to make sure it’s right with the message Hob sent him. Matthew gaped at him for half a day after explaining that yes, I will be taking one of those days off earlier in the week. 

Matthew started a rumour that maybe their boss got replaced by a pod-person right after. 

And now he follows people into the room Hob said he would be teaching at, one of those big lecture rooms with ascending seats. Sitting near the door at the front, he almost doesn’t catch Hob, talking with his TA apparently, gestures wide and facing away from him as the TA grins. 

Squinting, Morpheus scrutinises the other’s boots, obviously steel-plated on the front, then pale grey jeans. The leather jacket Hob wears is more red and plain, and from what he can see, the numerous spikes that Hob wore in his ears are replaced by alternating gold and silver studs. 

Hob and his TA separate, Hob going up to his desk and putting something on the screen behind him. Now that Hob’s turned around, he sees that the first earring in Hob’s ear is tiny skulls. “We’re ready to begin, it seems!” Hob talks, voice projecting through the room as he stares at the back ― with Morpheus able to tell when the other man spots him by the bright grin, and he gives a small wave. 

“Alright! So―” Hob claps his hands as the TA moves to the laptop on the desk, numerous rings clinking together on Hob’s fingers as he launches into his lecture. Tearing his eyes away from the shining jewellery, he stares at the KMFDM t-shirt Hob has on instead, only half-listening as he takes in this Hob, very much toned down from the spikes and metal chains he had on his pants. 

It’s as Hob starts talking about 15th Century clothes, Morpheus notices the silver still shining in the other’s mouth, and he tries to not lead his thoughts down the path of Hob’s tongue ring in a public setting. 

Before he knows it, the class ends, people leaving and Hob picking up his things, and talking with his TA before sidling up to him. “You’re here!” 

Morpheus blinks at the blinding smile, “I did say I would come,” he frowns and Hob’s grin widens as he’s pulled out of his seat.

“I dunno, people say that, but then others don’t, so,” Hob says with a shrug, linking their arms together as they walk down hallways, eventually reaching a door that says Robert Gadling. “Thoughts?” Hob asks as they go into his office, the other man locking the door and putting the blind down. 

“I liked the bit about the ruffs,” Morpheus offers. Hob gives him a look, and Morpheus curses his pale skin for the way his face heats as Hob’s hands grab his own. 

“Liar. You weren’t paying attention to the lecture,” Hob grins, and he swallows a sound at the warmth of the other’s hand, contrasted with the cold silver and gold of his rings. 

Looking down, he focuses on the ring designs, mainly plain. Or a gold one with blue sapphires. “You still have your tongue ring,” he whispers―then gasps, Hob kissing him, a filthy press of said tongue ring to the inside of his mouth, and he can only whine as the kiss ends, arousal swirling hot. 

“Too much work to keep it out. Leave it out for half a day and the skin’s already growing over the hole for it, very annoying,” Hob replies, brown of his eyes swallowed by black. The other’s hands make a slow path up his arms, shoulders, neck, one eventually holding his jaw while the other goes into his hair. 

Morpheus swallows, cock hardening at Hob’s full attention, at the way fingers stroke his hair, “I see.” 

There’s another kiss, sweet and rough, Hob tugging at his lips and he shivers, skin sparking as the hand on his jaw moves to grip the back of his neck as Morpheus holds onto Hob’s leather jacket. He can only whimper as the hand on his neck pulls him down, ending the kiss ― and he can feel Hob’s desk against his head as he stares up. “Morpheus,” the other’s arousal, covered with denim, presses against his jaw, “can you be good and quiet for me?” 

“Yes,” he rasps, voice thin and breathy as a finger traces his lips, own dick aching in his pants as he frantically unbuckles the black belt in front of him, unzipping jeans, mouth already watering.

-

Morpheus scrutinises himself in the mirror. At the pointed black boots, the straight-leg leather pants and long-sleeved dark red shirt, with a lace shirt over it, sleeves flaring out. And on top of that, a harness going around his waist and shoulders, silver spikes on the shoulders.  Pursing his lips, Morpheus gives himself a look and searches for his wayward boyfriend, eventually finding Hob on the balcony of his apartment, cigarette in his mouth. “Too much?” 

Hob blinks and looks over, eyes raking over him, “of course not,’ Hob shrugs, holding ringed fingers out and Morpheus huffs at the way Hob stares at him. 

“It feels a bit,” he bites his lips as Hob finishes his smoke, crushing it beneath his spiked boots before putting it in the bin, “mismatched.” 

At this, Hob stands up and twirls him inside the apartment, smelling of smoke as they kiss, “babe, literally most of my friends do that. I’m just more for this style because the other one’s don’t feel as me,” Hob gestures to his leather jacket and black fishnet shirt, along with black jeans that are more rips and slashed, the insides lined with fishnet. “Plus, you look very hot.” 

Morpheus rolls his eyes as he considers Hob’s words, putting his hands on Hob’s hips, “you’re very biased.” 

Hob nods his head, “biased. But also right,” Hob says with a grin, then pulls out a stick of eyeliner from an inside jacket pocket, and Morpheus follows the other’s directions as it’s placed on him. “Feel you'd like the more pointed eyeliner, but I’m not good at that. Good thing we’re meeting my friend’s, who’d be better with teaching you that,” Hob mutters between applying it. 

Eyeliner applied, Morpheus huffs, watching as Hob applies the black liner to his own eyes, the brown of Hob’s eyes becoming more arresting. “Are you sure we can’t stay in for a bit more?” He asks, hands slipping under the other’s mesh shirt, and he makes a happy sound at the feeling of course hair under his fingers. 

“Tempting, but no,” Hob says, a hand coming up to his cheek and Morpheus leans into the hand, enjoying the feeling of cold rings and hot skin. 

Morpheus pouts as Hob lets go, the hand going to intertwine with his instead.

-

The double take Hob does when Morpheus emerges from the train bathroom with one of Hob’s friends makes him want to preen, with all of them practically fighting over to teach him how to do a winged look. Hob opens his mouth, “if you’re thinking of leaving just because your boyfriend is hot,” next to him a darker-skinned person dressed in a lace black dress and white fishnet tights, Charlie, threatens and Hob’s mouth clicks shut. 

“But Charlie,” Hob gestures to him, hands reaching out to pull him onto the other’s lap, expression shocked and reverent, “look!” 

“Dude,” Angel, the one who was teaching him about eyeliner earlier, and dressed in full frilly gothic lolita, complete with pigtails, sits down next to Charlie, “you just got here. Plus, isn’t this the one that bewitched you with his drab clothes before? Is Hob doing this to you?” She asks and Morpheus flushes under the attention, picking at his lace sleeve. 

“He’s not forcing me,” he says, “I never wanted to be,” a pause, “drab. And Hob has been invaluable to help me discover what I like,” he mumbles and Hob nods against his chest, arms comfortable around his waist, leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair. Charlie and Angel nod, expressions sympathetic. 

“I get that,” Angel twists her hair, black with purple streaks, “well, I’m happy for you!” 

Charlie, texting someone on their phone nods and Morpheus relaxes, stretching out on Hob’s lap, and Hob makes a choked noise as he wriggles so he can touch Hob’s thigh through the fishnet of his pants. 

Hob whines into his chest, and he tries not to pay attention to the hardness he can feel against him ― because ― well, mainly to make Hob squirm a bit. And because Hob’s friends are interesting, and nice. “I like your friends,” he states and Hob muffles another sound against his chest, something like I’m glad. 

Angel shakes her head, “we like you too! Though we’re still missing someone before we go back to that club.” 

-

They barely make it inside Hob’s door before he’s pushed against it, hands going under his shirt as Hob bites into his mouth. Shivering, he takes off Hob’s jacket and gets his own hands under the other’s shirt, bucking into the leg in the middle of his own. “Finally,” Hob hisses against his mouth, and Morpheus gasps at ringed fingers going inside his pants, leather hot and sticky from the club’s heat ― and now, his hard cock which Hob strokes. 

“Not even making it to the sofa?” He chokes out, grabbing onto the grey hair at the other’s temples as Hob continues to stroke him, thumb stroking his slit and he groans, head hitting the door. Which makes Hob go for his throat, biting over already healing marks and pressing him more against the wood. 

“You were teasing,” Hob accuses, free hand pulling him forward, making him as the other hand traces his hole. 

Morpheus whines, leaning into the hand stroking him as the other one leaves, probably to go the lube in Hob’s jeans, “don’t be ridiculous,” he says, batting his lashes and Hob huffs, lubed fingers returning to his hole, one finger slowly making its way in. 

Moaning, he can only hold on, grounding against Hob’s fingers, other hand scrabbling for purchase on door behind him as another finger enters him. Hob hums into his throat, stubble scratching the sensitive skin and Morpheus lets out a keen as the hand stroking his cock leaves to grab his hip.

“Now who’s being the te―”  his sentence doesn’t finish as Hob lifts him up, eyes black as they stare up at him, and Morpheus can only blink and catch the breath that leaves him as he’s put onto the sofa, layers of boots and clothes being taken off as they kiss, Hob’s fingers going back inside him once they’re both naked. 

Holding onto Hob’s hair, he arches into the fingers, insides burning at the way Hob’s fingers, still with their rings on, feel almost inside him, markedly different from the hot-cold way of holding his cock. “Had to restrain myself from fingering you in front of the club,” Hob states and Morpheus shivers, the image too much for him to think on, cock twitching. 

Morpheus can only keen, holding onto Hob’s shoulder, mind shorting out as Hob continues, fingers being added and pressing insistently upon his prostate, “come on, I’ve been wanting you like this forever it seems like,” Hob mutters into his cheek. 

The pleasure, the pressure is constant and maddening and Morpheus cries out, tears eventually streaming out of his eyes, and he can almost the carefully applied eyeliner start to run. 

“There we go, so beautiful and wrecked,” Hob praises, fingers crooking and twisting incessantly, and his orgasm seems to almost come second to the pleasure, the feel of rings he can feel, to Hob’s quiet praise. 

-

Morpheus is staring at the invoices he needs to look over in his email when it hits him.

I want to quit, he thinks with intent, because this job was yet another thing his parent’s herded, moulded him into, because it’s good money and a respectable job, when Morpheus ― can’t even remember what he does, the only bright spots at work being Lucienne and Matthew. Every day as droll as the wardrobe he’s been getting rid of, only keeping at least one suit and one pair of black pants and shirt as he fills his wardrobe with things he wants to wear.

Of course, there’s always the logistics of quitting to consider too, especially with the recent amount of the money being used to buy pretty clothes, and what he would do after, but he feels confident in knowing what he wants now, though working towards this may be more of a choice then what shirts to get. 

“You okay there, boss?” Matthew asks, putting a cup of black coffee near his hand, and he nods distantly. 

“If I did something crazy, would you and Lucienne follow me?” The words tumble out and Morpheus can’t find it to regret them as Matthew considers, scratching his chin. 

“Just say the word, boss-man,” Matthe settles on, giving him a two-fingered salute. 

“I… just thought of it, so I may need more thinking over,” he pauses, frowning. “Perhaps you and Lucienne can help,” Matthew grins and Morpheus scoffs, taking a gulp of the hot coffee. “Not right now, but eventually.” 

“Fuck yeah! Consider it done!”

-

A month later and Morpheus once again stares at himself in the mirror, this time focusing on doing the winged eyeliner that Angel’s constantly gave him tips for. There’s a groan as Hob shambled in from bed, chest pressing against his back as arms go around his waist. “Fancy,” Hob says, voice thick and dark with sleep and Morpheus swallows, letting Hob nibble at his neck and collarbones as Hob’s hands go up the V of the shirt, frilly and flowing. 

“I’m quitting,” he announces ― and that makes Hob’s head snap up, blinking awake. 

“Fuck. Really?” Hob gapes, settling back onto his shoulder as he nods, Hob squeezing him tightly as he stares at his black pants, red ribbon running up the sides of it. 

“I’ve already worked things out with Lucienne and Matthew for something new that we’re going to do, with artists and ― still figuring out the logistics, but it’ll be fun.”

Hob sighs and there’s a nip to his ear as they sway slightly, which Morpheus swats to stop, since he still has to do his other eye. “Look at you, getting so confident and sure of yourself. Hope you don’t forget the plebes like me once you become a famous auteur or whatever.” 

“Don’t be absurd. This is all because of you,” he says, brows furrowing as he precisely does his other eye, then puts the eyeliner into the black coat hanging nearby before turning around to face Hob, who looks amazed. “You helped me figure out what I want,” he breathes, cupping the other’s face, thumbs caressing brown-grey stubble gently. “And you’re a part of that.” 

Hob’s eyes are wide and shiny, a sound wrenched out of him as they kiss, which Morpheus easily falls into, and he shivers at the hands going up under his shirt, scratching up his back roughly that he’s sure he’ll feel it while at the last day of his job. 

“Pick me up once I text you?” Hob should be clear all day, considering it’s a Saturday.

-

“You don’t need to wait around, Matthew,” he says quietly as they rest on the glass wall of their former workplace. Matthew scoffs. 

“I’ve only heard like, two things about this boyfriend of yours, of course I’m gonna see what this guy’s like,” Matthew scowls. Morpheus huffs and looks at the omw ;) from Hob, smiling at the text. “If he gets you to look like that at your phone, he’s gotta be something.” 

“He is,” he says, and there’s only silence between them, people and cars moving around them. 

“Shame Luce won’t see this, maybe I’ll,” Matthew gets out his own phone and Morpheus rolls his eyes, looking for any sign of Hob’s car. 

A motorbike parks in front of the building, which he doesn’t pay any attention to ― until the helmet of the driver comes off, and Morpheus takes a moment, not recognising Hob. Gaping, his mind stutters at the sight as Hob turns off the bike, taking his helmet off and putting it on the handlebars, black fingerless gloves poking out as Hob gives a small wave and a smile. 

“That’s him?!” Matthew screeches, but Morpheus doesn’t pay attention, insides hot at the sight of Hob straddling the bike as he walks closer in a daze, Matthew following behind, talking and gesturing to his phone. 

“You have a bike?” He croaks, and Hob grins, putting an arm on the handlebars, other hand coming to pull him in by his coat, kiss filthy and indecent for such a public area, and Morpheus resists the urge to just―”how?” 

“It’s been in the shop for a while,” Hob says, pierced tongue licking the top of his mouth and he swallows a whine. Blinking, Morpheus rests his heated face on the leather of Hob’s shoulder, feeling him turn his head, with his free hand going around his waist. “And who’s this?” 

“Yo, hi, uh, I’m Matthew, man, dude,” Matthew babbles and Morpheus groans, feeling Hob’s grin in the way he’s holding himself. 

“Matthew! Nice to meet you finally! I’m Robert Gadling, but you can just call me Hob. I hear you’ve been keeping this one here sane while at that hellhole.” 

Matthew squeaks, “that’s news to me ― good news, but I’m glad! Boss man here has gotten out of his shell lately and y’know―”

Morpheus groans and straightens up, “we have to go Hob, now,” both Hob and Matthew open their mouths, “I will give you Matthew’s number so you can talk, but we must leave. Now,” he reiterates through gritted teeth. Mainly because Hob on a motorbike ― and the combined chatter of his boyfriend and Matthew would make it a week before they’d leave the front of his old work.

Hob gives a what can you do? expression to Matthew, who laughs as Hob pulls out another helmet from the motorbike seat behind him. Hob gives him a kiss as the helmet is put on him, hands framing his face before the lock slides into place under his chin. “The boss has spoken,” Hob says, eyebrows wiggling as he sits behind Hob, feeling the other’s arm move as he puts on his own helmet. “Ready?” 

“Of course,” he scowls as squeezes Hob tighter, Matthew ― still with his phone in front of him, probably recording this for Lucienne ― waves at them as Hob starts the bike, vibrations as hot and pleasant as Hob in front of him as they leave.

-

As soon as the rumble of the bike stops, their helmets taken off and stowed away, Morpheus corners Hob against the bike, kissing him deeply, hands going up to touch the stubble of the other’s face. “Knew you’d like it,” Hob breathes between them, the kickstand of the bike flipping to balance the bike as Morpheus pushes him more onto it. 

Hob chuckles breathily as he nibbles down the other’s neck, the sweat and and musk delicious and salty as his hands go under Hob’s shirt, trailing up chest hair until he flicks at pierced nipples. Hob groans, arching into him as they rut into each other, the pleasure fizzling inside. 

There’s more laughter ― than Hob pushes him away, which Morpheus whines at, grabbing onto Hob’s jeans as he goes in for another kiss. “Alright, I’m not doing this in the car park,” Hob says and Morpheus scowls, Hob grabbing his coat to pull them inside the apartment complex. Considering the stairways up to Hob’s flat, he manages to push Hob against the walls for more kissing and petting as they make their way. 

“You didn’t tell me you have a motorbike,” he accuses as they get into Hob’s flat, and Morpheus holds back his desire until they reach Hob’s room, the messiness familiar as pushes his boyfriend onto the bed. 

Hob grins, settling under him, “I wanted to surprise you.” Groaning, Morpheus leans down, hands scratching through soft black hair as Hob shivers under him. “Especially with your surprise announcement today, and how sexy you are,” Hob’s hands go under the V of his shirt. 

“Consider me surprised,” he pouts as he takes off Hob’s jacket and shirt, biting down the other’s neck until he can lick at the silver nipple rings, causing Hob to whine and shudder. 

“And really hot for it,” Hob says between moans, eyes sparkling as he glares up at him, mind too full of the motorbike he could feel under him, Hob’s body a solid heat to hold onto as he tugs off his clothes and the other’s belt and leather pants, though he grumbles as he unzips the leather boots keeping them from fully coming off.  

Hob laughs, eyes bright as Dream leans in to kiss him deeply, brain replaying the rumble of the engine under him, biting at Hob’s tongue ring as he pushes Hob’s legs together, hard cock jutting up as Hob gasps. Morpheus stares at the crease between Hob’s legs, the body hair as he guides his own red cock to the crease, feeling Hob’s fingers dig into his hips, scratching around as they end up digging into his arse. 

There’s a whine from Hob as his cock fucks the channel between the other’s thighs, coarse hair getting wet from the pre-come. “Yes, right there,” Hob moans, moving slightly to meet his cock, his nails digging into Hob’s thigh as they share a messy kiss. “Come on,” Hob whispers, dark eyes staring into him and it only takes a few more thrusts until Morpheus orgasms with a shiver, white come coating Hob’s thighs, all the way up to his chest. 

Gasping, he brings a hand around the other’s cock, thick and twitching as he strokes it, unable to look away as one of Hob’s joins his. The other’s black fingerless gloves getting wet and sticky as they jerk Hob off to completion, arching into their joined hands as Hob lets out a strangled whine, more come joining the mess on Hob’s chest.

-

Morpheus wasn’t sure about what brought him to this club specifically, aside from the banality of his job. His life. Another late night and the club’s neon sight lit up The White Horse, which he’s seen on the way home, people in various leather and gothic outfits out the front. 

“Whiskey shot, cheap. Please,” a voice says next to him and Morpheus turns, seeing a man in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, chains on the side of them. The man looks at him, eyes dark brown ― and lined, making them even more and Morpheus looks away in shock. “And another, for this one,” the man says and Morpheus gapes as a shot gets put in front of him. 

“That’s not necessary,” he watches as the man leans on the bar and downs his shot, insides burning even without the alcohol as the man looks at him. 

“Have you seen yourself? It’s necessary,” the man leans in, a hot line at his side and Morpheus tries not to blush too easily ― though, knowing his skin, it’s very obvious as the man puts the shot into his hand, callused fingers brushing against his and Morpheus swallows, licking his lips as he sees black fingerless gloves on the other man. “How’d they let you in anyway?”

“I am not sure,” he replies and the man giggles, face close enough and smelling of whiskey that Morpheus leans away to down his shot, brain stuttering at the touches, at how he can see grey in the man’s beard and temples. “I wanted something different from,” he blurts, putting his tingling fingers into his pants pockets so he doesn’t reach out to see if the man’s beard is as soft as it looks. “My life.” 

The man nods, leaning against his arm and Morpheus tries not to squirm as the man stares at him, tilting his head. “If you want to do something different, then go all out,” the man smirks, leaning closer to him ― and Morpheus feels even hotter as the man obviously stares at lips ― then raises an eyebrow almost in challenge. 

[Fin]

[hollowdeath]

slytherin fashion

this is the final part of my hogwarts houses fashion posts! you can find the other houses on my masterlist

business casual

i feel like slytherins will take any chance they can to dress up, so their typical go-to look is business casual. think white collared button ups, vests, black suit jackets, and a necktie, of course. but slytherins are all about adding a little edge, so they try to tone down the professional elements with skirts, jeans, leather jackets, and a pair of headphones.

dark academia/alt

i mean, c'mon. who's doing the all black look better than slytherins? this is where a lot of our dark academia/alternative friends thrive. some like to keep it business casual still with simple silhouettes: long skirts, long jackets, turtlenecks/vests, and leather boots. others, however, go for a more casual look with shorter skirts, ripped stockings, graphic t-shirts, and tons of accessories like belts, rings, necklaces, and chains. all in black, of course.

shoes

slytherins are the house when it comes to their shoe game, and there's do debate. they take a lot of pride in their collections and keeping their favorites in good condition. it's like a bonding experience for them, talking about and showing off their shoes to each other. and, of course, they love to experiment with all kinds of styles: flats/ballet slippers, kitten heels, loafers, boots, and, above all, sneakers. even if their outfit isn't their favorite, they can always bet they have the best shoes in the room.

chaotic style

i've tried to find a name for this specific style but all i could find is bloquette (??) and uglycore (???) so i'm just gonna call it chaotic, because that's exactly how a slytherin would describe it. while some slytherins dress professionally, others prefer a more eccentric similar to their fellow ravenclaws. i'm thinking long patterned skirts, particularly plaid, along with boots or tennis shoes and tall socks, as well as random colorful jerseys.

ravenclaw | hufflepuff | gryffindor | masterlist

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 15

It had been two weeks since Loki and Claire had their first date and things were going really well between them. Both of them were infatuated with one another. Of course, when at the school working, they behaved professionally on front of the students and the other teachers, but the teachers weren’t stupid, they knew that their relationship was something more now.

Loki struggled to contain himself around her, but he kept telling himself that he wouldn’t hurt her, she was his soulmate and it was his duty to protect her.

He knew that she was ready to go further, he could smell her arousal quite often when they got heavy into kissing and touching… He just couldn’t bring himself to go further yet, he knew even if he could restrain from biting her that his other urges would go completely feral.

Though she seemed to understand whenever he eased off, explaining he just didn’t want to rush into it.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Loki received a text from Claire.

C: There’s an 80’s club night on tonight at the Rave club. Wondered if you fancied going? If you don’t have anything else on, that is. x

L: That sounds great. You’re not expecting me to dress up like the 80’s though, are you? X

C: Hah! Not at all… unless you have clothes from the 80’s and want to, but I certainly won’t be. Will I meet you there at opening? Or do you fancy grabbing a bite to eat before?

L: A bite to eat first sounds good. I’ll come pick you up in a taxi, there’s been two murders in the city in the last week, I don’t want you out at night alone. Be ready for six. X

C: My prince charming. See you then. x

Loki was glad when she didn’t argue about meeting him somewhere. Two more vampires had been killed lately, thankfully not students, but it was still bad enough. He knew that hunters must be on the rise again, it was always worrying, but they’d been through this before. Hopefully it would calm down as they went through the year, and people would begin to forget about the yearly hunt.

At least Loki hoped so, anyway.

