#its been nearly two fucking months since they became our managers

[rat-tomago]

i think i would rather eat glass garnished with rat poison than go 2 work 2day

[sgt-tombstone]

Call signs weren’t supposed to be flattering. More often than not, they were the direct result of some embarrassing fuck-up that trailed a soldier for the rest of their life. They were voted on by the first platoon that a soldier joined, usually within the first few months, and they then spent the next few months cringing every time they heard it. Simon’s first platoon had seen a recruit land the call sign “Seagull” after a drunken dare to nick a fry from their captain’s tray in the mess hall, and he had personally bestowed the call sign “Dash” upon a soldier who had somehow managed to clip himself in the leg with his own bullet. Dumb Ass Shot Himself…

The embarrassment wore off, though. When one was stuck with a name for the rest of their lives, they learned to live with it sooner rather than later. The associated stories either got buried deep or drunkenly flaunted; the stupider the better. The funny ones became a point of pride and the truly humiliating ones eventually settled into something sort of like mundanity. Amusing tales became nothing more than yet another name, a stitched moniker, an email signature. The point was: by the time they made it to the special forces, and especially once they were assigned to a task force, no one gave a shit about their call signs anymore.

Whenever Soap heard his call sign, whenever anyone asked after its origins, he laughed it off, citing his ability to clean house or, more flirtatiously, his ability to clean up after himself, but he always internally cringed.

No one ever noticed. No one except for Ghost.

He never said anything, never asked about it, which Johnny was thankful for, but he was infinitely more thankful that Ghost took every opportunity to call him literally anything else. Sergeant, at first, then Johnny. MacTavish, if he was mad; any other combination of insults if he wasn't, because they both knew he never really meant them. Sunshine, sometimes, in the mornings when Soap stumbled out of bed in whatever safe house they were staying in, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Scottish Bastard, or Our Johnny, or Pyromaniac, or Lad. Rarely Soap.

It was in his file, Johnny knew, the file that Ghost had read cover to cover, too paranoid to blindly trust Price's judgment with a new team member. Evidently, he hadn't made the connection between the incident report nestled in the sheaves of paper and Johnny's embarrassment. More likely, he just didn't care. Johnny wasn't sure which option he preferred.

Johnny had always had an issue with authority, and joining the military had done nothing to quell his rebellious streak; he was still a teenager, fresh out of basic, barely legal, the first time it happened. His sergeant had been giving him eyes for the entire two months since he'd joined, and Johnny'd be lying if he said he hadn't pushed himself just a little harder in response to the attention. The night of graduation found Johnny in the sergeant's bed, taking everything he was given and begging for more.

He hadn't seen that sergeant again after that, but it had more to do with Johnny's SAS training than anything else, and it started a bad habit. Nearly every unit he joined, he eventually ended up in his superior's bed. It was all consensual, and Johnny would be willing to attest to it if need be, but he never got caught, and he moved from unit to unit so often that it never really mattered.

Until it did.

Two years out of basic, about halfway through his SAS training, he got caught. Rather, they got caught. They were in the showers, his lieutenant pressing him against the tile wall, when their captain had walked in. The implications were clear, especially with Johnny on the receiving end, and the lieutenant had gotten discharged, despite Johnny's protestations. It had been his idea, but it still looked like an abuse of power. Word had flown around the base, and Johnny had gotten stuck with the call sign Soap as a terrible joke; "don't drop the soap" was uttered nearly every time he entered a room, and he ended up being the youngest to pass selection largely to get away from the teasing.

Once he joined the SAS, he never saw anyone involved in the incident ever again. The incident report went in his file, but it got buried among the accolades, the outstanding test results, the exceptional service record. No one except his superior officers had the clearance to read his file, which was for the best; their knowledge of his bad habit kept him from indulging, and he hadn't looked at another superior officer the same way since.

Until Ghost. Who called him Johnny, not Soap. Who tolerated and even encouraged his flirting. Who knew every detail of his file but never pushed for more.

Whenever Johnny got too close to a line, Ghost would switch back to Soap, just once, just enough to nudge him back a step, but he was never cruel. It was a slap on the wrist, not a sharp reprimand, and Johnny had learned enough about Ghost's tone and eyes to see the switch for what it was: a gentle warning, a clearly expressed boundary.

And then one of their missions went to shit, and Johnny ended up in the hospital for months, and Ghost stopped calling him Soap altogether. In the aftermath, Johnny danced closer and closer, always expecting his cautionary call sign to fall from Ghost's lips, but it never did. On and off the field, Ghost simply watched Johnny get closer, stopped holding him at arm's length. He started welcoming his flirting, started actively encouraging him, started reciprocating.

