#i also rolled around a lil in my bed and there was floating hearts all over

[rosicheeks]

I ship you and brutalfxcking 👀

^^ my exact reactions when I think of @brutalfxcking

[darthmaulification]

Hey, I want to make a request

In your Maul’s nsfw alphabet you said that he is afraid of hurting reader during sex, right? So, could you please write smth were this happens? Thank you!!

A/N: ..... anon..... the absolute Way you have me experiencing a cataclysm with this... i am imploding... 

thank you very much for requesting this, it was also a very good and welcome challenge for me to write. 😊👍 

hope you enjoy!! 💗

content: a lil bit o’ smut!, some angst??, but also lots of comfort and fluff!!, kinda sorta implied afab!reader??, maul commits a big oopsie on accident, crying during sex, blood and injury, maul gets angry at himself, but also soft!maul 🥺, lots of kissing, happy ending of course 🥰

word count: 2,334

Maul’s vigorous thrusting is complimented deliciously by the sloppy, desperate kisses he leaves all over the skin his mouth can reach. His crimson hands grip your wrists in a vice above your head, keeping them trapped against the bed. You moan into the sheets, arching up against him, hips tilting, silently begging him to go faster, harder, please, Maul...

“Harder, sweet girl?” Maul growls teasingly from above you, answering the plea you hadn’t realized you vocalized. He obeys, and you cry out his name when his hips clash into yours, drilling his cock into you, almost causing your knees to give from the force. The obscene yet beautiful sound of skin smacking together floats into your ears, mingling with Maul’s grunts and your persistent moaning.

Maul presses against you, the fiery skin of his bare chest flush against the arch of your back. The snapping of his hips make you rock in rhythmic tandem, and with each one you feel your peak nearing. Maul groans into the dip of your shoulder blades, his breath hot on the nape of your neck, where he licks across your flushed, dewy skin and leaves wet trails.

“Say my name again, my love.” He leaves a flat-tongued lick up your neck, nibbling at your ear. One of his hands drop from your wrists and travels down your side, rough fingers igniting sparks inside you. Maul kneads your waist, your belly, before clutching your hip. The brace allows him to further pound himself into you, and you see stars.

“Maul, Maul!” You scream his name, all high-pitched and airy, the pleasure toe-curling and promising of a powerful, sweet release. Maul exhales a rather handsome laugh into your ear, golden eyes glazed over with lust and something else wild. Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him suck a love bite into the nook where your neck and shoulder meet, arching your head back and against his shoulder.

Like a prayer, his name tumbles from your lips over and over again, the lamentation pleading and desperate. Your core throbs and clenches around your lover, a telltale sign of orgasm on the horizon. Everything seems to slow down... 

But then Maul bites. Hard. Your eyes snap open.

The sinking of sharp teeth into the flesh of your shoulder is so poignant, it pierces through the thick, lustful haze and roughly pulls you back to reality. You shriek, one most certainly not out of pleasure, but actual pain. It causes Maul to abruptly pull out and back, releasing your wrists in the process. At the same time you feel the emptiness of him leaving, a white-hot fire erupts from where Maul had definitely broken the skin and you writhe.

“Ow.” The whimper escapes in one word, voice thick, as tears immediately glaze over your eyes. Blinking furiously to keep them at bay, you squirm lethargically into an upright position, sitting on your knees.

“I’m...” From behind you Maul starts to say something, but his voice cuts out when you look down over your shoulder and reach a trembling hand up to the bite. When you actually see the wound, that’s when the tears start rolling down your cheeks. It’s... bad. 

The bite is a perfect oval of teeth indents and grooves, most of them deep and bleeding, the skin around them a harsh red and raised. The skin around it is an ugly mix of crimson, dark purple bruising, and pink with irritation. The entire area is swollen and pulsing with ache. Bottom lip wobbling, you trace a hesitant finger along the edge of the bite and the touch stings. You pull your hand back with a shaky gasp.

“My love, I...” Maul starts speaking again but stops and swallows. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, and you’re not exactly sure why. The tears are falling profusely now, and you shudder back heavier sobs. The room goes dreadfully silent, save for your small, quiet cries. You can feel Maul’s stare on you, more specifically on the injury he caused.

“I hurt you. I hurt you.” He repeats to himself, the tone of his voice inscrutable. He suddenly clambers up and off of the bed, the mattress shaking gently, and you listen as his footsteps disappear out of the room. The room is left thick with pain and sorrow, and also a stewing shame that was left hovering after Maul spoke. You look back at the bite after another round of tears pours from your eyes. Oh, Maul...

Footfalls sound again, and Maul reenters the room as your examining the darkening wound, particularly the trails of blood that have by now reached your waist. His heart clenches with a terrible ache, and guilt and anger bubble to the surface, stiffening him. He hurt you, he did. Maul almost doesn’t want to approach, almost thinks he shouldn’t, but you need the bacta.

You don’t look at Maul’s face when he sits next to you, though not as close he usually would, because you’re unsure if you want to see the expression that must be on it. Instead, you focus on his hands, at the wet rag, bacta, and bandages he’s holding. You also notice how his hands are quivering.

“Can I clean it?” Maul asks in an uncharacteristically quiet tone, though he’s very obviously seething with barely capped rage. That somewhat familiar self-loathing Maul gets from time to time radiates off of him, as does guilt. You sniffle, and bob your head yes. The pain is less sharp now, but the wound still needs to be dressed.

Maul says nothing as he wipes away the almost dried blood trails, or as he very tenderly dabs at the puffy wound, or when he pauses at his teeth marks that are purpling now, or even when he smears the bacta over them. The whole time, he works mechanically and in deafening silence. By the time Maul has placed a bandage over the bite, the cooling of the bacta has numbed your shoulder to a soft, dull ache and the hurt is all but gone.

“Maul...” You start softly after you feel his hands leave you, gaze climbing up his arms to his face. The shame-ridden expression on his face makes your heart sink, how his downcast golden eyes are aflame with guilt and swirling with fury. He doesn’t look at you as you turn fully to face him, and recoils when you place a hand on his cheek. His body, ever warm, is stiff beneath your touch.

“It’s okay.” You murmur and Maul’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, the anger flaring. His square jaw tenses and he shakes off your hand.

“No, it’s not. I hurt you.” And while you see and hear that familiar wrath and that unfamiliar guilt in his expression and voice, it never occurred to you before that Maul was also afraid. It makes you misty-eyed. You shake your head, shuffling closer to him.

“No, no, no— Maul, it was an accident.” You plead, placing your hands on either side of his face, rubbing circles with your thumbs. Usually, that simple touch calms him down, but this time Maul grabs your wrists and pulls his face from your grasp.

“I hurt you.” He says again, voice a hiss as he stares at you with conflicted, pained eyes, “I fucking made you cry.”

Maul suddenly leaps up from the bed, pacing across the room to roughly grab his pants off the floor. He pulls them on swiftly, and your brows furrow when he crosses the room to grab his belt and lightsaber.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he ties his belt across his waist, clipping his saber to it. He doesn’t look at you, and turns to the door.

“I’m leaving.”

“No, you are not.” You clamber up off the bed and onto your feet, stumbling slightly as you hastily make your way over to Maul. You’re able to get in front of him, planting your hands firmly on his chest and halting him. He glares down at you, angrily, sadly, and you ground yourself at look up at him.

“Move.” He growls, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Your lips turn down in a stubborn pout. Maul’s bristling under your touch, and you know you’re walking on precarious ground. But you’ve dealt with Maul’s temper enough to not have it faze you, and you’re sure you can handle his guilt the same.

“No.” You retort and you pull yourself flush against him, arms snaking around his torso in a tight hug, your eyes closing. Pressing your cheek against his chest, you sigh at the familiar warmth you love, digging your face into his beautiful crimson and black skin. Maul doesn’t wrap his arms around you in turn. You give his sternum a gentle kiss.

“Get off.” Maul’s growled order comes out as brashly and as firmly as always, but his commandeering attitude hasn’t worked on you for years. A sudden, but small, spark of playfulness curls your lips upwards into a tiny smile. You rub your hands up and down the length of Maul’s back, feeling every tight, defined muscle and occasionally the rough edge of his scar when your hand gets low enough and your pinky fingers brush it.

“Never.” Your murmur vibrates his chest, and you hum contentedly when you finally catch the lovely beatings of Maul’s twin hearts. They thrum in alternating rhythm beneath your ear, both strong and deep.

“You’re not running from me.” You speak again, eyes still closed. Maul is quiet, though you feel him lift an arm and a tender, yet firm, hand comes to rest on the low of your back. You smile fully, lightly gliding your nails over Maul’s back in the way you know he loves. His thumb starts to rub circles on your skin.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“... I was scared.”

“I know.”

You look up at Maul, eyes beneath heavy lids, your smile still bright and kind on your face. The conflict in his eyes has cooled to a simmer, being replaced more and more by that boyish, starry-eyed look he gets sometimes, the one that reminds you of how much he loves you. Maul’s other hand reaches up and cups your cheek, caressing your face. You tilt your head into the touch.

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” He teases in a low murmur, honey gold eyes glimmering with rising mirth, and you quirk an eyebrow. Your hands stop to rest on his waist, just above the band of his pants. Maul’s face starts to inch in closer and closer to yours, stopping right when his lips are just above yours.

“Mm... you might have to do some convincing.” You whisper, eyes drooping further until your irises are nearly obscured by your eyelashes. Maul chuckles low in his throat, his hand shifting to place two fingers under your chin. He tilts your head up slightly, pulls you closer against him.

“How do you suppose I accomplish that?” He asks, breath puffing on your cheeks, gaze breaking from yours when he closes his eyes. You follow suit, and the tips of both your upper lips touch.

“... I can think of one way.” You say, and you tilt your head and your jaw slackens slightly, and Maul’s lips are on yours, balmy and soft. The kiss is slow, slower than he usually does, but it’s perfect and sultry and so Maul. You hum when he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to gyrate in your mouth. He explores everywhere, relearns every touch. It’s like you’re kissing for the first time all over again, lost in each other as if the years of memorizing each other’s body melted away into oblivion. Your hands clasp his waist, his one hand moves up to your mid back, and the heated, passionate kiss ends.

Maul pulls back a little more to look at you properly, tucking your hair behind your ear, and you open your eyes from the touch. He’s wearing that satisfied, lazy grin, the one that always makes him look mischievous. 

“Do you still need more convincing?” He asks with a tilt of his head, though he knows the answer you’re going to give by the cheeky smile that spreads across your face. You giggles, eyes sparkling, and you nod.

“Lots.” And with that, Maul’s lips are on yours, stifling your laughter in his mouth. He smothers you with kisses, peppering your lips, cheeks, and jaw, and you do the same for him, kissing over and over until you’re sure your lips will fall off. At some point, Maul heaves you into his arms, carries you to the bed, and drops your bodies atop it.

You squeal with laughter when he rolls on top of you, trapping you between his thighs, nuzzling and kissing the side of your face. Your hands fumble at his shoulders, before sliding to his face to turn his head to you. He’s grinning between your hands, looking absolutely charmed, and you kiss him on the nose, breathy from laughing.

When you pull away, Maul’s panting and still grinning like a madman, but his wild eyes have gone somewhat tame, controlled. His eyes dart all around your face, like he’s analyzing each one of your features. He breathes an exhale, licks his lips, and meets your gaze.

“I love you.” And his voice is slightly raspy, but he says it with such conviction, so raw and passionate, that the intensity floors you. Sure, he’s said those words to you before, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. Your eyes go slightly misty again, and you smile sweetly, fingers rubbing the bases of his horns on his temples.

“I love you.” You reply and again, Maul sinks into you with a deep kiss, and you all but melt into each other, bodies a welcoming sanctuary for the other.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ casanova ✦

this chapter pairing; incubus!vernon x succubus!reader

genre&warnings; incubus!au, cocky!vernon, lots of banter, breathplay/choking, slight fingering, blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, namecalling, fucking in a public place 😗

notes; oh the way cocky vernon hits so different 🤤🥵 low-key I was imagining bad clue vernon for this one but then I was like mmm thats a little too dapper for this fic so instead my mind was like 🤤🤤🤤 fear era vernon~ Anyway~ oh! I'll make a notice probably tomorrow that I won’t be online this weekend(thurs-sun) at all, but I'll log in to post the last 3 monster mash fics! I’ll also be answering all the thirst posts/comments/etc. throughout the week once I get back! 💕 have a good day/night! all my socal bbys, stay safe! see u tomorrow! 💕🎃👻 

word count; ~2600

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - x - x - x - x

i’m here lying on the bed of your tongue;

my heart listens to the sound of your war drum

steady tiptoeing to your neck of the woods;

i feel danger on your lips but it tastes good.

You take a seat at the bar, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this awful.” The bartender comments, sliding a drink across the countertop. “It’s, uh, on the house.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.” You mutter, graciously accepting the free drink.

Tonight should’ve been an easy night for you; just a quick visit to a few of your regular humans and you would’ve been easily sated. But for whatever reason, not a single of them provided you with any sort of satisfaction and you’d left out of boredom before they’d even gotten you to cum.

“You okay? You look... Like you’ve seen better days.” He laughs, leaning over the counter top. “It’s Halloween, you out of all people should be busy.” You quickly down the drink in one shot, passing Seungcheol the glass as he goes to fill it up again, back turned to you. “See, you’d think that. But it fuckin’ sucked. Dunno, nothing really satisfied my craving, I guess.”

“And what are you craving, princess?”

A voice from behind you has you spinning on your barstool as you come face to face with Vernon. “Ugh, it’s you.” He laughs lightly, taking a seat next to you as he shrugs his suit jacket off.

“Fuck you mean, ‘ugh’?” Vernon scoffs.

Seungcheol comes back with your drink and one for Vernon as well, sliding them to your side as he sighs. “Okay, why are you both here? Seriously, it’s Halloween! Feeding should be easy!” You roll your eyes, glass in hand as you stare Seungcheol down. “And what are you doing here, Seungcheol? Shouldn’t you be feeding?”

The male raises a brow at you, “What do you think I’m doing on my breaks? This place is crawling with humans trying to get caught up in the mix.”

Vernon sighs next to you, quietly taking a sip of his drink. “And you? Why are you here, Vernon?”

He places his glass down, half turned to face you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Seungcheol chuckles, hip propped up against the countertop as he butts in. “She said nobody is ‘satisfying’ her tonight.” Vernon’s expression falls into that of understanding as you groan.

“Ugh, ‘Cheol, go mind your business!” The said male backs off laughing, walking towards the other side of the bar to service other patrons.

“Nobody’s satisfying you, huh? And why’s that? All your regulars getting boring?” Vernon asks; a lazy smirk on his features.

“I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing, Vernon. Or is it that you can’t get it up maybe?” You tease.

The smirk falls from his face, eyes squinting at you. “Is that what you think? That I can’t get it up? And how about you? Is that pussy of yours scaring off all of your regulars? Or maybe their dicks are too small and can’t satisfy how fuckin’ much you want your cunt filled.”

You lean in at the same time he does, fingers looping into his necktie as you pull him in even closer.

“You talk like you can satisfy me.” “Are you tryna find out? ‘Cause I’m willing to let you. But don’t go crying when my cock’s too big for you.” Vernon grins.

“Prove it then, casanova. Show me you’re worth my time.”

Vernon pushes you into the employee restroom, Seungcheol shouting in the background as the door locks into place.

The red lights in the small space make it feel more intimate and sensual; the complete opposite of the way Vernon’s teeth clash with yours when he kisses you hard.

You moan into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair as he presses you into the door and he slots a leg between your own, letting you grind down onto his thigh as he smirks against your lips. It’s a battle for power between the two of you; neither of you willing to give up your natural dominant nature.

Vernon pulls away, eyes hazy and the same cocky smirk on his lips. “So fuckin’ desperate to get fucked, you’ll use my thigh too, huh?”

“Maybe that’s your only charm point?” You retort. He doesn’t take too kindly as he shakes your hands out of his hair and he drags you over to the countertop.

In the mirror, you take in your appearance, your own drunk eyes staring right back at you. “God, you talk so damn much, you know that?” He murmurs, nosing at your neck. His hands roam your body, hiking your dress further and further up until he can run his fingertips over your panties. He wastes no time, locating your clit through the material before he pinches it hard.

“O-oh, fuck!” You cry, eyes clamping shut at his rough touch. Your panties get wetter and wetter and you find yourself grinding your ass into his hardening cock.

Vernon kisses your skin, leaving small love bites in his wake as he continues to tease you through your panties. “Mmm, you’re getting so wet and all I’m doing is touching your ‘lil clit through your panties. Is that how easy you are? Just a little taste and you’re already putty in my hands.” He smirks against you, fingertips pulling your panties to the side.

“You say I talk too much? You fuckin’ talk too much, Vernon. Hurry up and finger me already!”

He laughs, running his fingers through your wetness before he sinks his index and middle fingers up to the knuckle in one fast movement.

A garbled moans floats past your lips as he starts fucking you with his fingers and you watch your own expression contort in pleasure at the way his fingers were already providing you with more satisfaction than anything else tonight. “Oh, g-god, fuck, that feels suh---so good…”

Vernon ruts into your ass, smoky eyes gazing into the mirror. “You’re so pretty getting drunk on my fingers fucking you open. How are you gonna look once it’s my cock inside of you?”

“G-god, we won’t g-get, ah, there if you don’t s-shut up!” He rolls his eyes, nipping at the junction of your neck.

Vernon lets you grind against his fingers for a moment, eating up the way you seem to forget about everything around you as you chase the pleasure. But he  gets bored, pulling his fingers out of you almost just as quickly as he’d first sunk them in.

“H-hey!”

“Oh, baby, you can’t be the only one benefitting from this.” Vernon pulls away from you, uncaring that he uses his sticky, wet fingers to undo the button and zipper of his pants. “Hope you’re ready to take my cock. All those people that couldn’t fuck you right tonight were all just pregames ‘til now, huh?” He grins, wrapping a hand around his cock.

You can only see so much from the mirror’s reflection; watching as Vernon places a firm hand on your shoulder as he pushes your upper half further down onto the countertop. “Get comfy, princess. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail or something.”

“Just fuck me already, damn it!” Whining, you place your hands palm down on the mirror as you jut your ass out further. You watch with hazy eyes as he smirks at you in the mirror and you soon feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

“God, you are so lucky I’m just as impatient as you are.”

You’re about to complain about him taking too long again, but you’re quickly left breathless when he starts inching his cock into your wet pussy. “Fuh---fuck, oh, go---god you’re, ah, b-big!”

“Get used to it, you’ll be begging me for more.”

You choose to ignore his cocky comments as you focus on the way his cock stretches you out perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he finally bottoms out. His cock taps against your cervix and you resist the urge to just start fucking yourself on his cock, impatience muddling everything else in your mind.

“Mmm, your pussy is so tight and warm around me, baby. Maybe it’s that personality of yours that scares off your regulars.” Vernon chuckles under his breath, but it’s immediately cut short when you clench around him hard. “Shit, fine, fine, I get it!” He grumbles.

Vernon draws his hips back before slamming his cock back into you and for a second, your clammy palms pressed up against the mirror almost lose their grip with how your body jerks forward. “God, yes, yes fuck me hard!” You cry, already meeting his harsh pace.

“So this is why they can’t do it for you, huh?” His hips snap into you; the sound of skin slapping getting drowned out by the loud music on the other side of the door. “You wanna be fucked like a little cumslut tonight and nobody wants to give it to you.”

“Ngh, y-yeah… s-so what’s y-your fuckin’, ah, d-deal?”

Vernon scoffs, “Maybe I just wanted to treat someone like my own ‘lil cockslut tonight and nobody was doin’ it for me either.” You grin in return, hazy eyes focused on yourself in the mirror.

“Guess t-this was where, ah, we were meant to be t-tonight.” You lick your lips, working your hips back as you start to chase your orgasm. “By the w-way, don’t--don’t cum, hah, inside m-me…” He slows his pace a little, leaning over your back as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “Oh? Why’s that? Don’t want people to know I fucked you in Seungcheol’s employee restroom? Or is it that you’re scared you’ll get addicted to me cumming inside your hot little cunt. Maybe you’ll even go home and fuck my cum deeper inside of yourself wishin’ it was still me and not your hands or your dumb little humans.”

His words are almost filthy enough to make you change your mind, but you harden your stare, crimson eyes meeting his in the mirror’s reflection. “Don’t g-get too cocky, Vernon. Just don’t fuckin’ cum i-in me. I’m s-still going out, mmh, after t-this…”

He shoots you an incredulous look, leaning away from you shoulder as he starts to double his pace. “Wow, fuckin’ bold of you to even go out after this. But okay, you’ll come crawling back to find me and I’ll be waiting at the bar for you. Maybe you’ll even be so fuckin’ desperate for my cock, I’ll even make you beg me. And beg for me to cum inside of you.” Vernon pauses, snaking his hand up your spine before he circles it around the column of your throat. “For now, you’re gonna cum on my cock, get it nice ‘n soaked. Then you’re gonna suck me off and I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

“F-fine…”

Vernon gently applies pressure to your throat, restricting your airways slightly as you start to get tighter around him. “Touch your clit, make yourself cum.” He commands.

You’re quick to take his lead, trailing a hand down your body until you can rub quick circles on your clit. “G-god, yes, fuck, ah, I’m gon---gonna cum, fuck! My pussy’s so fuckin’ full, I---mmph!” Vernon’s hand on your throat quickly travels up until his palm is pressed firmly against your lips, effectively muffling you.

He uses this as leverage, pushing you backwards until your back meets his clothed chest. Your body jerks in his hold as he fucks into you hard, cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust. “Fuck, you have such a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Everyone can probably hear what a little whore you are. But I bet that gets you off, doesn’t it? Letting everyone know how fuckin’ good you’re getting it.” He licks the shell of your ear, hips pistoning into you as you cum; moans and cries muffled by Vernon’s hand still over your mouth.

“That’s right, cum on my cock, baby. Your tight cunt feels so good around me.” Moaning, he slows down his thrusts, watching you through the mirror as you take your pleasure.

It doesn’t give you any energy like feeding from a human would, but the pleasure still feels good enough for shapes dance beneath your eyelids as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Shit, you really are pretty like this.” Vernon scoffs under his breath as he finally removes his hand from over your mouth. Your body slumps forward as you catch your breath; soft whimpers on your lips. “Now it’s my turn, baby. I expect you on your knees now~”

You groan in return, somewhat drained. This is why you never fucked with other incubus; there was no energy gain and it left you more tired than anything else.

But you only think it’s fair, so you drop to your knees, wincing slightly when the tile bites into your kneecaps. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, ready for Vernon to hurry up and cum down your throat.

“Hmm~ I think you’d be even prettier with my cum all over your face. Whaddya think?” He grins, eyes twinkling down at you.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to have your dick bitten off?” You growl.

Vernon takes the hint as he threads a hand loosely into your hair and you use a hand to wrap around his cock that’s already covered in your wetness.

You immediately sink your mouth down onto his cock; deepthroating him and hollowing out your cheeks around him. Tucking your hands underneath your thighs, you let Vernon use your mouth, moaning around him to help throw him over the edge.

He groans from above you, hips thrusting into your mouth as he feels his orgasm coming on, only a few minutes later. “Fuck, ‘m gonna, ah, c-cum. Swallow it all, baby. Show me what a good cumslut, hah, you a-are.”

Humming around him, you bask in the way his moans are clipped and stuttered with your teasing.

Vernon could be so easy too, despite his cocky nature.

You feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, the salty substance hitting the back of your throat as you aim to swallow it all down.

“Ngh, look at you. Not even a drop spilled. You’re a pro~” He quips; tugging you by the hair as you cough and sputter. A thread of cum and spit connect your lips to his cock and for a second, Vernon thinks he can get used to seeing you like this.

You move to stand, legs shaky as you rest your back against the countertop that he’d had you bent over, moments prior. “At least one of us is.” You smirk at him, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“God, you really just don’t quit, do you?”

“Hey, some of my humans like it, asshole.” You turn to face the mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance.

Vernon stands beside you, adjusting his clothes and hair as you do too. “Speaking of, are you really still heading out after this?”

Tugging your dress down, you check your appearance in the mirror one last time before you reach for the doorknob and unlock it.

“Yeah, ‘cause that drained me of any energy I had.” You pause, turning slightly to face Vernon who stands behind you. You bite the inside of your cheek and despite the snarky banter between the two of you; Vernon wasn’t half bad. 

“Maybe once I get some of it back, I’ll meet you at the bar.”

His eyes flash a darker shade of red, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear when he leans in.

“I’ll be waiting on you, baby.”

[aomine-ryo]

Heyo I was wondering if I could request a scenario with murasakibara and his gf cuddling but he's had a really rough day and he's the lil spoon for a change??

I hope you enjoy this :))

Scenario: Murasakibara being the little spoon

As someone who finds comfort in things remaining consistent, any minor changes could easily put Murasakibara off. For starters, the cafe he’d usually stop by before school was out of stock of his usual order of a chocolate frosted donut so he had to settle for a plain glazed one, which wasn’t bad, but it was no where near as good as the chocolate. Then just as he left the cafe, it began to drizzle.