-

Claire was super excited for her night out with Loki. She picked out a black dress that had long sleeves and a nice dip at her neck, but not too revealing. The dress went down to her calves, as it was still cold out, she didn’t want to wear one that was too short, though she knew it would end up being quite hot in the club.

She waited downstairs just inside the building, when she saw a taxi turn up, she waited for Loki to emerge before heading out. Her heart started racing straight away as she approached him, he was wearing leather trousers with a nice green shirt and a black suit jacket… Though it was the leather gloves he wore that got her attention mostly.

‘Darling, as always, you look stunning.’ He purred and cupped her cheek with his hand as he dipped down to kiss her on the lips.

Loki couldn’t stop a smirk spreading across his face when she blushed hard, he noticed her glancing at his hands a few times though she tried not to make it so obvious.

‘My lady?’ He took her hand and opened the taxi door for her.

‘Thank you.’ Claire said giddily as she climbed in.

Loki closed the door carefully after her and made his way round the car to get in the other side. She slid across to the middle seat so she could snuggle in against him, he wrapped his arm around her straight away.

‘Where are we going for food?’ Claire asked.

‘There’s a nice Italian restaurant just opened up down the road from the club, I thought would be good to try, has good reviews so far.’

‘Ohh yeah, I heard about that. I've been wanting to try it, good idea.’ Claire smiled at him.

‘I always have good ideas.’ Loki said cockily.

‘Oh I don’t know about that. Your ideas can be a bit questionable, I'm the one with the good ideas in class.’ Claire teased.

Loki mocked a gasp. ‘How dare you!’

‘I’m the brains of the outfit, I thought you knew that by now?’ She smirked.

‘I think you’re forgetting I am the boss, the one in charge of our class.’ Loki growled and dug his fingers into her side, making her squeak out a laugh and she jumped.

‘Yeah, that’s what I want you to think.’ Claire laughed.

Loki dug his fingers into her side again, making her laugh some more and she tried grabbing his hand to stop.

‘What’s the matter, ticklish?’ Loki cooed and continued his attack on her side, with his free hand he reached round to tickle her neck.

‘Aaaaah, Loki!’ Claire burst out laughing and squirmed around next to him, trying to get away but at the same time she could only squirm closer.

‘I have found your weakness, you’re in trouble now.’ Loki let out a wicked laugh as he eased off, though she was still wary about his hand at her side as she glared at him.

‘I’ll find out yours, I’m sure.’ Claire grumbled.

‘Never.’ Loki chuckled.

‘I like a challenge.’ Claire grinned.

They arrived at the Italian restaurant and thankfully the reviews weren’t wrong. It was a great little place, run by an Italian family so the food was exquisite.

‘I think I’ve found my new favourite place.’ Claire said as Loki helped her with her jacket upon leaving.

‘Mine too. Now I’m more than ready to dance all the calories off.’ Loki laughed as he patted his stomach.

Hand in hand, they made their way along the road to the club. It had been open for an hour now, so when they got in there was already plenty of people there enjoying the 80’s music. Claire was already moving her hips from the moment they stepped inside, she just loved that era of music.

‘Come on, let’s dance!’ She tried dragging Loki straight to the dancefloor, but he had other ideas and dragged her to the bar first.

‘We need to at least get a drink in hand.’ He laughed at her enthusiasm.

He ordered them both a cocktail and a shot of tequila to start them off. Claire pulled a face as she downed her shot.

‘Not like tequila?’ Loki asked in amusement.

‘Nope, tastes awful.’ Claire said as she pulled a face again.

‘Why did you take it then? You should’ve said.’ Loki said as he downed his own one.

‘Waste not want not.’ Claire shrugged, then she dragged him onto the dancefloor properly this time.

They both had fun dancing amongst the sea of bodies, they stuck close to one another, practically grinding against each other at one point. With the flow of drinks as well, Claire was well on her way to being drunk.

It took a lot more for Loki to become drunk, his vampire metabolism made him able to handle his drink better.

Though he was struggling to handle his arousal with the way Claire began grinding her ass against his crotch during one particular song. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling as he gripped her hips tightly.

‘Darling, you’re pushing your luck.’ He growled into her ear as he turned her around to face him.

‘Maybe that’s my aim.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him innocently.

‘Oh, don’t try to look innocent, you’re far from it.’ He rumbled as he gripped her chin and couldn’t refrain from kissing her deeply, their tongues moved together as they wrapped each other up in their arms and pulled as tight as possible.

Claire could feel a very distinct bulge pressing against her stomach, knowing she’d gotten him this riled up made her almost cream her knickers. And of course, Loki could smell her.

‘Maybe, uhm… if we go out back, I could perhaps help you out with your little situation?’ Claire spoke right into his ear.

Loki was so close to tossing her over his shoulder and taking her out back to take her up on that delightful offer… Though he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that one thing would definitely lead to another.

He cupped her face in both hands and pecked her on the lips again. ‘Let’s go outside… but to talk.’ He said firmly, it was too loud inside to speak properly so he took her hand and they weaved through the crowd together.

There was a hold up by the door, as it was right next to the bar so they had to wait a second for people to move so they could continue out. Someone bumped right in against Claire’s behind, she whipped her head around to look, but her eyes widened as she saw it was Chris.

He smirked and winked at her, but she was tugged forward by Loki as he found a gap to get through. She turned to look where she was going but quickly looked back, though Chris was gone.

‘Darling, are you ok?’ Loki asked when they reached the door, he noticed she was looking around.

‘I just thought I saw… never mind.’ She shook her head.

Maybe it was someone that just looked like Chris. Though even if it had actually been him, there was no point telling Loki he was here, it would only annoy him anyway.

Loki took her round the side of the club, where it was quiet and no one else was around.

‘Claire, I am going to be completely honest with you. I adore you, so damn much. I want nothing more than to have you on your knees right now and have your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.’ His voice deepened as he brushed his thumb along her lower lip, both of them swallowed hard at the thought.

Loki cleared his throat to continue. ‘I am worried that I will hurt you, I have quite strong… urges. I’m scared that I can’t control myself with you and I'll go too far, that I’ll scare or hurt you.’

Claire frowned and put her hands around his neck. ‘What do you mean? I know you’d never hurt me, and you could never scare me, what are you talking about?’

He smiled and felt so warmed at her words. If only she knew the truth though… she would probably run a mile.

‘You’re such a delicate flower, I will not allow myself to get too carried away and hurt you. I just need to go slowly, so I can maintain myself better with you.’

‘I won’t break, I can handle a little rough, if that’s what you mean? Though I understand if you want to go slow, I won’t rush you at all. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit pushy.’ She said sheepishly.

Loki grinned and stroked her hair. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, believe me when I say I want the same as you do… I dream every night of having you writhing around in pleasure beneath me, being able to hear your moans as I make you cum…’

Loki realised he was saying the wrong words entirely if he was trying to keep their urges calm.

‘Not helping, Loki.’ Claire groaned and pressed her head against his chest.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. ‘Sorry, darling.’

‘I blame you for my frustration.’ She said, muffled against him.

‘Delayed gratification, will make it all the better when we do get down and dirty.’ He purred and slid his hands down her arms.

‘If you say so.’ Claire looked up at him and giggled.

-

Chris had indeed been at the club, he didn’t stay for long though, he had just been looking for any unsuspecting drunken humans he could feed from.

And he found one.

A young woman foolishly left her friends at the club and decided to walk home, all alone. When she was making her way through the park, along the dark tree-line, that’s when Chris pounced.

He approached her from the front with a kind smile on his face. ‘Why hello there, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here, all alone, hmm?’

The woman was clearly uneasy as she eyed him up and down. While she was drunk, she wasn’t completely out of it, and alarm bells of stranger danger ran through her mind.

‘I’m fine. Away to meet my boyfriend.’ She said and quickened her pace away from him, cutting across the grass.

Chris sensed her heartbeat quicken in fear, he could smell it in the air too, making him lick his lips as he stalked after her, hot on her heels.

‘Now, now. No need to run off so’ He was cut off as a bolt came flying down and pierced into the grass right between him and the woman.

His head snapped round to find the source, he spotted a cloaked figure on the bridge lowering a crossbow. As he turned back to look at his prey, she had taken that opportunity of distraction to run as fast as she possibly could across the park, away from him.

Chris hissed as he grabbed the bolt out of the ground, he stormed over to the bridge to confront the cloaked figure. He assumed it was some puny wannabe hunter, that was clearly rubbish at their job for missing him.

‘You missed.’ Chris snarled as he stepped onto the bridge.

A low chuckle came from under the cloak. ‘Did I? My task was to save the human, I’d say that’s exactly what I did.’

Chris’ eyes widened, it was a female hunter.

‘I believe this is yours.’ He growled and snapped the bolt in two before tossing it to the feet of the hunter.

She turned towards him and flipped her hood down, revealing her face. Chris took a moment as he stared at her and his nostrils flared, gathering her scent, then his eyes widened and he laughed.

‘My my, if it isn’t the famous vampire hunter, Toshi Vernier.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I should’ve recognised that stench of yours a mile away.’ He spat. ‘Where have you been hiding for all of these years, I thought you died a brutal death?’

‘I’ve come back from the dead.’ Toshi smirked. ‘I know what you’re up to, Chris. Trying to erase the humans, to let vampires take over, but it won’t work.’

‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ Chris asked as he began to take slow, menacing steps towards her. Though her heartbeat remained steady, it never changed. She wasn’t scared of him. Or if she was, she was able to control her fear, unlike others.

‘Because I won’t let you, neither will your brother and his friends. You underestimate their strength.’

‘You know nothing.’ Chris snapped as he started circling her, but her heartbeat still remained the same.

‘I know that you’re really trying his patience over his soulmate. You have no idea what strength can be gained from a vampire being with their soulmate, they would do anything to protect them... I’m not going to do nothing while you get innocent people killed, that includes vampires. Your actions are attracting more hunters, which means more deaths of your kind. I know Loki won’t just sit back and watch either.’ Toshi said calmly as she waited for him to walk back round into her line of view.

‘What do you know of a vampire’s soulmate?’ He hissed, getting agitated. ‘How do you know so much about my brother? What do you care about vampires? You’re a hunter.’

‘You’re not the only one that can creep about unnoticed. The legends may say that you’re all mighty and powerful, but you’re nothing more than an unruly vampire that’s lost his way, letting his feral urges take over. Alienating everyone, family and friends… if you had any friends in the first place, that is. Since you keep getting fellow vampires killed.’

Chris lunged for her, but Toshi managed to dodge him, just. She leapt over the side of the bridge and landed on her feet at the riverside below. She flipped her hood back up just as Chris jumped down after her, his eyes a deep dark red.

‘And for the record. I am a hunter. But not a vampire hunter anymore… well, not the good ones, anyway.’ Toshi shrugged.

Chris made a move for her again, but Toshi threw down two garlic bombs that exploded instantly. Chris began coughing as he was shrouded in strong garlic powder. He yelled in anger as the park started to spin, he couldn’t focus properly.

It took him a minute to shake off the effects, though he could still feel it in the back of his throat, making him cough harshly. He looked around the park, but there was no sign of Toshi anymore. Like she had just vanished into thin air.

He cried out angrily and turned into his bat form to fly away, hungry and incredibly annoyed.

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 18

All right, my lovies, this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue and then the story is done. Thank you all who joined me down this amazing AU. It’s been a blast.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

***

Turns out what they were going to do the night of the gala was Mandy was allowed to invite her bandmates over for a party. There was going to be snacks and pizza and movies. They could stay up as late as they wanted and Eddie and the Grants were even okay with their sons staying the night for a sleepover.

When she learned that the event was going to take place the Saturday after her finals, she was sooo glad that she had listened to her dad and agreed not to go. Trying to study and do her finals during the week from hell, would have straight up killed her.

Edie also had to grudgingly admit that the party sounded way more fun than waltzing around in high heels and a pretty dress with people that were only trying to schmooze to get money out of other people. No parents, just her and her friends having a blast.

Plus she had fun prom, why would she want to go to boring prom?

But she helped her dad pick out his suit for the event. He looked hot in it.

“Is Mr Munson coming?” she asked as she tried to decide between a black pocket square and the white one.

Steve sighed. “He’s been invited every year by Uncle Dusty for the last ten years, and he’s never came, so the chances aren’t good.”

Edie pouted. “That’s too bad. That outfit he wore the prom was kickass. I was looking forward to seeing what he would come up with for a more formal event like this.”

Steve smiled at the memory and blushed. “Me, too.”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Have fun anyway even if he doesn’t come. You work hard for this every year. Have fun with it.”

He kissed the top of her head fiercely. “I promise you’ll be my plus one next year.”

“You better!” she teased. Her eyelids half closed. “Or...and hear me out, your plus one could be a certain metal producer...”

Steve blushed even darker. “Do you think I’m ready?”

The teasing smile slid off her face and she sat him down. “You know your therapist is going to say that’s something for you to decide, but my opinion is that you are. You have worked so hard these last few months and while there have been a couple of low points, it’s clear you’re better equipped to handle that.”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. You’re right. I can’t wait to be perfect, because that’s never going to happen. But I’m getting all the right tools and we know how to communicate better now.”

Edie sat down next to him and she picked up his right hand. “You know, it’s so strange not seeing that ring on your hand anymore.”

Steve thumb rubbed the underside of his ring finger instinctively. “It’s weird for me too. I used to panic in the morning thinking I’d lost it only to remember that it’s in the safest place for it. Back on Eddie’s finger.”

Edie smiled. “I think you have your answer, Dad.”

He smiled at her. “So it seems.”

*

Eddie was as dressed up as much he tolerated. He wore skin tight leather pants with chunky boots. His black silk shirt was tucked loosely into the pants with a black and silver belt that had chains dangling off it artistically. The shirt was only part of the way buttoned and showed off the many chains and necklaces around his neck. He wore a suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up to show off the bracelets and bangles on his wrists. All of his rings were on today and a single upside down cross dangled from his left ear.

In short, he did not belong here. He had even said as much to Dustin and Suzie six times already.

And he was about to add a seventh. “Look at these people, Dustin! Her necklace probably costs more than my entire outfit.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “She also probably rented it for the night. Chill out, dude. You’re making me nervous and I’ve been to every one of these things.”

Eddie sighed. “How the hell did I let you talk me into this anyway?”

“Because it’s a cause you feel strongly about,” Dustin growled. “It’s about getting music and music education into deaf and hard of hearing schools. It’s about sharing music in new and exciting ways for people who might not otherwise get the chance.”

Eddie sighed again. “I’m surprised this charity is as popular as it. I’m seeing legit movie stars here, man.”

Dustin looked around for a moment and then points to an actor with thinning hair and glasses. “It’s because of a little movie he did, that came out like a month after the charity was formed.”

Eddie’s eyes followed to where Dustin was pointing and there was Richard Dreyfus talking to Steve Harrington and he gulped. “Oh.”

Suddenly the whole night made sense. Steve had come out hard of hearing in August of ‘95 and that December ‘Mr Holland’s Opus’ came out. Forming a charity when he did was brilliant. But that was Steve, he was intuitive that way.

He wave his hand Steve’s direction. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t be here. Look at how well Steve blends seamlessly with actors, musicians, and sports stars alike.”

Steve was wearing a gem tone blue suit with a black button up and matching pocket square. He had a glass of something bubbly in his hand as he laughed at something the renowned actor was saying.

Dustin pushed Eddie’s shoulder. “Dude, you must have been to a ton of these parties for your music, why are you freaking out now?”

That brought Eddie up short. He had been to a ton of these kind of things before. Just never with Steve looking like he’d walked right off the pages of a fashion magazine.

“What if I say or do something that makes him look bad?”

Dustin frowned. “Who? Steve?”

Eddie nodded, lips pursed. “He worked so hard for this, I don’t want to come bumbling in and wreck it for him.”

Dustin’s expression softened. “You can’t do any worse than the actress in ‘99 when threw wine at the wrong guy thinking he was her ex and then tried to strip so that she could drown herself in the punch bowl.”

Eddie blinked. “That didn’t really happen, did it?”

“Oh yeah,” Dustin said. “It was a nightmare.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side and thought about it. “Huh. I guess you’re right.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to be right in order for you to believe me?”

“He really needs to check his ego,” a warm voice came from behind them.

Eddie turned around and smiled fondly. “It’s his tone, right?”

Steve grinned. “Always.”

Eddie came forward and hugged Steve. “It’s good to see you.”

Steve pressed his face close to his. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Eddie’s heart started beating wildly in his chest. He felt like they were on the cusp of something great.

“Not gonna lie,” he said fondly, “shit like this always terrifies me.”

Steve only stepped back far enough that they weren’t cheek to cheek anymore but still hugging. “Me, too.”

Eddie’s smile was soft. “Yeah? Then we can be nervous together.”

Dustin huffed out his annoyance. “Unless you two want to be all the talk of the gossip rags tomorrow, you may want to put a little bit of space between you.”

Steve and Eddie laughed, but they only moved so that they were standing side by side with one arm around each other’s waists.

Dustin rolled his eyes again. “I take it back, I don’t want you two as a couple, you’ll be insufferable.”

They both grinned.

“There are so many famous people here...” Eddie whispered, practically plastering himself against Steve’s side.

“Who do you want to meet and I’ll introduce you,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie chewed on his lip a moment before whispering it in Steve’s ear.

Steve chuckled. “Sure thing, sunshine. We can start there.”

Dustin just shook his head as he watched them walk away. Suzie came up to him with a glass of champagne and glass of juice for her.

“You not drinking tonight, honeybee?” he asked her as he took his glass from her.

She shook her head with a smile. “Found out this morning when the doctor’s office called to confirm it.”

Dustin turned to her, his eyes wide.

“It appears the last insemination worked.”

He took her drink from her and both of their glasses on a nearby table. He hugged and kissed her. “We’re having a baby?”

She nodded shyly, rubbing her belly gently. “They want me on bed rest starting in a couple of weeks, to make sure it really takes. But yes. We’re having a baby.”

“I love you,” Dustin whispered.

“I know.”

*

Eddie was actually starting to have fun. Steve was a malicious gossip and he weaponized that fact to make Eddie laugh.

He was trying to hide his giggles in Steve’s neck when Robin and Viv came up to them.

“You two look cozy,” Viv said with a grin.

Eddie straightened up and looked at her with curiosity. “Oh hello.”

“Munson,” Robin greeted.

Eddie looked over at her then back at Viv.

“Two pretty birdies,” he said with a smile.

Robin laughed. She had forgotten in the years of hurt and separation how funny he was.

“Viv,” she said, “This is Eddie Munson, music producer. Eddie, this is my fiancee, Viv.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other in shock.

Steve scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around. “Oh my God! I’m so happy for you. When did this happen?”

He set her back down and immediately Viv took her hand. “I proposed this morning. It’s not going to be official until tomorrow.”

“Congrats,” Eddie said with a soft smile and gentle tilt of his head.

“We wanted you to be the first to know,” Robin told Steve.

“I’m honored,” Steve said. “Now go have fun.”

They nodded, but Robin hesitated a moment before giving Eddie a hug. “I’m sorry.”

He hugged her back fiercely. “Me, too, Birdie. Me too.”

Robin nodded and Viv and she walked off hand in hand.

Steve turned to Eddie. “I think you just got the best friend seal of approval.”

Eddie blinked. “You think?”

Steve tried to fight back the smile but failed. He nodded.

“That’s good to know.”

They stood there, warm and content by each other’s side. Then the DJ started up and people began to dance to the music.

“Dance with me,” Steve breathed into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie looked into his eyes and then nodded.

Steve led them to the dance floor and he took Eddie’s hand in his and placed the other on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s remaining hand was warm on Steve’s side.

Steve sighed and laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “Getting tired?”

Steve nodded and buried his face into Eddie’s neck. “I usually sleep it off over the next couple of days.”

“You work too hard, baby,” he murmured into Steve’s ear.

Steve sighed and let Eddie rock them back and forth to the music. He wasn’t sure if it was luck, Robin paying the DJ off, Jeff paying the DJ off, or just the DJ noticing their little dance, but the next song was a slow song too.

After a moment or so just moving in a small circle, Steve murmured, “I’m ready now.”

Eddie reared his head back to try and get a better look at him, when it hit him. “Yeah?”

“Like I told Edie,” Steve whispered, “I can’t keep waiting for the perfect moment. The time when I’m one hundred percent better. Because I know I’ll never be. And that’s not fair to you or to me. So this is me saying yes.”

He lifted his head up to gaze into Eddie’s eyes. He must saw something he liked, because he was pressing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheeks and deepened the kiss as Steve clutched at his sides.

“I think we were always meant to be here, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back.

“All my roads were always going to lead back to you, sunshine,” Steve admitted. “I love you so much. I always have, I think I always will.”

Eddie kissed him again just as fireworks started going off.

They broke off giggling, just holding on to each other as the ridiculousness of kissing to fireworks got to them.

Jeff came over and patted them both on the shoulder. “It took you guys long enough.”

Eddie playfully pushed at his friend. “I had to go through all that to get to here, man. I don’t think it would have worked otherwise.”

Steve nodded. “I think so too. Young idiots in love wouldn’t have been the same as two people loving each other and growing together as mature adults.”

Jeff nodded and then gathered them both up for a huge group hug.

“Hey, what would you say about getting the band back together?” Jeff asked Eddie. “Gareth’s on board.”

Eddie shook his head. “We’d need a bassist and I wouldn’t want to tour with some stranger.”

Jeff grinned. “Well the thing about that…” he looked over at Steve.

Steve pointed at himself in confusion. “Me? I mean I know how to play the bass, but...” he turned to Jeff slowly. “You rat bastard, you’ve been teaching me how to play for this very reason!”

Jeff threw his head back and laughed. “You better believe it, Stevie boy!”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “You have been playing quite the long game, Jeffrey Nicholas Lawrence.”

Jeff grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Just wait until you hear what I have planned!”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Yeah, all right,” Steve said with a fond shake of his head. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Eddie put his arm around Steve’s waist and listened to his best friend talk about touring after their kids graduated from high school and how it would all work with a smile.

Moving back to Indiana was the best idea Jeff ever had.

***

Epilogue

A note about Suzie’s pregnancy, when you’re told you can’t have kids you think any missed period is just stress. Then after the third month of not getting her period she went to the doctor and they told she was pregnant (from personal experience).