The first time they fell into bed together, something panicked fluttered in Johnny's chest. He'd been here before; he'd gotten a lieutenant wrongfully dishonorably discharged before, for nothing more than the very act that he and Ghost had been dancing around for years. The moment before their lips met, he backpedaled sharply, only to be caught by the rigid warmth of Ghost's arms.

Ghost knew. Ghost knew his past, knew his record, knew what he'd been walking into. Ghost didn't care.

Price knew. Price knew his past, knew his penchant for gravitating towards authority, and still had placed him within Ghost's grasp time and time again. Price didn't care.

And Gaz... well, Gaz was Johnny's biggest enabler. Gaz didn't care.

So he let himself take the final step, the leap of faith, and landed safely in Ghost's hold, in Ghost's bed, and in Ghost's life. Loved, satisfied, and most importantly, protected. Safe.

And if he started wearing his call sign like a badge of honor for the first time in his life... well, he was sleeping with a superior officer, and he wasn't ashamed of it anymore. Whenever Ghost looked at him, reverent, bordering on worshipful, Soap couldn't find it within himself to feel a single ounce of embarrassment over his name.

[feline-evil]

Oh yeah i forgot to say here too cuz i'm more likely to stay at least a little active on here through it since it serves me slightly less rage inducing dickheads that i'll pick a fight with, but something upsetting as happened and i'm definitely not going to be in a good mood for a while so my activity online may go down.

My cat unexpectedly declined rapidly overnight and had to be put down yesterday, i do not always cope with loss well, i've lost a lot of people and animals in my life. We buried her, i helped dig, i dug with my bare hands because i couldn't wield the shovel properly with how fucked my arms are and my entire body started shaking halfway through and is still trembling the day after. I had to look after my parents through this, they cried, i didn't, emotions don't work right in me anymore. I'm giving all this information to paint a clear enough picture as to why i'm not here to be fucked with at the moment. I don't want to deal with stupid fucking twitter discourse that makes me want to punch a wall, i don't want to deal with pathetic cunts who have a problem with some nobody like me and harass me whenever i have anon on here, so as you can imagine considering both of these are fucking constants when im online for some fucking reason, my activity might be spotty.

I loved my cat a lot, she was already nineteen when she turned up outside my door terrified of people, scrounging through the small food waste bin. She looked so starved and feral i thought she was gonna die back then, i spent days slowly working up her trust, sitting by my door talking soft, not making eye contact, just letting her get used to me; i needed to check her condition, needed to know if i could help. She was filthy, flea ridden and starved, her little bald ears burnt and painful. Eventually she trusted me enough to take food, then be touched, and then a week later she was in the house. Two weeks she stayed the first time, kept warm and safe with blankets and food; a toothless, ancient cat i felt sure we were given a few final days respite before she passed. Her owners turned up after those two weeks. Our neighbours two doors down. They took her back, i was not happy. But as soon as they let her outside again she ran right on back to us purring and purring as much as she could, curling right back up in her blankets. After this happened time and time again eventually the neighbours let us keep her, i'm so glad that they did because she began to heal. Her ears cleared up, her fur became soft and silky, she started behaving like a normal cat again; she put a little weight on, never a lot, but enough to not look starved, and she even tried to gain her meow back (she was a silent meower, that she never managed to fix, but she did start to make a little noise).

She was with us for three years past that, or nearly three it wouldve been three next month, and she was the sweetest cat in the world; she didn't often have energy to play, she wasn't the adventurous sort, she just wanted to lie near you and purr. She'd cry and howl if she couldnt find us, she never bit or deliberately scratched, she was an absolute gentle soul. When we moved it was the best thing for her, going to a smaller, easier to navigate house with a lovely safe, enclosed out door space; she got to feel the sun and the dirt again for those last few months, but safely, not as some poor frail animal left outside to fend for herself.

The vet told us her organs had failed when we took her yesterday, that even if she were a younger cat she'd be a candidate for humane euthanasia. There was no coming back from that. It was her time, we knew, the decline she had overnight was a sign she was ready to go; to keep her from saying goodbye would be crueller than letting her go. She was 21, nearly 22. I found fragments of a blue china plate in the dirt we dug for her, i kept it, its so pretty. I made her a bouquet out of tiny wild flowers from the garden. She's buried in her favourite spot. I'm really happy i got to put in the work to give her the life she deserved even if it was only for her last few years.