Thinking that he could make it to school without an umbrella because it was very light, he decided not to stop by the convenience store to buy one. Luck was clearly not in his favour that day because halfway through his journey, it began raining cats and dogs and he eventually got to school with dripping wet hair and soaked clothes.

After changing into his PE uniform, which he now had to wear for the rest of the day, he finally plopped down at his desk, thinking that was the end of his struggles. Unfortunately for him though, his teacher decided to change the class seating arrangement, which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if he didn’t absolutely despise most of the people in his class. Furthermore, his current seat was right next to Himuro, who was the only person in class he liked talking to, but now the two of them were separated to pretty much the opposite ends of the classroom.

He also ended up missing most of his lunch break because he was being lectured by his teacher for not finishing his homework on time. So along with getting to the canteen late when all the good snacks were sold out, he also didn’t get to spend time with you during recess like he usually would.

Eventually, this hell of a school day finally came to an end and it was finally time to go home. However, it was still raining heavily outside, so he waited by the school entrance for you.

“Oh hey Atsushi,” you smiled when you spotted him. “What’s with the PE uniform?”

“I forgot my umbrella this morning,” Murasakibara explained with a heavy sigh as he recounted the mess of the day he had.

“Oh we can share an umbrella then. Do you want to come over to mine for some hot chocolate or something?” you offered, noticing how exhausted your boyfriend seemed to be as you picked your umbrella from the stand and handed it to him.

“That would be nice,” he nodded, a faint smile appearing on the agitated face of his.

Around you, Murasakibara finally let his guard down. Chatting to you about his day as you walked hand in hand on the pavement, huddling close together to fit underneath the umbrella. You were a few blocks away from your house and Murasakibara’s mood had improved ever so slightly after seeing your face and hearing your voice again. However, this momentary bliss was soon interrupted by a car zooming past you two, splashing a dirty puddle of water all over Murasakibara, who chose to walk on the roadside.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He groaned, wanting to scream in frustration.

“Oh God. Come on, let’s get you inside,” you said quickly before Murasakibara could go on a rampage.

The two of you entered your house and you handed him a towel so that he could go shower, along with a fresh set of clothes consisting of a hoodie you had stolen from him and a pair of sweatpants he’d left over once.

Once he got out of the warm shower, which admittedly relaxed him a bit, he headed to the kitchen where you had just finished making him a mug of hot chocolate like you had promised.

“Oh you got out. Here I made this for you,” you beamed, handing him the cup. “With whipped cream and four marshmallows— just how you like it.”

Murasakibara felt his heart melt at the gesture. His eyes softened for a moment before he took the steaming drink from your hand and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you, Y/N-chin.”

It didn’t take him long to finish that hot chocolate because it tasted so good. He may have also burned his tongue ever so slightly because he was impatient, however he didn’t mind it because it was delicious regardless.

“Do you need anything else Atsushi? Maybe some food? I can make you some rice or—“

“No no, its alright. Don’t overexert yourself,” Murasakibara said calmly before letting out a big yawn. He was exhausted. “Actually, on second thought, could we just cuddle?”

You smiled and nodded, “Of course.”

The two of you then headed to your bedroom, where Murasakibara dove into your bed with a relieved sigh. To him, there was no place more comforting than being in your bedroom with you. The moment he sank into the soft mattress, he felt as though he could doze off instantly. As you climbed onto the bed, the taller boy rolled over, getting ready to wrap his arms around you like he usually would.

“Why don’t I be the big spoon for a change?” you suggested, gaining a confused look from him.

“Can you really be a big spoon if you’re ten times smaller than me?” he joked with a straight face, making you lightly hit him with a pillow.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, your annoyance at the comment garnering a small chuckle from the purple haired boy.

“Alright alright, sorry. You can be the big spoon,” he said, shifting over to give you some space.

Murasakibara rolled to the side as one of your arms snaked around him, pulling his body closer to yours to the point where there was barely any space between you two. It felt strange to him at first. He wasn’t used to being held like this. He was always used to being the one doing the protecting that he barely knew what it was like to feel protected. He felt his heart swell at the pure love and care you gave him.

“Hey Atsushi, does this feel okay? I’m probably not as good at this as you are. My arms aren’t the longest,” you mumbled into his back.

Murasakibara took a hold of your hand that clung onto his chest and kissed it. “You’re perfect,” he said softly. “Thank you for taking care of me, Y/N-chin.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for,” you replied, touched at the word of thanks.

The two of you continued to lie down like that in silence, doing nothing but appreciating each other’s touch. Murasakibara soon felt himself beginning to drift off into a slumber. He couldn’t help it. He was just so comfortable. Furthermore, after an entire day where he had to watch out for yet another thing that could possibly go wrong, he was completely knackered. However, as the smell of your perfume wafted into his nose and the sound of your steady breathing behind him filled his ears, he couldn’t help but finally feel relaxed. To Murasakibara, the feeling of being embraced by you was like floating around on clouds of cotton candy while nothing but love filled his heart. He was definitely going to ask to be little spoon more often.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 01 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

Next part (02) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

A/N: I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Blue Eyes and Angel Wings

“Stay with me.”

The sentence is the only thing keeping you alive. The only thing keeping you from surrendering into darkness permanently. The lips from where they flow belong to the human blur that's constantly in your sight. The man with worried, blue eyes, the eyes that gave you something you didn't have for a very long time.

Hope.

You have been in the backseat of the useless car you stole, out of gas, surrounded by a sea of death. Their hands pushing the glass, blocking the daylight from coming in as you lied down, trying not to move, not to breathe, waiting for them to move along. But they didn't. Your sore, beat up body struggled, as the blood dried, as the wounds ached, as the pain became greater and greater until it stopped. Until your body went numb.

The glass wouldn't resist for too long. You only wished you'd die before they reached you.

The notion of time left your mind after a while. You only noticed as the day became night when the darkness overcame you completely. It happened twice. And yet, there you were still, more dead than alive, eyes locked on the back of the driver seat before you.

You don't understand why you didn't just die. Why your body was still trying to live. It was useless. A waste of time. In death, maybe, you'd find peace.

But at some point in your agony, a gap among the dead allowed the light to come in. But it only lasted a second before it was gone. Then it happened again. Your tired eyes followed the source of the light as they kept coming, over and over. Until you saw it. One of the dead falling, colliding against the window with an arrow on its head.

Someone had to fire that arrow, you thought. More gaps kept coming, and some of them remained for a little while. You didn't think you'd love the daylight so much, that you could miss the sun so much. Holding your breath, closing your eyes tightly shut, you used all the strength left in you to push yourself up, until you were seated, back colliding against the leather of the backseat. When another arrow came, your head moved to look for the source. That's when you saw him.

Blue eyes. Living eyes. They found you, going wide at the sight.

The dead kept dying. For another day and a half, until they were gone.

“Stay with me.” He says again, as your eyes open just enough to see the bottle he's holding before you. “Hold on. Jus’ a lil’ longer.” You feel the bottle touching your lips, and water fills your mouth, but most of it just rolls down, soaking your neck, chest, and clothes.

“Alright. Let's get goin’.” When he turns around, doing something out of your sight, your eyes fall on the angel wings on his vest. That's the image that burns in your head as you slip into your half-conscious state, being lifted up once again, moving, floating, hurting.

Sometimes you wonder if he only found you to carry you into death. Because that's where you feel like your heading. Right into death.

• • •

Breathing comes easily. A lot easier then it has for the last... You don't know. Time is lost to you, minutes, hours, days or weeks, it's all mixed up.

But you shouldn't be breathing if you're dead, then maybe you're not. Pushing the air in, a groan leaves your lips when a sharp pain on your side pushes the air out again. The pain is back. Death doesn't hurt, so this gotta be life.

So with that thought in your mind, you force your eyes to open, taking in a bright white ceiling. There's something in your face, covering the nose and mouth, and you're quick to remove it, suddenly realizing that thing was helping with the breathing. Your eyes scan through the place, seeing shelves and things on top of them. Beeps on your right, windows, and equipments you don't know.

Hospital. It looks like a hospital. But how can you be at a hospital?

“She wasn't just hurt, she was–”

The voice makes your heart start pounding, and you sit up, breathing heavily. You wonder where's the man with blue eyes. Did he leave you here?

The door is opened and two women come in. Pure terror clouds your senses and your blood runs cold, like ice. It can't happen again. It can't be happening again. You couldn't be given such a tiny bit of hope jut to fall into the same nightmare.

The younger woman moves, just a little, but it's enough to make you jump, pushing yourself further away, your body leaving the bed and hitting the ground hard. Trying to get up is useless. You know your body won't respond, so you pull the hospital bed down, and it collapses loudly on the floor. The tears already cover your face as you crawl backward until you find a wall. There's no place to go now. No way to run, or fight. You're trapped.

They'll hurt you again and there's nothing you can do.

Covering your head with both your hands, you pull your legs into your chest, despite the pain it shoots through your body, curling into a ball. As if it would protect you from anything.

“Honey?” Someone says in a low, feminine voice. “We won't hurt you.”

You've heard that before. It's always a lie.

“Hello?”

“Denise. Go get Daryl. Now.”

You feel them coming closer, and you hear as the hospital bed is lifted. This is it. It'll start. All over again.

“Hi, there.” A voice says, the same voice you've been listening for a while. Telling you to stay awake, to stay alive. Carrying you, holding you.

He's here. He didn't leave you.

Soaking in a sharp breath, you raise your head, your eyes finding him by the door. Your whole body relaxes, almost involuntary. The man hesitates, looking at the woman before making his way over you. The blue eyes capture you as he crouches next to you.

The words try to make they way out, but your throat is dry, sore.

“I'm Daryl.” He says, looking down before looking at you once again. “Yer hurt. Ya need to be taken care of.” He moves to the side a little, gesturing at the two women. “They'll take care of ya. Ok?”

Nodding weakly, you try to move, to stand up, but you don't know how to. When you look at your leg, you finally notice the blood that soaked the fabric of your jeans, ripped in the middle of your tight, giving you a sight of what's underneath. Your skin was sliced open, and you remember why. And who did it. The smile on his face as he drew the knife through your skin, inflicting the last wound he could before the dead came. Before you fled that hell on Earth.

Through the corner of your eye, you see Daryl's hand.

“I've been hurt too. I know how yer feelin’. But these people only want to help, alright?”

Lifting your eyes from his hands to his face, you remember it clearly now, with no share of doubt, how this man took care of you. For how long he carried you after almost two days killing off the dead for you. Slowly, you lay your shaking hand on top of his.

Slowly, moving your legs and holding your breath, you gather the courage to stand up again.

“I can put ya in the bed.” Daryl offers, and you lock eyes with him again. “I'm gonna pick ya up, is that alright?”

Nodding again, you watch as he slowly moves, an arm on your back and the other under your legs, slowly, carefully pulling you up. Soon enough you feel the soft mattress against your back as Daryl puts you down. Breathing out in relief, you see a woman approaching, the younger one, and Daryl steps back.

In a jolt of adrenaline, as fear starts building up again, you reach out, the sudden, fast movement making you groan a little when pain spreads through your arm. But you keep moving, grabbing Daryl's hand before he's out of reach. His skin is warm against yours, or maybe you're just too cold. You try to speak again, ask him to stay, beg if needed, but it just doesn't come out. Then you just look into his eyes, hoping it will be enough, squeezing his hand just a little bit.

“Daryl, I think she needs you to stay.” The other woman says, the one with gray hair. “Is that what you want, honey?”

Without looking away from Daryl, you nod, relieved when he steps closer.

“I'll start, ok? I need to see where exactly you're hurt and how serious the injuries are.”

“That's Denise,” Daryl explains, and you look at the girl as she hesitates before taking a scissor from somewhere, cutting your jeans just above the wound you saw. “And that's Carol. Ya can trust them, alright?”

Can you?

Holding Daryl's hand, you moan and wince, as many tears roll down. Every shot of pain makes you go back to imprisonment. The dark basement, the cold concrete, the men and women who came to hurt you, beat you, trying to force you to agree on complying with their filthy desires. And every time you said no, it got worse.

If it wasn't for Daryl's hand, you'd swear you were back there, being tortured again. But he keeps you anchored here, and you try to keep in mind that these people are trying to help. He said they would, so they might be.

“I will need her cleaned up before continuing. There's a lot of mud, dirt, and dried blood. I need her body to be clean to avoid any infections.” The woman Denise says.

“I can help her,” Carol speaks up.

“Good. Let's put her on the bathtub we have here.” Denise speaks fast, and you can't do anything but follow her with your eyes, motionless. “Daryl, get her some clothes. But pay attention. Nothing tight. And get those cotton shorts, you know? They look like leggings but are really short, I don't want nothing squeezing her leg, this wound is worrying me, and I–”

“Denise, why don't you go get those. I'll clean her up and...” Carol gives you a glance. “...I don't think she'll let go of Daryl.”

“Alright.” She nods, getting a piece of fabric to clean her hands. Clean them from your blood.

“Ok, honey. Let's do this.” When Denise leaves, Carol comes closer. “Daryl will take you to the bathroom and I'll help you, is that ok?”

Squeezing Daryl's hand, you look at him. Even though he's a man, you know you'd feel better if he helped you instead of this Carol.

“Daryl can stay there. Looking away. Would that make you feel better?”

Breathing out in relief, you nod. “I'll pick ya up then. Ready?” Daryl asks, carefully moving to hold you in his arms once again.

You close your eyes shut as the small trip to the bathroom makes your body complain. Your state of numbness is fading, so the pain gets more and more real now. It's hard to tell exactly where it comes from. You're aware of the cut on your leg, and sharp pain on your side, but all the rest is just mixed up.

Daryl puts you down in the tub, slowly. Carol comes in soon after, kneeling and turning on the water. Your eyes follow Daryl as he moves to the door, standing there, his back at you, giving you the sight of the angel wings on his back. Seeing it makes you relax, and you close your eyes to feel the warm water filling the tub.

Carol is patient. Very patient. The last thing you want is to take off your clothes, so she asks and waits until you let her help you remove them. The wounds burn in contact with the water, and the fact that you must rub the soap on them, to avoid any infections, only makes it worse. You can't help the tears rolling down, and the groans that leave your mouth. It feels good to take a bath, to remove all the mud and dirt, but you wish it didn't hurt this much. Your eyes always fall on Daryl, just to make sure he's still there. Carol also washes your hair, and you're thankful for that because you'd never be able to do that yourself.

After some time, you don't really know how much, you're done, and you have no choice but to sit on the edge of the tub as Carol helps you get dressed. The doctor, Denise, got you black underwear, a light gray tank top, and these soft shorts, that end up right above the cut on your leg. “I'm sorry, I know it's cold, but I don't want anything compressing your body right now. You're very...” Her voice fades and you look at the floor in between your feet. “Here. Take this.” You shake a little when you feel a weight on your shoulders, only to realize it's just a blanket. “Sorry.”

“Daryl. Can you take her back to the bed?”

“Yeah.” He finally turns around, those blue eyes finding yours almost immediately. “Hey. I can see yer face now.” He mumbles, picking you up again.

Once you're back in at the hospital bed, Denise finishes her job, covering all the major wounds. You just found out why your side hurts. Apparently, there are a few cuts on your ribs, right below your breast. As Denise stitches them up, the memory comes back, as vivid as if you were there again. That man, with dark brown eyes and a devilish smile, hovers over you, the needlepoint knife pressed against your skin as he said you'd soon give in, enjoy the pain, and ask him to that over and over again, in the most fun parts of your body.

The memory makes you flinch away when Denise's finger brush on your skin, and you desperately look around, looking for him.

“Hey. S’ alright.” Daryl's voice comes from behind you, and shyly, you reach out your hand, which he takes in a loose grip.

You're not sure how long you stay there, cold and whining, but eventually, the doctor is over. Carol wraps the blanket around you as Denise talks about the pills you'll need to take and how to keep the wounds clean. You don't really pay attention, wondering what happens now. Where you are, and if this new world revolves around this room alone.

“Honey.” Carol stands beside the bed, getting your attention. “We'll take you home now. Daryl and I share the house so you'll be with us, ok?”

Knowing you'll be around Daryl is what makes you nod, agreeing with her. Carol gestures at him, and he's quick to hold you up one more time.

In the last days, you've spent more time in Daryl's arms than anywhere else. It hurts, way too much, with every step he takes, even though you feel that he tries to keep you as still as possible. Ever since the man showed up, you've been feeling safe. You didn't think you'd ever feel safe around someone again. Everyone you met after you were forcefully separated from your first group tried to hurt you. But this man, a complete stranger, stopped whatever he's doing to rescue you. To bring you here, wherever this is, to help you survive.

When he steps out the hospital-like room you were in, you can't help but hide your face on his neck, protecting your eyes from the daylight. And protecting yourself from the small group of people you spot downstreet. Despite being curious to know where you are, you don't wanna look. You don't want people to see you, to know you exist, to think about you. If they don't know you're here, they won't want to hurt you.

“Welcome to your new house.” You hear Carol saying, and the noise of a door being open. Finally, you open your eyes to take in the... Normal house. If you tried really hard, you could even pretend this was a normal house from before... When the dead remained dead. “Daryl, upstairs. The guest room.”

He only murmurs a response you can't understand, and a minute later you're on a bed again, much more comfortable than the first. Your head rests on a fluffy pillow and a long breathe leaves from your lips.

Daryl steps back, turning to talk to Carol, both standing by the door, talking low. You don't try to understand, you just keep your eyes on the wings... Until they leave, disappearing in the hall.

“Sweety, Daryl will take a shower, ok? And I will make you something to eat, to sustain you until dinner. I'll be downstairs so if you need me, you just have to call.”

She waits a while before leaving too.

Being alone isn't the problem. The memories are. You wish your brain would stop working, stop trying to take you back to the cold, hard floor of the basement where you had a taste of what hell must be like. You try closing your eyes, but the darkness brings their faces back. Smiles, laughter, yells. All those people having fun with your suffering, placing bets on how long you'd resist before surrendering.

A couple of minutes later Carol comes back with a glass of water and scrambled eggs, helping you get into a sitting position and urging you to eat before leaving you alone again.

Frozen, you look at the eggs. They smell amazing, and slowly, you take some with your fork, raising it up to your mouth. The taste is so good it makes you ignore the pain spreading through your arm. Your stomach starts complaining violently, urging you to eat more. It's been quite a while, but still, you can't seem to push your body to work any faster. So you just keep looking at your food, trying to figure out which pain you can endure. On your arm or on your stomach.

A knock makes you look up, finding Daryl by the open door, damp hair, and a clean face. The very image of him calms your heart, setting it at ease. “Won't ya eat?” He asks, stepping inside and gesturing at the plate in your lap.

Weakly, you nod, taking some more and raising the fork to your mouth again, trying not to let him notice how your hand shakes, and you almost drop everything before successfully reaching your mouth.

“Do ya... Do ya need help?”

Blushing and embarrassed, you shake your head no, giving up eating. Focusing on not making a mess, you put the plate, still half full, on the nightstand, taking the glass of water. The weight seems to be too much, and your muscles give up trying to lift it, letting it slip and fall back on the nightstand.

“Lemme–” He mumbles, coming fast and taking the glass from your hand. You don't understand why he hesitates there for a moment, before kneeling beside the bed. “Here, drink.” Carefully, he brings the glass close to your mouth, and you lay your hand on top of his, taking fews sips, only then noticing the water is cold. How is the water cold?

That's when you finally take in the lamp on the ceiling, above the bed, the light on. They have electricity. What the hell is this place?

Pushing the glass away, you clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“I'll leave ya to–”

“Stay.” It comes out suddenly, your voice so weak, so terribly low you barely recognize it. You didn't know you would actually say it, that this feeling, this need would build up and crawl its way out of your heart like that.

It makes Daryl stop in his tracks, already up and ready to walk away. The way he looks down at you, it's clear he's also wondering if he did hear you. You haven't spoken yet, you realize.

“Stay with me.” You force the words out again, repeating the same thing he said to you while he had to carry you through the woods. The words that kept you trying, fighting, struggling to have another chance to live.

“Alright.” He makes a small pause, eyes on the ground before taking a deep breath and sitting on the bed, near your knees. “We were worried. Thinkin’ ya couldn't speak.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you pull the blanket up when you shiver, holding it above your shoulders.

“Will ya tell me yer name?”

His blue eyes are locked on yours, and you feel yourself relaxing, calming down, more comfortable. “(Y/N).” You say, your throat burning a little.

A small, quick smile flashes on Daryl's lips, soon disappearing. But it was there, you know it. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, and you take it without hesitating, watching as he lightly shakes it.

“I'm Daryl. Nice to meet ya, (Y/N).”

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy

[ushiwakaout]

WARNINGS: age gap, student x teacher (platonic then romantic) SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTERS 280+

probably really bad spelling

Ok bitches, it’s midnight and my mind is ROLLING.

This obviously has to do with bakugo. I’m a bakugo kinny so don’t @ me plz.

I really do be thinking that he’d fall in love with his teacher. But like let me explain.

You’re one of his teachers but you aren’t a hero, 100% a vigilante bc you don’t believe in the Hero morals bc you think they are a little twisted. You’re the only teacher in UA who’s not a “real” hero, personally i think Aizawa is a vigilante bc in the beginning we see that he doesn’t like Toshinori and i think it has to do with his Hero ways.

ANYWAYS, getting out of pocket here.

After the UA festival you have a big soft spot for bakugo and midoriya (especially bkg but don’t tell deku). One day he accidentally fell asleep in class bc he’s been having nightmares and you notice. Ofc you do- he’s basically your kid smh. You don’t even bother to wake him and you threaten the ones who try, especially denki and mineta. Your quirk revolves around blood manipulation but u can make it into a physical form (i guess like elsa but w blood/ u can manipulate not just yours) So when they try to wake up bakugo you just put two scary blood creatures beside them and they threaten them for you. If class is over and he’s still asleep, deku looks a little worried but you pat his shoulders and let him know it’s okay.

not you waking him up with a blood figure bc your scared of him 😔 just a lil

he obviously wakes up startled with the blood beside him, unknown to you, it reminded him of the Sludge villain. you rush to his side and start to apologize, stroking his hair but he just slaps your hand away. He’s not used to this type of affection. “Bakugo.... Are you sleeping alright?” He obviously doesn’t crack under the first attempt and decided to leave, calling you an old hag nun the less. He’s muttering “Why should you care?” and “Mind your business old hag.” Mind you, youre only like 7 years older than he is. (Bakugo is 16, aka the oldest of the class making you 23, one of the youngest teachers too) You only stop him seconds before he’s out the door to let him know that he can talk to you when he wants to. Obviously flips u off bc he doesn’t see you like an elder like Aizawa or All Might.

The fourth time Bakugo is distracted or falls asleep, he slips up. You wake him after Iida complained to you about not waking him up, low key threaten him too- u know that he almost murdered stain 💀 shuts him right up. You stroke his hair this time, trying to be gentle and not startle him like last time. You ask if he’s okay again and that’s when he slips up, “Just nightmares n stuff...” He is NOT fully awake or conscious, so he kinda frazzled up again and we are back to our regular program of Bakugo barking in your face to mind your business. But you don’t expect him to say thank you right before he walks out the door. You’re like ????? that’s new.

It’s probably the last time bakugo falls asleep is when he starts developing a crush on you. You run your hands through his hair again and he kinda rubbed into it like a cat being pet behind the ears. Both of you are like 👁👄👁

He BOLTED. No way he had just developed a crush on his teacher. No fucking way. Try’s to distance himself from you. Doesnt sleep in you class anymore. Doesnt ask you for your help or anything. You don’t mind since it seems like he’s getting by better than he was before.

But when he gets captured by the LOV and youre at camp w aizawa as extra help and you don’t see bakugo back with the rest it’s like a piece of your heart was ripped out. ( BTW in this point in time the feelings you have for bakugo ARE NOT ROMANTIC, it’s kinda like Eri and Aizawa situation, you unintentionally took bakugo under your wing and care for him a little bit more than the rest)

You don’t sleep until you find him. You’re at the press conference and you’re blood begins to boil when they said bakugo would become a villain. You spoke over Aizawa “I can assure you that you can drop those theories and accusations of my student. Bakugo Katsuki is talented and strong willed. What you saw during the festival was a mier fragment of who he really is. He’s a good kid who wants to be the number one hero one day... he wouldn’t give that up to be a villain.”

“And how do you know this fire sure, (hero/name)”

“I know my student better than anyone.”

When you hear that Midoriya, Iida, Momo, Kirishima and Todoroki went on a rescue mission to save Bakugo- you freak out. You paced all night until All might won the battle against AFO. Shota called you in the middle of the night to let you know that Bkg was gonna be in the hospital for the night. You rushed over there and once again your blood began to boil- you overheard the converstantion with him and his mother. Her calling him weak. What kind of mother was she?

you purposely walked in, “Oh sorry... You must be the Bakugos, I’m H/N- his teacher.” Mitsuki shook your hand and so did Masaru. You guys chatted a little before they left. “Your fathers such a sweet guy... how’d he end up with your mom?” Bakugo chuckled, “Old hag basically jumped on him at work.” You two chuckled together.