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186 

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋʟᴇʏ — ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — three shots fired : two to the body , one through the heart .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.1k

my demons are begging me to open up my mouth

i need them, mechanically make the words come out

they fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce

ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about

jake lockley was a simple man. or at least that's what he likes to think. he was created by marc's subconscious to protect him from distress and physical harm. that was his reason for existence. nothing more, nothing less.

but the reality was that he was a broken man, much like his alters steven and marc. he was born from abuse, like steven, and his sole purpose was to shield that little boy from the horrors of his mother's pain. he shares a body with two others, needing to hide in the shadows because they absolutely cannot know about his existence nor the blood in his hands when marc's have been stained red enough that his conscience can't wash it all away.

he did not need to place the burdens he carries to his brothers, he was their protector and if staying in the dark and letting them be oblivious to his presence was the only way to protect them, then so be it.

jake was the one who took the hits for them, used his fist on those that dared try and harm the body, pounding the offender's face over and over until their face was black and blue and unrecognizable. even if it meant the boys would wake up to split skin on his knuckles. jake lockley is the system's protector, nothing is going to change that.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

when marc became moon knight, jake briefly took over the body and had confronted the 7 foot tall skeletal bird known as khonshu, the egyptian god of the moon and the night sky. he sees all and knows all despite being unknown by the other two.

at first he demands khonshu to release marc from their agreement knowing it will lead to more danger and marc, the original, cannot be harmed. he tried hard to fight for marc's freedom much to the god's entertainment before striking another deal with jake.

on the day marc gains his freedom from being khonshu's avatar, he shall take his place instead. why look for another avatar when there's a completely different person residing in marc's body that marc (and steven) is unaware of?

but jake? jake had other plans. he told khonshu he'll be his avatar then and there, to let him take on the bloodier and brutal missions to spare marc any more bodies in his hands. he'll take them for him instead. this, of course, amuses khonshu who promptly agreed. their body was never going to be free from his clutches and the egyptian deity was going to take full advantage of the man's brokenness to do his bidding.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

the job was easy for jake. he's used to a life of violence, letting his fists do the talking to get the answers he needed. he fought until his body held a constellation of bruises that don't easily fade away because he doesn't want to wear the ceremonial suit like marc.

instead he prefers his usual clothes consisting of his signature flat cap, a jacket, a white dress shirt underneath with a black tie done neatly, pressed trousers and black belt and some nice leather shoes.

what he did accept from khonshu was a pair of leather gloves, the knuckles of them designed with a faded crescent moon, to symbolize that he was doing the egyptian god's dirty (well, dirtier) work.

jake doesn't front often, only coming out when its necessary or when his brothers are sound asleep. some days he'd wake up in steven's warm flat, other times it's in that godawful tiny storage room marc uses. either way, he'd get up in the dead of the night, taking control of the body in what little time he has before letting it rest, relinquishing control to the other two once more when the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

most missions that jake partakes in are always the same. it's either a weasley person trying their hardest to evade getting caught by this mysterious person that's dwindling the numbers of their group or a particularly difficult man to put down. on cases like the latter, jake would use a gun or dagger. if his fists can't take them down, these things surely will.

it's gruesome to say the least, the way he can only come out when he's required to by his duty as khonshu's avatar or when marc faces imminent danger. he never needed to take control over steven because the brit wasn't in any danger working at the museum.

the only time he took over steven was to ask that one coworker of his out for steak. shame she thought it was steven, but he can't exactly give himself away in steven's workplace. poor man didn't need any more confusion and mess when he's already on his boss' bad side. steven didn't need jake to add another reason to her ever growing list to hate him.

selfish, taking what I want and call it mine

i'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine

they rush me, telling me I'm running out of time

they shush me (sssh), walking me across a fragile line

the only time jake gets to front for a long time, say two days, is when the system is exhausted. if marc pushed himself too hard or steven tried staying up all night again, jake gets absolute freedom for a few days.

he works as a cabbie, it's a method he uses to lure the poor victims on khonshu's hit list. one day, the door to his cab opens, to lo and behold, beautiful, innocent you.

jake never believed in love at first sight, he thinks it's cringe and stupid but you, oh you just proved him wrong.

dressed in a simple yellow sundress and white cardigan to maintain decency, you were a pop of color amongst london's gray streets and brick walls. you looked like sunshine after the rain personified.

you greeted him with a smile, telling him where you were headed, a psychiatric hospital near the general hospital. he was never one to make small talk with his innocent customers, until you. you who made jake break nearly every rule he's told himself since he cannot front for long periods of time. but you? oh he had quite the fun talking to you.

on the short trip it took to take you there, he had managed to learn that you work there as a permanent staff. he also learned of your name, testing the way it rolls off his tongue and ended up sounding like music to his ears. you gladly indulged his questions, a naturally friendly person, he notes to himself as he listens to you talk in his backseat, occasionally watching you through his rearview mirror.

it's another thing he finds out he likes about you but he can't help but worry if people would dare try and take advantage of you with your sweet smiles and lovely personality. jake shouldn't really bother himself with such thoughts but he found it hard to resist, not when it comes to you he realizes.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

khonshu knows about jake's new fascination with you. he'd often remind the man to forget about you, that you'd be nothing but a mere distraction to the higher purpose he's taken jake in.

on the rare times jake fronts in broad daylight, he would wait for your morning shift to end, parked outside the psychiatric hospital's door, leaning against his car with a cigarette lit and between his lips, the nicotine burning warmth into his lungs as he puffs out the smoke to london's every chilly air.

you'd come out of the doors mere minutes later in your casual clothes, the colors making your eyes stand out more as you smile and wave at him, bounding towards him with a giggle. he'd put out his cigarette, stomp it with the sole of his shoe before opening his arms to a welcoming embrace.

more often than not he'd lead you to his car with an arm slung over your shoulders, getting as close as he can amd enveloping himself in your floral and nectarine scent. he likes how your perfume lingers on the fabric of his jacket sometimes, it makes him feel like you're still with him even if he dropped you home hours ago.

jake began to pick you up more often on the two months marc and steven's worlds began to collide. he took advantage of marc's grief of the loss of his mother and steven's apparent confusion of missing days in his work.

he used those two months to build the relationship he has with you now, still platonic but there was definitely something more. if your lingering touches and flirty quips were anything to prove.

so he waits for you in the cold london air during the end of your shifts, sometimes even takes you to work when your night shift starts if he has the chance, and you'd always greet him with a smile and wave.

one time though, khonshu decided he's had enough of jake's silly little crush on you. it's past 7 in the morning, jake's driving you home and you were sat in the back and talking his ear off about the things that happened during your shift. he'd laugh and make a comment or two but he's more focused on driving, choosing to enjoy the sound of your voice as he does so. but the god has other plans.

he materializes himself, seated next to your oblivious self, just within jake's peripheral in the rearview mirror. the sight of the skeletal bird next to you has him tightening his hold on the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were definitely white under the leather gloves he wore.

he hates seeing the god next to you, his tall and boney form too undeserving of your sunshine and warmth, not that khonshu wanted either of those.

"i told you to stop meeting this woman jake." khonshu reminds him, to which he only responds with a clench of his jaw, "¡no te atrevas a tocarla!" he grumbles under his breath. "what was that jake?" you ask, curious and innocent to the 7 foot tall god next to you threatening him about you.

"do you really think she'll still love you, no— like you once she finds out who you really are?" the egyptian deity goads, thumping his staff on his car's floor.

"¡cállate, maldito pájaro!" he cusses out, a little harsher, a little louder this time. it makes your brows furrow, moving to the edge of your seat as you place a hand on the back of his seat on the driver's side.

"no, really jake... are you okay?" you were concerned for him, which warms his heart but does not ease the foreboding feeling of fear that he was about to lose you. he fights himself not to think about it right now, not while you are still around.

"estoy bien, neña. no te preocupes." you were glad to have taken your spanish classes in highschool seriously, often mingling with patients in the hospital who also spoke the language. "if you say so. but! if you need a friend to talk to, i'm always here for you."

of course, that's the type of person you were. kind, caring, to jake you were the most precious person there is in his otherwise bleak life. like a soft patch of grass and wildflowers in the otherwise dry land he calls life.

"por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera." he smiles, not wanting to worry you any further.

khonshu slams his scepter down once more, the echo loud in jake's ears as the threat of the god's words loom over him like his skeletal shadow before fading out of sight.

"stop this jake, while i am letting you or else i will do it for you."

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

he would never allow khonshu to get his hands on you. he may be the god he serves but he wasn't going to let him dictate his life. though deep down jake knew better than to go against him because he would never want you to get hurt. especially because of him. and if disappearing quietly from your life is what keeps you out of harm's way, then so be it.

it's been two weeks since jake last picked you up. he's avoided fronting as much as he could, only coming out whenever he's called in the middle of the night.

you thought he was just busy. he was a cabbie after all, he had other people to pick up and bring to their destinations. he won't always be available to take you home. doesn't mean you didn't miss him though. jake has made a small home in your heart, driving his way into your life and permanently parking himself there, a spot dedicated to jake and only jake.

he was the highlight of your day whenever he would come around the psych hospital, all the fatigue and weariness easing off your bones once he'd sling his arm around you.

so these past two weeks, your heart quietly sinks when you don't see his cab parked just outside the doors of the hospital, a cold puff of air greeting you instead of jake's warm embrace as he meets you, smelling of cigarette and leather and musk. you'd end your shift a little disheartened as you hail a cab to bring you home, always secretly hoping it was jake who would stop and take you in.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake missed you as well in those two weeks, terribly so. it felt like hell being in the dark corner's of steven and marc's consciousness where he'd wonder how you were doing, if you were okay. if you missed him like he missed you. you did, but he didn't know. couldn't know because of the risk he knows he'll put you under if he fronts to meet you.

it's half past two in the morning when he's able to grab hold of the body, his movements sluggish because none of them were getting enough rest with marc drinking his memories away when khonshu wasn't sending him off to places, steven would stay up late just to catch himself and keep himself from doing god knows what in his sleep and jake, who'd take control of their shared body at the wee hours of the night, barely an hour of sleep in their system but does he care right now? no. why? because two weeks of being away from you was hell and he won't stand another second of not being in your presence.

so he throws the sheets off their body, puts on more presentable clothes from steven's wardrobe since he was the one fronting during the day these past weeks. he found a simple gray sweatshirt and hoodie, exchanged his pajama pants for a pair of jeans and protected his feet with a pair of old sneakers the brit rarely wears.

after that he takes his time to walk to you, not caring if it would take him a while. he'd use this time to think carefully about what to say to you if he manages to even catch your attention while you work. or maybe you'd be on a quick break? he hopes so.

hold me down now

hold me down now

hold me down

jake was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't realize he was already at the hospital had it not been for your hands holding his shoulders. "jake?" came your voice, soft culverts coming out in a whisper that rings so loudly and lovely in his ears in the silence of london's empty streets. he snaps out of his trance upon hearing your voice, so sweet and kind.

wordlessly, he pulls you in an embrace, not caring at the moment if khonshu was watching his every movement, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. at first you were surprised, unsure on whether or not to reciprocate but in the end you do.

how could you not when your heart misses him so? even if he smelled different, like old books and clean linens, there was a scent you'd recognize anywhere that belongs solely to jake.

with your arms wrapped around his form, holding his body against yours as you breathe him in. he was real and he was holding you. it soothes the yearning that settled in your body in an instant. he was real and he felt like a safety net, anchoring you back to shore, rescuing you just in time to pull you back above waters before you sink into a sea of emotional turmoil.

that night in each other's embrace, you both felt like you'd come home after a long and exhausting day of being so far apart from each other. in that silence, you had both found solace and understanding where you stood in each other's lives. he was special to you as you were to him. jake had put up a delicate white fence over the luscious green grass and blooming flowers you had planted in his heart, his own garden in his desert he calls life. you were his oasis.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me I was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

after that visit, jake slips away from your grasp again. steven and marc had found themselves in cairo, quietly lending them a hand when it mattered, saving them when their life began teetering close to the edge and quietly returning to his corner. they didn't need to know about him. not yet, not while his hands remain bloody and his ledger dripping red like waterfalls.

he helped marc amd steven out of sticky situations, even saving layla a few times as well. he thinks it's nice that marc had found a safe haven of his own with the woman but jake can't help but feel a little angry and jealous because he can't have you that way. not when they share the same body and face. so he took that bubbling anger out on the poor soul that had tried to hurt him, knuckles bloody and raw from punching so their face it's almost unrecognizable with all the blood pouring from their head to their mouth.

even though he was helping the two out in stopping an ancient god from killing off millions of people, jake's selfishness can't help but think of you during your time apart. he misses you even more now, he realizes. he wonders if he'll be able to see you again after this.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake was proud of marc from his hidden corner of their consciousness when he refused to kill harrow, against khonshu's orders. he felt happy that his brother no longer had to stain his hands any redder than they should. but deep down jake knew he would be the one to end it all. after all, he is their protector (and with his affections for you, that extended to you as well).

he knew that khonshu would call for him one day soon to finish what marc cannot, for he is, after all, the one that carries the burden of dirtying his hands for them.

that was the deal he had bargained for his brother/s after all.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake finds himself in front of your hospital one afternoon when they returned from their duty in egypt. harrow was sent here, an idea he had left in marc's subconscious. in reality, it was just so he'd be able to see a glimpse of you.

selfish as it was, he thinks it's the only way he can see you again. he takes hold of harrow's wheelchair from a nurse, telling her in spanish that he was there for him. she had seemed to understand and let him be, moving on to a different patient to care for.

jake walks down the halls of the hospital, hoping to see even the faintest glimpse of your bright smile but to no avail. what he doesn't know though, was that you had seen him first, unsure in the beginning but you saw his signature cap and gloves and you knew for sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

he was back and he was taking one of the patients admitted at the ward? throughout the time he's picked you up and took you home, he's never said anything about knowing someone in here. you followed him silently, asking one of your co-workers to cover for you a bit.

you see him take arthur harrow inside a limo you didn't know he drove, kicking the wheelchair with such anger it makes you pause in your steps just a little ways from the exit. you see him enter the driver's side, windows rolled up and slams the door shut, you took that as cue to make your way out. you approach the limo with hesitant steps, about to knock on the tinted windows when you see two flashes of light from inside the car, the muffled sound of a gun ringing so loud it has you gasping, snatching your hand back before it lands on the glass.

jake did what he had to, he sought justice to the death their body suffered from when harrow shot them within the dig site where steven discovered ammit's ushabti. it was time to repay the favor, he had shot them twice so he thought it was only fair to do the same. though this time, arthur harrow won't have the same chance to return to the land of the living the way marc and steven did. he had to atone for his sins, there was no redemption for arthur harrow.

but he hears something outside his limo, makes him roll his windows down just a tiny bit only to see your shaken form right outside, fear and shock evident in your features; from the way you held your hands, holding yourself as you took some steps back and away from the white vehicle. jake knew right there and then that he had scared you away, that he might have just lost you. the god in his backseat remained quiet, his presence like a foreboding shadow.

"i told you to stop seeing her didn't i jake lockley? did you really think she'll accept the life you live, the blood staining your hands?"

a part of jake knew that the tall bird was correct but he didn't want to accept it, he couldn't— wouldn't believe it. he loves you and he knows you do too, if that one late night visit says anything about how you two felt about each other. but the longer he stared at your scared form, the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, the more jake began to realize he had to get away.

yes marc didn't deserve to know about the red on his hands...

translations:

¡no te atrevas a tocarla! — don't you fucking dare touch her

estoy bien, nena. no te preocupes. — i'm fine baby. don't worry.

por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera. — of course sweetheart. now sit properly, can't have you injuring yourself somehow.

[sweetestofchaos]

BNAA: About Time | M.YG x K.SJ

🔪Pairing: Alpha Gang Boss!Yoongi x Omega Maid!Seokjin

🔪 Rating: 18+

🔪 Genre: gang au, dead dove, parent au, a/b/o, angst, fluff, smut, mxm, mpreg

🔪 Warnings: murder, blood, torture (described), drowning, stabbing, physical violence, unprotected sex, knotting, fingering, slick/cum eating, anal sex, oral, breast feeding, lactation kink (if you squint), a/b/o dynamics, scenting, strong language.

🔪 Word Count: 11.2k

Standing at the top of the world, Bangtan's Alpha leader Min Youngi isn't looking for anything. He has all he needs here with his pack, at least that's what he thought until the new maid that was hired walks into his office, Omega Kim Seokjin.

a/n:  this story is completely fiction. it was written for the daddy’s home fest hosted by @btsfests. if i missed any warnings, please let me know. if you would like to scream in my ask box, feel free it is open. for the sake of time, i did not have this fic betaed, if you see any major mistakes, please let me know.

fest masterlist 🔪 ao3 🔪series masterlist

🔪chapter one 🔪chapter two

It’s late into the night, the moon is hidden behind a soft overcast of grey tinted clouds. Stars twinkle bright and yet little light spills into the house surrounded by a thick forest. Cordless bamboo blinds keep the house dark with the added protection of pleated taupe blackout curtains throughout the house. Yoongi sits in a wide office chair, large and comfortable, ebony in color with brass tipped legs and matching nail head direction around the hem to offset the black fabric of the chair.

A small golden lamp with a black rounded shade, sits on a dark wooden desk; it gives enough light to bathe the room in a soft glow. The sound of keys clicking fills the air along with the scrap of a pen against paper. Somewhere in the hallway, a grandfather clock chimes on the hour and the sound of clicking stops. The pen is set down and Yoongi heaves a deep sigh, his pale fingers pushing his black hair from his face as he leans back in the chair and stares up at the mini crystal chandelier. 

Yoongi’s body is relaxed but his face is tense, there is a furrow between his brows and his mouth is pulled into a frown. The room is drenched in the scent of burnt thyme, spicy and sharp as he thinks over the events of today. Someone had tried to steal a quarter of a billion won from him. They had no chance of getting away with it but he felt annoyed by the act. He wasn’t impressed, he was pissed. The idiots had spit on his name and like any good alpha, it was his job to gain that respect back.

It didn’t take long to gather the lower members of the gang, the foot soldiers and runners. They flocked to him like moths to a flame. They were desperate to become part of the Min Pack and followed his every command. Yoongi stood before them, dressed in a brand new two piece suit from Valentino.

It was a tanned blush, slightly muted with a blush linen shirt that had a scarf collar underneath. It was a handsome suit and he made it a point to stand there with his hair parted in the middle, leather boots on his feet and gold rings on his fingers. The other member of his innermost circle, his true pack, stood behind him. Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin were terrifying to look at with cold eyes and even colder hearts. 

Yoongi was powerful. He was the pack alpha and once he snapped his fingers, two members of his inner circle, Jungkook and Taehyung (the terror twins he liked to refer to them as) dragged two beta males out to stand before him with their hands tied together in front of them.

Yoongi kept his composure, asked if they had any last words and didn’t flinch when one of them spit at his feet. He simply scoffed out a laugh as his lips twitched and nodded his head. Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no time in dragging the men in front of two large metal waste bins filled with water. Yoongi didn’t take his eyes off the men as his pack mates pushed them head first into the water. The men struggled to break free but it was useless. Yoongi held his hand up and they were pulled from the water, coughing and sputtering. 

The stench of piss was strong in the air and Yoongi could hear Jimin grumble to himself in disgust in the background. Yoongi stared at the betas before him and cocked his head as they struggled to breath properly with water in their lungs. He looked around at the others around him  and grinned, his canines sharp and white in the moonlight and fire. He licked his lips and clasped his hands behind his back before he nodded his head once more. The betas were shoved back into the water. Their legs kicked and banged against the tins, water splashed onto the ground and soon their bodies slumped unmoving. 

Jungkook and Taehyung held them under a little longer just to be safe before they threw the lifeless bodies onto the ground in front of the lower pack members. The threat was clear and Yoongi turned on his heel, walking away with his packmates behind him.

In his office, Yoongi sighs and runs a hand over his face. He can smell gasoline on his clothing and the faint trace of blood from the dirt that touched the bottom of his pants. The thought of a shower passes his mind and Yoongi pushes himself away from his desk. A shower before bed sounds wonderful. Leaving his office, Yoongi walks down the hall with his hands in his pockets and he hums to himself. No one is awake at this time. The maids are all sound asleep in the lower levels of the estate, along with the cooks. 

In the bathroom, Yoongi strips off his suit and lets it fall to the floor in a pile of wrinkled fabric. It looks out of place, very bright compared to the tans and black of the bathroom. The floor tile is a tan and white marble while the walls are black and tan marble. The hardware is all black with a beautiful white floating sink that could easily fit a medium sized dog in it. There are two shower heads, one a large square and the other a smaller rectangle. They hang on the wall beside the large tub that sits flush against the wall in all its elegant beauty. A smooth glass door trimmed with sleek black metal separates the shower and bathtub from the rest of the bathroom. 

Standing nude, Yoongi turns on the shower and uses the toilet while the water heats up. He eyes the bathtub and shakes his head. If he sits in there now, he knows he will most likely fall asleep. As he steps into the spray of the hot water, Yoongi groans. His pale skin starts to heat and flush as the water washes over his tired muscles. The pressure is strong enough to work tiny knots out from under Yoongi’s skin and his eyes slip shut in relief. His black hair sticks to his neck and forehead, some pieces pressing into his lid but Yoongi doesn’t really care. Placing his palms against the shower wall, he lifts his face towards the spray of the water and holds his breath. 

Yoongi would much rather be sleeping right now but duty calls. Hoseok called at six o’clock in the morning with news of a pack that came from out of town. Their main pack was the same size as Bangtan’s. Seven members with the youngest being the same age as Jungkook. The Lim pack, also known as Got7. Yoongi vaguely recalls hearing about them from someone else but he isn’t too sure. He will have Namjoon run a background check on the members and Jimin can set up a meeting if it is beneficial to do so. 

“Mister Min?”

Yoongi’s eyes snap up from his coffee cup and he sees Haeun, his head maid looking at him with a knowing smile on her face. She is an older omega and Yoongi sees the woman much like a grandmother or aunt. She had been a maid when his parents were still alive and once they passed, she stayed by his side while most of the older maids of the house left. Haeun is a wonderful woman and Yoongi trusts her judgment. 

“Did you not get enough sleep last night?” 

Yoongi shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee, “I apologize, Haeun. Please continue.”

Haeun nods her head and continues to go over the new hire information. Two of the maids have left on maternity leave, so Haeun has found two replacements for the time being. Yoongi is half paying attention, he really doesn’t care much about the maids and cooks that live in his home. He has enough security to handle any issue that may arise. Plus, Yoongi always keeps a gun at his waist. Bok Yon and Kim Seokjin are the new hires that will fill in for a few months and possibly be offered full employment if they fit in well enough. From what Haeun says, Yon is a female alpha and Seokjin is a male omega. 

“Thank you, Haeun. I’m sure both will do well. I have faith in your teaching.”

Yoongi downs the rest of his coffee and sets the empty cup in the sink, upside down. He smooths a hand through his hair, pushing a few flyways down out of his face.

“I’ll be in the main room with the guys. See to it that we are not disturbed.”

“As you wish, Mister Min.” 

Haeun bows low and Yoongi leaves the kitchen with his head held high.

Seokjin is in awe. The Min estate is as beautiful as it is opulent. It is a three story high mini mansion with an attic and basement. Both locations are off limits to the staff and that’s okay with Seokjin. The moment he steps into the home, he is overcome with the powerful scent of alpha. Thyme and charcoal are infused in the air, each lungfull makes Seokjin’s inner wolf whine and he ignores the animal. It is a known fact that Min Yoongi is a capable alpha and one of the most sought after bachelors. Seokjin isn’t sure why, if he is to be honest. Sure, Min Yoongi is handsome and rich but from what Seokjin has seen on the television, he seems too serious and isn’t much of a talker.

Haeun is a kind omega woman. She explains how everything works in the Min manor and texts him a map of the home to help him get used to the layout. The map is color coded, blue rooms need dusting, white rooms are dusting and windows, yellow rooms need to be waxed and so on. The red rooms are off limits to staff outside of Haeun and two others that have been here for a long time. Seokjin doesn’t really care. He is happy to have this job and make good money.

It is an added bonus that Seokjin is able to stay in the manor and save up his money. He gets three meals a day, all free and his dry cleaning for his uniform is paid for as well. Hell, even his uniform is decent. A simple pair of black slacks with a white button up. Seokjin has the option to dress it up with a scarf or tie depending on how he feels. As an unmated omega, Seokjin has a set of scarfs that he will wear to help nullify his scent. The last thing Seokjin needs is for a random alpha to smell him and lose control. Sadly, it has happened before and Seokjin doesn’t want a repeat.