[m00nchildthings]

Familliar (revamped with added content)

Authors note: So yall remember the first chapter of familliar? Scrap that hoe this the new one it’s dumb long though 11 pages on Microsoft Word TnT Also @alfmoimagines i remembered to tag you

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Virginity Taking, Teratophilia, demon fucking, virgin training? ear fucking(with a tongue i’m not that wild). breeding, creampies, cursing, full nelsons, ruts, and i feel like that is all? Enjoy

Familiars were tricky and malevolent creatures, demons that were so lowly in the castes of hell that they lived life better off in the land of mortals then they would in their own native realm. Not that any of them would be humble enough to admit it though. Most familiars stayed under the care of witches for protection, being incapable of possession made them extremely susceptible to attacks by clergymen. Most lands decreed that any demon living as a witch's charge were free of fear of clergy assault, as long as said witch could manage them. For witches, handling a familiar was a precocious balancing act at best and a near soul threatening experience at the worst, especially during their times of rut. This was when only keeping one familiar in service, which is why so many gave you confused looks when you stated that you kept not one but two under your gifted hand.

 Izuku was your first familiar, a small token gifted to you by your mother the eve before you set off to live yourself as every young witch does when they hit that special age. A small rabbit daemon, one of the easiest to handle, was her gift to you. His eyes were a clear emerald and his pelt a slick black that shone green whenever the moonlight encased him. He was a very helpful familiar as far as they went and you were very appreciative of the fact. After near hermiting yourself away in a decent size hut not too far from a village, you found Izuku to be a very beneficial part of your day to day life. Whenever you were off in the town square buying food and supplies for the week you could always count on Izuku to scamper off and find you roots and herbs for your potion. Or in his human form he would help you around the house cleaning and organizing your books for you. He even seemed interested in your craft, helping you with concocting potions and studying spells.

 Now handling Izuku was fairly easy, at least in comparison to the horror stories you heard, during his roots. All it took was a snug leather collar with a calming charm placed on it to keep him from humping anything within a five-foot radius (including you.) Throw in some romance novels of yours for him to read and staying out late at taverns to give him alone time with his hand and Izuku was fairly decent to stand. You just had to make sure to ignore his eyes on you at night as you slept.

 The second familiar you kept was very different to your snuffly little Zuzu. Katsuki as he went by was an absolute brat that wasn’t grateful for anything you had done for him whatsoever.  It had only been a few months since you had found him after leaving the local butcher to make your way home to Izuku. A group of kids were toying with the poor battered creature, a pure white canine with a clergy trap biting into his ankle blood matting his fur. After shooing away the little bastards you pried open the chat wincing as the teeth of the trap sliced your fingers. He stared up at you with one big red eye before groaning and going limp. You took the poor thing home and cleaned his wounds shoving Izuku away as he came to snuff around the new daemon. For the first few days Katsuki was fine to be around, as his wounds healed, he mostly rested, coming in and out of sleep as he gained back his strength. He was quiet and agreeable letting you bathe him to redress his wounds and even crooning as you held his head to feed him. This calm quiet Katsuki lasted for exactly for the first week he lived in your small home.

 The moment he regained his strength it became apparent what a brute Katsuki was as he uprooted your life from its regular calm feeling. Whenever you went out to gather supplies you returned home to find your Izuku cowering in the corner and Katsuki standing in the middle of your ruined living room, smoke billowing off of your singed furniture. He constantly berated Izuku, cursing and complaining about every little thing he could find. He constantly picked fights with Izuku it wasn’t an uncommon sight to come home to find Katsuki pinning Izuku to the ground as your poor bunny kicked at his tummy trying to worm from your grasp. It got to the point that you would have to keep him chained in the cellar and bring Izuku out with you as your familiar refused to be left alone with Katsuki. As ever docile as he was you found Izuku complaining about keeping him around.

 “Mistress,” he whined walking beside you in the town square “why must we keep him with us he’s rude and aggressive and has only made life harder for us since you took him in.” 

 “Zuzu,” you scolded “you know very well why we can’t just throw him out, the clergy would get to him, besides, he’s probably just defensive being in a new environment after such a traumatic experience, we have to be patient with him.”

 “But he’s so disruptive,” Izuku huffed crossing his arms as you stopped by a fruit vendor “he’s taking up so much of your time, you don’t have time to practice, time for me- “

 “Time for you?” you raised an eyebrow placing a few plums into your satchel, paying the vendor and walking away “perhaps your annoyance comes less from our new friends’ unruly nature and more from a place of, dare I say it, jealousy?”

 “I’m not jealous of him!” Izuku exclaimed red smattering underneath his freckles “I’m worried about you, mistress,”

 “And why is that Zuzu?”

 “Rutting season is coming, and if this is how he acts on the regular, imagine how he’ll be during his time,” he turned to you placing a hand on your arm “you might not be safe mistress,”

 You paused mulling over what your familiar had said eyebrows furrowing, he wasn’t wrong. You had grown comfortable with keeping a familiar with easily suppressed ruts, cat daemons were notoriously known for having aggressive ruts. You had overheard a friend of your mothers as she stopped by from afternoon tea, confiding in your mother that her own cat daemon had been so difficult she had no choice to put aside her pride and pull down her panties to keep peace in her house. It was seen as very taboo for a witch to lay with her familiar, shameful even, to be seduced in the bedroom by such a lowly daemon. You yourself had been worried about what would happen when rut time would come with your new household member to worry over.