A very long chat between you too happened. More on how he was feeling and how you worried about him. At this point Bakugo knew that he could confide in you... He looked down at his lap and he began to sniffle. Something you where NOT expecting. “It’s all my fault... All might lost his power because of me... Becahse i was weak.” You heart ached for him UGH. Taking his hand in his, “Bakugo you are not weak... You’re the strongest kid I know. This isn’t your fault. If anything it’s mine... I couldn’t protect you kids fast enough... I’m sorry.” Caressing his cheeks. “It’s getting late. Get some sleep bakugo.” Youre about to let go of his hands but his grip gets tighter. “Don’t make me say it old hag.” He mutters before you chuckle a little and sit back down. You fall asleep you head on the edge of his bed, still in your chair while he finally began to drift to sleep. Your hand now in his.

When he figured out Deku’s secret he has one condition. “We tell L/N”

Deku’s like ??? “You mean H/N??? But kacchan!”

“No buts deku! We tell L/N or i tell everyone.”

“All Might! Do something!”

“I trust her”

“HA! Stupid deku!”

Bakugou’s kinda excited to tell you while y’all have tea and discuss Deku’s quirk but your sipping your tea when they tell you and your like “Oh, yeah i kinda figured that out myself... You guys are really bad at hiding a secret.” Bakugo calls the irresponsible and the rest is history 💀

Also you side intern w a 1-B student Shiozaki bc y’all have manipulation quirks and he gets mad jealous 💀💀 also hates that u intern w Vlad King and hang out w Hawks WAY TOO MUch

If he’s ever around you guys and Hawks starts flirting OH MAN bakugou with start to bark.

Hawks is the first person to notice his crush and he tells you and your like “Pft BAKUGOU?? You’re crazy!” but then you low key begin to notice small things that you didn’t before and your like oh- Oh shit.... this ain’t good

“Bakugo, have lunch with me will you?”

Denki and mineta make dirty jokes and you slap both of them w your shadows before the exit class.

You’re both mid into your bento box as you just blurt it out “Do you fancy me Kacchan?” yes u intentionally call him kacchan bc he chokes on the spici bento u made him. “Oh wow... hawks was right...”

“WHAT DID THAT BIRD BRAIN TELL YOU”

“Just told me you had a crush on me... Didnt believe him until now...” You eat a little more bento and just put it down bc ur don’t like the tension in the room. “Bakugo you know nothings going to happen between us right? You’re my student and i care about you. I obviously favor you but that’s all it’s gonna be.”

“Watch your mouth old hag. I’m 18 in two years, let’s see if i don’t come back and bite you in the ass.”

you burst out laughing and he just barks at you for laughing at him. “You will not my dear bakugo. Unless you graduate top of your class, turn 21 and make an image for yourself, then we’ll talk.”

“Mmm i promise ima gonna follow you till u love me too, L/N.”

“you’re disgusting, eat your bento.”

SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTER 280 and ONGOING

You’re horribly injured. Gashes and blood spilling from your wounds as you watch Midoriya fight a battle alone with Shigaraki. Bakugo is sitting you up between his legs, making sure you don’t pass out. Your blood isn’t regenerating your wounds like it usually would. Your body has its limits and you’ve almost passed them.

But when Aizawa goes out cold, Deku claims Nanas float quirk, it’s up to you and Endevor to keep everyone safe, even if your body is screaming at you to sleep and rest.

There’s a moment when you see bakugo look at you when he sees that his child hood friends is in grave danger. “Don’t... BAKUGO!” He’s already in the air and your blood whips aren’t fast enough to move them. Shigaraki is faster and pieces through his chest and abdomen... It’s like you could feel it. “NO!!BAKUGO!!!” Everyone around you can hear the horror in your voice as you push yourself up in the air w the rest of your energy and catch him in your arms before anyone else does, but your body feels limp, luckily enough Todoroki Shoto is seconds behind you and catches the both of you safely.

At this point you can’t even tell who’s blood is on your hands. “You idiot.... Damn it ... Hey, hey you’re alright, look at me Bakugo. You can’t leave me too kid.” If it weren’t for your regeneration you’d probably be passed out the way he is right now. “We’re gonna get you to safety alright.... You gotta keep your promise... as stupid as it is.”

The second your feet step into a medical, everyone is looking at the both of you in horror. You tears a falling onto him and you just look like a tired mess. “Please take him. No- No not me, him! He needs help not me, please.” The doctors are quick and they try to help you but you keep screaming that it’s bakugo that needs help and when he’s not in your arms anymore and you see him getting the help you need that’s when your body collapses into the arms of a doctor.

Once everything is over and everyone is safe. You’re the last one out of the group who wakes up, which frightens bakugo. He’s in his room and he’s nagging you at his nurse to let him see you (your legit a curtain over) but she keeps saying that you need rest and blah blah. “Let the kid in nurse.” You croak and bakugo almost falls off his bed to get to you.

he regrets his decision. you look pissed. “You could have died.” was the first thing you tell him when you see him. “Do you know how selfish that was Bakugo? You could have died in my arms? Did you even think about that-

“My body moved in it’s own...”

*silence*

“I had to do something...”

You start tearing up, “get over here you stupid pomeranian.”

After that you watch Bakugo from afar, you give up you job in UA. You felt unworthy to have that position especially when you couldn’t save your student for the second time. Sometimes bakugo calls you and ask where you are while he’s on a grocery run. “I’m a lot closer than you think Kacchan, now get home safely, it’s getting dark.” You hang up in him and follows him back to UA, making use he’s fine.

This goes on for two year until he graduates. He’s taking pictures with his friends and aizawa gives him a box. “What is this?” he shrugs. “She just dropped it off.” He walks away leaving bakugo confused.

He opens the box and it’s a picture of you and him that Toshinori may have taken while you laughed together eating your bento. Behind the picture, there’s ink w your hand writing “give it back in 3 years” and inside there’s ring hanging on a necklace, he chuckles while reading the next note “p.s i’m not proposing. i just want something else to look forward to other than your presence”

“stupid hag.” he mutters before pulling the necklace over his head and tucking it into his graduate uniform. his hand is over the necklace and you see his smile from the top of the UA roof. When he looks up, he sees you. You smile softly and disappear when he blinks- he was afaid that would happen.

the next three years go by a lot quicker than he realizes. He’s interning under the agency you created w hawks but your no where to do seen. You’re never. in office.

and when april 20th hits, it’s the first time people see you in the office in three years and you go directly to Bakugos cubicle. You place a white box in front of him and smile “Happy birthday Dynamight.” His eyes widen when he locks eyes with you. Your hair is different, you look more like a woman than you did 5 years ago. he’s speechless and u just chuckle and roll your eyes. “My necklace, Kacchan.”

“I want my birthday present first.”

“What are you talking about, the box is your present now hand over my neck-“

“that’s not what i’m talking about.”

“the what-”

all eyes are on you two when pulls you into a kiss that he’s been holding onto for five years. “This necklace is mine now, just like you are. I promised you didn’t i?”

[poesparakeet-fics]

AKA “Yasha The Protector” fic from the prompt poll!

Note: This is basically a SFW fic with a lil NSFW ending. The whole SFW bit is here, so enjoy, and click to AO3 for the sexy bit!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Poly Nein - Relationship, Beauregard Lionette/Caleb Widogast/Yasha, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Poly Nein Characters: Beauregard Lionett, Caleb Widogast, Yasha (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Tickling, Bedtime, gang tickle, Sub Caleb Widogast, Stress Relief, dope monk shit, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Polyamory, Group Sex, Threesome - F/F/M Series: Part 1 of The Poly Nein Summary:

Trent Ikithon has been brought back into the Mighty Nein’s orbit, and Yasha’s real mad about it. After Jester take Caleb to her bed to take care of his feelings, Yasha does the same to keep him safe. Beau… helps?

FICThe Empire and the Dynasty needed to figure their stuff out. They needed to take all their stuff, and just... lay it out on the table, measure it, and figure it out. That’s what Yasha thought, anyway. She supposed that these talks might be their way of doing it, but it sure was a bad way.  At the very least she wished the Mighty Nein could stop getting mixed up in it.

When Yasha first saw that Trent Ikithon had manipulated his way onto the king’s party, she’d been tempted to bamf out her wings and scream in his face, right then and there. He was old, she suspected she could maybe stop his heart that way. But she’d felt Beau go still next to her, hard and poised like a switch, and paused to match instead.

The last night before their departure they’d set up the mansion in a rented room far from the castle.

Fjord was sure Ikithon had done it to force Caleb to interact with him. Caleb agreed, in that quiet way he did when he was thinking very hard, his eyes cast down.

“We should kill him while we have the chance.” Veth said. She didn’t shriek it like she might have done a year ago, but says it matter-of-factly, in the calm, sweet voice that always meant she was talking to Caleb. They were all talking, but what she said was meant for Caleb.

“No.” He says. “Peace is worth the wait.”

Nobody was willing to argue with him on it, but she could tell Beau and Veth both wanted to. When they all bundled off to bed, Jester intercepted Caleb and pulled him into her and Fjord’s room. Caleb went along numbly, only smiling a little when she insisted that he wouldn’t have nightmares if he slept with them.

Yasha was tense all night, sleeping with Beau weaved around her rigid form like willow reeds.

The talks the next day were very boring. Lots of people she didn’t care about talked. Trent talked occasionally, but only when called upon. Otherwise he would just whisper behind his hand. Fjord talked. Caleb talked. Jester even talked a little, defusing a heated exchange with spun-sugar grace.

Yasha didn’t talk. She stood directly behind Caleb, though, staring down Trent and his molefuckers. Throughout the day she tried to convey three things to them with just her eyes:

She wanted to rip their limbs off.

She was fully capable of ripping their limbs off.

The only reason she was not ripping their limbs off was because Caleb asked her not to.

Beau, on the other hand, roved around the room like a shadow, but her head was always turned in Trent’s direction.

The others seemed happy with how the talks had gone. The fortress they were in had rooms for them, but they all agreed to set up the mansion in one of them as an extra layer of protection. Yasha trotted to catch up with Beau, one hand reaching out to brush her arm.

“Hmm. What? Sorry.”

“That’s OK.” Yasha soothed “It’s been a long day. Um… so... I want Caleb to come sleep with us tonight?”

Beau looked a little surprised. “Uh, sure, but why? I’m not as good at feelings as Jester or Fjord.”

Yasha patted her arm. “You’re getting better. But it’s not about feelings! I want to make sure if some vole-fucker wants to show up next to his bed they get a big raging surprise.” 

Beau snickered and Yasha beamed, pleased with the success of her joke.

“God, you’re so cute. Also, uh... very correct. I was worried about that too,” said Beau with a frown, "If they wanna try and take him out, we'll beat them right out of the pocket dimension."

They were all quiet and tired when they stepped into the mansion, Caleb most of all. Yasha wasn’t as persuasive or cajoling as Jester, so she settled for just grabbing Caleb out of the air as they floated up through the tower’s floors and carrying him to their room over her shoulder.

“Oof! Ah, Yasha…?”

“You’re not sleeping alone with him so near. You’re coming with us.”

“Oooh, good idea Yasha!” Jester’s voice carried down to them as she floated past. “Byyye Caleb!”

“Well, ja, alright then.” Caleb sounded too tired to argue.

“We’ll keep you safe.” Yasha assured him quietly as she gave him a pat on the butt. She didn’t put him down until they were in their room and she could dump him directly on the bed. Then she slipped the Magician's Judge underneath the frame. 

“I need a bath before bed because I smell! Get comfy though, I’ll join you soon.” 

Once she’d stripped down next to the always-steaming copper tub she turned around, surprised to see Caleb sitting on the ground pulling books out of his bag.

“Do you want a bath too Caleb? You can come in with me, you’re just little. Beau fits.”

Caleb gave her a quirk of a smile.

“No, thank-you. I’m just restless. I’ll work for a while before bed, I think.”

“Caleb!” Yasha’s brow furrowed. This was not good. Jester would never allow this, if she was the one taking care of him. 

He shrugged. “I’ll stay here, if they attack I’ll be safe. You'll wake.”

“That’s not what she’s worried about, dumbass.” Beau joined them, a wine bottle under her arm and three glasses in her hand. “It’s late, this thing starts early tomorrow, and you’re the Bright Queen’s favorite human. You need to be sharp. You’re drinking this wine with us and you’re going to bed.”

“Verdammt noch mal , I’m manipulating countries by day and being put to bed like a child every night. Would you all let me be?!” Caleb snapped.

Yasha’s hands moved to her hips. 

“You don't get put to bed like a child, you get taken care of by people who love you because we can't trust you to take care of yourself! And we’re here to protect you, even if it’s from the stupid part of your brain that’s too smart!” Oh, no, that hadn’t come out the way she wanted.

Caleb’s posture turned surly, but Beau stepped between them. 

“Babe, relax, I’ve got this. Take your bath.”

She had him down in a matter of about six seconds. 

First she reached out and seemed to only touch him in the centre of his chest. Yasha barely had time to notice that she’d undone the buckle of his holsters before he was being spun around by a steely hand on the back of his coat-collar.

Beau yanked his coat off in on swift movement, her other hand immediately grabbing the back of Caleb’s holsters and yanking them down to his elbows. She tugged the books out and set them aside while twisting the leather straps into a makeshift binding for his arms. She shoved him face-first onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

Yasha clapped when it was finished, having crawled into the hot bath to enjoy the show.

“Beauregard! Let me go. Now.” Caleb snapped

“Nope.” Beau tugged at his holsters until she could roll him onto his side, one clawed hand starting to scrub at his belly without so much as a glance. Caleb’s body spasmed, his breath pitching as he tried to resist laughing and keep a glare on his face. “There’s only three ways this ends for you. One, you give up, have a nice glass of wine and go to bed in the strong goth’s arms with me. Two, you use your safeword so I have to let you go and you can run off into a corner with your books like a pissy little bitch. Three, I personally tickle you until you pass out, which solves my problem anyway. So what’s it gonna be?”

Her hand squeezed his side and started to climb his ribcage, finally breaking the dams of his resistance. His torso was stretched, his ribcage extended by the angle at which the holsters were pinning his arms behind his back, and with Beau’s strong thighs around his center of gravity he couldn’t do much more than squirm. First a smile broke out, then helpless, rumbling laughter.

“FUHUHUCK YOU LIONEHETTE!” He ground out, earning an audience gasp from Yasha. 

There was a stubborn, defiant and mouthy side of Caleb that only Beau seemed to be able to bring out. Often shocking, when Caleb was always so deferent to his lovers. But then, Beau’s relationship with the men in their group tended to be more ‘beloved best friends I share lovers with and also occasionally make out with’ than 'lover.'

“Ooh, mouthy! So, that’s how you wanna do it, huh? Huh?” 

Beau’s hands started to fly, lightning-fast pinches tweaked Caleb’s ribs, sides, hips, armpits and neck faster than he could react.

“Ah- haha, nein! ” for the first time a little desperation entered Caleb’s voice, his defiance wavering just a little under Beau’s onslaught.

“No? Why? Is the little wizard ready for bed yet? Huh?”

Caleb’s face twisted into a furrowed glare over a helpless smile, and he shook his head from where he was currently muffling his laughter against the bedspread. Beau’s hands jumped to his uppermost ribs on each side, a precision attack that made him start thrashing and shouting in Zemnian. Yasha didn’t know what he was saying, but it didn’t sound complementary.

“How bout now, huh? What if I just do this forever? All ribs, all time! You like that, you smart-ass little shit?”

“No! Nohoho! I will gehehehet you!”

“Pfft. How you gonna do that, huh? You can’t cast your little spells while you’re squealing like a lil bitch…”

Yasha finished towelling herself off and flopped onto the bed next to them, putting her face near where Caleb’s was turned and pressed against the sheets before starting to dance her fingers around his neck and ears.

“Y-Yasha! I- Ah! Hahaha- I don’t- don’t feheeheeheel safe!”

“Oh so now Yasha’s here and you think she’s gonna save you? Nuh-uh. Hey babe, wanna see something cool that Dairon taught me?”

“No!” Caleb yelped, but it was muffled because Beau was already turning him onto his stomach. 

“Ooh yes!” Yasha answered, leaning in with her chin on her other hand and continuing to tease the back of Caleb’s neck. Beau’s fingers started to follow the ley-lines of Caleb’s body, applying a poke, a twist or a ground knuckle at the intersections. 

Caleb’s laughter petered into giddy giggles as his body trembled under the ministrations. He could clearly feel the effects of Beau’s work, because the steady whine of “nononononononono” became just a little more frantic with each applied touch, his neck and shoulders squirming and scrunching further to avoid Yasha’s teasing.

“We usually use this to make people’s nervous system more sensitive for interrogation,” Beau explained, “so… well, I guess it might work pretty well, huh? Let’s see!”

She didn’t bother to roll Caleb over this time, instead jamming her hands under his arms from behind to get his armpits and ribs. Every part of Caleb’s body started to shake, and his laughter turned into muffled shrieks.

“Nahahahat there!”

“Um, we already talked about this. It’s ALL ribs, ALL the time.” Beau teased, stepping up the rhythm of her fingers and making Caleb’s hysteria kick up with each word . “Yup, that works. How’s that, tough guy? Still wanna fight?”

She turned him on his side so he could talk, one hand still jammed under his arm. Caleb was red in the face, but he still spit out “Fuck you fuHAHAHAck you fuHAHAck youhooHAHAHA!”

“Caleb! That’s so rude!” Yasha admonished. “And you know what? I’m getting a little hungry.”

Caleb’s eyes widened and his thrashing sped up. Beau looked a little confused, but watched the one-sided exchange with an amused smile on her face.

“Remember in Aeor when you were a big spider? Do you think you’re as tasty now?” She pounced face-down on one of his thighs. “Omnomnomnom!”

Caleb’s squeal started before Yasha’s face got anywhere near him. She placed one hand on his knee and the other on his stomach to keep his body from folding up to block her, worrying both places with gently wiggling fingers. Then she nipped up and down the thigh muscle from hip to knee like it was corn on the cob, and Caleb nearly levitated off the bed. 

“AAaaiiiiii! YAHAHASHA! AAAH! YAHAHASHAHA PLEAAHEEHEEHESE AAAH! UNCLE! UHAHAHANCLE!"

Yasha paused, peering up at him along the length of his body. Beau's fingers stilled too. 

"Are you gonna come to bed?"

"Yehehes,” he wheezed, “yes!"

Yasha backed off. Beau started to, before mischief overcame her and she tweaked Caleb's ribs, making him convulse and scream. 

"Hey!" Yasha warned, pointing at Beau. "He gave. My meal of wizard legs was interrupted, but I'll fill up on monk ribs if I have to."

Caleb made a raspberry sound at Beau from his position in a heap on the mattress. Beau held her hands up in surrender. "Alright! I was just teasing him, no need to get aggressive... Hey, you! You still want some wine?"

She untwisted Caleb’s holsters, setting him free. 

“Yes pl- *hic* please.” Caleb croaked, still catching his breath.

Beau moved to pour the wine-- white, Caleb didn’t like red-- and they all sipped it as they got ready for bed. Once Caleb had stripped and tucked himself under Yasha’s arm with his head on her shoulder, Beau sat behind him. His spine went rigid.

“Relax.” The monk soothed. “I’m done. It only lasts an hour, but we can get rid of it faster.” 

She started to rub Caleb’s back his firm, flat palms, working out muscles, nerves and energy where she had disrupted it to make him more ticklish. Caleb did relax, eyes rolling as his eyes started to flutter closed.

Beau moved to her other side, settling into a position that mirrored Caleb’s. Yasha fell asleep to the sound of their quiet breathing.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   25

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Papyrus yells at Sans to get his shit together, but he's a mess... AKA Sans gets drunk... and remembers some things from the past... that he'd really rather not..

A/N: There is some... possibly triggering events... experiments and tiny skele abuse... little Papyrus is too cute and sweet... Also mentioned possible death. It, as usual, is separated with the ~~~ and should be (at least mostly) safe again at the next set, safe summary in the end..

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Blackout.

Sans rolled over in his bed, feeling like the scars on his chest were going to break through and destroy his soul. 

The sun blared outside, shining into his sockets. 

"fuck off," he growled, rolling back over. 

Papyrus pounded on the door, making the sounds reverberate through his skull. He couldn't tell if it was louder than normal, or it just sounded like it to his throbbing skull. 

"GET YOUR STUPID, LAZY ASS UP, SANS!! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!! I KNOW YOU WENT OUT DRINKING AGAIN LAST NIGHT, LIKE THE FUCKING MORON THAT YOU ARE!! YOU'D BETTER BE DOWNSTAIRS IN FIVE MINUTES, OR I'M COMING BACK UP HERE FOR YOU!! YOUR STUPIDITY IS NO EXCUSE TO BE A LAZY DRUNK MORON!!"

 . 

The day was hell- actually, life was hell at the moment… 

His brother yelled at him about how stupid he'd been every chance he got- like he didn't already know that he'd royally fucked up. 

Every place he went reminded him of something he'd shown, or wanted to show (Y/n), her excitement at all the different things she'd never seen before had warmed his soul every time. 

Each time someone asked where his pet was made his soul thrum and ache to be close to her. ...and punch the person in the face… She was so much more than the pet they'd had to pretend she was. 

Every time he got Grillby's, he remembered her face of delight as she ate it for the first time. 

Every bite of his brother's food reminded him that she'd been there and helped him get better at cooking. 

Every time he rolled over in bed and smelled her scent caught on the pillow, or the sheets… 

And then there was the time he'd gotten back from drinking, and had been stumbling around drunk in his room, kicking random stuff on the floor, only to discover a pair of her underwear that he'd probably tossed in the corner in his haste to get to her. 

That had made him collapse in a heap of self hatred and regret. 

.

Sans sat at the table, stabbing his fork at his dinner aimlessly. 

“I MADE YOU A WONDERFUL, DELICIOUS, HOME COOKED MEAL! DON’T FIDGET WITH IT AND ACT LIKE IT’S THE TRASH YOU FILL YOURSELF WITH AT THAT GREASE TRAP,” Papyrus snapped at him. 

“sorry, boss…” 

Papyrus clenched his jaw, staring at his own fork pushing around a bite longer than necessary. 

“I WARNED YOU. I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCK IT UP. BUT YOU HAD TO GO AND DO THE STUPIDEST THING POSSIBLE TO FUCK IT UP.” 

Sans didn’t say anything. 

“YOU DID IT TO YOURSELF.” 

“i fuckin’ know, boss!” Sans yelled, scooting his chair back from the table. “i know i’m a fuck up! it’s pretty fuckin’ obvious that i always manage ta fuck everythin’ up!” 

Papyrus sniffed haughtily. “I’M GLAD THAT YOU KNOW. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?” 

“i can’t do anythin’ about it! i fucked up, an’ she hates me! i took ‘er back ta th' edge a th' boundary, an’ there’s no way i can ever find ‘er, now!” Sans glared at his plate of food. 'sides, she wouldn't care- not that i'm sorry for being an asshole, not that i've been tryin' ta be a better monster, an' made great progress, too! maybe only a lil before i met 'er, but her bein' here made it so much easier to be better… 

Papyrus scowled at his brother. “THERE’S ALWAYS A WAY-” 

Sans cut him off by standing up, his chair making a loud noise as it almost fell over, and started towards the door as he muttered, “i’m goin’ ta grillby’s…” 

After grabbing his coat and slamming the door after him, Sans shortcutted to the bar, intent on getting wasted. 

.

A few drinks in with a good buzz, Sans started looking around. 

He wasn’t quite drunk enough to not remember, but it was at least a bit hazy. 

“Heya, Sansy!” 

He looked over to the bar stool next to him, seeing the cream colored bunny next to him, ordering a drink. He followed her to her regular booth, and they began matching shots, seeing who could get the drunkest first. 

. 

Sans opened his eye sockets, his fuzzy eyelights looking around the bar, seeing some drunk monsters starting to be a bit more friendly with each other. 

His skull fell to the side as he shifted, realizing that he’d missed a bit of what had happened. He straightened up in the booth seat and looked down at his drink again. 

Maybe he should try to find someone… 

Even if it was a one night stand, it would be someone to try to get rid of his memory of- no… thinking her name would only start the hurt again… make his soul burn with the knowledge that he was to blame for fucking his life up beyond repair. 

But, finding someone might be a good idea; he needed to at least stop jerking off excessively to her panties, or reading those stupid, mushy, trash books he hid on his shelf while imagining that she was the leading lady- and he was lucky enough to be the bastard who’d seen the error in his ways and was given a second chance… 

… 

Sans tossed back his drink and took the half empty glass from the passed out bunny across from him, downing it as well. 

He was finally kicked out of the bar, Grillby chasing everyone out as he closed. 

Sans took a shortcut home, but ended up in the field near the echo flowers he had planted to remind him of Waterfall, where he used to look at the Underground “skys” and pretend the crystals were stars. 

He yelled loudly for a minute, then tried again, this time making it within a short distance of the house. 