Seokjin glances up from his phone to make sure he is in the correct hallway and he frowns. The map is basic at best and looking around, Seokjin thinks he is in the right place. Looking down at the phone he sees that two of the rooms are coded white, so it will take him a little while to clean. He has a small cleaning caddy that he holds in his freehand filled with everything he needs for the rooms. From looking over the map, Seokjin also knows that there is a supply closet with extra products and items that don’t fit in the caddy as well. 

Setting the caddy on the floor, Seokjin quickly pulls a pair of earbuds from his pocket and shoves them in his ears. He clicks on his music app and scrolls through his playlists until he finds one that will give him the added boost to stay positive while he cleans a bunch of stupidly posh and expensive items that most likely have little to no use. Picking the caddy up from the floor, Seokjin hums to himself as he walks down to the hall to the first door that he will clean. 

Grabbing the handle, Seokjin twists his wrists and pushes open the door. He steps inside, taking notice of the tall shelves that line the walls filled with books. It looks to be a library of shorts to which Seokjin rolls his eyes. 

“Who needs a fucking library in their home?” He mutters to himself as he closes the door behind him. “Bet my ass none of these books have been read.”

Seokjin goes over to the closet shelf and looks to see how dusty it is. He is surprised to see hardly any dust on the shelves. Setting the caddy down on the table beside him, Seokjin slips on a pair of rubber gloves and bobs his head to the music playing in his ear while he gathers the cleaning supplies he’ll need for the room. Holding a microfiber rag in one hand and a can of polish in the other, Seokjin starts to dust the shelves, making sure to remove the books and put them back in their place.

Seokjin turns to head over to the other side of the room and he screams when he sees a set of brown eyes staring at him. The items in Seokjin’s hands clatter to the floor and he stares wide eyed at the owner of the home, Min Yoongi. There is a barely there smile on his lips as he trails his eyes down the length of Seokjin’s body until they drop to the items on the floor.

Seokjin sees Yoongi’s lips moving and quickly rips the earbuds from his ears, his face flushing in embarrassment. He cannot believe that he didn’t notice the alpha in the room with him but in Seokjin’s defense the whole room smells just like the rest of the house, just a little stronger.

“Who gave you permission to come in here?”

Seokjin stares at the alpha before him, confused by the question. Permission?

“I, um, I’m the new maid?” 

Seokjin stumbles over his words, unsure of how he is supposed to answer the question. Yoongi’s jaw clenches as he stares at the unfamiliar man in his office. This room is off limits to anyone except Haeun. Yoongi narrows his eyes as the man, his supposedly newly hired maid, inhales deeply through his nose. The man’s scent is very faint, he must be wearing some kind of blocker but Yoongi doesn’t smell anything that suggests the man is lying.

Yoongi rises to his feet and walks around his desk, not once taking his eyes off the taller man. Seokjin gulps as Yoongi comes closer until they are standing toe to toe.

“What’s your name?” 

Yoongi’s voice is rough as he speaks, his tone commanding but not unpleasant. Seokjin gives his name without a moment of hesitation and Yoongi licks his lips; repeating the name. Goosebumps rise on Seokjin’s arms and the hair on the back of his neck, how can his name sound so sensual coming from a stranger’s mouth?

“You shouldn’t be in here…Seokjin.”

“I, I…why?” 

Yoongi chuckles at the way Seokjin’s Adam's apples bobs from his swallowing so harshly. Staring at the unmarked skin makes Yoongi’s gum itch and he licks at his teeth. 

“This room is off limits.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen twice as big and Yoongi watches as Seokjin’s body starts to shake. His words are jumbled together and he is quick to drop to his knees before Yoongi. Seokjin claps his hands together and bows his head.

“I am so sorry sir. Mister Min! Please, I really, really need this job!”

Yoongi would be lying if he said seeing the pretty man on his knees didn’t stir something deep within him. Hell, even his wolf was wagging its tail in interest. Yoongi squats down in front of Seokjin and grips his chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing the man to look at him. Such pretty brown eyes and the more Yoongi looked, the more he saw. Flecks of blue glittered like jewels as Seokjin’s eyes started to water and his lips pulled down into a frown. An omega…cute.

Yoongi’s eyes drop to the plump lips of the omega before him and he raises an eyebrow, “Tell you what ‘mega-”

A whine slips past Seokjin’s lips and Yoongi smirks. Such a pretty sound from a pretty omega. Yoongi pulls Seokjin’s face closer to his until their nose bush against each other’s. He inhales deeply and trails his nose down Seokjin’s jawline until he reaches his throat and presses his nose into the skin. Seokjin’s whole body shutters and he grabs onto Yoongi’s dress shirt to steady himself. He tries to speak, he wants to tell Yoongi to let him go and leave him alone. He’s too close to his scent gland.

Seokjin opens his mouth to tell Yoongi off but a whiny “A-Alpha”, falls from his lips. Yoongi growls low in his chest at the calling. He digs his nose into the flushed skin of Seokjin’s neck and presses into the slightly raised spot where his scent gland is. Sweet peaches with a subtle hint of spicy washes down Yoongi’s throat and floods his lungs. Now this is a scent he can see himself dousing himself in every morning. He just wants a little taste and he takes as much. His tongue darting out to swipe at Seokjin’s gland once, twice before he moans and wraps his lips around the raised skin.

Seokjin’s bones turn to jello and he falls into Yoongi’s arms, sending Yoongi on his ass with Seokjin’s half on top of him. Yoongi growls and Seokjin scrambles to straddle Yoongi’s lap, a soft whine leaving his lips as Yoongi sucks harshly at his skin. They both shutter as peach cobbler and smoked thyme mingle together in the air. Seokjin holds onto Yoongi’s shoulders for dear life. If he lets go of the alpha underneath him, he feels as if he will float away into the abyss and never find his way back to himself. 

Yoongi's tongue refuses to stop licking and he can’t get enough of the sweetness. He swallows mouthful after mouthful of Seokjin scent, he wants to drown in it…bottle it and keep it on his person always. Yoongi’s alpha demands that he bite the omega, claim him and never let him go and that’s what pulls Yoongi’s from his drunken state of mind. He pulls away from Seokjin’s neck and peppers kisses back up the side of his neck and jawline before stopping at the underside of his chin.

“You’re the only one I want cleaning this room. Understand?” 

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Mister Min.”

Yoongi huffs against Seokjin’s skin and places a fleeting kiss to the space right underneath his bottom lip.

“Get out.”

Haeun isn’t pleased when Yoongi dismisses her and the others from cleaning his office. She doesn’t understand why Seokjin of all people is assigned the task. That is until she sees the marks on Seokjin’s neck when he comes out of his room on one of his days off. He isn’t in his typical outfit, the uniform replaced with a simple white t-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. He wears a light blue button up shirt over top, completely open that has buttons on the shoulders, again open with his left shoulder out. A silver necklace with a single hoop in the center hugs his throat and faded marks litter his skin. Haeun raises an eyebrow at Seokjin as she hones in on the necklace.

She has been with the Min pack for a long time, and has raised the young master since he was in diapers. The necklace that sits on Seokjin’s throat is the same one that the pack omega, Yoongi’s mother wore when she was still alive.

“Going somewhere?” Haeun raises her voice to make her presence known and Seokjin jumps having not seen the older woman standing in the hall.

Before Seokjin can answer, Yoongi appears with a pair of black sunglasses on his face. His black hair is pulled into a half knot on top of his head and he isn’t wearing a suit. Instead he wears a black mastermind t-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants with a purple suede zip up knit jacket overtop. Yoongi lifts his sunglasses and pushes them on top of his head before he looks between Haeun and Seokjin.

“You ready, ‘mega?”

Seokjin’s face heats up, his ears flushing brightly before he nods his head and hurries over to Yoongi’s side. Yoongi grabs hold of Seokjin’s hand and holds him tightly before he winks at Haeun and pulls Seokjin down the hall. Haeun stands in the hallway alone and shakes her head with a laugh. She did a thorough background check on Seokjin just like the other maids and she approves of what she hopes is the young couple courting. Yoongi’s job is dangerous but even still he deserves love. Seokjin is a kind and sweet omega with a good head on his shoulders. Haeun is sure that Seokjin will tame the wild beast that is Yoongi’s alpha and she cannot wait to see it happen.

Yoongi sighs as he rolls his shoulders while walking down the hall to his office. He has been gone for the past three days on business in Tokyo and has just gotten back. He needs a drink and as much as he would rather take a nap than work, he has a few files that he needs to look over. Running a hand through his hair, Yoongi pushes open the door to his office and he finds Seokjin singing to himself as he dusts. He’s wearing his regular uniform, black slacks and a white button up but it's been three days since Yoongi has seen his sweet omega and Seokjin’s ass is looking good. 

Yoonig makes sure to slam the door closed knowing that Seokjin didn’t hear him come in and he smirks when Seokjin jumps with a yelp, dropping the rag in his hand on the floor. Seokjin turns with a frown on his face, ready to give whoever scared him hell but the moment he sees Yoongi, Seokjin’s face relaxes and he clears his throat. He removes his earbuds and shoves them in his pocket.

“You’re back.”

“I am,” Yoongi states as he walks over to his desk.

“I can leave and let you get work done.”

Yoongi shakes his head as he sits in his chair and loosens the tie around his neck. He stares at Seokjin from across the room and licks his lips, “You’re fine. Do what you need to do, ‘mega.”

Seokjin’s cheek flush and he nods his head, happily going back to cleaning. Yoongi sighs as his body sinks into his chair and he closes his eyes for a moment. He inhales and breathes in the scent of spiced peaches. He is sure that Seokjin has at some point sat in his chair while he was away which makes Yoongi chuckle to himself. His omega is such a brat. Opening his eyes, Yoongi focuses on the task at hand and turns on his computer, typing in his passcode and using the retina scanner that Namjoon installed. 

While he works, Yoongi can hear Seokjin humming to himself. He can smell the cleaning products and they make his nose itch. Clearing his throat, Yoongi looks from his computer and Seokjin’s eyes are already on him.

“Open a window, it’s stuffy in here.”

Seokjin follows Yoongi’s order without complaint and Yoongi tracks his every move. Seokjin’s thighs look strong and mighty thick in those slacks. Yoongi feels his pants start to tighten around his groin and he grunts, trying to adjust himself without Seokjin noticing. 

“Mega?”

Seokjin turns to face Yoongi, a soft smile on his face as he pushes a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Pour me a drink?”

“Anything?” 

Yoongi thinks over his choices and nods his head.

“Anything is good.”

Seokjin makes his way over to a liquor cabinet that is built into the bookshelves. It’s large and juts out like a bay window with a woven cane backsplash and crystal clear glass facing. Inside bottles of whisky, bourbon and soju sit neatly together in groups separated by proof and price. Glasses are set out, face down to keep dust from getting into them and are covered with a soft clean linen that is used to wipe fingerprints. Silently, Seokjin prepares a glass for Yoongi, filling it halfway with Hibiki whisky. There is a subtle scent of sandalwood and rose that burns Seokjin’s nose as he replaces the cap but he ignores it. He is more of a red wine fan but can appreciate the dedication to whisky. 

Holding the glass carefully in his hands, Seokjin makes his way over to Yoongi, keeping his eyes on the floor before him, so that he doesn’t trip. Yoongi calls his name and Seokjin looks up, he sees the teasing smile on the alpha’s lips and his face heats up. Seokjin offers a smile and it soon turns into a grimace as the toe of his shoe catches the lip of the area rug and sends Seokjin’s jerking forward. He catches himself before he falls face first onto the floor but the whisky in the glass shoots forward and drenches Yoongi’s pants.

Seokjin gasps in horror while Yoongi just stares unblinking at the wet spot on his pants. Seokjin starts to panic and hastily drops to his knees before Yoongi. Clutching a cloth in his hand, Seokjin pats at Yoongi’s crotch and stammers out a million apologies. His scent is sharp with fear, the spice of it making Yoongi swallow thickly on his spit.

“Jin-”

“I-I’m so sorry!”

“Jin-”

“It was an accident.”

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin freezes mid pat and he tenses when Yoongi grabs his chin forcing him to look up into his dark eyes. Thin flecks of red bleed into the brown and Seokjin’s inner wolf rolls onto its back. Yoongi licks his lower lip, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he runs the pad of his thumb across the soft plushness of Seokjin’s lower lip. He lets his blunt nail dig into the tender flesh, harsh enough to sting but not enough to break the skin. Seokjin’s eyes are wide but start to drop into a hooded gaze as Yoongi pulls his face closer to the wet patch between his legs.

“Clean it up, ‘Mega…properly.” 

The words come out in a growl and Seokjin’s whole body shutters as slick slips out and dampens his underwear. Warmed peaches with a splash of vanilla and cinnamon; Yoongi’s mouth waters and he bites his tongue. Seokjin’s hands shake as he grabs onto the belt buckle in front of him and tug it until it comes loose. Keeping his eyes on the task at hand, Seokjin fumbles with the button on Yoongi’s pants and he curses to himself as the zipper gets stuck. He can already picture himself clearly in his mind, on his knees before such a handsome and strong alpha, bumbling around like a baby fawn…

“Slowly, baby. Take it slow,” Yoongi’s voice is deep and soothing, it shoots right to Seokjin’s core and he leaks more slick. Yoongi’s nostrils flare and he huffs a rumbling growl as he pushes Seokjin’s face closer to where he wants him most.

The button comes undone and the zipper pulls down easily enough with a little wiggling on Seokjin’s part. The black fabric of Yoongi’s briefs is pulled flush against his hardened cock, the material doing every little to hide how heavy his balls sit between legs. Seokjin whines as he presses his nose into the crease of Yoongi’s thighs where his scent is the strongest. His jaw falls slack as he mouths at the bulge and moans as precum seeps through, mixing with the whisky to burn Seokjin’s tongue. 

A hand falls to Seokjin’s hair and his tremors taper off at the comforting weight of Yoongi’s hand, the blunt nails dragging through his hair and against his scalp puts Seokjin’s mind at ease. 

Alpha. Alpha has me. Alpha will guide me.

Seokjin doesn’t even bother to use his hands to tug Yoongi’s underwear down, he waits and watches with shaky breaths as Yoongi tugs the fabric just low enough for his dick to spring free, slapping against Seokjin’s lips. There is no time wasted before Seokjin is kitten licking the flushed tip, greedily swallowing every dribble of precum that Yoongi gives him. As more comes, Seokjin opens his mouth wider and sucks two inches in before he is a moaning mess between Yoongi’s legs. 

The grip on his hair tightens and Yoongi purrs in approval. He knew Seokjin’s sinful mouth would feel like heaven. He knew it the moment he saw the omega and now that Seokjin is kneeling before him, sucking him so good; all he knows is mine. Seokjin is his and his alone. No one else will ever know the pleasure that his throat can give, the softness of his lips as they brush against his dark pubes or the sweet scent that is growing thicker in the air. Seokjin gags around Yoongi’s cock and Yoongi curses, his toes curling as he fights to keep himself from pushing himself deeper down the omega’s throat.

“That’s a good boy. Taking Alpha so well, good Omega.”

The praise makes tears come to Seokjin’s eyes or it could be the lack of air in his lungs. As Yoongi starts to fuck his mouth gently, Seokjin’s mind cuts off and he falls into the pleasurable headspace of pleasing the alpha. It isn’t until Yoongi is cursing above him, grunting low in his chest that Seokjin comes back to himself and he moans as Yoongi comes in his mouth. It’s tangy, bitter with a subtle sweetness that makes Seokjin gag as he swallows it all down.

He pulls away from Yoongi, gasping for air and Yoongi fists his hair tightly, pulling Seokjin upward, so that he is now standing on his knees. Yoongi’s eyes are a gleaming red, no brown to be found and Seokjin purrs, chasing after bitten lips that look so kissable. As their lips touch, Yoongi’s alpha howls in delight. The taste of himself on Seokjin’s tongue twists deep in his gut, spreading a fire through his body that only Seokjin’s gushing slick can put out.

He yanks Seokjin up to his feet and traps him between the desk and himself. Rising to his feet, Yoongi grabs Seokjin’s shirt and tugs it from his pants, the hem wrinkled as it hangs loose on Seokjin’s waist. Wordlessly, Yoongi rips the material down the middle, the buttons scattering in all directions. The white shirt is pushed open until Seokjin’s nipples are visible and Yoongi purrs loudly, it’s deep and inviting, making Seokjin’s knees knock together as he quickly spreads his legs to give Yoongi enough room. 

Yoongi shuffles forward and wraps a hand around Seokjin’s throat, holding him in place as he noses at the raised skin of his scent gland. His tongue is hot and wet as he licks at the flesh, pulling that sweet peachy scent from Seokjin tenfold. His lips are soft, so soft for someone who can kill without a second thought and Seokjin shakes that idea from his mind. He focuses on the way Yoongi samples his skin with tiny nips and sucks. His teeth don’t leave marks but goosebumps rise along the damp path they lead to Seokjin’s nipples, pebbled and tempting. 

The moment Yoongi’s lips wrap around one, Seokjin throws his head back and his hands shoot out to grab onto Yoongi. He has to hold on to something or else he will destroy everything in sight. 

“A-Alpha!” 

Seokjin’s voice is loud, so very loud and Yoongi chuckles against his flushed skin.

“So sensitive. I haven’t even touched you properly…” 

The words are teasing enough that Seokjin’s whole face darkens and Yoongi licks his lips. 

“Such a pretty sight you are, bet you even taste as good as you look.”

Seokjin whines once more as Yoongi keeps suckling and licking his nipples, tweaking the buds between his fingers and pulling at the soft tissue. Yoongi can feel the way Seokjin’s pulse drums under his skin and it makes his alpha preen. 

“Present for me, darling. Show alpha what’s his.”

Stepping away from Seokjin, Yoongi watches in amusement as the older omega scrambles to turn around and lay flat on his stomach on top of Yoongi’s desk. Some papers flutter to the floor but Yoongi isn’t concerned with them. The sight of Seokjin’s pert ass sticking out has his full attention, even more so the wet patch from where slick has leaked through. Yoongi palms Seokjin’s cheeks with his two hands and spreads them as best he can while they are covered. He presses forward and rubs his hardened length along the fabric making Seokjin whine loudly.

“What should I expect to see, darling? You wearing cute little panties or something slutty for me?” 

Seokjin shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing as he fails to form a coherent sentence to answer Yoongi’s question. Yoongi clicks his tongue and slaps Seokjin’s right cheek making the omega jerk forward, the edge of the desk digging into his thighs and pinching the skin. Yoongi reaches around to unclasp the button of Seokjin’s pants and pulls the tight fabric down his thighs, just below his knees. The sight that greets him is a pair of checkered pink and white cheeky panties with white lace along the trim. There is a wet patch where Seokjin is leaking slick and Yoongi hums in approval.

“My cute Omega,” Yoongi mummers as he lowers himself to his knees behind Seokjin and presses a tender kiss to the small of Seokjin’s back. The spicy scent of cinnamon covered peaches is so strong that Yoongi can’t taste it in the back of his throat. His tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth and he struggles to control himself as his Alpha claws at his heart.

“So fucking pretty with your little fucking waist.” 

Yoongi drags his nose along the back of Seokjin’s thigh and bites the meaty part of his right cheek. Seokjin inhales sharply and his whole body shakes, the wet spot on his panties growing larger right before Yoongi’s eyes. Licking his lips, Yoongi reaches up and traces the white lace with his fingertips. 

“Tell me ‘mega, do you want my mouth here-” Yoongi ghosts his fingers over the soaked patch of fabric, hardly applying any pressure to Seokjin’s leaking core, “or here?” Yoongi slides his fingers to the front of Seokjin’s panties, following the hardened line of the cocklet that is hidden.

Seokjin’s mind is mush, a puddle of slick and horny thoughts that don’t even make sense to himself. He wants all of Yoongi and in turn he wants to give all of himself away. He will take everything that Yoongi will give and more.

“Will you take everything?” Yoongi’s voice is caught between amusement and wonder; there is a hint of a challenge that makes Seokjin nod his head dumbly.

“W-Want A-Alpha!” 

Yoongi tugs down Seokjin’s panties and inhales deeply, growling as he stares at the puckered hole that releases another glop of slick. It slides down Seokjin’s inner thigh and Yoongi licks it right up, slurping at the sensitive muscle without any warning. Seokjin screams loudly, his voice cracking as he begs for Yoongi to use his tongue and fingers. He wants to, needs to come. He can feel the heat pooling in his stomach, alighting every since nerve and blood vessels aflame as his mind chants alpha, alpha, alpha!

Yoongi gorges himself on the feast before him. His tongue can hardly reach deep enough inside of Seokjin, so he uses two fingers to milk the omega, making his hands and face sticky with slick. Seokjin is a sobbing mess, begging for release and demanding that Yoongi make him come at least twice on his tongue alone. It is a challenge that Yoongi takes to heart. Having had his fill for now of Seokjin’s slick, Yoongi twirls Seokjin around and grins devilishly at the perfect mouthful of cock before him. Omegas are never more than three inches and Seokjin is an easy two, he rests nicely against Yoongi’s tongue as he sucks him dry.

By the time Yoongi has pulled two releases from Seokjin, the elder male is a shaking sobbing mess of spit, slick and cum. He’s sweaty and marked up, his skin flushed with bite marks from Yoongi being unable to control himself. Such a pretty sight and all for Yoongi’s eyes only. Standing behind Seokjin, Yoongi peppers kisses to the base of Seokjin’s neck and massages his hips with his strong hands. Seokjin melts into the touch, the body heat welcoming against the coolness of the desk.

Yoongi fists the base of his length and glides the tip between Seokjin’s cheeks, collecting slick to make the slide inside easier, though Yoongi is sure there will be no resistance. He made sure to prepare Seokjin for what he has between his legs. Yoongi isn’t one to brag but his knot is massive and what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth. Seokjin reaches back with sweaty fingers and grabs at Yoongi’s arm, his finger slipping twice before Yoongi places his hand overtop the back of Seokjin’s and laces their fingers together.

“Easy, darling.”

Yoongi pushes himself forward and the head of his cock presses against the wet ring of muscles before it gives way. He slips in with no resistance until his hips press into Seokjin’s ass. Seokjin moans loudly, the air punched from his lungs as his body spasms to make room for Yoongi. Yoongi gives Seokjin a little time to adjust to his size before he pulls back, the drag of him against the velvety walls makes Seokjin cry out. His hand squeezes Yoongi’s tightly as sweat gathers at his brow. 

“F-Fuck! Yesssss!” Seokjin’s voice is warped, a mix between a whine and a purr. It makes Yoongi’s stomach clench and his alpha howls once more. Yoongi stares down at where their bodies are connected. His cock gleams in the low lighting of the room, wet and shiny with the omega’s slick that squelches loudly in his ears. Loud moans, breathy ‘oh’ and half whined ‘mores’ echo in the air and merge with the rhythmic smacking of Yoongi’s pelvis against Seokjin’s ass and thighs. His fingers dig into Seokjin’s hips, holding the omega in place as Yoongi growls, his chest rumbling with pride as Seokjin falls apart before him.

“S-Sound so pretty Omega,” Yoongi groans, licking over his canines that have sharpened at the sight of the omega’s bared neck. “Taking Alpha so good,” Yoongi slides a hand up the length of Seokjin’s arm, over his shoulder and tangles his fingers in the honey brown hair at the nape of his neck. “Always knew you would open so prettily.” 

Tugging on Seokjin’s hair, Yoongi makes the older man’s back arch more and he sinks deeper in the wet warmth that is Seokjin. Seokjin mewls, his words nothing more than babble as he begs for more, drooling all over the desk beneath him as Yoongi fucks him good and hard. The white of his shirt is damp with his sweat, the material now translucent as it sticks to his skin and catches the precum that dribbles from his cocklet.