 “Don’t worry my fluffy little companion,” you placed a hand on his cheeks smiling as his eyes closed and he nuzzled into your palm “I’ll be fine, you should worry about how you’ll be dealing with your time of the year,”

                                        ……………………………………….

It had been about nearly a week since you and Izuku had your little conversation, and you had begun to notice the signs of rut season in your daemons. Izuku was becoming much more grating constantly moving around your stuff in your room rubbing against everything and even snapping back at Katsuki when he would try to intimidate him. Katsuki became the exact opposite of his usual self, at least towards you. He would stalk you silently through your own home eyeing you like prey as you sat reading in your armchair. It had gotten to the point where you would step out of your bath to find Katsuki waiting outside your washroom nostrils flared as he stared down at you, pupils slit. You almost felt scared in your own home, almost. You had two daemons about to reach a sexual peak and you were only fairly sure you could keep one of them in check. This especially became apparent to you one day as you were working on charming Izuku’s heat collar.

 “That won’t work on a daemon like me you know,” Katsuki had grunted from across your kitchenette “I’m twice as fucking powerful at that little runt you keep running after you,”

 “Well what do you suggest I do to make this time easier for you Katsuki,” you say not looking up from your work “did you not have a witch before me to help you through these times?”

 “Yes,” he said pacing closer to you as you worked rubbing the salve into the leather.

 “Well what did she do Kats- “you paused at the hot wet feeling of breath on the back of your neck, his toned arms came to rest on either side of you. Your body seized as you felt his nose bury into your hair and take a deep inhale.

 “She was a good little witch and let me fuck her cunt till I was through,” your eyes widened as you turned your head to stare at him. His red eyes bore into yours as a lecherous grin spread across your face.

 “Come on,” he said leaning down to rub his nose against your cheek “little witches like you act like prudes till you got a big fat daemon cock in your face, let’s just skip the theatrics and get to the part where I’m balls deep in that little witch cunt of yours,” he groaned throatily pressing his hips into you. You shuddered feeling his massive print against your back wondering what it would feel like to have it pressed inside your-

 “Mistress” you heard Izuku’s voice cold and unnervingly steady from across the room, your eyes shot over to Izuku who eyes were glued onto you and Katsuki. You immediately regained your composure pushing Katsuki away from you. Izuku kept his eyes trained on Katsuki glaring at him as you made your way over to him collar in hand. He took it from you when you offered it to him, but his eyes didn’t leave his fellow daemon.

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

 It had been a few days since the incident in the kitchen, spring was coming in and the tension in your household was so palpable you could carve it with a knife. Izuku stuck to you like a barnacle to a ship and Katsuki was never too far behind. It had come to the point that you had begun to hex your door locked, not even allowing your little Zuzu to sleep at the end of your bed. It had been on one of those locked door nights when an interesting discussion occurred between Izuku and Katsuki.

“You know Deku, you’re pretty fucking pathetic, you know that right?” Katsuki said sprawled out over your couch eyes glowing crimson in the moonlight lit room.

 “Shut up Kacchan,” Izuku grumbled, awkwardly curled up in your armchair broad arms hugging his haunches and leather collar tight around his neck, ignoring him Katsuki continued.

 “I mean how long have you been in service to her, how many springs have passed with you jacking into your own fist like a fucking loser, what you think if you’re a good enough pet she’ll let you hump her leg or something?” Katsuki asked picking with his claws at a piece of cotton sticking out of the arm of the suede couch.

 “I don’t know how you and your previous witch worked but y/n and I do not have a relationship like that, she is my mistress and I am her grateful servant, nothing more nothing less,” Izuku huffed tucking into himself even further.

 “Get off your damn high horse, you’re how old now, and never once went through a rut without just your own hand?” Katsuki sucked his teeth and turned to his brethren, red eyes glowing inhuman in the moonlight “you and me together we could probably convince her to give us a hole each,”

 “Kacchan don’t be lewd,” Izuku said sitting up in the chair to glare over his shoulder at Katsuki, who barked out a laugh standing up and uncharacteristically, placed a clawed hand gently on Izuku’s face thumb brushing his cheek.

 “Come on little bunbun,” he rasped a wicked gleam in his eyes “don’t you wanna get your dick wet tonight?”

                       ………………………………………………

 It had been fairly quiet that night, a few growled whispers from your living room but overall quiet compared to usual. Though worries of Katsuki’s impending rut had plagued your brain, worrying if the collar you had made for him would stick, you had been resting peacefully for the majority of the night. Until a loud rapping noise pulled you from out of your slumber. Your eyes opened face twisting in worry as your sat up throwing off your bedsheets.