He swayed dangerously, but he made it in through the door, getting to the foot of the stairs and seeing the door to the hidden room open. He went to it, hand stopping short only due to him passing out across the floor with a thud. 

His vision had gone dark. 

Darker... 

…yet darker… 

…and darker, still… 

… 

… 

… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans felt his soul floating above his body, unable to move as Gaster held him there with his weird powers. 

“Just hold still, you little shit…” 

Sans could handle it… as long as he left Papyrus alone, he could handle it… 

“P-PAPA…” 

“What is it? What are you doing in my lab? Why are you here?” Gaster demanded roughly in irritation. 

Sans fought as hard as he could to shift his eyelights to see his little brother. He needed to stay away! Sans wished that he could talk, yell at Paps to run, to go hide, to never come there, ever again- but he could hardly shift his eyelights. 

“WH-WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO SANS?” 

run, bro, run! Sans begged mentally. 

“Well, you see, you weak little fool, monsters are stuck underground. We’re not here because we want to be. Your useless brother here, is going to help us escape,” Gaster told him. 

“THAT’S AMAZING, SANS!” Papyrus shouted in proud joy. 

Sans tried to will his brother to leave, to save himself from the sadistic monster towering over him. 

Papyrus’s jaw hit the hard floor as Gaster smacked the back of his skull so hard he fell forward. 

“Don’t be stupid, you worthless little runt,” Gaster snapped as he tore the ragged stuffed animal from his grasp. “He’s only a part of the experiment, he’s not doing anything worthwhile.” He held up the prized toy and ripped it’s limb off. “Just like this garbage is only making you weaker.” 

“NOOO!” Papyrus cried, a heart wrenching sob that made Sans’ soul hurt. 

Gaster glared at the small skeleton on the floor. “You have no need for this trash,” he sneered. “It’s as useless as you are.” He tore at the thing until it was completely in pieces and destroyed. 

Sans wanted to punch Gaster in his stupid cracked face. 

Gaster plucked Papyrus from the floor and turned to hold him where Sans could see. “Look at how weak you’ve made him,” he gloated. “If you didn’t coddle him and try to protect him from the real world, he’d be stronger.” 

Sans could feel his magic gathering in his bones, pushing and fighting against Gaster’s hold on him. 

Gaster looked Papyrus in the socket. “You should thank your brother for this- for making you as weak as you are.” 

A shot of fear showed on Papyrus’ face before the first hit came. 

Red, hot, magical tears built in Sans’ sockets as he fought to get free, to help his brother, but he was only able to sort of flop around on the table. 

Papyrus’ cries and tears were background noise for Gaster’s cries and accusations, telling Sans that he could thank himself for his brother not being able to defend himself, telling Papyrus to thank Sans for making him so weak. His gleeful cackling mixed with the noise of the attack. 

One of the machines in the room kicked into another level, sounding like it was reversing the flow it had been using. 

“sssstttppppp…” 

“Haven’t I taught you boys anything? Emotions are weakness.” 

“sssttoppp…” 

“Weakness is unacceptable- weakness will get you dusted.” 

“sstoopp…” 

“I thought I had taught you both better- but maybe you’re just slow learners!” The thought was accompanied with a manic and near demonic grin. “Maybe you just don’t learn- maybe you need to be taught over and over and over-” 

“stop,” Sans choked out. 

Gaster was too focused on what he was doing to notice at first, but when it seemed like a circuit or fuse had blown, he paused his movements. 

Sans started shaking, his body twitching every which way as he fought, fought to be able to save Papyrus. 

He felt a power just beyond his phalanges, he could almost reach it- 

The tears in his sockets grew, starting to stream down his skull, as he stretched himself to touch it- 

The power in the lab started to flicker, and Sans felt like his soul was being ripped into tiny pieces with a cheese grater, digging into it and shredding the super sensitive entirety of his being. 

“What are you doing, you stupid fucking brat,” Gaster demanded, glaring watchfully at him, ignoring his screams of pain.

Sans couldn’t hear him, though- he couldn’t even hear the screams leaving his own mouth, he was only consumed with protecting his brother, stopping Gaster from hurting him. 

A loud crack echoed in the room, followed by the power cutting off and slowly starting back up. 

Sans felt weightless, like he had no restraints. 

He threw himself from the bed, but felt that he didn’t even touch the floor. He was held by a gathering of power- the same power that he’d tapped into. 

The power that was… 

Gaster sneered as Sans stood before him, attempting to adjust his magical hold, but it didn’t affect him. 

Sans clenched his fists and gathered the power there, ready to stop the attack on his brother, a shimmer moving around his fists. 

Gaster cackled at him and tossed Papyrus to the floor. “So, you’ve finally done what you were meant to do this whole time.” The tall monster reached for Sans, but his magic didn’t affect him. He made a displeased face at Sans before flourishing his hands, the gems in the centers of his cutout palms gleaming as he grabbed something in the air and pulled, lines attaching the two shimmering to visible for a moment. 

Gaster grinned dangerously in accomplishment and jerked the lines, making Sans stumble forward. 

“And to think; all it took to motivate you was a little smacking around of your brother… Maybe I’ll make you…” Gaster manipulated his hands in strange ways, and Sans could feel himself being tugged around by his own magic. “Yes, I could make you the one that hurt him instead… but, I think that I’ve taught him enough about the dangers of being weak… now I think I’ll teach you the dangers of caring for others-” Gaster twisted his hand and made Sans pick Papyrus up, holding him even with his eyelights. “How it can only hurt both parties in the end.” 

“i don’t wanna, pap, i swear,” Sans begged him to understand as he felt his hand being drawn back. “i swear it’s not me, paps- ya know i’d never do anythin’ like this ta ya…” 

“But it is you, Sans, look at your hand, it’s the one that’s about to hurt the one you love,” Gaster sneered from behind them. 

“‘s not- ‘s not, paps- y’re my lil bro, i love ya-” 

He was going to kill him- 

Sans was going to kill Gaster for making him do this. 

“The best part, is that the more monsters I link together, the more power I’ll have… I’ll be able to break down the barrier all on my own- as soon as I link enough souls together,” Gaster crowed in victory. 

Sans looked down to his ribcage where his soul sat, seeing a string connecting it to Gaster’s soul, a strange bond forming between his soul and the holes in his palms, the gems floating in the middles, that he’d never seen before- in fact- he didn’t think he’d ever seen this glow before on Gaster. 

Sans focused hard, letting go of Papyrus and took a hold of the line and tugged, pulling Gaster instead, turning the larger monster to him and making him stumble to be the right height, even for him to pull all the energy he could into his hands, summoning a large bone and swinging hard, hitting Gaster in the skull, seeing the flash of fear and realization just before it connected. 

Gaster fell to the ground, limp, and Sans dropped the bone, letting it disappear as he stared in shock. 

Did… Did he just kill Gaster? 

He knew he thought about it a lot… 

He knew that he wanted to do it to stop him from hurting his brother- wanted to punish him for hurting his brother… 

But… why wasn’t he turning to dust…? Why was there… blackness leaking from him?

~~~~~~~~~~

Sans turned to Papyrus when he felt a bit more certain that Gaster wasn't going to get up and attack again. 

He felt his soul twist in knots at the expression of pain and fear on his small brother's face, sure that it was partially due to the crack from his maxilla, between two sharp teeth, up and heading to his cheek bone. But the other part would have to come from… 

"b-bro-" Sans' voice caught, his hand freezing in mid motion, his phalanges starting to curl closed into a fist. “i… i’m sorry, bro,” he murmured. 

Papyrus threw himself into Sans’ arms, small, almost silent sobs leaving his small frame. 

Sans felt his soul twist again. 

“i- it’s a’right, paps- i- h-he… he’ll never hurt ya again. never…” He murmured against his brother’s skull. “i promise…”

Papyrus held tighter to him, trying to hide his silent sobs better. 

“i- imma help ya become th’ toughest monster out there. ain’t nobody gonna mess wit ya…” Sans stroked over his brother’s skull, not quite sure what else to do to comfort him. “ya- ya are th’ great an’ terrible papyrus, after all…”

Papyrus mustered up the strength to give a soft, “Nyeh Heh Heh…” 

Sans held his small form closer to his chest, curling around him. "it's ok, paps… everythin' is gonna be ok…" 

He just had to get rid of Gaster's body… 

After a moment, an idea came to him, and, thinking it through while he held and comforted Papyrus, it seemed to hold up… 

He'd hated all these years of going to the lab with Gaster, but… looks like they were finally going to be good for something. 

He didn't think anyone else knew about the void between realms that Gaster had accidentally tapped into while trying to find a way out of the Underground. 

"S-Sans…" For once, the small skeleton's voice matched his size. 

"yeah, paps?" Sans asked quietly. 

"Are… Are You Going To Be My Dad, Now…?" 

Sans felt like he was the one who'd been smacked in the back of the skull with a bone attack. 

"i- n-no, paps- i'm still yer brother, i- i ain't fit ta- i ain't old 'nough ta be a dad-” he corrected, trying to put it in a way that Papyrus would understand, “but… imma take care a ya like one, 'k? ya don't have ta be scared, imma take care a ya… i'll keep ya safe…" 

Papyrus tightened his hold on Sans. "I'm- I'm Going To Keep You Safe, Too," he murmured. 

"that's 'cause y're gonna be th' biggest, strongest monster out there. no one'll be able ta beat ya, 'cause y're th' best…" 

Sans held his brother tight, feeling the newly awakened power burning through his bones as the two held each other, swearing that they'd keep each other safe and alive, no matter what it took. 

A/N: Safe summary: Gaster is experimenting in connecting souls together, using his powers to hold Sans down, when little Papyrus comes down with his precious stuffed animal to see what they're doing. Gaster hits Papyrus as punishment for being "weak". Sans completes the connection of his soul to Gaster's to break his paralyzing hold on him and protect Papyrus. At first it works, but then Gaster uses two crystals type things (that Sans has never ben able to see before and isn't sure what they are) in the holes of his hands to focus his power and control Sans, making him hit Papyrus, as punishment for caring for and loving him. Sans tells him the whole time that it's not him. Sans regains control and stops himself, using gravity magic to bring him down to level, and then manifests a bone attack and hits him, very hard, in the head. Sans wonders if he's killed Gaster, and holds Papyrus close while trying o figure out how to hide Gaster's body. Sweet moments ensue in the mostly safe part.

[beetlegoose01]

stolen whispers: chapter 1

AN: this fic isn’t a request, it’s a story i’ve been preparing for a lil while and I’m so excited to share this with you all <3

I’ll link it on my Archive if you prefer to read it there. Also warning, there’s quite a few OCs.

Time: 2028 (Scorbus have been married for two years)

Summary: When a new generation of Death Eaters kidnap Scorpius, Albus and Rose put aside their differences to rescue him.

TW: Kidnapping/Language/minor violence

~~~~

Two witches wearing shadowy black robes entered the tavern, finding a table near the back. They ordered their mead, waiting for their third partner impatiently. It was a crowded area, so thankfully there was a small chance they would be overheard.

"We don't want more mead." The first woman growled, tapping her long nails at the table. The bartender, a tall man with a mustache put the drinks down.

"I didn't think so." He lips curled into a grin as he morphed into a younger man with wild dusty brown hair, wearing matching robes. He was handsome, but had an eerie presence to him. Any reasonable person would have at least flinched at the transformation, though neither witch did. "Hello ladies." He grinned cheekily.

"Soren, enough playing games." The second woman said, though she was smirking.

Soren barked out a laugh. "It was funny, Mara. And you know it."

The first woman, Lilith narrowed her eyes. She pulled down her hood, revealing cascading inky black hair down her shoulders. A scar that showed no sign of mending was down her cheek. "Your skills are impressive, but useless if you don't use them for our own gain. Don't forget that." She pulled her hood back.

"Understood." He murmured, taking a seat.

"We have much to discuss," She continued, flicking her wand idly. "Our current plan in action. Our...act of revenge. It's been thirty years since The Tenebris was wrongfully killed. I am sick and tired of his name being tossed around in history like he was some monster. He was on the right side."

"Are you certain we want to call the Dark Lord that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Shh! You know if anyone hears us, they'll lock us up for good. For speaking our minds." Lilith said. "It's safer we call him by his code name."

Her companions nodded.

"Because of his loss, we have mudbloods in positions of power. Our siblings that fought for his cause are locked up. Or worse, dead."

Mara and Soren looked grim.

"If we had more allies, perhaps we would have had a chance." Soren noted. "We weren't even alive then but...I have a feeling if we were..."

"Just because we weren't alive then, doesn't mean we don't have opinions over the lives stolen!" Mara argued. "That damn Harry Potter."

"Correct. And Soren is right too. For once. If we had more allies, or better yet...certain allies didn't betray us. The Malfoys for instance." She took a sip of her drink.

"Are you suggesting something?" Mara asked.

"Of course I am, don't be so daft." Lilian said, deadly calm. "I want to make that family suffer for what they did. My uncle Vincent Crabbe died for their selfishness. Draco Malfoy had a chance to save him, and he refused like the coward he is. His mother Narcissa lied to Tenebris' face. They are backstabbing filth that besmirched the Sacred 28. No, it isn't just about their betrayal or avenging those we lost in the war. Think of the big picture. They have the capabilities to join our side. To...respawn a new generation of Death Eaters. But that's not all...

"The Malfoys have lots of gold." She drawled. "Surely, they'll spare a few for us in exchange for something important. Or rather...someone."

"Someone?" Soren paused. "What are you suggesting?"

"Regretfully, Astoria Malfoy has passed on." Mara didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, instead stated it blandly. "So using her as a ransom for Draco is a no go."

"Ah, but there is still someone left." Lillian said, removing a small photograph from her cloak, she slid it across the table.