A strong hand wraps around his tiny cock and Seokjin’s whole body shutters as Yoongi starts to tease the weeping tip. Yoongi hums in appreciation and tugs on Seokjin’s hair more, forcing the omega’s body to lift from the desk. Seokjin is quick to grab onto Yoongi’s forearms, holding himself up before he can fall. His back is arched as far as it can go, his neck is exposed to Yoongi, his gums throbbing and teeth itching to sink into the tender flesh and claim Seokjin as his own.

Turning his head slightly, Yoongi licks a fat wet strip up the side of Seokjin’s neck, right over the swollen scent gland and his eyes flash red. The sweetest fruit, fresh and ripe, juicy and light is a heavy nectar on Yoongi’s tongue as he drowns himself in Seokjin’s peach scent. It’s warmer, fuller with hints of cinnamon, like peach cobbler. Yoongi’s inner wolf is feral, howling at the alpha to claim his mate once and for all.

“Alpha! A-Alpha please!” Seokjin cries with tears in the corners of his eyes. 

Yoongi knows what the omega is asking for but he wants him to say it. He wants to hear the words, he wants Seokjin to beg. Yoongi chuckles something between a growl and a laugh as Seokjin tightens around his cock.

“Please what, Omega? Tell Alpha what you want.” 

Seokjin grits his teeth, sweat pouring down his forehead as he tries to catch his breath. Yoongi is rearranging his insides, carving a place for only him; ruining him for anyone else. Yoongi’s grip on his cocklet is teasing as he covers it with his whole fist and Seokjin can feel himself getting closer to his release. He needs Yoongi’s knot, and wants his bite!

“K-Knot me! O-Oh…f-fuck, mark me!”

Yoongi’s mouth waters and he sucks at Seokjin’s scent gland, drinking down the sweet peach as his knot swells at the base. Seokjin’s whole body is on the brink of falling off the edge, Yoongi just needs to push him a little farther. Opening his mouth wider, Yoongi grunts as he thrusts harshly into Seokjin, his knot popping deep inside. Seokjin screams as Yoongi’s teeth sink into the side of his neck, breaking the skin around his scent gland.

Blood floods Yoongi’s mouth and he comes with a growl deep in his chest, vibrating against Seokjin’s back as the omega sags against him. Seokjin comes, squirting around Yoongi’s cock and dribbling in his hand. It’s messy; wet and hot as the room fills with the scent of both the alpha and omega mixed together. Yoongi licks at the mark on Seokjin’s neck, closing the wound with his saliva easily before he kisses the newly formed mating mark. He noses at the wet skin and hums in delight as Seokjin’s body presses harder into his.

“Easy, ‘mega,” Yoongi whispers as he lowers the both of them into the chair behind him. Seokjin sits in his lap, spent and happy. Soft purrs rumble in his throat as he starts to scent Yoongi’s neck, his nose pressing into the flushed scent gland and Yoongi cranes his neck to give Seokjin more access.

“Mark me. Go head, baby.”

Yoongi encourages, scratching at the nape of Seokjin’s neck before he rests his hand fully on the sweaty skin. Seokjin sniffs and licks at the skin, his purrs growing in volume as smoked thyme sits in his throat. He sinks his teeth into Yoongi’s neck, applying more force to break the skin with his own blunt canines. Something warm wraps around their minds, a silk soft link, stronger than iron that binds the two of them together.

Yoongi nuzzles his cheek against Seokjin’s forehead, purring deeply before he presses a kiss to Seokjin’s sweaty hair. He looks at the mess that is his desk, paper thrown about, wet spots here and there; of what? Yoongi isn’t fully sure but he doesn’t care. It is a mess to worry about later.

As if reading his mind, Seokjin looks at the desk and pouts to which Yoongi kisses his new mating mark softly before he speaks.

“We can clean up once my knot goes down.”

“Stay with me?” Seokjin whispers and Yoongi huffs a deep sigh as he wraps an arm around Seokjin’s waist, making sure not to get the omega’s cum on his bare skin. He wipes his hand on Seokjin’s black pants and laughs as Seokjin whines in disgust.

Seokjin takes a deep breath and his brows furrow, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes?”

“The window was open.”

Yoongi’s lips split into a smile and he nuzzles his nose against Seokjin’s temple, “Wanted everyone to hear that you're mine.”

Seokjin stands in the middle of his shared closet with Yoongi, grumbling to himself as he struggles to button the tan trousers that hang on his hips. Lately, Seokjin has noticed that a lot of his more form fitting clothing isn’t as easy to put on. Seokjin thinks over the last few days and a frown slowly starts to form on his face. He has random cravings throughout the week, mostly kimchi jjigae or fried chicken, two meals that he tries not to eat all the time.

Now that he thinks about it, he has eaten fried chicken at least four times this week and has had kimchi jjigae twice a day. Seokjin stares down at his stomach and clicks his tongue, he always gets cravings when his heat is near.

Seokjin chews on the inside of his cheek as he tries to mentally track when his heat will hit. As he does the math in his head, Seokjin feels his blood run cold. If his math is right (it is), he should have had his heat sometime last month. Seokjin’s heat is never late and he would have noticed sooner but time moves differently with his mate. When Yoongi is near Seokjin, it is as if time doesn’t exist or it simply forgets about them. They are in their own world when with each other and nothing else matters. 

Kicking out of his pants, Seokjin rushes over to the full length mirror and turns to the side. He stares at himself, hard, scrutinizing every inch of himself as he looks up and down. He squints his eyes as he focuses on his stomach, it doesn’t look any different, there is no baby bump and truthfully he doesn’t feel any different. Besides the cravings, Seokjin feels perfectly fine.

He shakes his head and dismisses the whole idea. Maybe having a mate has changed his body’s chemistry? Maybe his heat and Yoongi’s rut are linked through the mating bond? Seokjin is sure he has read about that happening to other mated couples before online.

“What are you doing, darling?” 

Seokjin startles from the sudden appearance of Yoongi in the mirror. He is so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the alpha approaching. Seokjin’s ears burn bright and he crosses his arms over his stomach, hiding his stomach and looking down at the floor while he digs his sock-covered toes into the plush area rug beneath him. Yoongi watches his mate in the mirror and raises one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows.

“I asked a question, ‘mega.”

Seokjin chews on his bottom lip and glances up into the mirror, looking at Yoongi’s reflection from underneath his lashes.

“N-Nothing…”

“You say nothing-” Yoongi steps into the walk-in closet, closing the distance with each step forward, “and yet, you look guilty of something.”

His arms wrap around Seokjin’s waist, his hands resting on top of Seokjin’s arm. The way he thumbs at the skin on Seokjin’s wrist, pulls his scent out little by little. Yoongi hums as he skims his nose along the back of Seokjin’s shoulder, up the length of his neck before he presses a sweet kiss the raised skin of Seokjin’s scent gland. Seokjin whimpers, feeling the dampness of Yoongi’s lips. He must have just licked them or applied a balm.

Yoongi flicks his tongue out to tease the gland and his body tenses, Seokjin can hear his blood rushing behind his ears as his heart pounds harshly against his ribcage. He wonders if Yoongi can feel it too? Another quick lick to Seokjin’s scent gland makes him shiver in Yoongi’s arms and goosebumps rise on his skin. Yoongi spins Seokjin around so that they are facing each other, his eyes are ruby red, his fangs are elongated, poking out over his bottom lip as he frowns.

Seokjin looks away, giving his attention to the empty spot on the wall. Now that he’s looking at it, Seokjin is sure that he could find a nice piece of artwork to hang there. Keeping himself distracted, Seokjin ignores the way Yoongi huffs in annoyance before the alpha’s hands trail to the front of his stomach. Seokjin growls defensively and Yoongi snarls, his lips curling up to show his fangs even more. Seokjin's eyes bleed blue, submissive and frozen as Yoongi squats down in front of him. 

“Y-Yoongi-”

Seokjin can’t get his words out, his thoughts are cut off by the harshness at which Yoongi pushes his hands away from his stomach. The air is cool, bitingly so as it washes over his exposed stomach. The fabric of his shirt now balled tightly in Yoongi’s fists. The tip of Yoongi’s nose is warm, so soothing and safe as it presses into the hollow of Seokjin’s navel. Yoongi inhales deeply, the air rushing over Seokjin’s skin as Yoongi breathes him in.

There is the faintest trace of heavy cream splashed over warmed spiced peaches. His nose trails drown the darkened curls of belly hair until the scent of heavy cream is stronger; just a few inches to the left of Seokjin’s happy trail. Yoongi growls, low in his chest, it’s not a threat. The vibration skins into Seokjin’s bones and turns him to mush. He sinks into Yoongi’s arms, a puddle of honey goo, eyes still blue as he purrs against Yoongi’s neck.

Tiny kitten licks to Yoongi’s scent gland, mixed with the heavy cream makes the alpha inside Yoongi wag its tail and run in circles. His mate is pupped! Seokjin is in fact pregnant.

It’s midday, the sun is high in the sky and there is a humid breeze that refuses to break. Music, splash and shouting fills the outside air. Yoongi is hosting a pool party to show face with the next chief commissioner. The guy is easy enough to put on Yoongi’s payroll but it doesn’t hurt to show him and his friends a little of the sweet life to cement the deal. Yoongi is dressed in a pair of black swim trunks that stop just above his knees. His black flip flops are tucked neatly under a chair with a black and gold towel hung over the back. He sits at the edge of the pool, his feet submerged midway up his calves with a glass of champagne in his hand.

The people around him are drinking and laughing, having a good time as the waitstaff walk around with refreshments and hors d'oeuvres. In the pool, the terror twins (Jungkook and Taehyung) are playing a game of chicken with Hoseok and Jimin. Namjoon is currently out of the house with Seokjin. The older omega doesn’t have a bathing suit that fits and as much as Yoongi wanted him to wear one of his shirts, Seokjin insisted that he get something to wear. Namjoon, being the only one who didn’t change into his swimwear yet, went with Seokjin and they were gone for a little over an hour.

“Master Min?” 

Yoongi looks up when one of the waitstaff offers him a selection of orange or orange pineapple mimosas. Yoongi switches out his glass for the orange pineapple mimosa and nods his head in thanks. Sipping at the sweet drink, Yoongi lifts his face towards the sun and sighs; it really is a beautiful day. 

In the distance a phone rings and Haeun wipes her hands on her apron before she answers the landline.

“Min residence. Haeun speaking, how may I direct your call?” 

“Haeun!” Namjoon’s voice spills from the speakers in a panic. “Haeun! Y-You have to tell Yoongi it’s time!”

“Time? Time for what, Master Namjoon?”

“Seokjin’s water broke!”

“Oh!” Haeun’s eyes widen at the news and she tells Namjoon to text the hospital information to Yoongi’s phone before she hangs up and rushes out the back door. “Master Min! Master Min!”

Haeun is out of breath by the time she reaches Yoongi’s side. He is staring at her with worried eyes, his scent burning as the rest of his pack members swim over to his side of the pool. 

“I-It’s Master Jin!”

“Spit it out, Haeun!” Yoongi snaps, his eyes bleeding red as his wolf starts to creep to the surface.

“The baby! The baby is coming!”

Yoongi’s blood freezes and it feels like all the warmth in the world has slipped away. He stares up at Haeun with unseeing eyes. His ears are suddenly muffled by cotton or maybe he has fallen under the water? It’s hard to understand anything but the cold touch of Hoseok’s hand on his shoulder pulls Yoongi from whatever headspace he fell into.

“Come on man! You’re bout to be a dad!!”

“We’ll handle things here and meet you at the hospital,” Jimin informs Yoongi as Taehyung and Jungkook start to round up the people in the pool.

Yoongi nods his head and allows for Hoseok and Haeun to pull him into the house to throw on a change of clothes. A simple pair of black slacks, tucks a white t-shirt into it and throws a black oversized jacket with a pair of low dunk black and white Nikes. His hair is still wet from the pool and hangs in his eyes but Yoongi doesn’t care. He jumps into the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car and the two of them take off towards the hospital that Namjoon texted him the address to. 

Traffic is backed up, bumper to bumper and Yoongi is on the phone with a crying Seokjin. The omega is in pain and distressed because Yoongi isn’t by his side. Namjoon’s voice is heard in the background but Seokjin snaps at Namjoon, telling the alpha not to touch him unless he wants to lose a few fingers. 

“I know darling, alpha will be there soon. Hang in there.”

“A-Alpha it hurts!”

Seokjin’s tears clog his throat and he struggles to breathe as the pup slowly makes its way down, down, down. He wants Yoongi, he wants his alpha, now! From his phone Namjoon hacks the light system and gives green lights the whole way to the hospital. Most of the traffic isn’t going Yoongi’s way, so it soon clears up and Hoseok reaches the hospital in a little over forty minutes. 

Yoongi rushes into the hospital and walks right past the security detail that Namjoon has set up around the delivery room. A nurse helps Yoongi get disinfected and dressed into a set of scrubs before he enters the delivery room. Seokjin is screaming, refusing to deliver the pup, his eyes are bright blue, and his teeth are sharper than normal.

Yoongi growls low in his throat, smoked thyme flooding the room and making Seokjin’s whole body fall lax. From Seokjin’s side, Namjoon gives Yoongi a thankful smile and hurries out of the room with a quick, “Good luck, Hyungs.” 

Yoongi takes his place beside Seokjin, offering the omega his hand to hold. The doctors ask if Seokjin would like any pain medicine and he agrees, now feeling safe enough to let himself be put under the influence of medical drugs. His alpha is by his side, Yoongi will not let anything happen to him or their pup.

“Ready, darling?” 

Seokjin whimpers with a nod of his head and Yoongi kisses his sweaty temple. 

“I’m right here. Alpha is right here with you.”

The doctor gets in between Seokjin’s legs that are raised on a set of stirrups and nods his head.

“Let’s deliver a healthy pup!”

In the waiting room, Hoseok sits with his ankles crossed while Namjoon paces back and forth. This is going to be the first pack pup and Seokjin wanted to keep the gender unknown until the birth. Of course everyone made bets on the gender but right now, the pack is hoping for a healthy pup, no matter the gender. A half hour in, the rest of the pack walks into the hospital and finds their way to the VIP floor where Hoseok and Namjoon are waiting.

“Any news?” Taehyung questions, his face flushed from running up all the flight of steps.

“Last we heard, Seokjin was only four centimeters dilated…whatever that means,” Hoseok informs and Namjoon opens his mouth to answer but the doors to the delivery room open and an older female comes out with a large smile on her face. 

“The Min pack?” 

“That’s us,” Jimin states, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Taehyung and Jungkook both grab hold of his hands and lace their fingers together to keep the shorter omega from bouncing too much.

“The pack omega is healthy as is the pup. Your pack alpha wanted me to inform you that the maknaes won the bet.”

The doctor leaves and the waiting room is silent. Everyone just stares at the three youngest and Jimin breaks down in tears.

“It’s a girl!” He sobs happily, just picturing all the cute outfits he can buy for the pack pup.

Yoongi stands in the doorway of the nursery, his eyes are soft, his face relaxed as he stares at the sleeping omega in the rocking chair. Seokjin is sound asleep, his head tilted to one shoulder as he snores gently. A basket of unfolded baby clothing sits beside Seokjin on the side table while a pair of pink tights rests in Seokjin’s lap. Yoongi doesn’t stop the smile that takes over his face, his mate is too cute. Such a perfect omega, made for him and his pup.

Yoongi steps into the room and peaks into the crib, where his pup, Miyoung sleeps soundly. Her features are a mix of himself and Seokjin. She has Seokjin’s full lips and happy eyes while Yoongi’s button nose and face structure stand out. She is a chunky baby, all rolls and happy coos. At three months old, Yoongi can’t be any more in love. As he stares down at his pup, Miyoung’s face scrunches up and she does a big stretch in her sleep before she farts loudly. 

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the sound, his nose twists at the sour smell. Miyoung’s lips start to twitch and Yoongi reaches down into the crib. He scoops his daughter into his arms and gags. The pup smells worse than the foulest of scents. Yoongi isn’t sure why she smells this way, he is pretty sure that babies shouldn’t smell worse than spoiled milk.

Miyoung opens her eyes, already wet with unshed tears and Yoongi smiles down at her. He strokes her chubby cheek with a finger and brings her close to nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck.

“Hello, babygirl.”

Yoongi keeps his tone soft, so that he doesn’t wake Seokjin from his mid afternoon nap. Laying the baby down on the changing table, Yoongi tries his best to make quick work of changing Miyoung’s diaper. The little girl is a wiggle worm and somehow her foot goes right into the dirty diaper making Yoongi frown. He reaches for another wipe to clean Miyoung’s foot and as he pulls his hand back, she kicks her foot out and catches the back of Yoongi’s hand.

“Miyoung,” Yoongi sighs as he grimaces. The warmth and the squish on his skin is not a pleasant feeling. 

“You’re getting poop everywhere.”

Yoongi glances over his shoulder to see that Seokjin is awake and watching him with laughing eyes. Yoongi feels heat attack his face and he turns back around to finish cleaning and changing Miyoung. Holding the baby in his arms, Yoongi turns to face his mate and Seokjin is now on his feet, rubbing his eyes.

“Did we wake you?” 

Seokjin shakes his head at Yoongi’s question and yawns, “My tits hurt and I need to pump.”

Yoongi looks at the watch on his wrist and sees that it is time for Miyoung’s feeding. Walking over towards Seokjin, Yoongi easily gathers the bag that holds most of Seokjin’s breastfeeding supplies and equipment. He rocks Miyoung from side to side while Seokjin sets himself up to pump. He leaves his left side untouched and Yoongi understands that Miyoung will drink straight from the nipple.

“Okay, hand her over.”

As Yoongi hands his daughter to the awaiting omega he can’t help but pout, “It’s not fair.”

“Mmm?” Seokjin pays Yoongi little mind as he tugs down the collar of his shirt to feed Miyoung.

“Why can’t I help you?”

Miyoung latches onto Seokjin’s puffy nipple easily and starts to suckle, her tiny hand fisting the material of Seokjin’s shirt.

“What are you talking about Yoon? You help me.”

Yoongi drops to his knees in front of Seokjin and makes room for himself between his omega’s 

thighs. Seokjin stares down at him and gulps; the scent of spiced peaches tickles Yoongi’s nose. Yoongi’s hands are large and warm as they rest on Seokjin’s hips and massage the soft skin. He lets his fingers work their magic, not once taking his eyes off of Seokjin’s. Leaning in, Yoongi kisses the scarred skin of Seokjin’s tummy and licks at the stretch marks. 

“I wanna taste too, ‘mega.”

Seokjin inhales a shaky breath, between the look in Yoongi’s eyes and his words, Seokjin feels feverish. He has never thought of Yoongi drinking from him but now that the idea is in his mind, the imagery is tempting. Yoongi smiles up at Seokjin, looking at him through his lashes, looking very much like a cat that got the cream…or is about to get the cream. Seokjin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods his head quickly, two times. Yoongi wastes no time in removing the pump from Seokjin’s chest and quickly attacking his lips to the flushed and puffy nipple. 

The milk is sweet and coats Yoongi’s tongue like honey. It sprays into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat and making him moan as he swallows mouthful after mouthful. He doesn’t have to suck very hard, the constant stream of milk seems never ending and Yoongi wonders if this is what Seokjin means by a let down. He continues to massage Seokjin’s hips, rutting his hips against the edge of the rocking chair as his length hardens in his slacks. 

Seokjin bites his lip to keep from moaning. The way Yoongi drinks from him feels amazing, it’s a relief that Miyoung and the pump don’t fully give him. Yoongi is able to draw more from him and he applies just the right amount of pressure to help guild the milk flow. Seokjin sighs as he relaxes fully into the rocking chair and looks down at his two loves. He can feel the way Yoongi is humping against the rocking chair, it takes all of Seokjin’s will to not tease the needy alpha in front of him. The warmth from Yoongi’s hands and mouth is soothing; it makes a need bubble in Seokjin’s stomach that wasn’t there before.

“I-I think that’s enough.”

Seokjin pushes Yoongi’s face away from his chest gently, not wanting to jostle Miyoung. Yoongi allows for Seokjin to push him away and when he looks up at the omega, Seokjin’s face is flushed. There is a bead of white on Yoongi’s lower lip and as he licks it, he moans softly, not once taking his eyes from Seokjin’s.

“How can you taste so good, nae sarang?” Yoongi slowly rises to his feet and Seokjin can see the bulge in his pants. “Everything about you is delectable,” he inhales deeply and his eyes flash red as spiced peaches sting his nose, “should I eat something else?” 

Yoongi sits in the kitchen, eating a salad while scrolling on his phone. He has a flight to catch soon, Jungkook should be here any moment to pick him up. The sound of meaty skin slapping against the tiled floor at a quickening rate catches Yoongi’s attention and he glances at the doorway. A curl mop of dark brown hair, pulled into two space buns catches Yoongi’s eyes and he smiles. Miyoung has found him and is speeding his way. Setting his phone down, Yoongi turns in the chair, watching as his little pup crawls into the kitchen, dressed in a cute sunshine yellow onesies with white and clouds and daisy printed all over it.

Her gummy smile is identical to Yoongi’s and she squeals in delight at the sight of her Appa. Miyoung crawls faster, giggling when Seokjin’s shout of surprise sounds from somewhere in the home. Yoongi smirks as his daughter grabs onto the leg of the chair and pulls herself up. Her tiny hand fists his pants and tug while babbling about her great escape.

“Listen here you little Houdini,” Yoongi starts as he scoops Miyoung up into his arms and sets her on the table tops, “you’re going to give your daddy a heart attack one of these days.”

Miyoung pays Yoongi’s words no mind as she reaches out and grabs his nose with her tiny hand. Yoongi huffs a laugh and wiggles his nose back and forth making Miyoung giggle wildly. Her hand falls to his lips and he presses a million little kisses to her palm. Seokjin comes into the kitchen minutes later, having followed the sounds of Miyoung’s laughter. Seokjin’s brown hair is messy, a mix of curls and waves. Some of it hangs in his eyes creating a soft curtain that makes him look much younger than he really is.

“Baby,” Seokjin scolds lightly as he walks into the kitchen and Miyoung looks at him with wide, wet eyes. “You’re too fast for Daddy. We were supposed to see Appa together.”

The whine in Seokjin’s voice makes Yoongi snort and he picks Miyoung up from the table to hold her in his arms. Their cheeks squish together and they both smile at Seokjin who just shakes his head with the fondest of smiles on his face. 

“You got your Appa, huh?” Seokjin grins as Miyoung turns her head and gums at Yoongi’s cheek, slobbering all over him.

Yoongi’s phone chimes as a car horn honks from outside. Standing with Miyoung in his arms, Yoongi shoves his phone into his back pocket and offers his hand for Seokjin’s to hold. Together the family of three head to the front door and Yoongi slips his feet into a pair of black shiny shoes. Opening the door, Yoongi turns to face Seokjin who waves at Jungkook who is standing outside of the car with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Be safe okay?” Seokjin whispers as Yoongi pulls him into a kiss. Their noses brush against each other as Yoongi scents Seokjin and he does the same to Miyoung who is holding onto his shirt tightly. 

“I love you so much.” Yoongi pecks Miyoung’s forehead and carefully hands her over to Seokjin. He looks at his mate and kisses his lips once more. “I will text you the moment I touch down. I won’t be gone for more than four days, five at the most. Hoseok will take my place if there are any issues.”

Seokjin nods his head and grabs Miyoung’s hand, “Say bye-bye Appa!”