 “Who is it?”

 “Mistress, it’s me,” your body relaxed as you heard your bunny’s’ voice from outside your bedroom door.

 “What is it Zuzu?” you asked standing slowly, nightgown flowing down your legs.

 “I- I can’t sleep, I know my ruts started, but can I just spend one more night with you, please mistress?” your heart lurched for your boy, his ruts as easily managed as they were, were still hard for him.

 “Ok Zuzu,” you chuckled unlatching one of your locks “for you anything my- “

You felt a hand around your throat before you could finish your sentence, you had expected a pair of pure emerald green eyes to meet your, but you were instead met with scarlet. You were quiet as you were pushed back towards your bed by Katsuki refusing to break eye contact with him as you were forced to plop down on your bed. You stared at the both of them, the collars you had spent so long on were removed from their necks, of course, you had never had to worry about putting on a charm to keep Izuku and Katsuki from taking off their own collar, you hadn’t even thought of the two joining forces.

 “Izuku,” you said turning to find him just behind Katsuki nervously staring down at you, biting at his lower lip “what is the meaning of this?”

 “Mistress I-I can explain- “

 “Then explain yourself!” you snapped watching his looming figure begin to shake and quiver at your tone, you figured if you could get one to balk on their advance the other would be soon to follow. Besides, if the two of them would start to ravish you in their lust filled rut induced haze, you wouldn’t want them to stop, and that thought scared you.

 “Hey, don’t take that tone with us shitty witch,” Katsuki said grabbing your jaw and leaning down till you were eye to eye, invading your space “we’re just the two demons who are gonna take out that stick you got shoved so far up your ass, if you let us,”

 “And pray tell, why would I do that?” you ask folding your arms. Katsuki smirked, and stood up to his full height, before shoving Izuku to you. He landed on top of you wide eyed and red face, the moment your hands pressed against his chest you felt his entire demeanor change. His eyelids begin to droop and his breathing became uneven as his body began to sag pressing into you. His rut had come in fully.

 “M-mistress,” he mumbled eyes darting lazily between your lips and your eyes unsure of which to focus on. Choosing to ignore both he instead pressed his nose into your neck nuzzling you and inhaling your smell moaning dreamily. His wet tongue poked out laying small little kitten licks on you quickly turning to open mouth kisses sucking at your neck.

 “Look at him little witch,” grabbing hold of your hair turning your eyes to him as you tried in vain to push off Izuku “you’ve turned him into a needy little bitch hanging off you for the barest scrap of emotion, you must have known how badly he wanted to fuck that cunt of yours,”

 “It’s true mistress,” Izuku said droopily pulling off trying to cover your neck in his saliva “I want you all the time you’re so amazing, so smart, so powerful, I just want to make you feel good ma’am,” he chirruped loudly staring down at you like you put the stars in the sky. He shifted and you can feel his cock hard and throbbing against your leg. Your face heated as he began rutting against you, he moved to give the same treatment he gave your neck to your chin. You couldn’t lie, it felt good you thought as you bit your lip to stifle a moan.

 “T-this is wrong,” you stuttered as Izuku trailed down sucking on your nipples through your nightgown leaving dark wet spots on the pale silk.

“Is it really,” Katsuki snickered grabbing Izuku by the hair. He moaned in distaste as Katsuki pulled him off of you “don’t complain just yet rabbit, you get to do the most important part, hold her from behind,”

 “Izuku please,” you huff as he wraps his burly arms around yours pulling you close so Bakugou can get to your panties easier “you’re better than this bunny” Midoriya pouts staring down at you with those big green eyes.

“Please mistress, I’m always so good for you right, I never try to run away, and I always help you even when you don’t ask” he pauses for a  second to moan as his hips rut into your ass a few times and then move in close to your ear “the least you can do is let me make love to you mistress I promise I’ll make you feel good,”

“HAH,” Bakugou barks out a cruel laugh from his place in front of view finally managing to rip off your panties “a daemon can’t make love to a witch Deku, but we can fuck them senseless,” he grins lecherously as he pushes a finger inside your cunt already moist from their actions “because as high and mighty as witch bitch might be they all turn into slobbering whores the moment you get your dick in them they’ll beg for it you’ll see.’’

Midoriya groaned, now humping at your naked ass seemingly pleased with that visual image Bakugou had given him, thick cock dragging and leaking precum on your skin. He buried his face in your shoulder softly sucking a spot into your skin as his hands trailed down until his fingers found your clit.