A young man with platinum hair was pictured, beaming brightly in Healer Robes.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Soren and Mara exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"Bring him to me."

~~~~~~~~~~

The best thing about mornings, at least to Albus, was waking up beside his husband. The sun's bright rays peaked through the window of their cream colored bedroom, slowly stirring them both awake. If it was up to him, he would stay in their warm bed, arms wrapped around Scorpius until noon.

Scorpius rolled over, so that they were facing each other. His eyes fluttered open, and Albus felt his heart melt at his sapphire eyes.

"Hi." He yawned. His voice was slightly croaky, no doubt from the morning.

Albus replied by nuzzling his nose, then kissed his cheek. "Hi honey."

Scorpius laughed lightly. "Let's get up then. Start the day? It's a Saturday. We have the whole weekend to spend together."

"I'd rather spend it here with you."

Bathilda mewed from the kitchen.

"But our child is hungry." Scorpius teased, stretching as he slid out of bed. Albus begrudgingly slumped after him, not eager to wake up before ten am. But his own stomach was growling too.

"Speaking of children," Albus said, starting to work on their breakfast as Scorpius poured Bathilda's food. "Iris is pregnant again. James told me through a Howler yesterday."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "That's great news!"

"Yeah, not for my ears." He commented dryly, still traumatized by James' excited screeching in his ear. "Baby number three." He whistled. "Do you think they're trying to make an entire quidditch team? With Teddy and Vic's lot included, they're on their way."

Though he was joking, Scorpius noticed that Albus was glowing, happy for his brother and sister in law. That was one of the many reasons he loved Albus. His love for his siblings.

"Perhaps. When are they due?"

"September. Which means...that's where they scurried off to last Christmas party." Albus quipped. "To have a little fun."

"Albus!" Scorpius scolded. "Honestly, only you would make a beautiful moment gross."

"It's life, Scorp!" He chuckled. "You're a Healer, you should know these things."

"We'll have to visit. Maybe bring a gift basket to congratulate them." He mused, smiling fondly. "I can't wait to meet our new niece or nephew." There was a wistful look in his eye that Albus caught.

"You've got that look on your face." He noted, amused. He served the plates of bacon sandwiches on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"That Scorpius 'I want something but I'm not going to spell it out for you' face."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Albus said, forest green eyes brightening in amusement. "What's up?" He took a seat, tucking into breakfast.

"Well," Scorpius started, staring at his food. "I was thinking..." He stopped himself, hesitant to continue his train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Albus nudged him gently.

"I want a child." He said, his voice quiet, but firm. "I love my nieces and nephews so much, but they aren't...ours. I want to start a family with you, Albus. Raise a little one of our own to be bright and wonderful and brave and..."

Albus' expression softened. "I do too. You know I do, Scorpius. It's just...difficult right now." He stared at his wedding band. "You know it's harder for us than any hetero couple." He waved his hand vaguely. "Adoption is hard, surrogacy is expensive. Maybe once we settled into our careers more, we can talk about it."

"I think we're ready to go beyond just talking about it, Al."

"We're still young. We've still got time. But...I definitely want to work it out. Somehow, we will. We always do."

Scorpius beamed, reaching to kiss Albus' knuckle. "Thank you." He sat up abruptly. "Oh, I almost forgot- it's the farmer's market today."

Albus snorted. "You're exactly like your dad, you know?"

"Yes yes yes, but we should go!" Scorpius said, levitating the plates to the sink and it automatically was clean due to the floating sponges.

"We? I've got some work to do. I'm not very fond of small talk with old people selling fruit."

"Al, it's really good fruit." Scorpius said seriously. "And it's not all old people. I've seen some of our old schoolmates there."

Albus cringed. "That's even worse."

"Don't be so dramatic. Are you still coming?"

"Mm, but I should really finish this article. Go on without me."

"If you're sure...do you want me to bring anything back?"

Albus thought for a moment. "Those strawberries Ms. Beaker sells. Please? Strawberries and cream sounds so good right now."

"Brilliant, I'm on it." Scorpius did a mock salute.

"Have fun." Al waved as Scorpius appatered, leaving the kitchen empty. Albus went straight to work on his article.

~•~

The market was lively and merry, despite the early hour. Scorpius had stopped by the strawberry stand first, in case he forgot.

Ever since they had moved two years ago, Scorpius had found himself drawn to the quaint farmer's market. Not because of the delicious, fresh food, but to socialize. He made quite a few friends with the muggles who lived around there...mostly old ladies. The early days of their marriage, Albus would join him. Before life got in the way, and work had to be done.

Not that he wasn't busy himself. He only had two days off as a Healer, sometimes less. He didn't know how they would manage childcare, but like Al had said, it was best not to dwell on the future.

"Scorpius? Is that you?"

He turned around, following the voice from behind him. "Polly ...Chapman?" He uttered blandly, praying he wasn't mistaken. He didn't have the best memory- even with old schoolmates who bullied him.

"Yep." Polly said, laughing lightly. "It's me. Been a while."

"It has." Scorpius shifted his weight. "How are things?"

"Great!" She smiled, swishing her blonde ponytail, the same air of confidence from when she was a teenager. "Yann and I are engaged."

"Oh! That's wonderful." Scorpius said, pretending to sound pleased. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I proposed to them last month. It was just as I had dreamed."

"How is...Yann?" Scorpius did not actually care how Yann was.

"They're good! Brilliant actually, since they passed Auror training." Polly looked genuinely proud of them, which he had to admit was adorable. "Are you and Albus still..."

"Yes, yes. We um, er- we've been married almost two years actually." He added.

"Aw, that's very sweet. You two were always very close, yeah?" Polly looked at him, and Scorpius nearly walked backwards, intimidated by her stance. She still was extremely scary, like a lioness but with a great sense of fashion. "I know...Yann, Karl and I weren't the best to you two but perhaps we could..." She trailed off. "I'd like you both to come. To the wedding. If you'd like."

That...wasn't what he was expecting. He half expected her to invite him to another Blood Ball.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- yeah, that sounds great! Fun! Yes. That sounds nice. I'll bring it up to Al."

Polly was glowing. "Brill! I've got to go, but we should all hang out sometime. Like old times."

Like old times? Scorpius thought. When did they ever hang out?

Nodding mutely, he walked away from Polly with a puzzled, but cheerful expression. He hadn't completely fucked up the conversation, which was always a plus. It still felt odd that Polly Chapman of all people was talking to him, let alone inviting him to her wedding. It was bizarre.

He passed the final vendor, and was surprised and amused to see a tiny girl, no more than seven standing behind it. She had a Brownie uniform on, bright rosy cheeks and pigtails included.

"Would you like a biscuit?" She squealed.

It had taken him a moment to respond, he was still thinking of Polly being kind to him "Oh erm- of course." It was impossible to say no to an adorable small child. He reached for some muggle money, handing her the pound notes. "Just the one box please."

"Okie dokie!" She said, handing him the box. She waited a moment, pouting. "Go on, try it." She urged.

"I really shouldn't I-"

"Please?" The little girl gave him the most pitiful expression. "It's for a good cause, mister. We're helping orphaned puppies find homes."

"Well, alright. For the puppies." He fumbled open the box, taking a polite bite out of the cookie. It was a classic lemon cookie with powdered sugar, one of his favorites. But the second he swallowed, he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "What..." He stumbled back. "Oh my," He gulped, the entire market swirling around him. Something wasn’t right. "is there something in..." 

He would be damned if he let this happen without some sort of fight. Throwing his basket aside, he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

"We've got him."

[dreamiehrs]

sweet chaos ➛ n.jm

genre: vampire!jaemin, mystery, a little fluff, jaemin’s also a skater (and a lil flirt), comedy, some angst

pairing: na jaemin x you

summary: you had never expected to get yourself involved with the high school’s mystery boy, na jaemin, but when you do, you can’t tell if it’s for the best or worst.

warning: some swearing, blood, a dead animal

note: the title is based on DAY6′s new song titled Sweet Chaos… go listen to their album right now!! kinda wrote this on impulse to be honest, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless!! (gif credit: @fashion-edit​)

na jaemin was your high school’s biggest mystery boy.

he appeared out of nowhere one day, well, let me say that a little bit more realistically.

he was new in town, showing up in the middle of the school year. no one knew the reasoning behind why he moved when he did, and no one stayed around him long enough to figure it out.

he lived three houses down from you, which didn’t really matter to you as you weren’t looking to get involved with him.

he seemed like the loner type to you, but you were proved wrong as you would hear laughing down the streets late at night, the sounds of skateboard wheels scraping on the pavement.

when you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep at night, you would find solace in admiring the said boy skating with some other boys. one night, when you had zoned out on his figure, he looked up to your window, your colored led lights changing colors ever so often.

you hadn’t noticed his stare, but when you finally had, it seemed like his eyes were piercing into yours, his eyes reflecting the dark red color your lights had changed to.

you ducked your head from his view, hearing the chuckle that came out of his mouth before skating away. you quickly finished up your homework before hopping into bed, hoping the rest of the night would lull you into a sweet dream.

when it came to school, you had shared a total of one class with jaemin, which was study hall. for a huge procrastinator such as yourself, that class was beneficial for your grades and your sleep schedule. you busied yourself with assignments from other classes, not noticing that jaemin was moving a seat closer to you every day in there.

until eventually, he was sat right next to you, you still not paying him any mind as you popped your earbuds into your ears and pressing play on a Spotify playlist.

you felt someone tap your shoulder and resisted the urge to turn and see who it was. it was probably someone messing with you, you concluded, as you continued to scribble down the answer to a math equation.

a few moments passed by until you felt the same tap on your shoulder, and this time you turned to your right to witness jaemin staring at something near your face.

you pause your music and move your hands toward your face. “what, is there something on my face?”

your question tears his gaze away from your neck and to your face, him chuckling at the fact that you covered your face with your hands.

“no, just wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime.” he moves your hands away from your face, a smirk prominent on his face as you give him a pointed look.

“sorry, but I’m gonna be awfully busy until the end of the school year.” you tear his hands away from yours and go back to your assignment, trying to ignore the warmness his hands emitted.

“with what? staying up until midnight, trying to finish your classwork, but being distracted by me instead?” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, the sight of your ears reddening almost making him chuckle again. however, he wanted to see how long he could make this facade last until you gave in.

you turn towards him once again, gulping at how close his face was to yours. you pull your mind out of the gutter and push his head back with one finger before whispering: “sorry, but I’m never going to spend longer than I have to with you, jaemin.”

your reply leaves him speechless, and a few seconds later he whispers back into your ear: “let’s see how long you can keep that act up, dear.” before gathering his things and walking out of the room.

alright, so maybe he was more complex than you thought and maybe you were more stubborn than jaemin thought.

you didn’t miss the way his canines were sharper than usual, getting a sight of it every time he would open his mouth. he was… concerning, to say the least.

you’ve always avoided him like the plague, but after this interaction with him, you avoided him even more.

…which was almost impossible because he always seemed to be on your case whenever he saw you in the hallways.

he would bug you a lot about skating and tutoring you in math, which made you wonder why he was so interested in you.

was it because you locked eyes with him that one night? was it because you always avoided him? was it because you were awful at math?

who knew at this rate…

during late nights, you recognized one of his friends that he would hang out with, named lee donghyuck. the two would always be messing around with the other, and it was all fun and games until donghyuck pointed to your window.

“she’s up again,” he whispers to jaemin, whose trying to play off the big leap his heart took when he looked up to your window, seeing you staring out of it mindlessly. “why does she do that, anyway?”

jaemin scoffs. “she’s an insane procrastinator,” he waves his hands to try to get your attention, but to no avail. “I even offered to tutor her in math, but she just won’t budge.”

“just stay persistent. she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“yeah, right.” he looks back up at your window again, surprised to see your hazy eyes staring right into his. his throat suddenly feels dry with you staring at him so intensely, his eyes flashing a blood red before he can even realize it.

you can barely notice the color in his eyes, but you just wave it off as you’re sleepy and delusional.

he now has a lazy grin on his face, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips, and you decide to just call it a night because 1) you’re exhausted and 2) you prefer sleep over jaemin looking at you like you’re his next meal.

he still has your curiosity piqued, and the next day you stride up to him in the hallway like it was second nature to you.

“oh? done with the act already, dear?” the smirk on his face makes you want to puke, but you’d rather not do that in front of the entire school.

“stop calling me dear, it’s not like we’re romantically involved or something.” you flip your hair, revealing your neck to the male.

his breath slightly hitches at the sight of your pale, untouched neck, and he has to force himself to look straight ahead so he won’t do anything irrational.

he looks back down at you, gulping when he sees you already gazing at him.

“lost all your confidence now, huh? I knew you weren’t all that.”

you’re tempted to walk away from him, but something keeps you rooted in place as you continue to walk beside him, the same knowing smirk plastered on his face.

“if you let me tutor you, I’ll prove your statement wrong.”

you laugh loudly at his declaration. “oh, you’re on.”

you don’t see the way his eyes glaze over red when you look down to answer a text, him just wanting to pierce through your skin.

but not yet, he says to himself in his head. not yet.

the day after that, he stops by your house, only being a minute late to your scheduled tutoring. he rings the doorbell and your dog, named Beau, starts her endless stream of barking.

you answer the door in a sweater and shorts, startled at the sight of jaemin in front of you. he sees your expression and points to his bookbag. “tutoring?”

“…ah.” you wave him in and close the door behind him. he takes the time to take in his surroundings before removing his shoes and letting you lead him to your room.

“it’s kind of a mess, sorry.” he glances around to see a few clothes of yours failed to be put away and your bed unmade.

“don’t worry, mine’s worse than this.”

the two you settle down at your desk, the one that has a great view of the street below you. you pull out your notebook and some worksheets you struggled with.

“so this is the view you get of me late at night? I gotta admit, it’s a pretty nice one.” you don’t even have to look at his face to know that he’s grinning.

you just shake your head at the boy. “besides that, can you help me with a few of these problems?”

he peers over them and gazes at you. “you know that these are like, the easiest ones on the worksheet, right?”

you sigh. “yes, but the teacher just goes way too fast through them. can you explain it slowly to me?”

the next hour or two is filled with jaemin explaining how to solve the problem, you attempting it, getting it wrong, redoing it, and still getting it wrong.

but luckily, jaemin has outstanding patience with this type of stuff and breaks it down for you in a way that you can comprehend.

once you finish the sheet, after much struggle, you hop onto your bed and close your eyes for a millisecond. you’re not phased when you feel the bed dip down beside you, hearing jaemin’s quiet breathing to your left.

“hey, jaemin?” you speak up after some consideration.

“yeah?”

“why did you move here, anyway?”

he scoffs. “I’m not in a good position to tell you that right now.”

you want to dig deeper, but your mind tells you not to. “fair enough. can I ask you something else?”

“this interrogation is still ongoing? damn, I didn’t know you were that interested in me, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, not bothering to fuel whatever was floating around in his brain right now. “why are you so involved with me?”

he’s silent for a second before shrugging. “you just seem like someone who doesn’t take other people’s bullshit. I admire people like that.”

you nod slowly, taking in his words. you can feel your cheeks heating up at his statement, so you jump off of your bed, jaemin’s eyes following your every move.

“wanna grab something to eat?”

his ears perk up at this. “oh? is y/n asking me on a date?”

“no, you fool.” you grab your keys, phone, and wallet as jaemin takes his time to get up from your bed. you stare at him as he moves each limb of his body extremely slow before you walk over to him and drag him downstairs.

“gosh, you’re so aggressive,” he whispers in your ear and you almost smack him right then and there. “I thought I was the man in this relationship.”

“jaemin, would you just shut up already?”

you two hop in your car and you put your key in the ignition before speeding off to the closest diner. the wind blows your hair wildly, you laughing loudly as jaemin turns the music up louder.

you’re close to the diner when jaemin asks: “wanna know something?” he knows you cannot hear him over the wind and the music. “I’m not human.”

“what?!” you yell loud enough, not hearing him over all the noise. he doesn’t answer you, or if he does, you still can’t hear him.

you guys arrive at the diner, you quickly putting your hair up in a ponytail after that windy drive here. “what did you say?”

“me? I didn’t say anything.” he walks ahead of you, hinting to you that he was done with this hectic conversation.

you followed closely behind as the host shows you two to your table before leaving you two alone. your waiter eventually comes back to get your drink orders and quickly leaves.

“wanna go on an adventure after this?” you raise an eyebrow at his suggestion.

“what type of adventure?”

he puts his finger up to his lips, before smiling a devilish smile.

“it’s a secret.”

“you always know how to reel me in, huh?” you joke before your drinks arrive and you two place your meal orders.

you take a sip of your lemonade while jaemin sips his soda, wishing it was your blood instead, before setting both of his elbows on the table, staring straight at you.

“since you interrogated me, it would be fair for me to do the same to you, right?”

“…likewise.”

you swear you can see his eyes slightly change color as he leans in closer to you. “so, y/n,” he draws out every syllable of your name. “why do you keep on ogling me late at night, when you should probably be doing your work?”

“I zone out quite often trying to focus on classwork, which coincidentally seems to be in your direction, as you’re always outside.”

he raises one eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “oh, so you’re an eavesdropper, then?”

you open your mouth to respond but the waiter interrupts you by setting your meals down onto the table. “saved by the light..” you mumble under your breath and you can see jaemin snap his head up at you. he couldn’t have heard you, right?

you shrug it off as you take your time eating your meal, the two of you having small talk about random things that pop up in both of your heads.

it’s calm for around five to ten minutes and you guys debate on whose gonna pay the bill.

“my treat. you just tutored me for around two hours and even came with me for dinner.” you slap your credit card down on the table, surprised to see that jaemin has beat you to it.

“no, I insist. although I’ve done quite a bit for you, I don’t think you should repay the favor just yet.”

“what do you mean by just yet?” he avoids your question as the waiter swoops in at just the unfortunate time, plucking jaemin’s credit card out of his hand. jaemin peeks at you and sees you defeatedly putting your credit card back in your wallet.

the waiter comes back promptly and jaemin signs the bottom of the receipt before the two of you head out of the diner. you two hop in the car once again, you getting ready to drive back home when jaemin stops you with an: “wait.”

“yes?” you turn towards him, waiting. he shoves his phone in your face, your vision blurry as you grab his phone from his hands. it was directions for somewhere. where? you didn’t know.

you look back at him again, a questioning looks in your eyes, telling him to ‘explain this.’

“it’s where I like to hang out when my friends don’t come over. I was thinking that could be our adventure for tonight.”

you glanced back at him, expecting him to be staring back at you, but instead, he was looking in the opposite direction, awkwardly scratching his neck.

“as long as I’m not bitten alive by mosquitos, count me in.” you rev the engine, handing his phone back to him so he can give you directions.

“that won’t be the only thing biting you tonight.”

“hmm? did you say something?”

“nope!” he chirps.

poor boy. you still couldn’t hear him, so you assumed it was nothing important. if so, he would probably just share whatever it was to you later.

the two of you arrive at a plain field, plastered with all kinds of flowers as you two wade through them, using jaemin’s jacket as a sacrifice to not sit on the ground.

you lie down on his jacket, gazing up at the night sky full of shining stars. certain ones seemed to sparkle when you peered at them, pointing out them to the boy beside you.

there’s a comfortable silence settled between the both of you, just taking your time to admire your surroundings and enjoy your teenage life for a little bit longer.

you can see him turn to you out of your peripheral, but you don’t tear your gaze away from the sky as you feel him scoot closer to you.

“y/n?”

“yeah?” you’re still not facing him.

he sighs. “my family and I moved here because of the neighborhood we resided in. it was terrible, for both my family and I’s health. we never felt welcomed there, and everyone who lived there was very cryptic. it freaked us out so much that we just left.”

you blink, absorbing his words. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. are you at least having a fortunate time here, though?”

“because of you, yeah.”

you choke on nothing at his blunt statement.

“that was… cheesy, but understandable. now, I’ve been dying to ask you something.”

he quirks an eyebrow. “and what is that?”

you gulp, his eyes now trained on your neck. “why do your eyes flash a dark red occasionally?”

“I―“

he’s interrupted by some rustling heard in the distance, the two of you immediately getting up. he hurriedly grabs his jacket and tugs you back to your car.

the drive back to his house is silent, you parking in his driveway and him getting out and walking towards your side.

“want me to tutor you again on Friday?”

you smile. “as long as it includes an adventure.”

he sends you a genuine smile for once. not a smirk or grin, but a real smile. “goodnight y/n, and sweet dreams.”

you chuckle. “night, jaemin.”

you don’t hear from jaemin the next day, which was odd. he also didn’t show up for study hall, which may have slightly bummed you out (which you would never admit to the boy, as he would be relentless with his teasing later).

you had expected him to be at school on Friday, the day of your tutoring and your supposed adventure with him, but you were dead wrong.

you send him a text as you’re lounging in your bedroom, which consisted of: “jaem, where are you?”

you lie on your bed for a few more minutes, checking your phone to realize that he still hasn’t texted you back. you groan in frustration as you toss off your shorts and pull on your jeans, practically running out of your house.

you count three houses down from your right, finally settling on his house and taking large strides to reach it. once you do, you press your finger to the doorbell, hearing shuffling inside the house in front of you.

you stand awkwardly for a few more moments until the door opens wide in front of you, revealing a tall, brunette lady, which you assume to be his mother, and a black cat looking at you curiously from behind her. “yes?”

“oh!” you squeak out. “I’m a friend of na jaemin. I was wondering if you knew where he was?”

she looks right through you, seeming uninterested. “ah, jaemin. he hasn’t been feeling well the past few days. I will go and get him for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, but she slams the door in your face, making you sink down as you hear her heels clinking away from the door.

she makes you flinch when she opens the door again a few minutes later, a sinister grin on her face when she sees your reaction. “he’s not here at the moment. he’s probably wandering around like always.”

your expression falters. “ah, okay. thank you anyway.”

“welcome,” she mutters. “and if you see him, tell him to get back home.”

“will do.”

she sends you a small smile before closing the door, leaving you standing like an idiot. you swivel around, walking down their driveway until a lightbulb lights up in your head.

“the adventure we went on! he told me that that was his favorite spot.” you mumble before running back to your house, hopping into your car and starting the engine.

you speedily head towards his hideout, somehow remembering the directions he showed you a few nights ago.

your music is blasting as you arrive, promptly taking your key out of the ignition and locking the doors before moving towards the top of the hill, where you two shared a magical moment.

“jaemin!’ you call out, seeing something freeze in the distance. you start towards it, a bounce in your step as you hoped it would be the said boy. as you get closer, you can faintly see a tuft of short dark brown hair, already accepting it as jaemin.

“jaemin?” you whisper, and he snaps his head up at you like he did at the diner, but this time, he had a crazed look in his eyes as he licked the dark liquid from his lips. you’re trembling at the sight of him, blood all over his mouth and dripping down his neck, his shiny fangs poking out, nearly piercing his upper lip. there’s an animal in his hands, you presume dead, and his eyes are turning a darker red the longer he gazes at you.

you scream as he drops the dead bunny and starts to stalk after you, your fight or flight response kicking in as you sprint away from him, looking straight ahead and not making the mistake all the protagonists do in horror movies, which was to look behind themselves while running away from a murderer.

however, jaemin’s too fast for your tiny legs as he eventually catches up to you, you now tripping on nothing as he stumbles over you, breaking his fall with his hands.

you two are now face-to-face, a drop of blood landing on your cheek as he stares deeply into your eyes. you bring your hand up, making him flinch before you start to wipe away at the blood messily smeared on his mouth.

“y-y/n… I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I―“

you press your finger to his mouth, shutting him up instantly. “you obviously had your own reasons for not telling me.” you pause, using your other hand to cup his cheek, his breath hitching in the process. “I was worried about you, jaemin.”

“w-worried? aren’t you afraid of me?”

“jaem, you didn’t show up to school for two days. I had no idea what was going on, and this, this is all a tremendous shock to me.”

you feel something else hit your check, but instead of blood, it’s jaemin’s tears this time.

“I-I never wanted to hurt you, so I held myself back every day when I met you… and now, n-now you know what I am… just a creature of the night, wanting nothing more than to suck people’s blood and survive like we were born to do…”

you gaze into his sincere eyes and cautiously wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. he stills, slowly reciprocating the hug.

“I love you, you know.”

he chuckles into your neck, inhaling your scent. “I know. I’ve known ever since that night.” he buries his head further into your neck, relishing at the fact that you’re so close to him.

“c-can I?” he stutters, and you laugh.

“yes, jaem. you can.”

he takes a deep breath. “okay.” he breathes out, before opening his mouth wide and piercing into your neck. you wince, uncomfortable at the sensation of your blood flowing out of your neck freely. he only takes a few gulps though, before wiping your neck clean and helping you up, eventually giving you a piggyback ride.

“well, then. ready for another adventure?”

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (8)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 1810

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work I'm posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

She couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure building on her left side, an itch she couldn’t scratch. Her eyes were dry, like her mouth. Tessa peeled her eyelids open, having been cemented shut, it took tremendous effort- effort she barely possessed. She couldn’t hear straight, it sounded like she was underwater. A muted beep from a monitor. Rain pelting the windows of the white washed clinical room. Something tickling her forearm. She looked down. Tony.

He was grasping her hand, resting his head beside them, hair tickling her skin. She then moved her eyes to her side where a tube was running from a patch of white bandages. Along her right arm, bandages were wrapped around raw flesh. She could still see the burn marks on her wrists. In her left arm, an IV filtered blood and fluids into her system, repairing what had been damaged. She groaned as she rested her head on the pillow.

She wasn’t supposed to make it out of there. None of this had gone according to her plan. Tessa wasn’t stupid. She knew Clifton would be on her as soon as she stepped foot out of her cage on the Raft. She knew she would have to make a choice, a choice of repentance. So, when she noticed the trap he’d set for them, she couldn’t help but take the bait. Part of her wanted to flip the script and take revenge on him. But then... then Bucky happened. He’d been so kind to her- accepting her. She felt that she owed him a truth- even if it was in the form of a dead man’s ramblings. And so she did just that- confided in him, knowing that one way or another, she was never going to come back. He wasn’t supposed to be collateral damage.

Tony shifted, his head turning further away from her. She bit her lip, sinking down deeper into the sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y’know, if you cooperated with the professionals, things would go a lot smoother.” Tony snipped at her. Tessa scowled deeper, turning her head to the side. It had been a week since the mission, since everything about Tessa had been made public amongst the team. Since Tony had released the files to the whole team, Tessa had been ignoring him every time he visited her. She was angry- the emotion palpable in the air. She had even begun to be irritable with the nurses and her doctor. Of course, they associated it with her being on bed rest for a week- knowing it would get worse because she was meant to stay there for a whole month.

She refused to allow any of the team members entrance to her room- even Bucky. Tony was only allowed in because he told Friday to over ride her command. News of her slow response to treatment had to come from the nurses or the small bits that Tony would share- which was always begrudgingly. Her therapist and parole officer were also allowed in for their visits. There had been talk of moving her back to the Raft, but Tony had shot it down, explaining in colorful detail how she hadn’t done anything wrong. Ever.

But Tessa was becoming restless. She could no longer stand the sight of the hospital room. When she was trapped within the four walls, she could only think about the botched missions and what Clifton said. She was trapped. So, she decided to take things into her own hands. Painstakingly slow, she got up from her bed, a tube no longer in her lung but it was still stitched up and painful. Most of her wounds were well on their way to healing but her mind was still fragile.