Miyoung lets Seokjin wave her hand and she smiles wildly at Yoongi, “A-Aaaaappa!”

Seokjin squawks loudly, almost crushing Miyoung in the tightest of hugs while Yoongi’s chest swells with pride. Reaching out he steals Miyoung and cuddles her tightly in his chest. 

“Appa loves you pup. I love you so, so much.” He scents her once more and puckers his lips out to which Miyoung gives him a super wet kiss. 

[georgie-weasley]

Deep Wounds: Prologue

Warnings: couple of swear words, alluding to sex but nothing graphic

Word Count: 1.2k

Series Masterlist Taglist

The air that came into the house through the open windows only offered a small amount of relief from the hot summer night. Furniture had previously been pushed against the wall to make room for a makeshift dance floor. Now into the wee hours of the early morning, the couches were haphazardly shoved back as closely to their original spots as someone could. 

On one old couch laid a young man with wild black hair who was no older than 19. He was wearing a suit, or some of what remained of a suit. The coat was long gone (it only survived for one picture), the top buttons were undone, his tie was just draped around his shoulders, and he had one shoe on while in the process of kicking off the other one.

By his side was a young woman, also no more than 19. She was in a white dress that to some would have been much too simple to be called a wedding dress but she loved it. The dress was light and breathable, perfect for a summer wedding. Her red hair was pulled into an updo; at one point it was perfectly done but after hours and hours of dancing, it had gotten a little messy.

On the loveseat was another man with long black hair. He was wearing a button up shirt but none of the buttons were done. The shirt was left open while the tie was wrapped around his head. Hanging on the armrest of the sofa was a leather jacket that he had only just taken off because it “threw off his vibe” to be seen without it.

Laid out on the middle of the floor was yet another young man. He was much shorter than the rest and he had blonde hair. He was splayed out like a starfish as he tried to cool off. He was still wearing his suit, coat and all. His friends asked if he wanted to take it off but he said he didn’t mind the heat. Now he very much regrets his decision.

The last person in the room was another young man who sat in the recliner with his knees pulled up to his chest. He had sandy blonde hair and while he was 19 like his friends, he looked much older. He had dark bags under his eyes and scars on his face. His suit was old and had been patched up many times before. His coat was thrown somewhere on the floor and his tie was hardly holding on. He didn’t do much dancing that night.

“Moony? How are you holding up?” The young man on the couch asked as he kicked off his last shoe. He sat up a little and adjusted his glasses.

“Yeah Remus, are you alright?” The woman used her new husband to pull herself up.

The man in the chair shrugged and played with a loose thread on his shirt. “Fine I suppose.”

The man with the long hair snorted. “Bullshit. Tell us the truth, Moons.” Everyone was thinking it but only he had the nerve to speak it.

Remus looked around the room and sighed as he saw all of his friends watching him with concern. He could see them trying to look him over for wounds like a worried mother would check her toddler after he fell. “It's not bullshit Sirius. I’m fine.” Remus stood and crossed the room to stand in front of the open window. Outside he could just hardly see the moon sinking behind the trees as the sun started to come up.

Lily rolled off the couch and carefully made her way over to Remus. She stood next to him in silence for a while, just watching the moon. “Rem, it’s ok if you’re not fine. I know you’re worried about ruining the wedding but you won’t. I’m just sorry it ended up being the night before a full moon.” She wrapped an arm around his middle and pulled him close.

Remus swallowed thickly and nodded. He didn’t dare speak up in fear that he would soon be crying if he did. Instead he wrapped his arm around Lily’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. She truly was one of the best things to happen in his life and he couldn’t thank James enough for marrying her.

“Hey, hands off my wife. And hands off my friend.” James called out from his spot on the couch, bringing a laugh out of Remus. Lily turned to look at James over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue as she nuzzled closer to Remus.

With what could only be described as a battle cry, James hopped off the couch and sprinted over to his friend and wife. Remus watched with amusement as James scooped Lily into his arms and took her back to the couch, tossing her onto it when he got close.

“Yeah Remus, get your own wife.” Peter snorted from the floor.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea Pete.” Sirius mused and sat up. Even from across the room Remus could see the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Have you ever thought about it Moony? You could find a nice lady, settle down, pop out a couple of kids?”

“That won’t happen.” Remus whispered and turned to face his best friends. “Nice idea but it will never happen.”

James sighed and shook his head. “Don’t say never. It could happen.”

“I don’t want it to!” Remus snapped and ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands. “It would be nothing short of a miracle to find someone who didn’t mind the wolf but to find someone willing enough to put up with it every month for the rest of our lives? It won’t happen.” He sank back down in the recliner and hung his head. “Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened.”

No one spoke as the reality settled on them. Everyone assumed that maybe one day Remus would be happily paired off and start his own family but now knowing his heart, they worried he would be alone until the end.

Remus stood and grabbed his coat off the floor. “I need to get home. Congrats again James and Lily. I’ll see you later.”

The group said their goodbyes and watched their friend leave. “Do you really think that he could find someone Prongs?” Peter asked after he was sure Remus was gone.

James nodded and threw his arm around Lily. “I’m sure. We can’t be the only people in the world willing to love a werewolf. We just gotta find the others.” Without any sort of formal agreement, they all decided that night if they ever heard Remus even mention a girl, they would meddle. Remus deserved to be happy.

“Well, thank you all for coming but get out.” Lily stood and threw the various items at the other two boys. “I entertained you all long enough but now, it’s time for just my husband and I.”

“See you all before sunset. Same place?” James asked as he helped usher his friends out the door.

“Yeah, see you at the Shrieking Shack. Lils, please make sure he’s still able to help us deal with Remus.” Sirius said with a laugh as he and Peter left the small cottage.

Taglist (if your name is crossed out its because I couldn't tag you)

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @steelthistle @asuperconfusedgirl @jsjcue @andy200700

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

nine - bad omens

tags: n/a // eight // ten // masterlist

Pairing: Billy x Reader , Frank x Reader

Word Count: 9,660

Summary: Lingering omens finally register and truths are revealed through blood, bullets, and betrayals.

You were getting dressed when you heard the knocks at your door. You went over and peaked out the peephole, seeing Billy standing outside your door. You sighed slightly and opened it, turning your back and walking away almost immediately. You focused your attention on tucking in your shirt instead.

You figured something closer to combat ready would be better so you were wearing a fitted dark colored long sleeve, thumbs looped through the holes at the end of the sleeve. It would allow a snug fit of your FBI branded bulletproof and it was a familiar enough fit to the suit you usually wore for your “freelance” work.

“You got plans?” Billy asked as he followed you into your apartment.

“Yeah.” You said simply before glancing over your shoulder. You noticed he was in a dark outfit himself. “So do you, clearly.”

“I could really use your help on this, Gorgeous.” He tried and you shook your head with a small scoff before you headed into your bedroom.

“So long as you're with Rawlins and against Frank, you’re against me too.” You said firmly as you searched for a belt.

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” He argued and came into your room. You two met eyes in a heated glare while you fastened the leather into place.

“No, what’s not fair is coming here and expecting me to be on your side.” You said, heat climbing up your spine. “I don’t owe you anything. I don’t have to help you and I sure as hell don’t have to answer to the same man you do. Coming in here and throwing around a cheap pet name isn’t gonna get you anything.”

“Jeez.” He laughed slightly. “This isn’t about Rawlins, y’know.”

You hummed a sarcastic response. “So who’s paying out 500k a piece to a group that opened fire on civilians? Who’s asking a blacked out search and destroy?”

“Listen, there’s a lot of moving pieces right now.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to answer a man who sees you as a piece of meat, be my fucking guest. But you have no right to bring that to my doorstep.”

“A piece of meat, huh?” He scoffed. “You got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you only knew.” You said to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going against Frank in any sense.”

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered. “Why are you so loyal to him?” He asked loudly.

“Why aren’t you?” You nearly yelled back, that anger burning your throat as the words left. “Frank sees you as family, Billy. You’re his brother! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“What do you care?” He yelled back.

“Because someone has to!” You snapped, feet carrying you across the room before you could think otherwise. “Can you seriously look at me and tell me you don’t care what happens to Frank?”

“I tried to help him.” He said, calmer than before but still with underlying tension. “He blew me off.”

“When?”

He shrugged.

“And if he gets to Rawlins, who are you gonna pick?”

He shrugged again.

“Goddammit, Billy.” You shoved him by his chest and you watched his expression shift. “That shouldn’t be a question! That’s the problem!”

You moved to shove him again but he caught your wrists. He yanked you to him and turned you quickly before backing you against the nearest wall. He pinned your hands near your head and you simply glared up at him. He took half a step away so he could lean down and be eye level with you.

“All that fire…” He said lowly, eyes darting between yours which you knew were reflecting the anger rising beneath your skin. The deep echoing explosions in your chest. “That loyalty…”

“Billy..” You said firmly, shifting to find more space but failing.

He leaned in close, breath mingling with yours. Any other day you would’ve tilted your head to meet his lips, make you both late for your ops. But the thought made a bile rise in your throat instead.

“You care about me like that?”

You said nothing.

“Is it insensitive if I told to get your shit together so I can love you?” He asked before a half smile that quickly faded. “I mean, is it really your grief that keeps you from giving me everything or do you just not want to?”

“Are you really gonna talk about that at a time like this?” You nodded towards your pinned hands.

He made a small noise of agreement before he hesitated at releasing your hands. He let go of one and guided the other to rest against his chest. He pinned it there with his own hand and used the other to carefully grab your chin to look at him. He squeezed your face slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to ensure you wouldn’t be able to pull away.

“I don’t wanna fight you on this.” He said with a mock sentiment that stung your skin wherever it met his. “But I can’t have you getting in the way either.”

“So go then.” You spat, a muffled sound from the way your squished cheeks limited your mouth. “No one’s making you stay.”

He said nothing as you reached up to push his hand off your face. You pushed past him and returned to your prior task of dressing for your assignment. It wasn’t until he spoke again did you acknowledge his presence.

“So that’s it, huh?” He asked but that time the disappointment was real. “Should’ve seen it coming.”

“We’ll go around again and then jump back in bed with each other.” You shrugged. “You’re gonna act like there hasn’t been repeated omens that we’ve both been ignoring?”

“Isn’t that what you do when you love somebody?”

“Somebody else.” You said firmly, eyes catching on that familiar strip of photos from the mall photo booth in college. “I love somebody else.”

He left without a word and you let out a heavy sigh.

it wasn’t over between you and Billy. Not as long as your mission with Frank was live. Once that was finished and Rawlins was in the ground would you truly be able to separate from Billy. Until then, awkward interactions were likely to occur between you two.

So be it.

You met with Dinah right when you were supposed to. She handed you a rifle and rehashed the plan with you and the man you learned to be her partner, Sam Stein. She didn’t introduce you to the rest of her team and you were glad for it.

You body was still frazzled from your conversation with Billy and the explosions seemed to be louder ever since. Your hands felt slick, covered in blood despite the fact that you washed them before you left the apartment. The hole was echoing with every footstep, every sound ricocheting off the deep walls and leaving your bones rattling.

You got quietly into position, taking the closest spot to the entry. You watched as the group passed you, sweeping the area in front of them.

“Eyes on target.” You said quietly into your earpiece, a voice hardly above a whisper. “Five hostile inbound, heavily armed. Proceed with caution.”

You followed from a safe distance, ensuring yourself coverage if needed. You were practically herding them into Dinah’s trap without them even knowing.

A fire fight ensued soon after. Even from your close position, you couldn’t get a clean shot without risking your own safety. Usually you wouldn’t care, but you weren’t gonna let yourself get killed in front of Dinah Madani.

How embarrassing.

“Drop your weapons!” You called out, not revealing yourself. “FBI and Homeland have the building surrounded!”

“Drop your weapons and get down on the ground!” Dinah called out, though no man moved.

The combination of your voice and Dinah’s sent one of the men into a panic. The sudden feeling made you poke your head out and examine the ground. The men all wore ski masks so you couldn’t make out who was who. You stared harder, hoping for something familiar, but you saw nothing. You cursed quietly but then you heard the voice, covered by the gunshots but you heard it.

“Take ‘em down.” Billy instructed.

“Понял, Красавчик.” You said to yourself, habitually reaching for your mask. Your fingertip hit skin instead and you remembered you weren’t there as Exodus. You were there as FBI. (Gotcha, Pretty Boy.)

Dinah called for the team to move so you went in closer. You singled out the closest man and moved in for a kill.

You hurried behind him and slammed your foot into the back of his knee. He buckled almost instantly and he flailed his arms, pulling the rifle’s trigger at the same time. You kicked the gun’s barrel towards the ground before stomping a foot against the man’s wrist. He cried out and you had to duck the incoming shots. You vaguely heard Sam scolding that you were on their side while you were reaching for the man’s pistol.

He jerked his elbow back and it hit your jaw, causing you to wobble enough for him to shove you off and drop the handgun. He scrambled to gather his rifle and you sat flat, kicking out at the center of his chest. He slammed into the pillar behind him with a sick crack that had to be his head, given the blood stain left behind. You shifted quickly and grabbed the front of his vest and turned to slam him against the ground. With a knee on his chest, you reached for the handgun. You aimed, looked up in time to catch Billy’s eyes - those were easy enough to recognize as he stared at you - and pulled the trigger.

Dinah and Sam were moving closer, the three of you alternating in an unspoken rhythm to provide the others with cover while your positions changed. Another went down and then another, leaving only two men standing in opposition. Two men who took off.

You didn’t hesitate to run after them. A shot from behind you took down the man closest to your trio and he fell to the floor. He called out for his partner to come back to help him, but assuming he was yelling for Billy, he was on his own.

The shots sounding from the stairwell answered it for you before you saw it. Dinah hesitated at the entrance and radioed for Sam but you refused to wait. You two went off in different directions judging by the fading sounds of her footsteps.

Billy leading a team against you and Dinah crossed the final line. Granted, it was unbeknownst to Billy when he got his team together and even invited you, but he heard your voices and actively decided to attack you. He chose his side, solidifying his allegiance to Rawlins. Meaning he was choosing to stand against you, to stand in your way.

You wouldn’t let any sort of feelings keep you from finishing your job. Not this time.

The sound of the gunshots only drew you closer. You even ditched the rifle because it was irritating you. Instead, you gripped your borrowed handgun and urged your feet to move faster.

The burn of your legs and lungs was a refreshing sensation compared to the burn of anger you were so used to feeling. Only your legs didn’t move fast enough. Once you were close enough, you saw the glint of the blade at his wrist.

“Don’t!” You shouted but Billy didn’t listen.

One, two, three, four sick squelches as he stabbed Sam.

You fired a warning shot that whizzed right by Billy’s shoulder before he threw Sam’s body to the side. You rushed to the fallen agent and tossed the gun aside, using both hands to put pressure on the gushing wound.

“C’mon, Sam.” You said to him, though the panic in his eyes was clear. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

You looked up and saw Billy was gone.

“Dinah!” You shouted as the blood started pooling over your fingers. “Dinah!!”

You heard her land on the rooftop and when you looked up, she stood frozen.

“Dammit, Dinah!” You yelled and she snapped from her daze momentarily to register what you were going

to say. “Get EMS!”

Looking back down at Sam, you suddenly weren’t on that rooftop anymore. It wasn’t Sam you were tying to keep from bleeding out. It wasn’t his blood staining your hands, staining the knees of your pants as the puddle grew. It wasn’t his gurgled voice and it wasn’t Dinah getting closer.

It was Elektra. Her blood. Her voice. It was Matt coming closer. His hands reaching for her wounds. Suddenly, your hands were shaking. Your eyes were watering. Your bottom lip quivered as the hopeless feeling began to create a hefty lump in your throat. The metallic smell of blood that never bothered you before was suddenly burning your lungs. The day turned to night. The bulletproof on your torso felt like Exodus’ suit.

You didn’t know how long you were there, kneeling in a stranger’s blood, when EMS finally arrived. Not only EMS, but someone knew to call Dex. He was the one to pull you off Sam and try to ask you what happened. Only

you didn’t have words, just a mumbled repetition of the same starting syllables that ultimately became a jumbled mess.

I’ll get him, Sam. I promise.

Your mind kept going to the night Elektra died. Not at Midland. That wasn’t Elektra. Elektra died at your feet on a rooftop. And you had just lived that moment all over again. Everytime you saw Sam’s blood on your hands, yo lived it again. Dex helped you get Dinah to her apartment, promising to wait for you to get her settled so he could do the same for you.

You kept running your hands against your pants despite both being equally stained. The hot, slick feeling just wouldn’t go. The red just wouldn’t come off.

Почему бы этой чертовой крови не оторваться? (Why wouldn’t the damn blood come off?)

Dinah’s mom helped you get her into the tub before she went off to call someone else to help. You sat on the floor beside her, your back to her but a hand over your shoulder holding hers. You thought of saying something to comfort her but was there to say?

If you told her you knew who killed Sam, she’d ask why you didn’t stop him. If you told her you were sorry, she’d say it wouldn’t change anything. If you told her you’d get whoever did it, she’d wish it was one of you instead. There was no consolation for that, for watching someone you fought beside die at your feet.

A light knock at the bathroom door snapped your thoughts and you saw Billy poke his head in. Your entire body tensed but you bit your tongue, if only for the sake of the catatonic woman in the water behind you. You stood and brushed past him without saying anything. Not until you were outside the bathroom at least.

“How’s she doing?” He asked quietly.

“Catatonic.” You answered, rubbing your hands on your shirt. “She’s alive at least, but completely unresponsive.”

“Shit.” He sighed and you wanted to put a knife in him the same way he did to Sam. Four times, strategic placement so he’d bleed out in minutes. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve wiped off your hands four times since I got here.”

Four times, four stab wounds.

“No I haven’t.” You lied poorly.

“When you got up was one.” He explained. “When you came out was two. When you answered me was three and just then was four. There’s nothing on your hands, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know.” You nodded and looked down at your blood stained hands and picked at the dried blood around your nails. “Just feels like it.”

Billy reached for your hands and you took a step back.

“Dex is waiting downstairs so I better go.” You reasoned, wiping off your hands again. “Take care of her.”

“Yeah, I will… And hey, about this morning.” He tried as you were reaching for the doorknob. “I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“It’s like I said, bad omens. Maybe we shouldn’t ignore them anymore.”

“Wait, so that’s it?”

“I don’t wanna do this here, Billy. Can we talk about this later? Dinah needs someone.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded.

You couldn’t tell if he knew you recognized him or if he even cared. Either way, you had to get out of there. Dinah’s mother offered you her bathroom to clean up in or a cup of tea, something to eat, but you politely refused her offer. You ensured you were okay, rubbing a hand on your chest to try and get the blood off.

Sam’s blood.

Elektra’s blood.

Left you to wonder whose blood was next.

Dex was waiting outside the car for you and opened the passenger door when you got close enough. You smiled in thanks and he nodded quietly. It was like he knew you had no words left in you. The silence of the ride to your apartment was filled with the background noise of the radio, muffled noise from the busy streets outside. You were both glad and disappointed that Dex didn’t ask if you were okay. Just a silent presence, reminding you that you weren’t alone.

Only alone in your lingering grief. Alone in the blood puddle.

It was days before you’d hear from anyone again. You didn’t go see Frank and Lieberman, or Sarah and her kids. Karen didn’t call or come by. Dex stopped in on his lunch breaks and after shift, making sure you ate and slept enough. Some nights you got him to stay, to serve the purpose Billy usually did when your emotions thumped uncomfortably in your chest.

Billy hadn’t even called.

You figured he was too busy cuddling up with Dinah, making nice with the woman who’s partner he killed.

You dragged yourself to the church that morning, sat on the same worn bench you always did and folded your legs to get your feet on the edge of the bench. You sighed and wrapped your arms around your knees, chin resting on them.

“It’s been a while.” Sister Maggie said after a few minutes of your quiet loitering. “Was starting to think you flew the coop.”

“Sometimes I wish I did.” You confessed. “Maybe then people would stop dying.”

She sighed in pity before she sat beside you. You could feel her expectant stare.

“I have this feeling that I'm not myself anymore.” You began, refusing to look at the older woman. You had a feeling in your gut that if you did and you saw her kind eyes, you’d break down into a crying fit that may never end. “Like I was on autopilot, and then Matthew came and I came to my senses. Found a family and morality, then karma came along and disassembled me. Next thing I knew, life hurriedly put me back together again and I don’t know who’s left.”

“I can’t give you an answer to that, dear.” She said honestly, a comforting hand landing on the back of your shoulder. You wanted to shrug it away, to make sure she didn’t become stained with the blood you were covered in, but the sincerity in her touch made it hard. Maybe she won’t have minded anyway. “Matthew wouldn’t be able to either.”

“Yeah, I know that.” You nodded and honestly, you did. Matt didn’t hold the answers to who you were. “He just made it easier to figure out, I guess. Y’know, everytime I come here, I feel like he’s here with me… It’s probably crazy.”

“This place was pivotal to who he became.” She agreed. “It was probably his most dearest place, other than by your side.” She nudged you slightly and you broke a small smile.

Before you could voice a response, the ground shook beneath the bench. You stood quickly and glanced around, seeing panicked faces all around you. You took a few steps in the direction you assumed the feeling came from when another heavy explosion rocked the ground. At first you thought it was just in your chest but you saw the smoke clouds rising.

Three clouds.

One in a direction you could’ve sworn was one of the NYPD precincts, another towards one of the courthouses.

“What the hell?” You spoke to yourself, instantly shoving your sadness and uncertainty down the familiar chasm in your chest. You turned back to Maggie and she nodded in silent understanding before she rushed back into the church.

You tapped your scar and shifted the channels up and down, hoping to catch any sort of chatter. At the same time, you pulled your phone and called Dex. Apparently, your SAC was dispatching teams across the city to find anything they could. You, however, were not yet assigned.

After a few hours, you got a call from Karen.

“How soon can you get to the Bulletin?” She asked in a hurried panic.

“What happened?” You said quickly. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No. No, um, not yet at least. The bombings.”

“What?”

“He sent a letter. Ellison went to call the FBI but I figured calling you is the same thing, right?”

“Shit.” You sighed. “Yeah, I’ll just need to get a team. You gotta call him too.”

“Him? Who’s him?”

“Him!” You insisted. “Put the goddamn flowers in the window if you have to.”

You practically ran to your apartment and gathered your FBI gear. Badge at your hip, gun under your arm, FBI branded jacket on your back. You called your SAC on the at to the Bulletin, informing her of your tip. She assured you she got the same call from Ellison and she was sending a team. You argued that you needed to be part of that team and she attempted to refuse. But your powers leaked into your voice and through the phone, forcing her to bend to your will. She said that you couldn’t do the initial evidence collection but you could get in on it right after.

The next day, you put the flowers in the window yourself. You practically ran into the compound and found Frank reading Karen’s response to the bomber. You read it over his shoulder and ignored the way he looked at you in question. You thought about why and realized you were wiping your hands off again.

You stuck around through Karen’s radio interview and heard the voice of the bomber. It was familiar, but the janky quality of Lieberman’s radio made it hard to place.

“I know him…” You said quietly while your brain was trying to match the voice to a face.

“What? How?” Lieberman turned to you, the screwdriver falling from his mouth.

“I don’t know, your radio is shit.” You commented with a sarcastic expression. “Wait. What did he say?”

“Why?” Frank asked as he recognized the tone of your voice. You deadpanned him and he sighed. “Sic semper tyrannis.”

“Sic semper tyrannis.” You repeated. “That’s a military thing, right? What branch?”