“I read in one of your books that this feels good for girls,” he says swiping back in forth lightly tugging against the hood of your clit as if searching “there’s supposed to be a little “pearl” here, right, it’ll make you go feel good right mistress, I wanna make you feel good,” he croons as his fingers succeed in revealing your clit to the cool bedroom air. He lets out a little happy chirp bringing his other hand down to rub small hard circles on it and you choke eyes crossing at your sensitive nub being played with. Bakugou tsks, sucking his teeth as he watches you pay more attention to the damn bunny daemon then him.

“Hey shitty witch,” he grabs your hair and tugs forcing you to look at him through your pleasure induced haze “don’t get too wet over your little rabbit it’s gonna be my fucking dick in you so pay attention,” he leans forward swiping his rough tongue over your shoulder before biting down groaning as the skin broke and the coppery taste of blood began to fill his mouth, dick jumping at your pained squeals.

“Kacchan be nice it’s her first time,” Midoriya scolds moving one of his hands to pat at your head trying to soothe you “you have to be gentle on a girls first time,” Bakugou groans rolling his eyes before letting your shoulder go and lapping at the little pinpricks of red still there.

           “It’s not my fault she’s too prudish to have gotten human dick before we jumped her,” he grumbles and adds another finger to your slick cunt scissoring to loosen you up for them “don’t expect me to be gentle when I get in here either I’m gonna destroy this little cunt of yours shitty witch,” he growls and adds a third finger curling up into a spot that has you seeing stars and chuckles as he watches your hips start to try to ride his hand.

 You try to hold it back but soft pitiful moans leave your lips, eagerly swallowed up by Izuku as he goes to kiss you sloppily shoving his tongue down your throat. Between Katsuki’s rough thick fingers pistoning into you and Izuku playing with your clit while simultaneously sucking your tongue into his mouth it isn’t long before you feel a tug in your abdomen that quickly turns into a pee like sensation as you cum, squirting all over Katsuki’s hand. He groans speeding up to see your squirt spray as Izuku soothes you pulling away from you to gently massage at your breast and kiss along your neck. Katsuki frowned watching the way Izuku fawned over you, taking all your attention. He sucked his teeth before grabbing you and pulling you close.

 “C’mere, be a good little witch and spread those legs for me,” he growled staring into your eyes as you gulped at his words.

 “Katsuki no,” Izuku said grabbing you and pulling you away “it should be me who gets her first you’re too rough,”

 “I’d like to see you try fucking rabbit,” Katsuki grabbed your hips dragging you till your crotch pressed against his and you could feel his print through his trousers “Your virgin ass would probably only last two pumps before you come in her,” There was a palpable moment in which your room seemed to pulse with Katsuki’s challenge as the two daemons stared each other down over you. You knew that it was up to you to pacify the situation.

 “Wait, wait,” you say sitting up as both their eyes immediately dart to you, you place a hand on Katsuki’s chest “you should at least allow me to choose which of you is first,” You see Katsuki smirk and roll your eyes mentally at his arrogance.

 “Ok then little witch,” he grabs your chin in his hand before pulling you into a domineering kiss, much more practiced than Izuku, rolling his tongue with yours before biting and pulling your lip “you pick.”

 You pull back from Katsuki admittedly shaken by his lustful kiss as you kneel between the two daemons trying to figure who you would want to take you first. On one hand you were more comfortable with Izuku, you knew he would be kind and gentle with you as new to all this as you were. But despite Katsuki’s dominating nature he was more experienced, and you have no doubt that he would take the reins if you let him, as you were rather inexperienced in comparison. The air was tangible in the moment of you deciding.

 “I choose Izuku,” you say. Izuku visibly brightens and shuffles closer to you as Bakugou growls scooching over to the headboard. You helped Izuku take off your nightgown fully as his hands shook with eagerness when he tried.

When the offending garment was finally off Izuku stared down at you wide eyed and all smiles taking in your naked body. His hands reached out slowly trailing over your body, over every curve and dip leaving goosebumps in their wake, before resting on your ass. He cupped a cheek in each hand and pulled you up until your rested on his thighs legs wrapping around his waist. You blushed as you felt his cock press against your stomach, thick in ways that made you tremble in fear or anticipation you couldn’t tell.

 “Shh Shh mistress,” he maneuvered you again until you were on your back and he loomed over you as he leaned down “it’s my first time too we’ll be each other’s first.”

 “God are you gonna fuck her or fuck around Deku?” Katsuki growled from his spot next to you by the headboard dick in hand. Midoriya huffed angrily before turning back to you.

He kissed lovingly at the column of your throat stroking your thighs before spreading them practically cooing at the sight of your virgin cunt glistening with your arousal.