Tessa had been immediately changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt as soon as she regained consciousness. So she simply unhooked her heart monitor, taking her IV of fluids with her to the door.

She hadn’t realized Bucky had done nothing but sit outside her medical room for the past week, waiting to be able to slip into the room to talk to her. Tony had been guarding her, keeping him away. Unlike his sister, Tony held a grudge. So when Tessa’s door opened and she stepped out, he was surprised. She looked like she hadn’t slept since she came back- undoubtedly plagued by nightmares. Her skin was pale, under eyes dark. When her eyes landed on his, she stiffened, her whole body freezing. They stared for a long moment, neither of them giving in.

“If you’re breaking out of your room, you’ll need to move a little faster.” Bucky quipped, a teasing tone overtaking the concern. Tessa started to take off, her gait a small, shuffle toward the elevator. Bucky stood up, stretching his arms out before sidling up beside her.

“What do you want?” She muttered, slightly annoyed and embarrassed by his presence. She almost stumbled, her left foot catching on her right. She cursed lowly, while Bucky simply hooked an arm around her waist, steadying her. She tried to push away but Bucky had an iron grip, keeping her where he wanted. He was done waiting around. He was going to talk to her whether she wanted to or not. She was going to listen to what he had to say.

“Well if you’re going for a little sight seeing- might I suggest the floor ninety? It’s got a lovely view and- bonus: less of an elevator ride.” Bucky steered her into the elevator and locked her down, his hand drawing smooth circles on her hip.

“Isn’t that your floor?” She grumbled, leaning against him to relieve some of the weight on her feet. He hummed in response and looked down at her. She was scowling, eyes glued to the floor.

“See, I’ve been waiting outside that room for a week now. I’ve had time to think about everything that was said while we were in captivity. Don’t think I’m an idiot, by the way.” Bucky watched her begin to shut down at the mentions of the cell. The mentions of her admitted transgressions. “I’ve been where you are, where you’ve been.” Tessa scoffed as the elevator dinged open.

“You don’t know me.” She bit back, eager to be out of his hold, out of his sight. She couldn’t hold herself together around him anymore. Telling him everything- trusting him with that information... she didn’t want to see him now, not when he could judge her for it. Because all she wanted from him was to be accepted. Not pitied, not scorned, not disgusted. Loved. She didn’t know what the two kisses were on that battlefield, she didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Don’t I?” He asked, opening the apartment door. The pair quickly pushed through the living room, bypassing Steve who was sat on the couch, watching the news. He had heard the door open, figuring it was Bucky so he didn’t turn. Until he heard the roll of wheels.

“Is that Tessa?” He called, watching the receding backs of the two. His brows furrowed as Bucky’s bedroom door slammed shut, cutting the pair off from the rest of the world.

“Oh, well please, enlighten me on how you know every thought I’ve ever had.” Tessa sat down on his bed, the white cotton sheets felt much better than the stiff medbay fabrics she had been confined to.

“Alright, fine,” Bucky began shuffling around his room, seemingly in search of something. “You shut yourself off from everyone, you think it keeps us safe but really, it’s just a way of excusing your pity party and prolonging suffering you feel you deserve. You keep everything to yourself, no matter how much it pains you to do that. You don’t sleep well, nightmares keeping you up. You don’t eat much- if you do it’s at random times at night, where you don’t have to interact with us. You let one person in and immediately shut them out because you felt that you could hurt them before even giving it a chance.” Bucky stopped his search, turning to look at her over his shoulder. “Am I par for the course?”

“Shut the hell up.” She growled, gently laying back on his neatly made bed. “So what if i don’t want to hurt you- why is that a bad thing? I want to keep you all safe. What’s the harm in that- what the fuck are you looking for?”

“Got it...” Bucky stood straight again before walking to her. He knelt down on the bed beside her. “It isn’t a bad thing- it’s just that you’re going about it in a destructive way. You can keep us safe and live too. The way you’re going now, that’s not living. You’re just floating from day to day. Here. They found 'em last week and sent them to me. I’ve been waiting to give them to you.” He held a hand out, intending to drop the object into her palm. Tessa sighed and held it out flat. A cool metal grazed her palm and she broke her gaze off from his to look at it. Dog tags. She held them in front of her face to read them more clearly. They were slightly rusted, but the name was still clear: James Buchanan Barnes. “I’m not judging you for a mistake made six years ago. A mistake that was made with the best intentions in mind. With the best resources you had at the time. The Tessa I want to know is still in there- I’ve seen her during those late night talks in the light of the fridge. I’ve heard her when you talked about growing up with Tony or your early days in the military. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make her happy, because she’s gone through enough.”

Tessa swallowed, feeling the beginning of tears pricking at her eyes. She was speechless- her own mind waging war on itself.

“You know just what to say to make a girl blush, huh?” She sniffled, trying to laugh through it. Bucky grinned and took the tags, slipping them over her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Stay here for the night, please? I know that you shouldn’t really be out of the med bay yet but... I want to talk to you- I want to be around you. Please?” Bucky asked, his bottom lip pouting slightly and his blue eyes shining with hope. Tessa pretended to think it over, pressing her hand to the dog tags that occupied her chest.

“Okay. I’ll stay here. Only for tonight- and no funny business, Barnes.” She winced, sitting up. Bucky was quick to press a hand to her back, helping her sit. He gave a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat bashful.

“No promises, sweetheart.”

[manage-mischief]

Conjunctions

Summary: I wrote this drabble for @blisfvll on tumblr's writing challenge. Thanks for giving me a prompt for inspiration! I've been having a bit of writer's block lately so it was good to get creative. (also the next chapters of Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows will be up next week, sorry for not posting this week my beta and I have both been insanely busy!) 

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Read on AO3 or FF.net

“Lils.”

“Hold on,” Lily said, holding up a finger. She was deeply engrossed in her Transfiguration textbook, doing some last-minute review before her morning exam.

“Lils.”

“Mhm.”

“Lily!”

The sudden shout shocked her. She dropped her book, exasperated. “What?!” she spat—a bit harsher than intended—at her boyfriend who was sitting across the breakfast table. James’s eye widened.

“You’ve got your elbow in your porridge…” 

Lily realized her left elbow did feel a bit wet. She looked down and, sure enough, she had been using her oatmeal as an arm rest. She cursed under her breath before swiftly cleaning herself up with a flick of her wand. Sirius, James’s best mate, snickered.

“Merlin, Evans,” Sirius teased, “Stressed out much?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but stuffed her book in her bag anyways. Sirius did have a point. She’d studied enough. Still, she could feel her leg bouncing wildly with nervous anticipation. This wasn’t just an exam: it was a NEWT. It was one of a series of tests that would determine the rest of her life. Her job, her happiness, her ability to support herself and a family…Lily shook herself out of her spiral of worrying. It wouldn’t do her any good.

“You should eat something, Lil,” said James, kindly. “Erm…maybe not that porridge though…”

Lily smiled in spite of herself and plucked James’s bagel out of his hands. “Thanks,” she muttered with a mouth full of warm bread. James feigned indignation.

“Oi, Prongs, that’s the price of dating Lily. She steals your food,” said Sirius, as he proceeded to swipe a sausage from James’s plate.

“A bargain price to pay for Lily’s affection,” said James. “But not for you, you wanker!” James locked Sirius in a playful wrestling match, attempting to retrieve his stolen food from Sirius’s fork. The two boys caused quite the ruckus, drawing the attention of many of the surrounding students, who had suddenly noticed their cutlery dancing across the table as the two boys fought.

“Stop hurting me, or I’ll write your mum!” Sirius wailed, stretching his arm just out of James’s reach. “You know she loves me best!”

“Hey!” said James, “I know it’s true, but hey!”

Remus, who had been quietly observing the scene, struck out with lightning fast reflexes and grabbed the fork from Sirius’s hand, promptly popping the coveted sausage into his mouth with a satisfied grin. James and Sirius looked properly affronted.

Lily chuckled. “Boys,” she muttered. She smiled gratefully at James. He and his friends never failed to cheer her up.

“I had to fight back!” James earnestly explained. “It was a matter of honor!”

“You don’t have to explain yourselves to me,” said Lily. “I know Remus just can’t resist grabbing Sirius’s sausage.”

Remus choked on his pumpkin juice, red as a tomato. James and Sirius laughed heartily.

“Evans! I knew there was a reason we kept you around.” Sirius nodded at her, approvingly.

“Merlin, Lil! See, this is why I love you!” James froze as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes widened in shock, as did Lily’s. Her face flushed as red as Remus’s had. She was speechless.

Remus cleared his throat. “C’mon, Sirius, we’ve got to get to that…thing.”

Sirius stayed put. “No, I wanna know…Ow!” The table rattled as Remus obviously kicked the other boy in the shin, flashing a warning look.

“Oh,” Sirius stammered, “oh yeah. Right. The thing. Let’s go, Moons.’”

The two boys departed, leaving James and Lily alone at the breakfast table. Neither would meet the other’s eye. Lily tried to force herself to say something, anything, however, her vocal chords stayed obstinately stiff. She was too shocked. After a few seconds silence, James stood. He looked mortified. “You know what,” he said, hastily, “I’d better go help them with the…thing…Good luck on the exam, you’ll ace it I’m sure…I’ll see ya later, yeah?”

“James—” Lily tried to call after him as he rushed from the hall. She felt awful. She hadn’t said it back. She should have. She’d wanted to. But, she had been so surprised and, in the moment, had panicked. And now, James thought she didn’t love him. Before she could ponder her mistake any further, the bell rang. Dammit. It was exam time. This debacle would have to wait.

---

The exam had been a breeze. Lily was relieved. Now, she had a week before her next NEWT. And, this meant she had time to brainstorm how to make it up to James.

She was laying on her bed, making random objects float around her head. She had no idea what to do. James was always the hopeless, dramatic, romantic type. And, frankly, he was usually the one apologizing to her. If their roles had been reversed, he’d have concocted some elaborate scheme to win back Lily’s affections—likely involving plots, dramatics, and the help of his gang of friends…His friends…that was it! Lily shot up from her laying position, invigorated. She was concocting a plan. Yes, yes, Lily now had a grand plan to declare her love for James Potter. She dashed down the stairs, clear on what she had to do next.  In order to perform her grand, elaborate gesture, Lily would need the help of James’s best friends.

Luckily enough for Lily, the boys were all lounging in the Common Room—sans James. Lily knew he would be at Quidditch practice for the next hour and a half. Hopefully, this would give her enough time to organize her gesture.

“Remus!” Lily called out from across the room. “Sirius! Peter! I need your help!”

“Well, if it isn’t ‘heartless Lily Evans’ herself?” Sirius teased. He leaned back in his chair dangerously, resting his feet on the small wooden table. Peter chuckled until Lily flashed him a death glare. The runty little boy fell silent.

“I’m serious—I swear if you make a joke I’ll hex your balls off, Black!” Lily warned, just as Sirius had opened his mouth to make a pun about his name. He paled and shut it immediately.

“What do you need, Lily?” Remus asked kindly.

“I…well…you clearly know what happened this morning with James…” Lily looked down, embarrassed. The boys nodded. “I messed up. Royally. I need your help to make it right.”

“Our help?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you need our help?”

The three boys leaned forward, curious to hear what she had to say.

Lily grinned cunningly. “Well, I had this idea…”

---

Lily and the boys scrambled around for the next hour, making sure every little detail of their plan was set. Finally, the Gryffindor Common Room was ready for James’s arrival. Lily felt a little guilty abusing her Head Girl authority to throw the rest of the students out, but this was for the greater good.

“Hush, and get into positions!” Lily hissed impatiently at her three companions. They quickly scrambled away, ducking behind the chairs and suits of armor in the Common Room, out of sight.

“Wands at the ready!” She ordered, checking her watch for the thousandth time. James would be arriving soon. He must be close. Her heart began to pound anxiously.

A moment later, Lily heard the Fat Lady’s muffled voice as she conversed with someone else outside the door. It had to be James. But, what if it wasn’t? Lily stupidly hadn’t planned on encountering any of his other Quidditch mates. What if one of them had arrived before James did?

Luckily for Lily, the top of a messy head of hair emerged from the portrait entryway. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was James. This was it.

“Lily?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood alone in the middle of the atrium. Her legs felt like jelly. Perhaps she should have dressed up more. “What are you—”

“James Fleamont Potter,” Lily proclaimed, raising her wand above her head. The signal.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the infinitesimal movements of Remus, Sirius, and Peter, as they began casting their spells. The light in the Common Room turned pale pink. Fireworks began erupting over her head, spreading out around the room as they danced in the air. A flock of songbirds burst from the tip of Remus’s hidden wand flew promptly into a heart formation, chirping merrily. Two cherubs holding harps fluttered near them. Heart shaped bubbled filled the air. The scene was, in Lily’s opinion, utterly sickening with cliché. She hoped James would love it.

“I love you, too.” Lily said, just as the fireworks regrouped in above head, spelling out the same message in flashing lights. Gooey harp sounds echoed through the air. The birds clumped together in a tight formation and flew to James, turning into a bouquet of roses before his eyes.

Lily held her breathe as she watched her boyfriend take in the scene before him. James looked up from the bouquet, grinning madly.

“Well?” Lily asked. “Say something?”

“WOOHOO!” James shouted, rushing to Lily and taking her in his arms. He lifted her off of the ground as he spun her around. Lily laughed as he set her back down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier,” she apologized.

“Lily,” said James seriously, “Don’t ever apologize. This way was much better. I feel like the belle of the ball.” He winked.

“Only the best for you, your majesty,” Lily teased back. She was staring into James’s eyes as he held her hands when a chorus of cheers erupted from behind them.

“What the hell?” James jumped back, startled to find his three best friends who had materialized beside them.

“Nice one, Evans,” Sirius clapped her on the back. “I knew Prongs’d fall for this sappy romantic crap, the big softie.”

“Who’re you calling a softie?” James pouted.

“You, idiot. Look, you haven’t even snogged your girlfriend yet. You’ve just gazed lovingly into her eyes. It’s gross!”

Remus and Lily shared a look. “Come on, Sirius, Peter, let’s give these two some privacy.”

As the three boys walked off towards their dormitories, James grabbed Lily by the waist and pulled her close. “Just for that, I’m gonna snog her extra hard now!” He shouted into the distance. Sirius’s laughing reply echoed down the stairs.

Lily shook her head affectionately. “You’re an idiot.”

James smiled back, running a hand through her hair. “But you love me.”

[skeletorific]

This Got Out of Hand (and we’re out of paint): Marvus Xoloto ♦♠Reader

yall i swear i’m gonna get on writing stuff that actually got requested but this idea wouldn’t release me until I’d finished it so here we fuckin go

This simply could not stand.

Black flirting and romance, once upon a time, was a concept utterly foreign to you. It had taken roughly three conversations with Tegiri and Polypa on the topic (and a lot of time spent around Galekh and Tagora) before it had registered to you as anything more than consistent hate fucking and passive aggressive remarks. 

That was before you met Marvus. 

The clown was many things: attractive. Creative. Charismatic. Funny. Way more intelligent than he presented himself as. He was also a shit-starter, would probably pail with Zebruh before he would confess to a genuine emotion without fifteen layers of casual slang and innuendo, and seemed to take intense pleasure in riling you the fuck up whenever he got the chance. One way or another he wormed his way into your head, and suddenly you couldn’t stop hearing his voice in your head even when he wasn’t around. Challenging you, teasing you, testing you, doing his utmost to get you a nice, steaming anger before ruffling your hair with a wink and walking away.

It was also possible you were a little bit smitten with him.

Or maybe a lot. 

Regardless, in time you’d come to understand that it was a mutual thing. For as much as he didn’t show it, you were beginning to read between the many, many lines with the clown. He enjoyed the hell out of you, sure, but he also seemed to find you something of a puzzle. Beyond the fact that you still hadn’t kicked Zebruh to the curb (and he never failed to send you an eye-rolling emoji whenever he appeared in one of your Chittr photos), every story about your past that came up seemed to render him a little bewildered about what it was you’d put up with in order to attain those sweet and lofty fruits of FRIENDSHIP. 

“i mean, lil stab-stab here, lil push off a cliff here, ‘sall gucci sunshine. normal n all that shizz.”  He’d said, in one of his rarer moments of honesty. The fact that both of you had slammed a couple liters of faygo in the aftermath of a particularly exhausting show probably had something to do with it. He lounged on the couch, absently combing fingers through his piles of hair. “but keep hangin out wih m-fers what still wish ya harm, or bloo shizzheads what won’t take no for an answer, that’s a whole other thing, uhearme?”

You’d waved dismissively from your position lying on the floor. You were a little drunk yourself at the time. “Its fine. Usually. And when its not its like….phoo, somehow it gets fine anyways!”

“jus sayin” he said, shifting until he was upside down on the couch, face inches from yours. Close enough that you could see the greasepaint starting to flake off. “need sumbody what can keep ya from gettin urself killed, lil buddy.”

“You volunteering?” You’d crooned. Ok, croon is a strong verb, it was more like slurred, but crooning was the intention is what matters.

“u askin me to?” He smirked, pressing a single claw to your forehead. Internally, you’re pretty sure that’s not how volunteering works, but noticing that isn’t at the top of your hierarchy of needs currently. 

“Mmmmaybe.” You rolled onto your back. You can feel your heart pounding just a bit right now, but somehow your voice is floating even and light. Like you don’t have a care in the world, and this is just one more joke in the scheme of your weird mobius double irony reacharound of a relationship. “Maybe I wanna go all gorlekh with you, what do ya think of that.”

“‘scuse?”

“Gorlekh. Gorgor and Lekh-…..lekh….” You made a dismissive noise, gesticulating your hands wildly as you moved to sit up. “The black one!”

“….ur talkin spades?”

“Yeah! The kissmissies….kissmich….” Wow faygo was no joke on your system. “The hate one. Like I don’t hate you, except I think I do a bit? But like in that weird alien way where I think it just makes me like you more and its confusing but I don’t wanna stop and you’re so damn cute and….and…”

Your voice trails off.

Because the man is honest to globes grinning. No smirk, no lazy half-smile, no lowered eyelids, nothing to give that careful impression that he’s only happy in a chill way. Just a huge, toothy smile that split his face.

Bro that shit was radiant.

“m-fer, u have no idea what ur in for….”

—–

You really hadn’t but you hadn’t had a moment of regret since then.

It was a constant game of one upmanship between you, an intense competition to see who could get who to visibly express their emotions first. Maybe that was unusual by kismesis standards: it didn’t seem much like Tagora and Galekh’s dynamic. But you were enjoying every second of it, and if Marvus had complaints he sure as hell wasn’t voicing them.

The only downside, all told, was the lack of time.You didn’t have hours to build on the tension. More often than not you had moments between shows. Actual antagonism had to be planned in to make sure the point got across without actually getting either of you hurt. After a full day of work he was usually too burnt out for more than light teasing and, to borrow his phrase, “sloppy makeouts”.

Those sloppy makeouts were becoming in themselves the point of your focus.

—-

After one such particular petting session, you glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, it was late (er….early) and you had a long walk home with your car out of commision. You sighed, pulling yourself off of him with no small amount of protest. “I’ve gotta go.”

“u got some1 else u gotta do this to” he muttered, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. You were starting to realize a denied, overtired Marvus was a grumpy Marvus, which was as endearing as it was needy as hell.

“Maybe~.” You say, enjoying the glint he got in his eyes. You straighten out your clothes for a bit. “Tomorrow?”

“day off tomorrow bruh. clown church” He slipped an arm around you from behind, leaning down by your neck. “which means u can stay here-”

“Mm-mm” You slip free, nudging his face back. “Not tonight. Not here.”

“keep tellin ya juggz don’t spread shizz around” He said, lips pouting out a bit, which forces you to look away.

Denial is part of the game, after all. 

“‘Juggz’ aren’t the only people around here. And I’m not looking to get your fanbase up my ass. I’ve got more than enough people looking to cull me” 

“Hehe, tryna make me jealous ;o)”

You roll your eyes and head for the exit to his dressing room.The cool night air beckons outside, but you find your path suddenly obstructed by his arm. With a huff, you look up at him. “I’m heading ou-Mmm!”

The head turn had allowed him to get a grip on your chin and pull you into another deep kiss. Not a kiss, actually, if there was a word for it you’d describe it as some kind of facial wrestling match. He kissed around your mouth, your cheeks, your eyelids, in rapid succession, all the while insistently rubbing his nose and cheeks against your face as you spluttered. 

“Marvus-I—hey!!” 

With a final peck to the tip of your nose, he drew back grinning ear to ear, face paint now a smeary mess. “have a nice nite, b~” 

And you suddenly found yourself outside, hearing the door lock behind you. 

Oh that little- You snatched your phone out of your pocket and turned on your front facing camera. Sure enough, your face was now suddenly covered in white-grey paint, already caking on your cheeks and making you look like you’d fallen face first into glue.

“Marvus, I’m gonna kill you!” You said, pounding at the door. From the other side you swear you hear him laughing, which is only adding kindling to the fire at this point. 

Great. Perfect. You could either face the long walk home or use your sweatshirt to wipe it off and leave a visible stain on the black sleeves. Fuck it, you won’t be able to make it to Tyzias’s to do laundry for a bit, so you’re gonna have to walk of shame your way home. Fanfuckingtastic.

Practically the second you crossed the threshold your phone buzzed.

therealxoloto: send pics before u clean urself up aight ;o)

Oh he wanted a fucking-

You sent him a well backlit photo of your face, largely covered by an Alternian hand gesture Mallek had taught you.

therealxoloto: hell ye that’s that good shizz

Alien_among_you: you think you’re so funny

therealxoloto: clown church baby lmao

therealxoloto: i’m fxxkin hi lar i OUS

therealxoloto: ♠

Alien_among_you: ♠

You go to bed with cheeks red and chapped from being scrubbed, which was DEFINITELY the only reason they were red.

—-

After that, no kiss was safe, not truly. He’d found a button to press, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave it alone while it still worked. Sometimes he’d led you go days, wipes even, without an incident, only to jump you once you were lulled into a false sense of security. Practically everything you owned had been stained with the stuff with the point, and you’d gotten more mouthfuls of it than you’d care to mention. 

And naturally, this meant war.

It took you some time to figure out an appropriate revenge. Just stealing his paints felt over the line somehow. While you were still figuring out the ropes of clown religion, the fact that you had yet to see a clown without the stuff probably meant it was important. Marvus had only just started cleaning it off in front of you, and while he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, you’d gotten the impression that it was kind of a moment for him.

So, taking the stuff wasn’t an option. All that was left was to thwart it.

Can’t mess up a face already covered.

You waited till he’d left to run an early rehearsal, then quickly raided the vanity, tracking down brushes and setting powder and a couple of those little white brushes. You opened the tins and carefully positioned yourself in front of the mirror. Alright. Ok.

You hadn’t exactly done this before, but how hard could it be to figure out? 

Fifteen minutes later you realized that optimism was a bit misplaced. You weren’t exactly aiming for perfect, but you at least didn’t want it to look like a kid had painted you up. That would give him leverage to flip the teasing back on you, which was not the point of the exerices. You kept have to undo your work. The diamonds edges were too round, or too wide. The eyebrows were uneven. It took you far too long to figure out how to even tape down your natural brows. The makeup wipes were starting to pile up and paint was getting much lower. How the hell did he do this every day, it looked practically effortless-

Footsteps in the hallway. 

Panic rose in your throat as you swept the trash into a nearby can and haphazardly tried to make the vanity look like it had when he left. As they grew closer, you realized your eyebrows were still taped down, and ripping those off in a hurry was probably not the best idea. You practically dove into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“¿Yo, I leave my palmhusk in here?” 

You feel a sudden rush of relief. Not your clown. You recognize the voice: Payasa, one of the newer acts. You open the door a crack, seeing a tall juggalette with close cropped hair and a complex design resembling a moth across the center of your face. Damn, you weren’t even managing basic geometric patterns, how the hell did she paint that on every morning?  “Haven’t seen it, sorry.”

“¿damn, sorry ‘bout the intrusion?” The lanky clown starts to leave, before hesitating. “¿uhh…..you doin alright motherfucker?¿Need me to get the big man?” 

“No! No….” you say quickly. “I’m fine.”

“¿alright…?”

A thought occurs to you just before she leaves. Normally it’d be uncomfortable asking, but…you wanted to get this done.“….actually you know what.” You push open the bathroom door. “Could I get some help with something?”

She turns around quickly, gaze eager. Alien or no alien, she’s new here and eager to please. “¿watcha need?”

“I need you to help me put some face paint on.” You say, gesturing pointedly to your eyebrow situation.

You feel a cold spot of dread as the clown’s cheeks go bright purple. Oh globes, is this one of those troll things you’ve just put your foot in. Did you just spit in the face of the mirthful messiahs or something. 

Payasa rubs the back of her head, eyes darting towards the door. “¿er….does Marvus…know about this?”

“Its a surprise for him,” You say quickly. Hoping against hope, because otherwise its back to the drawing board or figure out how to do it yourself.

“¿I…?” The clown grimaces, nervously tugging on one of her many piercings. She seems to be at war with something inside herself. Finally, she swallows and looks back down at you. “¿sure….?”

A relieved look crosses your face. “Thank you so much, I promise I wouldn’t ask otherwise, but I’m pretty hopeless at this. 

“¿heh…no p?” She said, giving you a shy half-smile. “¿did you uh….have a design in mind?”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. I just need you to copy Marvus’ design.”

Another weighty silence. The purple faded, and its hard to tell under the makeup but you think she might have just gone pale, her eyes bulging out of her head.

“….is that….is that not ok?” You say weakly. 

“¿I-….it’s uh, fine!?” She managed to stammer out. The gazes towards the door returned, but after another look at your pleading face she seemed to gather her courage and slam it closed, making you jump. “¿its fine.?¿ Can do it quick, right?¿ Don’t have to be a big deal or nothin…?”

“Uh….sure?”

Payasa drags up a chair to the vanity bench and gestures for you to sit down. Despite the oddness of her behavior, you’re didn’t get this far looking gift clowns in the mouth. You sit down.

She makes quick work of it, though she still seems nervous. Her face keeps going purpler and purpler the longer she paints, and her ears flatten to the side of her skull as she worries her lip with her fangs.

“Are you sure this is ok?” You finally ask. “There’s not like, a rule against this or anything, right? I don’t want you to….I don’t know, commit heresy or something.”

“¿Nah, nah, not heresy, motherfucker.?” She says quickly, dabbing the poff in the setting powder before carefully dusting you. “¿Jus….little unusual is all.?¿But ain’t my place to judge.?”

“Why is it unusual?” True, Marvus seemed to prefer to do his own makeup, but you’d seen other juggalos do each others faces all the time, especially on the rare wipe end Marvus could drag you out to clown church. It had always seemed kind of peaceful. 

“¿I uh….think I’m gonna let Marvus tell ya about that.?” She mutters, putting on the finishing touches. “¿Ain’t sinful, though, promise.?”

“Well….that’s good, I guess.” You help her put the paints away. “Thanks again. His reaction should be worth it, at least.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “¿Yeah, imagine it will…?” She got to her feet, replacing the chair and giving you a lazy, two-fingered salute. “¿Gotta bounce and get ready for my set.?¿have a nice night, little motherfucker.?”

“You too.” Man, what does it say about your life right now that ‘little mothefucker’ read as affectionate. Before you can contemplate that, Payasa leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

Marvus doesn’t come back for another twenty minutes or so. You lounge on the couch, scrolling through your messages and dicking around with a couple of games you’d downloaded for Diemen. You got so far down the rabbithole that by the time Marvus opened the door you’d almost forgotten what was on your face.

Almost.

“m-fin sound issues, swear 2 fxxkin glob…” He was muttering, twirling his staff absently in his fingers. “sorry i’m-”

He finally turns his eyes on you, and you’re treated to a rare sight.

Marvus Xoloto, speechless. Mouth still halfway open on its way to whatever he’d been planning to say. Eyes slowly tracing your face. You could practically see the question marks popping up over his head.

Its your turn to smirk, tucking your phone back into your pocket as you sit up, tossing your hair back a bit. “Lookin for your makeup rag? Bad news bitch, I’m already co-”

Marvus heads back outside, slamming the door. 

….Ok. Not the reaction you were expecting.

You waited for a second. Was this a bit?

….

Ok ok not a bit not a bit-

You scrambled to your feet, following him out the door.

Instinctively you move towards the green room, but he’s not there. Just a couple of the others, lounging around and hitting each other with squirts of a substance you deeply hope is whipped cream. One of them catches sight of you and their eyes go wide. “….damN, didnT knoW yoU anD xolotO werE therE.”

“Have you seen-….what do you mean there.”

They chuckle, getting up and clapping you on the shoulder, giving you a big goofy grin. “he’S A luckY maN. prettY surE I saW hiM headiN foR thE costumeS closeT. leT A brotheR knoW iF yoU neeD A buckeT oR somethiN, aY”

Coming down to it you wish Marvus’ friends were a little less helpful sometimes. “I…think we’re good. Thanks” You brush past him on your way to the closet, hearing a couple distant “whoops” as you retreated.

The costumes closet is tucked away in a small corner. He’s not there, and for a moment you nearly considered looping back to his dressing room, before-…

Is that muffled screaming?!

Nervously you tap on the door. “Marvus…”

The sound lapses, and there’s a long pause.

“…..ye?”

“You uh, doin alright in there.”

“heh…def b. gucci.”

“You kinda rushed out.”

“…..”

“I’m coming in.”

“…..cool” he says, sounding resigned.