“I don’t think it’s specific.” Lieberman shrugged. “Started from a Navy attack sub, USS Virginia…”

“Wait a second, I’ve heard that before too.” Frank agreed

“Yeah, in history class.” Lieberman said with a little more intent, almost insisting you two were looking into a dead end.

“No, it’s…” You shook your head, replaying the phrase. “Shit! From group.” You turned to Frank. “Curtis’ group.”

“The kid.” Frank confirmed. “He said that. Curtis said that kid’s always blaming other people for his problems. He drives a cab and his name-“

“Lewis.” You finished. “He went for a job at Anvil not too long ago. Curtis and I convinced Billy not to take him. He was living in a foxhole in his front yard, almost shot his dad’s head off too.”

“Lewis and he drives a cab. Can you find him on there?” Frank said loudly and pointing at Lieberman’s set up.

“That’s not a lot to go on.” The man answered.

“Lewis, he’s around twenty five. Army vet. Drives a cab at night.” You added, hands rubbing against the sides of your pants. “Wilson, his last name is Wilson.”

“That narrows it down but are you two sure this is the same guy?”

“Yes!” You said loudly. “Goddammit, Lieberman!”

“Alright.” He conceded and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You said honestly. “I have to bring it to my team, too. We’ll work it from our end and see who catches him first.”

“But what happens if I find him?”

“The hell you think is gonna happen?” Frank said flatly. “This piece of shit’s going after Karen.”

“What's the deal with those two?” Lieberman asked you in a hushed, gossipy voice.

“The deal is no one goes after her. Not on his watch or mine. There’s not many people that have that kind of protection.” You shrugged. “Imagine if that was Sarah.”

“Sarah’s my wife. She’s my family.”

You rolled your eyes and closed the distance without much thought. You grabbed the front of Lieberman’s shirt and hauled him to his feet before forcing him back against the desk. You gripped the fabric tighter as if it would slip out your blood soaked hands.

“Listen to me.” You said firmly. “Karen is my family. If something happens to her and I don’t try to stop it, it’d be the same as Red and I’m not doing that again.”

His hands went up in surrender so you let him go. You took a couple steps back and Frank grabbed one of your arms to pull you to him. You landed against his chest and his arms wrapped around you and you leaned into the embrace. Your hands were shaking as you put your arms around him, balling up your fists in his shirt.

You were near tears and Frank knew, just by the way you were holding on to him, like you would break as soon as you let go. Maybe he felt the same way.

You stayed in the embrace for only a few seconds until your hands didn’t feel slick with invisible blood. You let go first and wiped your sleeve against your eyes before you left without another word. You had to get to the office and relay the information you had. Once you got to your car, you got a couple texts from Curtis.

He heard the radio and tried Lewis’ house but he wasn’t there. His next thought was O’Connor’s place and he sent you that address. You would add it to the file your team was compiling. And lucky for you, the team was always at the Bulletin.

“And nothing about this was familiar, right? He’s never reached out before?” You asked, a copy of the letter in your hands. You were stalling in telling her the truth, or anyone from your team really, until you knew Frank had something.

“We get a lot of angry letters.” She shrugged and you cracked a small smile. “There might be some in the archives.”

“Yeah, your pieces tend to piss people off.” You joked and motioned for the other agent to go look into it.

As they left, Karen’s phone rang. She took the call in the corner and you read over the letter again. It was almost baffling how someone could fall apart so quickly, but maybe you were just preoccupied to recognize it. At the same time, however, Lewis was not your responsibility.

After about a minute, Karen went and shut her office door. Your brows went up and she put the call on speaker.

“You’re lucky it’s Y/N.” She said and your question remained. “Why am I hearing from you now? What do you know about this?”

“Frank?” You mouthed and she nodded.

“I know you need to stay put until this gets dealt with.” Frank answered. “What do you got on your end, Princess?”

“I haven’t said anything yet.” You said honestly. “Team’s looking to see if he’s written before. Where are you?”

“His house.”

“He might not be there. Curtis gave me an address of one of the guys he idolized, so we should check there too.”

“You know who he is?” Karen spoke up, almost too loud. You clamped a hand over her mouth and offered a stern look. After a second, you carefully removed your hand. “We should deal with this through the FBI. Through your team, Y/N.”

“It’s faster my way.” Frank said casually and you agreed. If you didn’t have to show face, you would’ve been right there with him.

“We should do this the right way. Y/N, c’mon, if you know you should be leading your team there right now.”

“The right way is one he doesn’t walk away from.” You said flatly. “He killed innocent people and he’ll come for you too.”

“Then you’re both no different than him.”

“We are plenty different, Karen, and you know it.” Frank countered. 

“Really?” She scoffed. “You don’t like the way the world works so you just do whatever you like. Do not do this and say that it’s for me.”

“Okay.” You shrugged. “It’s not for you.”

“Just stay put.” Frank said firmly before the line ended.

“You can’t seriously be on board with this.” She scolded you.

“If it keeps you safe, sure.” You shrugged. “I lost Matt already. Not gonna lose you too if I can help it.”

“But killing him? I thought this whole FBI thing was a chance for you to go straight.”

“I gotta get my feet under me. Growing pains.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Fine. I’m choosing to go after this guy, yeah. I’m choosing this because if I can’t take down Bi- If I can’t finish this, then I can’t expect to finish helping Frank and Micro.”

You got a text then. From an unsaved number.

83541 Van Buren

O’Connor’s address.

You practically ran out of the room after that. You hurried to find Dex and told him where you were going. He asked you to wait but you refused, insisting he gather the best from the team since you didn’t know them enough and to meet you there. When you got to your car, you fought out of your jacket and grabbed your bureau-issued bulletproof out of the backseat.

You wiggled it into place as you drove, pulling up right behind Frank. You parked a few houses back and caught up with him on foot.

“We don’t have a lot of time till my team gets here, which means you need to be clear of here by then. Got it?” You said quickly, drawing your gun as you walked.

Frank ignored you.

“Dammit, Frank.” You grabbed his arm so he had to stop.

“I get it, Princess, alright?” He rolled his eyes.

You and Frank went in, finding Curtis tied to a chair and a bomb to his chest. Your heart fell to your feet for a split second before you both went to act. The thick smell from the dead body in the next room was enough to pull you back to focus. Frank ensured Curtis was alive while you holstered your gun. You flicked out the knife at your wrist and carefully cut the gag away. Frank raised a brow at your concealed blade but said nothing. He busied himself at the sink to try and clean up Curtis while you examined the bomb.

“Frank.” You waved for his attention. “Claymore.”

Almost immediately after, Curtis’ phone rang. Frank moved to answer it and he put it on speaker.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Lewis said, a clear waver in his voice.

Fear.

Your head snapped up and found the yellow terror trail leading across the street. You snapped for Frank to look and when he did, you gestured him away from the window and slid the blade away.

“What the hell, Lewis?” You sighed, shaking your head while looking back at the bomb.

You had no idea how to disarm it.

“They said that you were killed.” Lewis continued and out of pure spite, you gradually began raising his fear. Fear of Frank Castle.

“They say a lot of things, kid.” Frank answered calmly. 

“Too many people were on your side, people like me. People who know that we have to… to take matters into our own hands.”

“That’s what you think he stands for?” You questioned loudly, moving away from Curtis for the moment and closer to the phone. “You think you two are the same?”

New plan to try. Keep him talking till your team showed and they could disarm it.

“Y/N?”

A new wave of fear. Good.

“What does this have to do with Curtis?” You challenged. “Anvil wasn’t his fault, Lewis. It was mine. You wanna blow someone up, should be me.”

“You’ll get yours.” He warned and your brows went up in amusement. “Curtis chose the wrong side.”

“I promise you, Curtis has never been on the wrong side of anything in his life.” Frank countered.

“How did this end, Lewis?” You continued, looking for enough of a crack in his defense that you could weasel in and break it down. “Wait for the cops or the feds and blow them all to hell? Take on the establishment? Spoiler alert, they will find you and kill you before you make a dent.”

“I already made a dent.”

“By killing janitors?” You almost laughed. “C’mon, man. Let us get Curtis out of here. We get him out and you..”

“You turn yourself in, all right? Just do it.” Frank finished, though it wasn’t where your train of thought was going. You were going to say that he could put you in Curtis’ place and then when he got close enough to try it, you put your blade in his neck. One, two, three, four times. “Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

“You fought your war, Frank, and I’m fighting mine.” Lewis reasoned.

“You are nothing like me. The men I put down, I stood in front of them. I looked them in the eye. You’re a goddamn coward, hiding behind these bombs.” Frank insisted and you felt Lewis’ resolve wavering.

You focused in on it and helped to break it, taking an imaginary sledgehammer to his already fragile ideology while Frank kept talking. Every word was another blow to his conviction and it was working until Lewis ended the call.

You knelt in front of the bomb again and wondered how long it would take until Dex got the team there. You gingerly traced wires, carefully replacing them in their positions before you stood and followed them to various planted sources.

“I can’t tell if it’s on an open or closed circuit.” You admitted and Frank came over to look.

“You can tell the difference?” Curtis asked weakly.

“Closed circuit all link to each other, meaning any wire could set it off.” You explained, returning to the wires at the battery. “An open circuit has a trigger wire, meaning you can snip it and cut off the explosive from the detonator. Problem is I can’t tell with this one.”

You continued your investigation of the wires while Frank and Curtis had a conversation. Curtis was giving deathbed confessions, about the darker thoughts he had and death he wished for. Frank tried to console him but that despair, that sinking helplessness, began to soak into you as well. You shuddered after pushing the feeling away from you both and the phone rang again.

“I called the cops.” Lewis said quickly, hoping to scare you and Frank away.

“No need.” You answered, still examining the connections. “FBI team’s a few minutes out. They’ll get here first.”

Frank then went on to convince Lewis to tell him about the right wires. He told the story of Curtis losing his leg and how he froze. Then Lewis called Frank to the window and you reached for his arm to stop him. He turned to you for a second and you shook your head. He took his arm out of your grip and his hand went to the side of your head. He nodded slightly before going and you stood dumbfounded for a second.

You half expected a bullet to come flying through and you wondered if Frank expected the same. You heard Dex’s voice in your ear, telling you they were two minutes out. Lewis made a comment about Karen and you had to force yourself to stay put.

“Frank!” You called and flicked the blade out again before you knelt in front of Curtis. “ETA less than two minutes. I need a wire.”

“Try the white wire.” Lewis said before the call ended again.

You positioned your blade against the wire and Curtis’ fear spiked. You looked up at him and nodded, swallowing hard. You didn’t trust Lewis but what other choice did you have? You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked to see Frank standing beside you. He nodded to you and you looked back at the wire. You closed your eyes tightly, bracing for the explosion to finally leave your chest, and yanked your knife through the wire.

You let out a relieved laugh when nothing happened. At that point you stood and shoved Frank towards the back door. Dex and two other agents burst through the front just as you were hiding your blade again. You pointed to Curtis for the other two and grabbed Dex’s arm, while the others were yelling about whether or not Castle was there.

“Dex is with me!” You shouted. “You two on that bomb! And get forensics for that body!”

You two took off down the same alleys Frank ran. You both shouted for him to stop, that you were FBI and for everyone else to get out of the way. You were blatantly sandbagging while Dex was actively trying to catch up to him. Frank turned and cut across streets, hopping into backyards and over fences until he eventually got enough space to confront a couple of officers. As you and Dex caught up again, he was taking off in a stolen police cruiser.

Dex cursed in frustration while you smirked. Together, you rejoined your team and Curtis was quick to pull you into a thankful embrace. Debrief wouldn’t be easy as you’d have to explain why you let Frank Castle and Lewis get away, but it was part of your mission.

One more box to check.

That much closer to the end.

A few days later, everything went to shit faster than you could stop it.

It was just before 9:30A.M. when you arrived at the hotel, Frank parking the van a block away. You two split about half a block later. He was headed towards the maintenance entrance while you went to the front. Dex had a couple guys waiting for your arrival and while you knew the team was necessary to maintain your job, they were in your way. You told them to blend in and keep comms open while you would take post at Karen’s side.

You met with Karen near the elevator after talking your way around one of Billy’s men. You flashed your badge when he tried to confiscate your gun and he was quick to pull his hand away. Karen handed hers over though and while you felt she was uncomfortable with it, she trusted you to look after her.

The ride up was quick and quiet. There were questions hanging in the air but she didn’t dare to voice them. Maybe she knew better.  Maybe she just couldn’t bring herself to. Either way, it made it that much easier for you.

“Guess it’s time you two had a proper introduction, huh?” You gestured to the man coming down the hall before wiping your hands on the back of your shirt.

One, two, three, four times.

“Billy Russo, Anvil.” He smiled and shook her hand. “Right this way.”

You stayed at Karen’s side rather than Billy’s and the small gesture was something he seemed to notice. He turned his head and when you weren’t there, his steps nearly faltered.

“Little ironic, isn’t it?” Billy tried. “Anti-gun senator being interviewed by a journalist with a concealed carry permit.”

“And she’s seen you without pants yet you’re barely introducing yourself.” You quipped back with an eye roll that got you a small nudge from Karen. “But also the anti-gun senator choosing a military contractor for personal security.”

“Can’t wait to hear what he has to say about that.” Karen agreed, stepping in to take over the conversation she could tell you weren’t interested in.

“Hopefully he’ll say that if you want the best, Anvil is the only choice.” Billy offered you a smile as you all approached the room. “And if he doesn’t, you can quote me on that. Y/N can attest to it, too.”

“Where’d you get your sales smarts from? Wharton?” Karen tried when she noticed you had no intention of saying anything.

“Afghanistan.” He answered, though his eyes lingered on you for a second longer. “Wharton was my safety school.”

“Очаровательно, как всегда.” You said under your breath. “Are you ready, Ms. Page?” (Charming as ever.)

“Yes, thank you, Agent Y/L/N.” She nodded and you gestured to the room.

Before you could follow her in, Billy reached for your arm.

“What’s with the cold shoulder, Gorgeous?” He asked quietly, though you glared up at him.

You wanted to throw what he did to Sam at him but it wasn’t the time.

“I’m working.” You said flatly. “So are you.”

“Yeah, but that’s never stopped you before.”

“When I worked with you, maybe. This is serious. I don’t have time to flirt because if I mess up, my friend could die. You may not care about your friends but I do.”

“Hey.” He tried but you pulled your arm away.

“Also.” You gave a small, insincere chuckle. “If you ever put your hands on me like you did this morning, you’re gonna lose use in at least one of them.”

“Hey.”

“You really think Frankie is a terrorist or is it all just for your ‘image’?” You challenged through gritted teeth. “You gonna kill him to protect your senator?”

“You beat a dog long enough, it goes crazy.” He reasoned.

“What about me, Bill?”

“What about you?” He chuckled slightly in disbelief.

“What happens when there’s two beaten dogs around?” You said lowly, enough venom in your voice to kill. “Держись подальше от меня.” (Stay the hell out of my way.)

“Y/N..” He tried but you ignored him.

The interview was of little interest to you so you were simply a fly on the wall. Two men from Anvil stood near the door and you stayed at the wall behind Karen. The way she went toe to toe with the senator, challenging his assumptions and statements, it was almost enough to remind you of Matt in a courtroom.

The sudden explosion sent you into the end table, your head hitting the edge of the ornate frame of the hanging art on the way. The thick warm liquid leaked quickly from a new split in your eyebrow but you wiped it away with the back of your hand. You coughed roughly as the smoke began to fill the room as you heard the clatter of a canister. You climbed to your feet and hurried to Karen’s side.

She reached blindly and grabbed hold of your sleeve, coughing hard as she laid on her side but you kept her head down as you peered over the arm of the couch. You shifted your position to put your body in front of her while she regained her bearings.

“I need coverage on the stairwells.” You said for your comms line. “Gonna try and lead him down. All eyes up.”

The silencer made you snap your head up. You turned on your knee and put your back to Karen while you quietly rested your hand on your gun. Two of Billy’s men went down and the shooter was quick to come around and find the Senator. At that point, you knew you had to move.

Senator Ori was pleading for his life. He crawled in a panic around to the other side, still screaming for mercy. You grabbed Karen and tried to yank her out of the shooter’s sight but she fought free and put herself in front of Ori.

At that point, you had to get involved. You ran at him quickly and threw your shoulder into him. When he faced you again, you grabbed his gun and twisted his wrist away. You jammed the opposite elbow into his jaw once, twice, three times. You two met eyes for a second and you recognized the face behind the gas mask.

Lewis.

You kicked the inside of Lewis' knee hard, almost hard enough to snap the tendon. He groaned and buckled slightly, enough for you to gain leverage. You released his wrist and put both hands behind his head and slammed your knee upwards to knock him into the wall.

Your first thought was to push him out the window, but the hotel glass wouldn’t break easily. By the time that thought had processed, Lewis was ready to fight back.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head into the wall. The impact added more length to the existing gash and you felt the metal of his silencer at the back of your neck. You planted both hands on the wall and pushed off, slamming your head back at the same time. Your head hit the plastic shield hard and you heard a slight crack, which you weren’t completely sure if it was your skull or the mask.

You saw Frank coming over Lewis’ shoulder so you simply smiled, a small laugh leaving you before you stepped out of the way. Frank made hard contact with Lewis just as you moved, but the impact made Lewis’ trigger finger go off. The bullet hit your stomach in the center of your bulletproof. It didn’t pierce your body, but it knocked the air out of you.

You coughed roughly while Frank distracted Lewis and you had to push Karen and Ori to leave the room. Karen hesitated at your side, a panicked hand on your shoulder. You looked up and nodded, giving her one more push, and you saw her pick up one of the discarded handguns on the way. Except she didn’t make it.

Lewis had given himself enough room to get away from Frank, only to grab Karen as a shield. Instinctively you grabbed your gun and lined a shot for his head. He fired back but his gun was empty.

“Отпусти ее, или я покрашу стену твоим мозгом!” You yelled as Frank got to your side, his gun raised alongside yours. (Let her go or I paint the wall with your brains!)

You hesitated when Lewis unzipped his jacket and you saw the bomb strapped to his torso.

“Goddammit.” You muttered and a cold fear ran through your bones. You swallowed it down, forced it to fill the chasm and muffle the explosions in your chest instead. To soak up the blood on your hands.

By then, you had to shut off your comms. Too much chatter in your ear, too many voices in your head.

“It’s a dead man’s switch!” Lewis announced and your determination to kill him was dampened.

Killing him now killed all of you. You, fine. You were even okay with Billy.

But not Frank.

Not Karen.

“Drop it!” Lewis yelled, bringing you back to the present moment.

Karen’s fear was stronger than yours, maybe the only thing keeping you on task. If she wasn’t caught in the crossfire, you’d have killed him by now. But that bitterness settled on your tongue and threatened to choke you. Under the fear, however, was trust. Trust in you and Frank.

You lowered the angle of your gun but refused to drop it. You even moved your finger off the trigger. Following Frank’s lead, you crept forward as Lewis backed out of the room. He dragged Karen with him and you wanted nothing more than to cut his hand off and let him bleed out.

Instead, you kept your head and tucked your gun into your holster. You put your hands up as you entered the hall and Lewis waved the detonator at you both.

“You want her dead?” He challenged and your steps faltered.

Three more Anvil members came from the other end and you took a few quick steps forward, hands still in the air.

“Stand down!” You yelled, hoping they didn’t recognize the desperation in your words. “He’s wired! Hold your fire!”

They hesitated until they saw the switch in Lewis’ hand.

Frank was by your side then and you reached out for his shoulder. You felt his hand tap your leg and you knew he was feeling the same thing you were.

“You’re gonna regret this.” You said sharply as the elevator doors closed, Lewis safely inside with Laren as his hostage.

Almost instantly the Anvil team tried to shoot at you two. You dropped to your knees while Frank took off in the other direction. You pulled your gun and fired at the first one’s knee to drop him. You swiped your leg as the second one got to your position and you slammed the butt of your gun to their temple. Grabbing one of the Anvil member’s knives, you threw it at the back of the last one’s leg to drop them.

You pushed to your feet and ran down the same hall Frank went down, kicking out at the last Anvil’s head to slam him against the wall and knock him out.

You caught up with Frank in one of the stairwells, having to jump a few railings to actually get to his side. You had no idea what floor you two had to stop on. All you could do was run. Jump a few steps to catch up, breathe. Repeat. You two didn’t stop until Dinah’s voice echoed in the stairwell, causing Frank to freeze and you to run into his back.

“Castle, drop the weapon.” She demanded and you groaned.

You turned and went back up a few steps to be closer to her.

“Dinah, please.” You said quickly.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/L/N?” She urged, looking quickly between you and Frank.

“Lewis has our friend and a dead man’s switch. We need to catch up to him.”

“What are you-“

“I will explain everything later. But you have to let this go…”

“No.” Dinah said firmly. “He’s gonna stand up in court and tell the world about Cerberus, Rawlins, everything. We want the same people, Frank.”

“We gotta go, Princess.” Frank urged and took a few steps, though Dinah stopped him with a shot to the railing.

“I know who killed Stein.” You said quickly, her eyes snapping to yours and at the edge of tears. “I’m guessing Homeland has ID’d the other bodies by now. Any patterns?”

“Yeah, one.” She said carefully.

“And who else do we know that fits the pattern?”

She swallowed hard and you were suddenly pushed aside. Frank stood in front of you now and put his forehead against Dinah’s gun in challenge. You watched quietly while her hands shook.

You shook your head slightly and changed her mind for her. She needed Frank alive so you played on that, pulling that need to the forefront of her mind. That was the only way, you told her. As Frank was backing away, a shot came from the stairs above.

You acted quickly and stepped up, firing at the person without seeing them. You wanted to know who it was first so it wasn’t a kill shot. The bullet hit the right side of their chest, should’ve punctured a lung at least. But when you looked and saw Billy looking down at you, unfazed as he likely had a bulletproof to absorb the impact, any sort of feelings for him disappeared immediately.

“Предатель!” You shouted, changing the aim of your gun to his head. (Traitor!)

Dinah stepped in front of you and you hopped down the stairs to get to Frank’s side. You shoved your gun away and used your sleeve to clear some of the blood. Luckily it was a graze, relatively deep but best case scenario with all things considered. Your anger was burning hot through your body and you had to wipe your hands on your pants.

Sam’s blood. Elektra’s blood. Now Frank’s blood.

“Bill?” Frank muttered to himself, looking at you in question.

“Still with me?” You asked quietly. “We gotta…”

“Y/L/N.” Dinah said firmly and you looked at her, seeing she was already looking at you. “Little help?”

You groaned slightly and went up a few steps, pulling your gun again and aiming at Billy.

“FBI.” You called out. “Drop your weapon, now.”

Billy turned his gun on you.

“You shoot at me, and I have every right to kill you.” You warned, though a smirk found its way to your face.

“No need for you to get hurt either, Y/N… Walk away.” Billy said flatly. 

“So you can shoot me when I turn my back?” You laughed. “Or would you rather use your knife? Four times.”

“You killed Stein.” Dinah realized quietly, her grief and anger coming in new waves.

Before anything else could be said, NYPD burst into the stairwell. You ricocheted a shot off the bannister to hit the pipe behind Billy. The bullet caused the pressure to escape as a thick smoke and you grabbed Frank by the wrist and dragged him with you down the stairs.

The betrayal lingered heavily in the air. Frank never thought Billy would turn on him and you didn’t blame him. You hadn’t expected Natasha to turn on you way back when. But the difference was that you saw Billy’s betrayal coming. You wanted to warn Frank but you knew you needed proof. You were biding time until an opportunity to expose him, but you waited too long. But for the time being, you had to put it on Frank’s back burner.