           He grabbed one of your legs wrapping it around his waist as he clumsily fumbled with his member until the tip pressed against your twitching hole. Your breath hitched and your face screwed up tight as the head of his cock caught on your clenching entrance, your Zuzus back hunched as he slid just a fraction into your tight heat shuddering breaths fanning your face as he fought the urge to slam into you. It was unpleasant and foreign feeling the stretch of his cock as he slowly pressed into you, a burning sensation that had you clawing at his back and clenching down on the intrusive member spearing into you.

             “P-please y/n, you’re too tight I- I can’t,” his hot breath filled your space as he paused his breach of your too snug pussy. A rough hand grabs at your jaw directing your attention to Katsuki as he glowers down at you.

             “You need to relax dumbass, if you keep clenching down he won’t be able to push it in all the way,”

 “It isn’t in all the way in yet,” you whimpered, squinted one eye open you looked down to see that only half of Izuku’s cock was inside of you, a good portion of it sitting outside of you.

 “Fucking virgins,” Katsuki growled snapping his fingers at Izuku “you gotta get her to relax, kiss her or something touch her other sensitive parts,”

Midoriya nodded sharply before smashing his lips to yours messily moving his lips against your and knocking your teeth together before Katsuki grabbed his neck dragging him away from the sloppy kiss.

           “Jesus do I have to show you how to do everything dumbass,” Katsuki grunted at an irritated Izuku, annoyed at being interrupted.

           “Katsuki stop butting in-“he’s cut off when Katsuki’s lips press against his own, you watch as the cat daemon showed Izuku what a proper kiss was. Their lips moved together Katsuki pulling out little moans from your Zuzu when he bit his lips demanding entrance to his wet mouth before sliding his rough tongue in. Izuku shuddered wide eyed, cock pulsing inside you as Katsuki’s tongue danced with his own until he pulled away a thin trail of saliva breaking of from the corners of their mouths.

           “That’s how you’re supposed to kiss dumbass,” his rough hands cupped Izuku’s jaw jerking his head to you “now kiss her that way,”

           Izuku again bent down to kiss you, but this time with more tact, your lips moved together more gently and his tongue kitten licked at your bottom lip as opened your mouth tongue immediately running over your mouth as if trying to taste you. A pair of rough fingers began to circle your clit, Izuku’s or Katsuki’s you weren’t sure, but the stimulation of your little nub had you groaning into the kiss legs relaxing around Izuku and wrapping around his waist as he slowly slid the rest of his girth into you. It was a burning deep within you now, not the tearing feeling from before, but a satisfying stretching that had you sucking on Izuku’s invasive tongue as the both of you moaned into each other’s mouths. Finally with a small circulation of his hips Izuku sat snugly inside of your of warm wet cunt he breathed heavily breaking away from the kiss to loom over you, eyes lidded with lust he stared down at you debauched expression not knowing how to handle the feeling of being filled to the brim with a throbbing hot daemon cock.

           “You, you feel amazing mistress,” he groaned clumsily circling his hips into you, your breath caught at the foreign feeling as he his hips rabbited into you, quickly little juts that barely made room between where his thighs pressed into your soft bottom. Behind him you heard Katsuki suck his teeth, clearly unimpressed with Izuku’s method of humping into you, you watched as he grabbed Izuku’s hips biting the rabbit daemon’s sensitive ears. He pulled his hips back ignoring Izuku’s moans as he was dragged out of your clenching cunt wanting nothing more than to thrust back in and snuggle fuck into your intoxicating pussy.

           “No tact whatsoever,” Katsuki growled pulling on the lobe he held in his teeth “no idea how to fuck a pussy, and I though little bunnies like you were supposed to be good at fucking, figures I’d have to show you how to do this to,”

           Katsuki slowly guided Izuku’s hips in and out of you dragging his cock nearly all the way out till the tip caught on your drooling entrance and smoothly sliding it back in angling it so that he knew that spot deep within your gummy walls was graciously caressed. Your back arched off the bed as you moaned hands reaching out for either but ultimately catching on Izuku, nails leaving crescent marks on his biceps and back. His head fell to your neck mouthing there as Katsuki slowly released his hips as he found the rhythm Katsuki had shown him, Katsuki’s hand rested instead rested on Izuku’s freckled behind putting him back on track whenever he lost the beat.

           “That’s it rabbit,” he said guiding him to pick up the pace “give that pussy a good fuck and you’ll have that witch on all fours for you,”

           Izuku got the picture as he pulled up leaving purpling marks on your skin and ignoring the way you whined missing the feel of his weight pressing into you. Instead he grabbed your legs pulling out shuddering as your hole clenched desperately trying to keep him inside. He grabbed your waist flipping you over onto your hands and knees before sliding into you with a fluidity that had your upper half sinking into your pillows. He groaned hands grabbing your sides in a tight grip using his handle on your hips to drag you back to him, as the new position had him so deep in you you found yourself trying to crawl away from him. A sharp clawed hand grabbed your hair jerking you still as Katsuki leaned in close.