You open the door. Its stuffed to the brim with an array of truly unspeakable clothes. In the blinding sea of color Marvus is practically camouflaged, but you do eventually spot him. Slumping against the back wall, holding a crumpled shirt in his hand that he seems to have been screaming into. His expression is stony and tired in a way you aren’t used to seeing from him, and his eyes aren’t meeting yours.

One of the hardest things you’ve had to figure out about kismesis is when to break kayfabe. Following every barb or prank with an apology kind of defeats the purpose of a kismesis. They’re supposed to let you dangle a bit. But at the same time there are lines that can’t be crossed. You’re not supposed to genuinely hurt them, or force past boundaries they aren’t comfortable being violated.

The issue, especially in Marvus’ case, is figuring out the difference between the two.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back against the cool metal. “So…..I’m getting the impression that this,” You gesture to your face. “May have been a bit more symbolic than was my intention.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. You can see him struggling against himself, probably considering whether or not he should try to laugh it off. In the end though, he just nods.

“And I may have hurt you somehow?”

“u didnt-”He groaned, tilting his head to lean against the wall and closing his eyes tight. “who even did that 2 ya…”

“I….they’re not gonna get in trouble, right?”

He gave you a Look. 

Right. Not his style. “Payasa”

“n she didn’t think to explain y that might give a clown some m-fin pusher problems?”

“She was acting kinda weird about it, but I think she assumed I knew. Or…was maybe a little too scared”

He sighed, breath coming out in a huff. “fxxkin messiahs…” Slowly, he slid down the wall to sit on the ground.

You hesitated a second, before approaching him. Carefully, you slid to sit down next to him, resting your hands on his knees. “…Can you explain it to me? Please?”

His claws traced out patterns in the shirt he was still holding, as his eyes seemed a million miles away. You found your attention drawn to the slow rise and fall in his chest, the tension in his shoulders. He seemed nervous, a weird look on a man who came alive in front of a crowd of millions of rampaging teens. 

“juggz paint iz personal shizz. start workin on the lewk on yer naming day and it keeps changin while you’re changin. lotta symbolism and liturgical shizz go into it but the main thing iz its….u.” He turns over his hands, staring down at them. Faint purple lines run across the palm, a crisscross of old scars. “ur paint’s ur identity. sum mothafucker steals that, they’re stealin u. hell, even gettin some1 else to paint for ya is a big fxxkin deal. ur puttin ur whole identity in their hands and askin em to put it on ya. lotta clowns don’t even let their quadrants paint em”

Your palms go clammy. In your long proud history of fuck-ups, this one didn’t quite take the cake, but it had definitely cut out a larger slice than would be deemed socially appropriate. “I….holy shit, Marv, I’m sorry.”

“sorry?”

“I didn’t realize, this was like, taking something from you. I can take it off-”

You cut off your sentence when you realize his shoulders are shaking.

If he’s fucking crying you are gonna lose your entire mind-

And then a laugh tears out of his throat. Low and throaty and sweet and uncontrollable, the kind of laugh you heard from him maybe once in a blue moon. You’re taken aback (and more than a little flustered). You can only watch, cheeks growing progressively redder as he slowly subsides, hunching up a bit as he tries to catch his breath.

“I…what….”

“fxxkin saviors, b, sumtimes i forget, ufeelme?” He turned to look at you, grinning wide. “forget how alien u are to allathis. i ain’t mad”

“You aren’t?”

“nah lmao”

“….then what was all of this about?!” You say, shoving his shoulder. “I thought you said-”

He catches your wrist, pulling you to straddle his lap. “hey, hey, don make a m-fer bust out the shoosh paps.” He says, tone completely amused as he soothingly strokes your arms. “jus shuddup for a sec and lemme get raw, kk?”

You decidedly have more to say. But… looking at the soft expression on his face you’re having a hard time remembering what it is. In the end you nod for him to continue, settling back at bit against his legs.

He takes your hand, gently unfurling it and caressing circles in the palm with his thumb. “ur paint is u. and the people all in ya life, the 1s that count….they’re also u.” His thumb presses down solidly, shooting sparks up your arm. “told ya, the design grows like u do. pretty much expected once shizz gets serious with some1 ur gonna change things up a bit to reflect that. like chahut. the heavy paint round the sight specs a reference to that little indigo shit she goes craftin with. doesn’t always happen right away, but, when it does…” He releases your hand and moves up to cup your face. Eyes lidding a bit as he contemplates the design, traces the diamonds with his eyes. “pretty fxxkin big deal”

“I…..so, when I….” Your face goes red with the sudden implications, which makes him chuckle.

“yeah lol. kick in the bulge. not xxxactly what i was thinkin i’d see”

“So….that’s why you left?”

His lips press together a bit, and he gives a shrug at least twice as nonchalant as it should be. “…yeah. woulda been trippy even if ya were another purple but knowin u had no fxxkin clue what u did. like watchin a lil squeaker paint prophecies in stick figures. had to get out just to make sure i didn’t do smthn weird as hell”

“…..like what?”

He hums, gripping your chin and dragging you back down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Warm breath fans across your face as he smirks, exposing just a bit more of his fangs than was technically necessary. “show ya when we got more time ;o)”

You groaned. “This is illegal”

“fxxkin arrest me then bih” He patted your thigh, flicking his brows up.

You mutter something treasonous under your breath.

“n-y ways, u should clean urself up” He kissed your forehead. “camera crew$$$ gunna b up my a*s soon”

You sigh. “Right…” Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you push yourself to your feet. “Heaven forbid we appear to visibly be a couple”

“rite? gross lmao”

You shake your head and smile as you head for the door. “Right. Gross.”

“hey.”

Before you can turn around he’s wrapped his arms around you from behind, fitting you neatly to him. He leans down to bury his face in your shoulder, and despite the circumstances that lead you here, you know the only motivation is a desire for closeness. “let me do u up next time” He mumbles, voice rumbling against the skin of your neck. “not mine, but….somethin a yours. find out who u are, ya feel?”

…..You cover his hands your own, squeezing them tight and biting your lip to hide a grin. “….bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time, bozo”

“c’mon, we both kno u can’t resist the idea of my touchstumps all up in ur nugbone hehe ;o)”

“Sure that sentence would be very sexy to someone who isn’t an alien.” You turn in his grip to face him probably. “….love you.”

“aw, babe, that’s gay lol”

“I taught you what that means and you weaponize it against me? Treason.”

“i’m 1 naughty m-fer.” He kissed your forehead. “love ya 2”

“And…..hope you aren’t attached to this shirt.”

“…wha-”

Acting fast, you yank up his shirt and scrape it across your face, taking as much greasepaint off as you could before breaking free of his grip and bolting out the door. Loud, clowny curse words chase you as you tear through the halls, a smile threatening to break your face in half as you ran.

The road to vengeance is long sometimes, but it sure is sweet.

[langdvnshepherd]

A Change of Heart (Michael Langdon x fem!Reader)

Summary: Michael Langdon drunkenly stumbles into your dorm one night at The Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: use of alcohol, angst, smut, heavy petting, fingering, cum play, oral (female receiving), a lil bit of fluff I suppose

A/N: I’ve been seeing a bunch of posts floating around about the bed-sharing trope, and I wanted to write it SO BAD. It took me a while and ended up being wayyy sweeter than I wanted it to be, but this is finally what I came up with! I hope you guys enjoy. Reblogs/likes/comments are always appreciated! Let me know what you guys think! Also, I did no proof-reading whatsoever so I apologize but what’s knew lmao

Masterlist in bio!

     Weekends at Hawthorne were a blessing. You cherished them, counted down the minutes until your Friday lecture was dismissed and you were left to your own devices for the next two days. There were no classes, no nitpicky professors, no being bored to death for hours on end with countless spells and potions that you’d already mastered back at Robichaux’s (you’d come to conclude that the warlocks were eons behind the witches, despite how advanced they swore they were). While your prolonged stay at Hawthorne was turning out to be quite miserable, the weekends worked wonders for the permanent furrow in your brow from Mondays to Fridays.

     Most witches and warlocks left the boarding school on the weekends, charming their way into trashy clubs and finessing fruit drinks from whoever they could seduce with their powers. It was as if they never slept for the entirety of those two days. They left early on in the night and returned late the next morning, often looking like they’d just been hit by a truck: messy makeup that was smudged to hell and back, blazers wrinkled beyond belief, sometimes one of them even would be missing a shoe. Some of them never returned until the following Monday, getting caught up in the bustling city of Los Angeles and wishing to forget their duties as students of the supernatural.

     But not you. You rarely went out, if ever. Instead of leaving Hawthorne to escape your studies, you stayed within its walls, escaping the people. Your classmates annoyed you, and you used every ample opportunity to stay as far away from them as possible. Everyone left Hawthorne on the weekends, so staying indoors meant you’d be able to avoid the chaos almost completely. It was the only time you were glad to be trapped within the underground of the school for warlocks. No one bothered you. No one beat on your door at night asking you to help them cheat on their upcoming exam. It was peaceful. You could catch up on your latest tv binge, indulge in an extensive skincare routine, relax your bones that ached from putting up with absolute imbeciles for five straight days.

     And that’s exactly what you were doing. It was late Friday night, almost too late for any sober person to be awake. You had just gotten out of the bath, this time treating yourself to a lavender soak that successfully worked its way into the sore muscles of your back. Your favorite, oversized t-shirt felt especially cozy against your bare thighs, the hem exposing only the slightest sliver of the bottom of your underwear.

     There were no noises coming from outside of your dorm. No shuffling of loafers. No clicking of heels. Just silence. Thank Satan, because you had a long night of catching up on some much-needed sleep ahead of you. That was until you heard a series of offbeat knocks on the dark wood of your bedroom door.

     What the fuck? Who could possibly be beating on your door this late at night? You were almost certain that any student that normally harassed you for your assistance during the week was out partying, and it couldn’t be one of the Hawthorne professors. They’re far too old to be up this late. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe someone was in danger. Maybe it was Cordelia coming back for you to tell you you could leave this godforsaken bunker. There was honestly no telling.

You padded over to the door, reaching out to grab the cool, metal handle of the knob. You kept your body hidden from behind the thick of the door, because whoever needed you this late at night certainly did not need to see you in your underwear.

     “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huffed as the door came ajar and you saw the slender, tall figure that was waiting for you on the other side.

     His body towered over yours, much like his ego, his lanky arms leaning casually against the door frame. He was still clad in his Hawthorne uniform that he wore to class earlier that afternoon, only the top of his undershirt was unbuttoned and his necktie hung much looser around the base of his throat. His eyes were still as aquamarine as the Santa Monica oceans that you once visited on a long weekend. It was none other than the Boy Wonder himself, the supposed Alpha, Michael fucking Langdon.

     His appearance was quite comical if you were being honest. On any other day, you wouldn’t catch Langdon with a single hair out of place on his perfectly quaffed head or one speck of lint on his onyx black blazer, but given his current posture and the reeking stench of liquor that hit you head on as soon as the door cracked open, you knew he wasn’t in any state of mind to be caring about his appearance in the slightest.

     “Oh, come on. You can’t be that surprised to see me,” he daunted, that iconic, shit-eating grin plastered clear across his face.

     “It’s the middle of the night, Michael. What do you want?” you asked, disdain dripping from your voice. Your hand went to rest on your hip as you impatiently waited for his answer.

     “What you mean, silly? I came to see you. My favorite girl,” he sneered, emphasizing the word ‘favorite.’ His words slurred together as he leaned in to bop your nose with his pointer finger, his drunken state unraveling further and further with each word that left his mouth. 

     You scrunched your nose up in disgust as his finger made contact with your face. “First of all,” you spat, “I am not your girl. And second, you’re drunk, Langdon. Extremely drunk. How did you even get here?”

     Michael chuckled lightly as the cogs in his brain tried to process what you’d just asked him. He ran the palm of his hand up and down his jawline in order to form his next response.

     “IIIII don’t realllly knowww,” he mumbled, “Alex called an Uber, but...” 

     He trailed off, scratching his head in concentration.

     “I thiiink they got out at another bar? I kept walking and then I got cold and remembered that I could just use telekinesis and now here I am!” Michael shrugged his shoulders in satisfaction with the nonsense that he’d just spewed from his glossy lips that were sticky from all of the alcohol he’d tossed back like cold medicine.

     You stared at him with your brow raised, gobsmacked with the story he’d given you. He was clearly drunker than your intuition led you to believe.

     “Transmutation, Michael. It’s transmutation. Not telekinesis.”

     “Okayyy. Whatever,” he sassed back, rolling his cerulean blue eyes far back into his head.

     “I’m here now, so...Why don’t we have some fun like old times?” his syllables were drawn out and his voice was low, an embarrassing attempt at trying to be seductive. He reached for your sides to give them a playful pinch, but you swatted them away before they could even get close to touching you.

     “Michael I already I told you I-”

     You were interrupted by Langdon pushing the door to your room open with his foot. He waltzed in casually as if it were his own space, his feet tripping up just slightly as the scuffed the polished hardwood of the floor. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere as the brazen boy entered your dorm for the first time in weeks. The feeling was all too familiar, but only this time it was under completely different circumstances. Your arms went instinctively to pull down your already oversized nightshirt to cover yourself, as if it mattered. Michael was the last person that cared about your indecency. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you in far less before. And more than a handful of times at that.

     “I know, I know, sweetheart. You told me. I’m an, ‘insolent, repulsive excuse for a man,’ and you, ‘never want to speak to me again,’” Michael babbled while using air quotes with his fingers as he recalled the explosive argument you’d gotten into where you ended your arrangement with him permanently. You were surprised he could even recall that much of the fight given the way his eyes were glossed over and his cheeks were consumed by a rosy, drunken glow. 

     “But you know something, Y/N?” he asked as he crossed his arms behind his back and began pacing around the room, “I never understood why that bothered you. It really wasn’t that ba-”

     “You told the entire school, Michael,” you interjected, clapping your hands together for emphasis. 

     “Sooo? Is that such a horrible thing?”

     “Yeah, it is!” you were growing angry now at his persistence, wishing he’d just leave and go back to wherever he came from before he’d ruined your quiet night in. His presence was bringing up feelings you had repressed deep into your psyche, and it only got worse as each second passed.

     “You need to caaaalm dooown,” Michael began rubbing his temples with each of his middle fingers as if to say your increased volume was giving him a migraine.

     He sobered up suddenly, walking right up to you to and taking both of your shoulders into his hands. “I’ve told you one thousand times already, sugar. I never meant to upset you when I said that shit. Honestly, I didn’t think you had a problem with anybody knowing.”

     “Well, I did have a problem with it, Michael. What we did-,” you gestured back and forth, referring to the both of you, and the long history you shared before Michael betrayed your trust, “-was private. Personal. It was our thing. And you ruined that by telling everyone. It was so embarrassing, walking into class every day knowing that everybody was staring at me and calling me a ‘dirty whore’ behind my back.” 

     Michael nodded silently at your words, his lips pressed into a thin line. For a split second, you almost thought he took what you said to heart. That maybe you’d even get a genuine apology from him. That was until he leaned into your ear and you felt his warm, inebriated breath trickle down your neck as he spoke.

     “But you’re my dirty whore, right?” 

     You should have known, Langdon was never one for taking things seriously. You shook his palms away from your shoulders, walking to the other side of the room to be as far away from him as possible.

     “You know what? I’m done with this shit, Michael. Get the fuck out of my room. Go find another girl to entertain you for the rest of the night because I’m not the fucking one. Not anymore,” you demanded, crossing your arms against your chest.

     A flicker of sadness danced across his face at your harshness. Had you not been staring a hole into his soul, you wouldn’t have caught it. Michael kept his feet planted on your shaggy area rug, not moving one muscle. He was quiet, for once. The only sound coming from him was his heavy breathing that you assumed was due to your outburst.

     “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” you spat, “Does the magnificent Boy Wonder have nothing to say for once in his fucking life?”

     Michael continued to stare at the floor like his pointed, Louboutin oxfords were the most captivating thing since the invention of the wheel. Maybe you’d actually managed to hit him where it hurt. Maybe the disintegration of your relationship had affected him more than he’d let on. Or maybe, hopefully, he’d finally leave you alone so you could permanently forget about everything that had (or hadn’t) happened between you two.

     “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

     That was all it took. Not even one second later, your favorite, faux-fur rug was covered in vomit. Michael dropped to his knees as he hurled, clutching his heaving stomach to ease the queasy feeling. It was like watching the water at Niagra Falls continuously cascade down its steep drop; you had never seen anyone puke that much in your entire life.

     “Ohh, shit,” you muttered to yourself as you padded your way over to where Michael was sitting on the floor. 

     You suddenly felt bad for Michael. He had tears in his eyes from the strain, and you could feel the fevered hotness of his skin radiating from his blazer. His helplessness compelled you to reach out and stroke his spine comfortingly while he continued to empty his guts out onto your bedroom floor. Michael leaned into your touch, resting the side of his head against your bare thighs to steady himself. 

     “Are you okay?” you asked when the waves of his vomit had subsided.

     “Peachy,” Michael snapped back, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

     As much as you hated him at the moment, the thought of Michael being left alone to tend to his impending hangover filled you with the slightest bit of guilt and pity. You expelled a loud sigh from your throat before you spoke again.

     “You should probably just stay here. I don’t think you should be left alone tonight,” you posed, your tone in great contrast to how you were screaming at him to leave just minutes before. 

     “No, no, no,” Michael stated. His voice was woozy again, still drunk even after all of that puking. “You wanted me to leave, remember?”

     He tried to stand up, planting one of his large hands on your nightstand for leverage, but he stumbled again much like how he had when he first entered your room. You caught him by wrapping your arms around his torso before he could faceplant into the vomit that had pooled at his feet. 

     “Okay, but that was before you threw up everything you’ve eaten in the last week onto my carpet,” you began walking him back to your bed so he could be more stabilized, making sure to avoid the pile of bile, “And I’d rather not walk into another lecture on Monday morning about the dangers of teen drinking when John Henry catches you puking again in the hallway on your way back to your room.”

     Michael let out an unexpected chuckle to himself at your mention of the Hawthorne instructor.

     “I’ve got John Henry under control. You don’t need to worry about him,” he waved his hand in the air nonchalantly, clearly still unable to shake the alcohol from his system, even after the damage he’d just done to your rug.

     “Umm, why?” you asked whilst simultaneously digging through your drawers for a shirt Michael could sleep in.

     He flopped back on the bed, his arms crossing behind his head like a pillow. “We have a little, arrangement, I guess you could say. He definitely won’t be up my ass about anything anytime soon.”

     You paused your rummaging to turn around and give Michael a quizzical expression, confused as to if he was being serious or if it was another one of his drunken rambles. 

     “Well, that’s not entirely true. He will be up my ass. Just in other ways, I suppose.” 

     “You’re disgusting,” you huffed, your fingers finally settling on the sweatshirt you’d been looking for. You wadded up the top and launched it at his face, suddenly wishing it was something much harder than a ball of fabric.

     “Put that on.”

     Michael took the sweatshirt in his hands, his faded vision trying to comprehend where he’d seen it before. It was one of the heather grey gym pullovers that every warlock was given when they arrived at Hawthorne, so he knew it wasn’t yours. He knew it wasn’t his either, because you’d thrown that at him also when you broke things off with him a handful of weeks ago. Which only meant one thing...

     “Where did you get this, Y/N? Whose is this?” he demanded, his body shooting straight up from where he had been laying on your down comforter.

     There was no reason to, but your face immediately flushed with embarrassment. What happened between Michael and you was in the past, even though you often wished it wasn’t. You had to move on, and in some ways, you had. It was what you were supposed to do. You’d hoped he would be too drunk to even notice that it was another warlock’s pullover, but Michael Langdon always had a way of catching you off guard.

     “Don’t worry about it, Michael. Please, just put it on so we can both go to sleep. You’re not wearing your vomit-soaked clothes in my bed.”

     “No. Tell me,” his eyes were pleading for an answer. You could see the rising anger in his chest, how his nostrils flared just slightly with every breath he took.

     “It’s not a big deal, Michael. Seriously. Now put on the fucking sweatshirt before I make you sleep on the floor next to your puke.”

     Michael rolled his eyes at your digression from the subject, wishing he was sober enough to be able to read your thoughts. He made a mental note to do that first thing in the morning. If he would even remember.

     “I’m not wearing your new fuck buddy’s clothes, love. It’s not gonna happen.” 

     That struck a nerve. Just because the relationship between you and Michael never strayed from casual fucking, and lots of it, who was he to imply that that’s all you’ve ever been interested in from other guys? If the supposed Alpha was so good at reading people, why hadn’t he caught on to your own desires?

     “Who said he’s my fuck buddy? Do you not think I’m capable of being in an actual relationship with someone?”

     “Not saying that at all, princess. I just have a feeling there aren’t very many people you’re interested in. Especially not a warlock anyway,” he said disparagingly.

     (Well, shit. Maybe he was good at reading people.)

     “Honestly, I’m tired of arguing with you. Can you please just take off your clothes so we can both get some sleep?” you jeered, utterly exhausted at just the presence of the tall blonde.

     “Mmmm, yes ma’am,” Michael replied, wiggling his brows at you flirtatiously. He seemed to have forgotten about his bubbling rage for a brief moment. Of course, that’s where his train of thought went to.

     You didn’t even have the energy to fire back, you simply rolled your eyes at the mess of a boy in front of you with your arms crossed sternly at your chest. It got your point across.

     Michael huffed a low, “fine, but I’m not wearing the fucking sweatshirt” under his breath before he began fumbling for the necktie that had come completely untied at this point. He tried to take off his blazer, but got caught in the thick fabric and began helplessly trying to shrug it off of his broad shoulders.

     “You’re pathetic, Langdon,” you groaned, trudging over to where Michael was sitting on the bed to help him shake the remainder of his unkempt uniform. 

     He was tired now, seemingly floating in and out of consciousness as he tried to keep his heavy eyelids open. When you finally unlatched the last button of his undershirt and your fingers gently grazed the dip of his protruding collarbone, you paused. Just weeks ago, this action would have brought you great joy, a spout of arousal seeping from your core at what was to follow. But for some reason, this evoked a twinge of sadness in your heart. Michael wasn’t yours anymore. He wasn’t yours to touch, wasn’t yours to think about. Despite the suggestive things Michael had said throughout the evening, you knew it was the alcohol speaking on his behalf. He certainly didn’t feel the same way you did about him. You were nothing more to him than a hole to be filled, as he’d let the entire school know it.

     You snapped out of your daze after hearing a loud hiccup escape from Michael’s lips. He chuckled like a child at the high-pitched sound it made, only causing you to roll your eyes at him for the millionth time tonight.

     “Okay, you’re good,” you said to him whilst giving him a gentle pat on the cheek, “Go to sleep.”

     Michael nodded sheepishly, falling back to rest his head on the extra pillow at the head of your bed. He seemed to fall asleep almost instantly as his hiccups subsided and were replaced with small snores that trickled out of his open mouth with each breath. 

     You walked around to your side of the bed and crawled in, savoring the cool satin of your sheets and the feeling of being off of your feet again. As you threw the duvet cover over both yourself and Michael, you considered stuffing a body pillow in between the two of you. Assuming he was far too intoxicated to even think about trying to pull anything, you opted against it. You’d most definitely wake before him anyway. By the looks of it, he’d surely sleep until well on the next evening.

     Just as you felt the beacon of sleep crawling towards you, you remembered the overflow of vomit on the floor next to your bed, as it was beginning to smell more and more foul. With droopy eyelids, a half-hearted wave of your wrist and a low mutter of Latin under your breath, the stain evaporated.

     Michael stirred at the commotion, swimming about in the excess of the duvet to turn towards you.

     “Y/N?” he beckoned, not even bothering to lift his head from the pillow or open his eyes as he spoke.

     You didn’t answer, seeing as it would most likely be another attempt to piss you off with his intoxicated bullshit.

     “I’m sorry,” he muffled through scrunched up cheeks and the material of his pillow.

     “For what?” you asked him. For interrupting your quiet night in with his nonsense? For puking on your floor?

     “I just wanted everyone to know you were mine.”

     It felt borderline cruel, the way he’d been talking all night. This was no different. He’d sworn up and down that all your relationship ever was was casual, but everything he said in the last hour, regardless of whether or not he meant it, seemed to contradict that statement.

     Before you could question him further, although you were almost positive you knew what he was referring to and that he wasn’t being truthful, he had fallen back asleep. His breathing evened out and his body stiffened, succumbing to his drunken slumber.

     But it was alright. You wouldn’t have known how to respond anyway.

//

     Your brain paid no mind to the fact that it was the weekend, as your biological clock withdrew you from your sleep at a rather early hour. Especially given that you’d spent a lengthy amount of time tending to the presumably hungover Boy Wonder that was fast asleep next to you. As you motioned upwards to outstretch your stiff limbs, you realized your body was being constricted by an overbearing force.

     Michael’s arms. 

     In the midst of his slumber, or most likely, on purpose, he had found his way over to your side of the bed. Go figure. Michael had his lanky, toned forearms wrapped tightly around your middle and his head nestled comfortably in between your shoulder blades. You felt the ends of his golden blonde curls just slightly tickling the back of your neck each time he took a breath. 

     You could move. Shake yourself out of his grasp or shove him back over to his side of the bed, or even kick him out of your room and send him back to his own. But a handful of reasons kept you from doing so. 

     For starters, he had certainly had a long night. Him puking on your carpet was only the aftermath of what you had assumed was an extremely eventful evening, meaning he could definitely use the sleep. 

     Second, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how things used to be with Michael. There were only a handful of times that you ever slept together through the night, but when you did, you savored every moment. He was much softer when he slept, a great contrast to how harsh he had always been with you earlier on in the evening, when he had you on your knees, forcing his length down your throat, making you gag on your own saliva as well as his cock while he fucked your face with no mercy whatsoever. He cuddled into you like a child does their teddy bear when he slept, tangling his limbs with yours, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder. The first few times you’d woken up being practically smothered by Michael’s body on yours he’d tried to play it off, tried to pretend like he hadn’t meant to grab onto you at all. After you’d failed to show any type of discomfort, he stopped making excuses and shamelessly grappled onto you as often as he could. You loved it quite a bit more than you were willing to admit, hence why, right now, you opted to stay put. If lying here for an extra 20 minutes was the closest you would ever be to Michael again, so be it.

     And you really hoped he was comfortable, because much to your chagrin, his sharp hip bone was digging into your back. At least you thought it was his hip bone until you accidentally shifted in the sheets and you heard a quiet, hoarse moan spill from Michael’s lips.

     To test whether or not your movement and Michael’s subsequent groaning was a mere coincidence, you rolled your hips back again. Another quiet, but more forceful mewl evoked from Michael’s chest, the vibrations muffling against the cotton of your t-shirt. 

     Now you knew it definitely wasn’t his hip bone. You had been grinding yourself against his impressively hard morning wood, and just the mere thought of it already had you worked up. The girth, the thick, prominent vein that ran along the underside, the way that Michael had the ability to split you in half with it, skewering you onto him until you saw stars. You needed more. To hear his pants and groans while you worked him over and over as you had many times in the past.

     Pushing the boundaries even further, you swiveled your hips back once more, this time further back and harder against him. This time, all you got was a low-register grunt.

     “Are you having fun?”

     His deep, baritone voice filled you with shock, and a little with panic. You’d thought for sure he had been sleeping, as he’d barely even moved the entire time you’ve been awake thus far. Unsure of how to respond, you laid frozen in his arms.

     Michael resituated himself on the bed, pulling you closer into him so that he had a better grip around your waist and his cock was pressed firmly against your backside.

     “I know you’re not asleep,” he beckoned, slowly trailing his fingers up your stomach and then down again, stopping just before he reached the flimsy waistband of your panties.

     “I can smell you.”

     “C’mon, Y/N,” Michael teased as his hand crept lower and lower until the pad of his middle finger barely grazed over the fabric that rested above your clit. 