Stopping Lewis had to be the priority.

Karen’s panic was the only thing that was guiding you. That and the idea of running from Billy’s betrayal.

You and Frank made you way into the kitchen, Frank unarmed and you having emptied your clip into the remaining Anvil team members in your way. You ditched the empty gun and held your hands up at your shoulders to prove you had nothing.

“Maybe you and me, we are the same.” Frank tried and your head snapped towards him. “Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to end, right? You, me, a bomb.”

“Frank, what the hell?” You asked quietly and he simply gestured for you to wait.

“When we were with Curtis, you told me to pull the white wire.” Frank continued, a desperation growing in his chest. “You did the right thing, kid. You could do it again.”

Frank kept talking, keeping Lewis’ attention on him. You watched the scene carefully, noticing Karen’s fingers searching the wires. You quickly understood she was trying to find the white one. You gave small jerks for your head to try and direct her hands and she eventually had a firm hold of the white one, just as Frank was talking about women and their bags.

“I bet Ms. Page can tell us exactly what’s in her bag.” You added when you remembered seeing her shove the handgun in there before everything went to hell. “Can’t you?”

“Yup.” She said firmly, understanding exactly what you both were getting at. Her hand slipped into her bag and your muscles tensed, ready to move.

“Do it!” You yelled as you ran forward, moving to Lewis.

He threw Karen into you and you immediately stopped. Her arms came around you in relief while Frank chased Lewis into the walk-in freezer. Your body relaxed for a second before you let her go and went over to Frank’s side.

You watched for a second as Lewis was replacing the pulled wire into the detonator.

“We should go.” You grabbed Frank’s sleeve, unable to look away from Lewis. “C’mon, Frank. Please..”

“Get outta here, Y/N/N. Take Karen with you.” He said firmly.

“Hell no.” You said with the same tone. “I’m not losing you, too.”

“Y/N!”

“No!”

Just before Lewis let go of the switch, Frank pulled you away from the door. You grabbed Karen on the way and made sure your body was in front of hers when the explosion hit. It echoed through your chest as you hit the ground, seemingly bouncing off the linoleum.

You rubbed the spot where your head hit the floor as you rolled to get your hands and knees beneath you. The air was knocked from your lungs and the smell of burnt flesh and smoke filled the room now. Your right eyes was stinging from the blood leaking into it and everything was spinning around you. Bits of shrapnel were scattered through your arm and leg and you could taste blood from where you bit your cheek.

At least everyone was alive.

You and Frank separated after that. You promised you’d meet him at the compound after debrief and he took off with Karen.

You went out a bit after they did, a hand to your bleeding head and swaying on your feet.

[enigma-naturae]

Obey me characters as type of goths!

Authors Note: This is my first time writing so sorry if its really repetitive and these are just some of my personal headcanons and little mini imagines. I myself am also relatively new to the goth scene these might now be 100% accurate.

I hope you enjoy!

Lucifer:

I could really just choose one but I think that Lucifer would really like romantic, vampire, and victorian goth

Just look at him

He already has the whole vibe

Out of all of them I think he would like romantic goth the most since he's an old romantic at heart

definitely uses to name caramia as a term of endearment to you <3

Likes to wear more formal attire such as suits and lots of jewelry preferably chunky rings

Listens to Lebanon Hanover

Imagine spending a night with him listening to his records, sipping on nice red wine and him speaking sweet nothings to you

Mammon:

This one was actually really hard but I think Mammon would be into gothabilly

He gives me the vibe that he likes any type of 50s style clothing (think greaser style)

Listens to Elvis Presley

Definitely into things like vintage cars and decor

LOTS OF LEATHER JACKETS

Collects vintage horror movies

He doesn't watch them (mainly because he thinks their scary) just collects them because he thinks they look cool

Has at least one pin up girl tattoo

Loves going to old diners with you and taking you to old car shows

Definitely uses old slang

Calls you sugar or babe

Dances rockabilly like it's no one business

please look up real 1950s rockabilly dancing it looks like so much fun

Imagine him driving in his Demonio with you listening to rock 'n' roll and going to a club and dancing all night long just laughing with each other and just forgetting everything else :)

Leviathan:

I personally think he would be very into visual kei

He dresses a little more on the colorful side

Tries to incorporate some of his favorite animes into his fashion

Also gets a lot of his inspiration from them

Makes him feel more confident and it's kinda cosplay to him so he really likes it if you dress up with him

Learned to play guitar and bass because he wanted to play his favorite solos

Loves to do your makeup (only if you ask him bc he's too shy to ask you)

He still gets kinda shy if you compliment him but he really appreciates it

Especially since his outfits take a while to get on

HE LISTENS TO MALICE MIZER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Imagine getting ready with him to go to a concert and just seeing how excited he is to see his favorite artist and just having an overall great time with him

Satan:

To me this one is simple

He is a 100% New England Gothic type of person

He loves learning about the history such as the Salem Witch trials

His favorite authors are H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King

His favorite book is Misery by Stephen King

Listens to The Shortwave Mystery

Fashion wise his style is more dark academia

Loves going to places that are haunted or hold cursed items

Frequent visitor of the Ed and Lorraine Warren museum

Also an old romantic

Writes love letters to you and closes them with a wax seal that has his sigil on it so you know it's him

Gives you flowers with special meanings

Calls you my heart or my joy since your the person who always makes him the happiest

Imagine him sending you a letter telling you to meet him in the library and he takes you on a date treating you like royalty and reading poetry he made specifically for you

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus would LOVE pastel goth

To him it's a perfect mix of dark edgy colors and bright bubbly colors

Loves accessories, mainly chokers and hair clips

Has A BUNCH of outfit choices for you if you want to try his style too

If you ask him to do your makeup say no more he's already sprinting to his room to get his makeup kit

Can and will dye your the brightest pastel colors if you ask him

His outfits are always perfectly coordinated

Pulls off black lipstick surprisingly well

Has graphic shirts and decorated socks for DAYS

Listens to Melenie Martinez

Calls you sweetie or love

Imagine him taking you out to Majolish, helping you buy pastel goth clothes since you've been wanting to try it out, he gives you the best tips about what accessories go best and him giving you endless praise saying how cute you look

Beelzebub:

Beel would definitely like health goth

He dresses more casually than his brothers since health goth is more wearing black and white sports brands

Really likes the music though

He listens to Molchat Doma during his workouts

I think he really likes tattoos but either is busy to get them or Lucifer doesn't let him

He works hard to keep both his physical and mental health in top shape so if you need a shoulder to lean on (both metaphorically and literally) or want a gym bro he's your guy

Calls you peach or honey

Knows a lot of comfortable goth brands if you want to buy some active wear

Imagine you come home from a long day at RAD and just being generally exhausted, you go to your room and soon Beel comes since he felt like you weren't feeling the best, he comes with your favorite snacks and you spend the rest of the night together enjoying each others presence

Belphegor:

I personally think that Belphie would be a trad goth but he barely has the time and energy for all that so I he would be an emo goth

I know what your gonna say BUT EMO AND GOTH ARE DIFFERENT I know that but I feel like he would find a way to combine them (also he thinks it's funny how it manages to get people angry)

Asmo takes his picture sometimes and adds a horrendous amount of blingees

Cuts his own hair

Owns so many band tshirts that his closet looks like a hot topic

I think he listens to Black Veil Brides or Twin Tribes

Acts like a stereotypical emo for shits and giggles

Always ends up forgetting to take off his eyeliner

Probably has a blog dedicated to astrology (Asmo got a hold of it and decorated it so much its like looking into the sun)

Probably has a few piercings

I think has has an eyebrow piercing and snake bites

Loves watching Tim Burton movies

Calls you my one and only or baby

Imagine waking from a nap to have a message from Belphie saying "Meet me in the planetarium", you go and he's there with a blanket and you two spend the rest of the night either stargazing, talking about astrology, or him reading to you some overly edgy poem talking about "your the light that reaches even the darkest parts of my soul" and "Will you be the Pon to my Zi?" (please tell me if you understand that reference)

It sounds super sappy but you know deep down he means it

[questionableratatouille00]

𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙅𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨

Pairing: past Clint Barton x Reader

Summary: You never expected your ex to move on so quickly, but when the holidays come around you’re forced to face the truth.

Warnings: parties, drinking, mention of death, relationship that didn’t work out (yes it is Clint and you), jealous reader, bitter reader, reader is the grinch for real for real, background sambucky, and Christmas.

Every year on the 15th of December, Tony Stark had his Christmas party. And ever since you became an Avenger in 2012, your attendance to said party had become mandatory.

You genuinely had to die to get out of going. You hadn’t ever really disliked this party until 2014. When everything in your life basically began to crash and burn.

You leaned against the railing, watching the party from above. You sipped on a whiskey, the burning sensation distracting you from your misery.

“I knew he’d be quick to move on, but I didn’t know he’d have a fuckin’ marriage.” You grumbled bitterly, as Kate Bishop walked up beside you. She had a black suit on, and she looked pretty damn good.

You weren’t interested in her like that, she was twenty two and you were well into your thirties, soon to be forties. It wasn’t the worst age gap, but it didn’t feel right for you.

“At least he’s happy?” She tried to inspire some kind of enthusiasm in you.

You just huffed out a laugh.

It wasn’t hard to identify the Avengers in the crowds; Bucky and Sam were obviously flirting with each other yet were somehow oblivious to it in the corner, Steve and Nat were having a drinking competition, Thor was entertaining a crowd of young women, and everyone else was off doing other time-wasting bullshit.

“He has kids, too.” Kate said after a moment.

“Gee, thanks for reminding me. Can’t believe I forgot.” You looked down in your glass, swirling the liquid around before taking a drink.

“Sorry.” She muttered.

“Why are you wasting time up here, with me? Don’t you have Nat’s sister to flirt with?”

“What? No—she doesn’t look at me like that. I mean—I don’t think she does—do you think she does?—I kinda hope she does—does she?” She sputtered out.

“…Right. Anyway, you’re too young to be hiding on a balcony at an infamous Stark Party. Go have fun.” You glanced at her, proving your earnestness.

“You’re sure?” She blinked at you.

“Go, Bishop. Have fun.”

She smiled, before walking to the staircase that lead down to the main party floor. You watched her go, before going back to your people-watching.

“A wife.” You muttered darkly, grumbling to yourself. “I bet he doesn’t even treat her right. I could do better, and I don’t even have one wife.”

You glared daggers at the woman. Lauren. Lylah? Lorelei? Lafayette? Something like that.

She was laughing, sipping on a glass of champagne. You scowled at the sight. She was clearly a few years younger than the two of you.

Once your whiskey glass emptied, you realized you had to walk back down to the main floor to get another.

And so you did, attempting to avoid any type of social interaction. And you made it all the way to the bar before you made a terrible timing mistake.

Standing right beside you was your ex-boyfriend, dressed in a leather jacket and a shirt, paired with a belt and some jeans. They were nice clothes, so that he didn’t look out of place at the fancy party.

“L/n,” he coughed awkwardly.

“Barton.” You replied, your tone short and clipped.

You stood together in awkward silence for a few moments as you waited for your own respective drinks.

“It’s good to see you,” he said after a moment, “you look good.”

“Mm. You don’t look so bad yourself.” You said, just to be polite.

You got your drink first. “Be a dear and do me a favor?” You glanced at him.

“Yeah?” He nodded his head, quite eagerly.

“Kiss her once for me. Make it passionate; prove you didn’t use all your good ones on me.” You walked away, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor being the only noise you could focus on.

He didn’t call out for you, nor could you hear him say anything afterward.

Later that evening, you watched as he kissed her gently on the lips under the mistletoe. You laughed drily, taking another swig of whiskey. Maybe he had no more good ones left.

A/n: first time (I think) I’ve written for Clint! Also, I didn’t want to have too much fluff in these 12 days, so expect a little angst in there every so often!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

tomorrows hint:

Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it

With a note saying "I love you", I meant it Now I know what a fool I've been

But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again

[liannelara-dracula]

have a question for tokyo ghoul boys. What do you think their clothing style in real life would look like or their style in general?

Hi Love,

Yeah this is a good question! Let’s get to it. :)

-Liannelara

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been censored for Tumblr guidelines.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Ken:

He shops at like H&M

On the left is his battle outfit, Shiro vibes.

And he wears black boots and probably has earrings too.

Chains

The middle is for a date.

Right is how he casually dresses for an outing.

He looks so damn fine with these.

He’s never dressed badly tho.

Oh, he might even adapt to some thick black glasses, but he doesn’t look bad he pulls it off.

He mostly wears sneakers, and he wears dark colors.

Hide:

He’s a mix of H&M and Hollister.

Spurs of color all the time because why not?

He likes a lot of stripes/prints on his clothes.

And a lot of weird colors/accessories.

He wears these shoes that are old vans, and Kaneki has tried so hard to have him wear other shoes, and he just never does.

He always wears those old things.

Hide is mostly focused on the comfort and color of his clothes.

Ayato:

Leather jackets all the way.

Left/Right are battle and casual wear; there is no in between.

The middle is when he is on a date/not fighting that day he takes his jacket off.

But that's about it.

And he wears black combat boots all the time.

He's got a punk vibe to him tbh.

And you know he's got them earrings, and it's just a whole vibe.

He does wear a necklace sometimes and occasionally a ring or something.

His shoes or boots rather have insoles because he's insecure of his height.

And he wears them every day, so then when he takes them off it takes him a second to adjust to his actual height.

Yomo:

tight shirts

right: working out/training

middle: date/important event

left: casual

He wears a lot of tanks.

His wardrobe is so bland too.

He only has black, gray, and white clothes.

And literally has like ten shirts that are exactly the same in his closet.

And then you know he of course, has that one trench coat he keeps on all year round.

Uta has tried to give him advice on what to wear but he never takes his advice.

He doesn’t really wear much of anything else.

He’s also more focused on comfort and simple things.

Uta:

Left: Casual/at work

Middle: casual

Right: Date

Cannot dress for sh!t

and like it's a problem.

The photos here are fine, I know, but the minute he uses color, it goes horribly wrong.

Like bruh, he dresses badly in the anime (a lot of the time). 

I mean, you guys did see that ugly suit he was wearing right?

Or am I crazy?

He cannot dress even to save his life, because literally, our artist here thinks throwing something random into the mix is just ok.

But seriously, there are rules.

He doesn’t have much color in his closet in fact, most of his closet in 97% black and 1.9% white and 0.01% random colors.

He wears a lot of loose clothing and rarely wears tight things.

Mostly cause he likes to be comfortable more than anything.

So you won’t see him wear tight jeans all the time, but he sometimes does.

I think he does wear a leather jacket sometimes but it's not always. 

I wish we could’ve of actually seen that in anime. 

Whatever the case his tattoos are always on display.

Like we all know how his shirts are.

Although I don’t think he shows much of his skin.

Like he is so f*cking pale.

He’s never worn shorts in his life.

And I mean, he’s a total goth so we can pretty much guess how his closet looks.

And like always he wears his black shades when he’s out.

Wears a ring on his finger, you know like those thick rings.

Itori has tried to fix his wardrobe but she knows he’s a lost cause so she gave up.

Honestly, he should be arrested for the certain outfits he’s put together before, like tf uta.

Furuta:

Dresses too well, like how!!???

So many nice suits and ties, no one ever has to tell him how to dress.

Isn’t that nice?

He seems like the kinda of guy that is picky about his clothes and literally picks out clothes for his gf.

Like yeah, he’s that kinda guy.

So he likes his women classy.

Which makes sense as to why he dresses nice.

His clothes are expensive too.

Literally,  his closet is full of just strict outfits, no spare shirts or pants, nope.

Every hanger there has a suit/outfit. 

And even different shoes.

I see that he wears a watch too.

He doesn’t show too much skin, but he sometimes rolls up the sleeves of his button-up shirts.

f*ck

Takizawa (ghoul):

Left: Date

Middle: Casual

Right: Casual/At home

T-shirts

leather jacket

jeans and that's pretty much it.

he's simple, but it says a lot about him.

Literally has ten shirts that are the same, and you ask him why.

You've tried to change his wardrobe just a little, but he won't budge.

Only sometimes he will wear white or something because it's a special occasion and he wants to wear the clothes you bought him.

It's only cause he loves you that he'll do it.

You've only gotten him to wear a suit once and boy was it a site.

You were really happy that night bc it was for a fancy date and he was just waiting to get out of the suit. 😂

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

[rainy-knights-of-villany]

Finding Hero - Part 4

Villain scrolled through various social media, waiting for Supervillain to finish changing. "You done yet?"

"Hey, I need to look good for our first battle with Hero!"

"Wouldn't it be better to blend into the shadows or something? Sneak up on them?"

"Well where's the fun in that? And don't worry, I've got something for you too!"

"Great..." Villain tried their best to hide their excitement. Supervillain was really good at this.

They walked out of the changeroom with a long dress, long gloves, hair, lipstick and contact lenses that were all purple. They also carried an ornate sword, just for good measure. "So, how do I look?"

"Um... good! Yeah, really good."

Supervillain chuckled. "Gosh, remind me not to let you play poker against me. I'd take everything."

Villain just nearly stopped themselves from saying something cheesy. "Uh- so, you said you had something planned for me too?"

"Mhm. How does a black leather jacket and skirt sound, for starters? Goes well with this T-shirt with a squirrel on it, and-"

Hero had been waiting in line at the bank for half an hour. They didn't know if this was the one the villains would be attacking, but they had something to do first.

The line moved slow, but eventually...

"Next!"

"Oh, hi! Uhh... So I was going to ask if I could take out a little loan.

"Your name?"

"Hero."

"Hero... oh, I know you! You're that one who got fired!"

"Yup. That's me..."

"Says here you're in debt. A whopping... twelve thousand?"

"Sounds about right. Listen, I just need to pay my rent for the month, and-"

"Usually we don't issue loans to people already in debt. Just a matter of making sure we're paid back."

"That's super understandable. But I've got a job interview in a few days, I'll get the money then-"

"You're not even employed, currently?"

"Well, no-"

The teller took a deep breath, then sighed. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"Wish me a little luck?"

"You'll need it. Next!"

Hero was halfway to the door when the most ridiculously dressed people he had ever seen walked through.

"Alright everyone! This is a robbery!" Supervillain gave a big stretch, then pulled a sword from seemingly nowhere, walking towards the counter. This was it. Hero's moment to come back into the spotlight.

They coughed, then stumbled over a chair they were sure wasn't there before. "Stop!"

"Aww! You arrived on time! Now that's what I like to see in a date."

"This is not a date!" Hero blushed, thankful that the civilians were more preocupied with escaping or hiding than looking at them.

"Then why'd you get all dressed up? Nice vintage suit, by the way."

"I borrowed it. And I was here for some other stuff too, wasn't sure if you'd arrive here or not."

"Honey, this is the smallest bank in the city. Really good for villains starting out. You'd think they'd have better security."

Hero studied their surroundings. Besides Villain and Supervillain, there were three others that looked like they were with them. Almost everyone had evacuated, and those that hadn't looked frightened.

Metal gates had started to close over the teller's desk, but Supervillain had propped it up with their sword. "So, darling, what are you gonna do? Stop me from getting the money first, or stop the one who's going to stop you, also known as Villain?"

Villain waved from the corner, white fire rising from their hand.

"Like I'd reveal my plan. Anyway, you should probably go before a real hero gets here." Hero stepped forward, trying to look more confident than they felt.

Villain raised an eyebrow. "You are a real hero. You saved people."

"Yeah, but they don't see it that way. And when they arrive here, we're all in trouble."

Villain laughed, and sent a beam of fire in their direction, leaving Hero to dodge it. Supervillain hopped over the counter, then hopped back over seconds later, dollar bills caught in their hair, and holding their sword up.

Hero ducked and weaved, trying to play on the defensive as more villains started to approach. They didn't want to risk using their power, they hadn't been able to control it since-

Villain grabbed their wrist, flames beginning to engulf their hand. Hero had managed to pull back just in time for their hand to not get set alight, but Villain's hand showed faint burn marks, the injury transferred over.

Supervillain noticed, and stuck their arm out in front of Villain protectively, raising their sword, just before they heard sirens.

"Oh shoot, there goes our fun. Your hand okay, Villain?"

"Yeah... just needs a bit of healing."

"Well, we'll see you soon, Hero. Love ya!"

The villains fled the scene, leaving Hero to sort it all out. But despite that, maybe it had been a little fun?

[vonlipvig]

7, 13, 19, E

Thank you, R! Gonna do this for my newest spy guys, always a good way to work on them!

7) What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Hmm, this one's interesting. I haven't really sat down to think about their earliest years yet, so this might really change once I've got that clearer in my mind, but in broad strokes, I think Grant is someone who for the most time enjoys reminiscing about the past. Maybe a joke or a passing comment will remind him of a tricky moment in a past mission, or how he totally failed that one obstacle course back in training, and will not waste a moment bringing it up in conversation, laughing about it as if he hasn't told that story a hundred times already. Of course there are memories that hurt him still, but he tries not to dwell on those, at least when he's not alone.

David is definitely a lot more susceptible to the bad memories, if they catch up to him. For the most part, he's firmly planted in the present, looking ahead, but a passing thought, a touch, even a smell can bring him back to moments he'd rather forget. He's trained hard to ignore that, and for the most part he can put those thoughts away in the middle of a mission, but sometimes it does get hard. Still, there are memories he enjoys, as well, and he always gets swept away in Grant's retellings, when even he can't act like he's not having a great time.

13) What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

I'm not sure yet if Grant knows the answer to this one, lmao. I wouldn't say he's sloppy when dressing, but it's not that much of a big deal for him, at least in casual situations. The clothes I drew him in when I designed him were a brown leather jacket, a white hoodie with red accents, jeans, and a blue shirt, so a bit all over the place. He definitely loves his leather jacket (he' a big motorcycle guy, so he def thinks he looks cool, and he does!), abd I think he enjoys red, and other bright pops of color (haven't explored this yet, but he'd be suuuch a fun hawaiian shirt guy too). I think when he's dressing up all sharp for a mission, maybe a black suit and tie, or a navy blue kind of suit, he's really striking and handsome...or, I don't know, that's what David probably thinks, at least lmao.

David's more conscious of his appearance, I'd say. His regular ensemble is a dark, mossy green turtleneck, a suit jacket in a tartan print in those greenish/brownish tones, and some brown slacks. He likes greens, browns, pale yellows, creams, and I think they fit hin really well. He's definitey got a good eye for aesthetics and knows what fits him. He looks good in a black suit as well, tho in missions--especially if he's sniping--he usually ends up in black from head to toe, all shadowlike.

19) What is their favorite number?

David would be like, "I've never thought about that. 10, I guess? Base 10? Or, no, 5. Yeah, 5. Small, useful, plus 5 rounds per mag for my rifle, so I know how 5 feels."

And Grant would be like, "I guess 9, right? Cause everyone's always going on about how 'seven ate nine', but nobody's asking how 9 feels, y'know? I feel for the guy, I truly do.", then smiles his knowing grin when David starts groaning.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I think so, or I'd like to think so lmao. I'd definitely enjoy sitting down with them for a drink and some conversation, I bet they'd have many a great story to tell me (or maybe not, it's probably all classified and shit, boo). But still, Grant would be such a fun guy to hang around with, and I know he'd keep the party going. David's more introverted and possibly intimidating, but he's always kind and would never make me feel uncomfortable (plus, I know he also gets fun and loose after a bit, he's really all show lmao). They're both very protective too, so I'd definitely feel safe with them.