     “Don’t you want to play?”

     He pressed down on your panties gently, eliciting the smallest of whines on your part. You jutted your hips forward in an attempt to grind yourself harder onto his fingers, which did not go unnoticed by Langdon. He clicked his tongue in your ear.

     “Not so fast, little witch,” he paused, “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn,” he emphasized with a harsh roll of his hips into your ass. 

     “Michael, please,” you begged, fighting a moan as he began circling his calloused fingers through your folds. 

     You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and the flickering of an addictive fire simmering low in your belly. Michael was breathing heavily down your neck, focusing his concentration on your throbbing clit and each desperate sound that weaseled its way up your throat and through your now parched lips.

     He clicked his tongue in your ear in disapproval of your begging.

     “As I recall, you used to enjoy this,” he mocked, “The chase. The build-up.”

     He paused to pull your panties to the side and plunge his index and middle fingers inside of you.

     “My fingers.”

     Michael quickly withdrew them from your heat, but not without another whine from you. He brought them to his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your sickly sweet saccharine that he’d been denied of for quite some time now. You heard him moan obscenely as he lolled his tongue around his digits, sending another bout of arousal through you, and your patience over the edge.

     “Are you done being dramatic?” you posed, the annoyance evident in your voice.

     It was obvious where this was going. Why waste any more time?

     Your words seemed to have angered Michael, as he abruptly shoved you onto your stomach and straddled your waist all in one, fluid movement. His cock rocked against your ass firmly when he situated himself so that he was hovering just above your face, his silky curls tickling the exposed part of your shoulder.

     “What the matter, princess?” he taunted, snaking his arm under your neck so that he could jerk you upwards by the jaw, forcing you to lift your head from the pillow he had just shoved you down onto.

     “Does your new boyfriend not know how to treat a lady?” 

     Michael wiggled his other hand around your middle to toy with your clit through your soaking wet panties once more. You mewled against his tight hold on you, struggling to breathe as he seemed to push his fingers even more harshly against the pressure point on your throat and harder against your swollen bud.

     “Or did you just forget everything I taught you?”

     Michael released his grip from your throat, hands moving south to yank your underwear from your legs. You were left clothed in only the oversized t-shirt you slept in.

     He took your ass in hands, kneading the warm mounds of flesh in circles, admiring the beauty beneath him. As he parted your cheeks, you felt his thumb creep downwards. He began to rub you in circles, from your sticky folds where cum oozed slowly from your core and up to the puckering ring of your asshole. Michael pressed down gently on the skin there each time he returned to it, savoring the exaggerated pants that left your lungs. 

     “God, Michael,” you moaned against the pillow, fighting tears of frustration and lust.

     He was right. All of your hookups since Michael couldn’t compare the racy nights you spend with him, where he teased you for hours, making sure you were a wet, sobbing mess before brutally fucking you into the squeaky, springy mattress in his dorm. You had missed this, but you felt like you might implode if he didn’t do something to ease the aching between your legs, and fast.

     “Oh, come on, Y/N. You know better than that.”

     From behind you, you heard the sound of Michael tugging his boxer briefs from his hips. Everything inside of you wanted to turn around and look, to see his impressively hard cock bobbing freely against the skin below his navel just before he rammed it inside of you, but you feared he’d only draw out the process further if he caught you gawking.

     “There isn’t a God on this earth that could keep you from me.”

     “Then what’s stopping you now? Hmm?”

     Michael chuckled at your poor attempt to snide him before parting your cheeks again, this time to run his cock through the folds of your pussy and against the quivering ring of your asshole. He made sure you were nice and ready for him, although the overflow of sticky juices that had pooled in between your closed legs spoke for itself.

     Your eyes screwed shut as Michael entered you, your fingers moving to pinch the silky fabric of the pillowcase beneath you. He moved slowly, only pressing in an inch at a time. The stretch was unbearable, as Michael was endowed with a cock that was incompatible with any other man you had been with. Even when you two fucked regularly, it was never easy to adjust to his massive size.

     When Michael filled you to the hilt and stretched you to your full capacity, he began to rock his hips into your ass. His thrusts were shallow at first, but still caused your breath to hitch in the back of your throat each time he bottomed out. He quickly set a new pace, withdrawing himself further and further until he was repeatedly slamming the entire length of his delicious, oozing cock into your dripping cunt without regard to the small tears that were now falling freely from your eyes at the sheer pleasure that consumed your entire body.

     Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any more full with the brazen boy’s illustrious cock, Michael dug his fingers into your hipbones and lifted your backside up, forcing you to bring your knees inward and press the top half of your body even further into the sheets. Your glistening hole was now on full display for him, giving him the chance to penetrate your walls even deeper than you imagined possible. You tried grasping onto the pillowcase even harder, but not even your white-knuckled vice grip could soothe the overwhelming build of pressure pooling inside of you below your tummy.

     “Michael,” you whined, embarrassed by the desperation in your tone.

     “Don’t you dare, slut,” he scolded, giving your ass one firm, blistering smack, “Not until I say.”

     His punishment made you cry out and sent another pool of fresh tears from your eyes as you tried your best to give him an obedient nod of your head. It felt good to be taken care of again. 

     By the shakiness in his voice, you could tell he was rearing his own end. His thrusts began to fall out of line with his previously remorseless pace and his breathing was becoming more and more erratic by the second. You felt him twitching inside of you, his cock begging for release each time he pounded into the warm, tight hole of yours that he had missed so dearly. He’d never tell, but the pillowy folds and spongy, welcoming walls of your pussy was his favorite by far.

     “Fuck, Y/N,” he managed to spurt in between thrusts.

     You felt his body heat radiating down onto you, heightening the pleasurable burn inside of you. Michael was panting and moaning and gasping, and his hold on your hips grew so intense that you were almost convinced he’d drawn blood with the crescent-shaped indents left behind by his nails.

     You couldn’t take it any longer.

     “Michael, can I please cum?”  you cried, your sweaty hair trashing against the pillow as you tried to hold out for him.

     “What did I just fucking say?” he spat.

     “You cum when I tell you to cum.”

     His pace quickened suddenly. He began skewering his cock into you as fast and as violently as he could manage. When his hips smacked into your ass particularly harshly, he stilled. Michael’s release was accompanied by a throaty groan. He milked himself in your heat as you felt the thick, rope-like strings of his cum coating your walls.

     “Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.

     Before you even had the chance to complain about Michael denying you of your release, he flipped you over, looking you in the eyes for the first time this entire morning.

     “When have I ever not taken care of you?” he posed before snaking his body down the bed and stopping when his head reached what laid between your open legs.

     He licked a broad, flat stripe up your pussy, eliciting a gasp from you. You watched as he circled your clit with his tongue, your eyes making contact with the vibrant sapphire of his own. Michael was smirking against your folds as he mouthed at them, getting off on the knowledge that he was the only one that could ever see the pretty faces you were making now. He was certain no other boy had the skill or willingness to see you fall apart, with your eyes glued shut, back arching almost unnaturally as you cried out with passion, on their tongue.

     Your fingers went to his hair, which was matted to his forehead with the sweat he’d accumulated from splitting you in two just moments ago. You tugged on the curls nestled against his scalp, wanting him to be suffocated by your heat, not able to breathe even the slightest of breaths. And he let you. He burrowed his tongue into your core, his jaw now covered in your slick and nose now pressed snuggly against your clit. Chants of his name echoed loudly against the cinderblock walls of your dorm. You sure hoped no one was awake yet. 

     “Are you ready to cum now?” Michael asked, licking another tantalizing stripe through your cunt.

     As he lifted his lips from your pussy to speak and dipped back down again, you saw the pearly milk of his own release swirling about on the pad of his tongue. He’d been catching it as it dripped out of you, which only spurred you on even further.

     All you could muster was a pathetic, half nod of your chin. Your thighs were beginning to tremble and you could barely keep your head up to see the magic Michael was working in between your legs.

     “Then cum,” Michael beckoned.

     “Let me feel you fall apart on my tongue.

     You came directly after he granted you permission, the juices of your cunt soaking Michael as he continued to tug on your clit with his lips through your orgasm. You contracted around him as he held your hips down with his hands, becoming overstimulated almost immediately after you came down from your high. 

     Michael climbed on top of you, wiping the excess of your release from his chin as best as he could. He lowered himself to your face again, taking in the glowing sheen that now adorned your cheeks.

     “You are so beautiful,” he spoke aloud before crashing his lips against yours.

     His teeth clashed against your own and you could taste the remnants of his cum left behind in his mouth. Michael held onto your jaw as he pulled back, pulling the flushed skin of your bottom lip gently with his thumb. 

     “You taste like vomit,” you jabbed, shoving him off of you and onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

     Michael chuckled softly at your dig, placing a hand over his heart. 

     “And you really know how to ruin a moment. Don’t you?”

     He missed you and these little moments you shared after fucking each other’s brains out. He wished there was something he could do to get them back. Forever this time. No more “no strings attached.” No more casual fucks. He wanted you to be his and his only. But he had fucked up so badly that he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to bring that to fruition.

     Little did he know, you were thinking the exact same thing.

//

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[scottybrock]

Someone Like You - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: “Can you write something about the reader being sick with a bad cold and also being on her period. And not wanting Colby around so he doesn’t get sick but doesn’t listen anyways and tries to comfort/take care of her” 

“Leave me here to die,” You groaned, burrowing yourself further into the comforter, pulling it over your head. Colby laughed, trying to tug the blankets out of your hands, but you held on tightly. “Stop,” You whined, yanking the covers out of his hands. He let go, his expression twisting into one of concern. He ran a hand over the top of your head, his frown deepening when he could feel the heat radiating of off your body. “Baby,” He started, but was cut off by deep, chest-rattling coughs coming from underneath the blanket. 

When your coughing fit stopped, you peered up at him from under the blankets, your eyes fever-bright. “Go,” You wheezed. “Save yourself. I have the plague.” Colby laughed again, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. You shoved at him weakly, trying to shoo him away from you. “Seriously, Colbs,” Your voice was raspy. You looked horrible. You had deepset bags that seemed to take up half of your face. Your skin was a ghostly pale shade of white, except for your cheeks, which were an alarming shade of red, due to your fever. 

“Baby,” Colby reached out a hand to you, but you swatted it away, releasing another chest rattling cough. “Colbs, seriously, I don’t want you to get sick,” You rasped. Colby ignored you, his hand resting against your bright red cheek. It was burning hot. “What are your symptoms, other than an obvious fever and a cough?” Colby asked, concerned once again. 

You struggled to sit up, but you finally managed to do so. Your tired eyes peered up at him, and he felt his heart clench in sympathy. “It’s just a cold, Colby,” You assured him. “It just sucks, because I’m also on my period, so my body is really achy.” 

You flopped back onto the bed, closing your eyes. “I just need some rest, that’s all.” Before Colby could reply, you were out cold. Raspy snores filled the room, and Colby couldn’t help but smile at your sleeping form. He quickly slid off of the bed and made his way to the kitchen. He found his shoes piled haphazardly by the front door and slid them on carefully, not wanting to make a single noise that would disturb you. 

Colby hopped into his car and drove to the closest pharmacy. He parked, then quickly made his way inside of the pharmacy, grabbing a cart on the way in. He strolled down each aisle, humming thoughtfully. He grabbed a bottle of cold medicine and plopped it into the cart. He studied the bottles of over-the-counter medication, then grabbed a bottle of aspirin, a few bags of cough drops, some throat spray, fever reducer, and a bottle of pain reliever, tossing all of it into the cart. 

Next, he walked down the feminine products aisle. He quickly grabbed a few packages of tampons, and then a pack of pads. He knew that you preferred tampons during the day, and pads at night. He tossed those into the cart, then strode to the candy aisle. 

Colby scanned the array of chocolates and candies in front of him, then grabbed all of your favorites. He wasn’t finished yet; he purposefully made his way to the chips were, yet again grabbing all of your favorites. But wait! He wasn’t finished yet! He hurried over to the freezer section, scanning the cartons of ice cream displayed in front of him, and- you guessed it, he selected all of your favorites. 

Satisfied with his bounty, he made his way to the cash register. However, something caught his eye on the way there. There was a tiny stuffed koala sitting right there, right amidst the discarded DVDs. Random, but it felt like a sign to him. Without a second thought, he scooped the koala and stuffed it into the nearly overflowing cart. 

He stopped once more on his way to the register, distracted by the different colored roses that were displayed right near the front of the store. Amidst the bouquets of random was a bouquet of dark blue roses. He was riveted by them; he’d never seen roses of that color before, and he was intrigued. He plopped those into the cart as well. 

Finally, he made his way to the cash register. The cashier gaped at the sheer amount of shit that was in his cart, then glared at him. He glared right back. His girl was sick. The cashier scowled, but obligingly scanned each item, with Colby watching intently. If the cashier purposely crushed the bag of Doritos, he was going to lose it; that was the last bag in the store. 

Thankfully, the cashier didn’t. The cashier flatly told him his total, Colby paid, and then Colby placed each bag into the cart carefully, then made his way back to his car.

He drove back to the apartment complex. He carried each bag to the apartment, determined not to have to make a second trip, because, well, pride. He successfully managed to carry all of the bags in one go, nearly tripping over his own feet. The door slammed open, and he cringed at the loud bang that echoed throughout the apartment, mentally cursing at himself.

“Colbs?” Your hoarse voice floated out from the bedroom. “Is that you?” Colby kicked off his shoes, then prepared to carry the bags to the bedroom, even though he knew that he was going to have to carry them all back to the kitchen eventually. “Yeah, it’s me,” He called back. 

There was loud rustling, then Colby tripped into the room. His arms were loaded with plastic bags, that seemed to be bursting with food. You spotted the tampons and pads through the thin plastic, and smiled at your boyfriend gratefully. You were glad that his masculinity wasn’t threatened by buying tampons and pads, like so many other dudes out there. He grinned back at you, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling at you. 

He dropped the bags onto the bed unceremoniously. “I got you a lil’ something,” Colby announced. You raised your eyebrows at him, then dropped your gaze back down to the countless bags that littered the bed. “A little?” You teased. Colby laughed, his cheeks flushing the tiniest bit. “So, I kinda went overboard,” He shrugged. “You don’t feel well, and you know that I had to treat my baby.” Your cheeks flushed, and it had nothing to do with your fever. You shook your head at him, smiling softly. “Thank you,” You told him, your voice soft. Colby beamed back at you, batting his hand in the air like it was nothing. 

Colby dug through the bags, handing you the medicine first. You placed it on the nightstand next to you, your smile never wavering. You opened a bag of cough drops, popping one into your mouth and sighing at the instant relief it brought you. 

Then, Colby showed you all of the junk food he got for you; all of the ice cream, the chips, the candy. You clapped your hands excitedly at the sight, your gaze especially focused on the ice cream. It would be so nice and cold, soothing against your aching throat. 

Finally, Colby brandished the bouquet of blue roses and the tiny stuffed koala, offering them to you. “For you, milady,” His tone was joking, but his expression was unbelievably soft and sweet, a shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. 

You promptly bursted into tears. Colby’s eyes widened, and he dropped the roses and koala onto the bed, crawling onto the bed to pull you into his arms. “Baby?” His voice was soft, worried. It only made you cry even harder. Colby opted to just hold you in his arms, rubbing your back gently as he waited for your tears to stop. 

You sniffled, burying your face into the soft material of his hoodie. You were getting snot and tears all over the front of his hoodie, but he didn’t seem concerned about that; more concerned about you, rather than his expensive designer hoodie. The simple thought of him caring more about you than a hoodie made tears well in your eyes all over again. 

“I’m sorry,” You croaked. You looked up at him through your lashes, tears still clinging to them. Colby let out a soft hum, his hands continuing their soothing path up and down your back. “Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, his brows still furrowed in concern. You let out a soft sob, shaking your head, the action causing more tears to spatter onto your cheeks. “No,” You choked out, a shudder running through you. Colby pulled you closer. “I just,” Your voice cracked. “I’ve never had someone care about me, not this much.” 

Colby’s heart practically shattered in his chest. What he thought was a normal, small little thing, you thought the world of. He briefly wondered who hurt you so badly, that him taking care of you while you were ill seemed like something monumental. “Hey,” His voice was soft, gentle. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” His hands continued rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “I love you. I want to take care of you, for the rest of our lives.”

You smiled at him tearfully, reaching up to brush the hair that had fallen into his face away. He smiled back at you, his eyes bright and full of adoration, aimed directly at you. “You’d do the same for me,” His voice was nonchalant, but you nodded fervently. “I would, I so would.” You told him. You stroked his cheek, marveling at the feeling of smooth skin beneath your fingertips. “For the record, I love you, too.” 

Colby leaned in for a kiss, but you dodged him, albeit, regretfully. “You’re going to get sick,” You told him, your brows furrowing in concern. Colby simply chuckled, then pressed his lips to yours gently. When he pulled back, he shrugged. “Totally worth it,” He replied. You opened your mouth to argue, but his lips were on yours once again, and you couldn’t help but melt against him. 

Colby pulled back, his eyes twinkling at you. “You’ll always be worth it, baby.”

[fandomsfeelsandfanfics]

The Arrangement, Part VIII/// Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco takes you to Paris.

WORD COUNT: 2,339

WARNING(S): yeah this isn’t edited so typos most likely. also a lil suggestive at the end oof.

A/N: i’m spam posting ot finish this series up. i hope y’all enjoy it.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

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You were half asleep. Drifting in and out from dreams to consciousness and it was almost hard to discern between the two. Sleeping on a gigantic luxurious bed with an amazing view of Paris next to Draco Malfoy almost seemed like a dream.

There was a small flash and you opened your eyes. Draco was sitting next to you taking pictures. “Draco,” you mumbled.

“Sorry love, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He leaned over and kissed your temple.

“That’s not fair. I’ve just woken up, I probably look like shit.”

He stared at the Polaroid in his hand as it started to develop. “You look gorgeous.” He shook it and looked at it again. “But it’s not nearly as beautiful as the real thing.” He leaned down to kiss you but before he could properly reach you. You pushed him onto his back and got on top of him.

You grabbed his camera and started taking pictures. He smiled and laughed as you snapped one picture after another. His hands came up to your thighs and he rolled you off of him.

You took more pictures of him, towering over you. Finally, you lowered the camera. Draco stared down at you. His hands came up to your waist.

“Mm, you are seriously so gorgeous.” He kissed you and gave your waist a squeeze. You leaned up into him, wanting more. When he pulled away, he fell down next to you on the bed with a satisfied smile.

He picked up one of the pictures you took of him and held it up next to his face for you to look at. “Which is better?” You leaned forward as if to kiss him and kissed the Polaroid instead. Then you laid back down, closing your eyes.

“Oh really?”

You opened one of your eyes to look at him. “Fine you can have one too.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips and laid back down.

He was propped up on one elbow just staring at you. “We need to get up soon.”

“Says who?” He reaches down to wrap his finger around a strand of your hair.

“We can’t just lay here all day.”

“Who says we’re gonna spend all day laying?” One of his hands moved down to your thigh. You grabbed it before he could do anything more.

“I came to Paris to see Paris.” He groaned. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“I was going to take you to some of my favorite stores and then we can go eat. It’s all my treat.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

“I don’t need you to buy me things,” you challenged.

“Yes, I know but maybe I want to buy you things.” He kissed up your arm, finally arriving at your shoulder then your jaw then your cheek. He stopped just short of actually kissing you. “I think you deserve it. What was that about all work and no play?” You smiled as he came down for a kiss.

-

As you walked down the uneven streets, your arms were weighed down buy shopping bags. Draco insisted on taking you to all of his favorite stores in Paris. Shopping took you through the morning and well into the afternoon mostly because Draco insisted on seeing you try on most of the things you bought. You reckoned it was more for him than you but you entertained him anyway.

“Draco, I feel like my arms might break.” He brought his hand up to lower his sunglasses so he could look at you over the rim of them.

He gazed at you in amusement for a moment before pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a small chuckle. “That’s how you know you’re done shopping for the day. That’s what my mom used to say.” He stopped walking and turned to you. “There’s one more place I wanted to stop down this street but if you want you can sit in this cafe while I’m gone.” You looked at the cafe over Draco’s shoulder. It looked quaint.

“That sounds perfect.” It was named something that you couldn’t quite understand in French.

“Order a coffe or something, relax. I won’t be gone long.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. His hand came up to the small of your back and he pulled you into him slightly. You came closer to him willingly.

“Sure you don’t want to come with me?” He looked down at you with those beautiful grey eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll just wait.”

“ ‘Mkay, be right back.” You watched as he walked off in the other direction before walking to the cafe.

You were greeted with the smell of coffee and a “salut” from one of the baristas. You returned the gesture, hoping your pronunciation sounded authentic and sat in one of the chairs by the window.

You would’ve tried to order a coffee but you couldn’t read the menu. You always relied on Draco to order for you. He pronounced everything perfectly and it sounded beautiful coming out of his mouth.

You sat there, staring out the window for a few minutes watching people as they walked by. You’d only been there for a day but so far, you loved everything about Paris. You especially loved being there with him. There was something that felt different when you woke up in the morning with Draco’s arms wrapped around you and the light flooding in through the window. There was something about the people and the scenery.

You loved Paris. You loved Draco showing you around. You loved sleeping in that luxurious bed with him next to you. You loved the look on Draco’s face as he showed you around. You loved Draco.

You heart skipped a beat with that thought. It had come out of nowhere and it scared the hell out of you. You couldn’t say that it wasn’t true but you preferred to just not think about it. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Draco. That certainly wasn’t what Narcissa wanted.

But what did you want?

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there trying to answer that question before Draco walked in. You didn’t even see him coming and almost jumped when he sat across from you.

“You alright?” You sat your hands on the arms of the chair you were sitting at, trying to wipe away the obvious amounts of sweat.

“Yeah I’m great.”

“I hope I wasn’t gone too long, I wanted to make sure they had exactly what I was looking for.” He had a small bag in his hand, evidently from a jewelry store.

“And did they?” He sat the bag on his lap and pulled out a long box. He slid it across the table towards you. “Draco...”

“Just open it.” You slowly opened it. There was a silver necklace inside with a diamond hanging from the exact middle. It was gorgeous. You wondered how much it cost and your eyes drifted back up to him.

Before you could refuse it, he reached for the box. “Let me put it on you.” He leaned close to you and wrapped the necklace around your neck. You could feel his breath against your ear as he fastened it. Finally, he leaned back just enough to look at you.

“It’s beautiful.” He leaned in to kiss you and even once he had pulled away, you still had your eyes closed. “How does dinner sound?” You opened your eyes and blinked at him a few times.

“Dinner sounds...great.” You wanted to kiss him again and again and again. But it occurred to you that you were in the middle of a cafe and the sun was already setting. Where had the time gone?

-

After you took everything back to the hotel, Draco had a driver take you to a restaurant which he claimed had been his favorite when he was younger. You couldn’t imagine any kid liking this type of restaurant. It was quiet and everyone was dressed fancy.

“They’ve got killer chicken tenders,” was his reply when you mentioned that to him. “It was worth having my mother stick me in a suit with a tie that was way too tight.”

You were placed at one of the nicest tables in the back corner away from everyone else with a view of the Seine river. Draco ordered for the both of you. You stared out of the window and were barely aware that the waiter had left and there was an awkward silence.

Draco’s hand found your knee under the table, which nearly startled you. You looked up at him. “Hey, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was partially true but mostly a lie. You tried to distract yourself and think about anything that wasn’t Draco but that was hard when Draco was sitting right in front of you. His features became more defined in the candlelight from the candle that sat directly in the middle of the table separating you. He looked pale and delicate. Fragile.

You looked away from him and back out the window. A boat floated by peacefully. “I’m just taking everything in.”

Draco’s hand left your knee as he rested his chin on his fist and leaned toward you. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just a little crazy. It’s beautiful and wonderful but it’s a little bit of a whirlwind, right? All the money and the beautiful people. One could get lost.”

Draco leaned back in his chair looking out the window like he was trying to recall something. “Oh yeah but it’s fun. There were times when I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life in Paris, the most beautiful place in the world, and just surround myself with whatever and whoever I wanted. But then the last time I was in Paris, I got so high I thought I was gonna die.”

He paused and you took the opportunity to look up at him. He had his bottom lip between his teeth like it hurt him to think about. “It was insane because I felt so good. I felt on top of the world. And then the next morning I woke up and I couldn’t feel anything. I just felt empty. Suddenly, all the things I’d bought and all the people I met meant nothing. I tossed all my belongings in that river down there and swore I’d never come back to Paris.”

You’d never heard that story. Not in any tabloid or any newspaper. You wondered who Narcissa had to pay to keep everyone from hearing about Draco’s near overdose.

“Draco you didn’t have to come back to Paris for me.”

His eyes drifted back to you. “It wasn’t entirely for you. I mean I love getting to see your face as you experience all this for the first time but really I just wanted to see. You know, I haven’t taken drugs or drank since I’ve been here, haven’t even thought about it. The Paris thing was about a year ago and ever since then I’ve just felt empty. I try to fill myself with anything I can but it wears off and I’m back to square one. Then I saw you and I felt like me again. I was thinking about you all the time and the next time I would see you. You made me feel something which is scary as hell.”

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “You make me feel so good, I’m starting to think you’re gonna be the death of me.” He smirked at you and reached for your hand.

The waiter returned with your food and refilled your waters. “Merci,” you mumbled. That was one of the few things you could say confidently in French.

You took a bite of your food and looked up to find Draco staring at you. Before you could make a sarcastic comment about how he shouldn’t stare, he said, “You sound beautiful when you speak French.” Finally, he ate a fork full of steak.

-

The rest of the meal was spent exchanging glancing under candlelight. Draco’s hand rested pretty comfortably on your knee most of the meal. You were both silent but the silence held more than either of you could name.

Once you were finally out of the restaurant and out of the cab and back in the hotel, Draco was kissing you. Over and over, on your mouth, on your cheeks, then your jaw and then your neck. There would probably be a mark there tomorrow.

For a moment, Draco brought his head back up to look at you. His breath was heavy. “Words don’t even begin to describe how thankful I am for you.” His hands were warm as his fingers impatiently moved around your back, exploring.

Your thoughts came back to Narcissa for a moment. This had become so much more than either you or Narcissa expected. There was no going back or backing out now and there was no more plan. It was just you and Draco, miles away from everyone else. That’s all that mattered now.

“Draco.” You pulled him into a kiss and instantly everything else melted away.

-

Draco was asleep and you watched him. He had his arm wrapped around your waist as he laid on your lap gently snoring. Your hand was in his hair, playing with it soothingly.

His hair looked even bright in the moonlight and his skin shone out brightly in juxtaposition to the dark room. “Draco,” you whispered. He didn’t say anything. He must really be asleep.

So you said it. You weren’t exactly ready for him to hear it yet but you thought you might explode if you didn’t get it out. “I love you.” You leaned down to kiss the top of his head and he stirred slightly. But in the end, he was still sleeping peacefully.

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