           “Stop fucking running witch,” behind you you heard Izuku moan at the sight of Katsuki manhandling you as he jackhammered his cock deep into you kissing your gummy cervix with every thrust.

           “So, so guh mishtress,” his words slurred he threw his head back now fully lost in the throws of his rut “squeezing me uuhhn tight fuckin’ pussy ‘round my cock,” he groaned hips picking up pace. Katsuki moved his hand to play with your painfully sensitive clit the attention causing your legs to tense you came around the cock fucking deep into you, spraying your own cum over the bed with each thrust of Izuku’s cock.

           “Holy shit,” Katsuki breathed biting his own lip in anticipation as he watched you get fucked through your squirting orgasm “you better hurry up rabbit I want my turn,”

           “I’m almost, almost-,” Izuku grunted hunching over you as his hips lost their tune humping sporadically into your still spraying cunt “Cuuhhhmmmiinnng,” he pressed in deep one final time head pressed to your cervix opening pumping your womb full of his heady spunk till it spilled out from you. You both shuddered, you at the feeling of being pumped full for the first time and him at the feeling of having a cunt accept his load for the first time.

           “Damn,” Katsuki said, watching Izuku pull out of you his spunk following suit when his soft cock fully slipped out. Izuku bent down immediately licking his spunk back into your trembling cunt as you whined trying to wriggle away from his prodding tongue on your sensitive cunt. Izuku whimpered as Katsuki grabbed a handful of his curly emerald locks pulling him away from your poor tired cunt before scooping you up in his arms positioning you till you both rested against your pillows and headboard. Your pussy, throbbing and puffy from the pounding it just took jumped as Katsuki slapped his cock up against it, the angry red tip dripping pre on your abdomen. You whimpered squirming away from the pleasure that was already too much.

           “Don’t think about trying to run away from me witch,” he slowly pressed into you before his arms came under your limp thighs pulling them up to your chest and locking them in position as his hands slipped behind your head “not like you’ll be able to though,”

           His planted his feet firmly on your mattress gripping the blanket with his toes before thrusting up, you choked, eyes crossing as his cock seemed to press into every oversensitive spot of your walls. You felt his wet lips latch onto your lobe tongue slipping into your ear lathing slow strokes matching the maddening strokes that his cock dug into your pussy. Futilely your hands pressed into his thighs trying to cease his pumping hips, you heard him chuckle hot breath fanning your ear around the tongue that delved deep into it. You couldn’t make a noise, could barely breath as Katsuki seemed to dig out all thought of anything besides his throbbing cock claiming your greedy pussy that desperately latched on to the pleasure that drove your brain stupid.

Midoriya groaned watching your cunt cream around Katsuki’s cock leaving bubbly rings of tantalizing white that had him licking his lips. He leaned down licking a stripe up Katsuki’s cock till his tongue pressed the mixture of all three of your combined messes into your clit. He wrapped his lips around the nub and sucked. You screamed, the first sound your had truly been able to make since Katsuki had entered you, piercing and long like a banshee that had Katsuki leaving your ear alone to laugh at you, laugh at the dumb little witch fucked even more stupid on his cock. Damn, the old crone that had him before wasn’t even this good a fuck he thought as he began to piston his hips into you feeling his own end creeping on him between your cunt seemingly try to strangle his cock and Izuku’s tongue lapping at your joined sexes.

Without any warning you came moaning and thrashing as much as you could in the full nelson Katsuki had you in, squirting again against the tongue that seemed to be molded stuck to your clit. Katsuki cursed as his feet pressed deeper into the bed hips stuttering up into you as he came, your cunt pumped full for the second time that night with daemon spunk, Izuku finally pulled away from you face dripping in your squirt as he bent down to kiss while Katsuki’s thrust slowed to stop. He released you from your position breathing heavily while you fell forward into Izuku’s arms legs shaking and cock drunk.

“There there mistress,” Izuku cooed, you lazily stared up at his and his eyes seemed to glow an almost sinister green in the moonlight “It’s my turn again and I promise to be gentle,”

You gulped backing up only to be met with Katsuki’s already hardening cock glide under your still dripping pussy. Izuku chuckled gleefully as he shuffled forward his own dick nudging at your poor abused clit. Katsuki growled pinning your arms to your sides before licking a long stripe up your still wet ear.

           “I think you mean that it’s both of our turn rabbit,”

[lightsovermonaco]

A Decent Workout (NSFW Pierre Gasly)

Masterlist

Completely and utterly self indulgent fic inspired by how damn GOOD Pierre looked over preseason testing. Beta read by @acollectionofficsandshit

The buzzing of an alarm woke you not long after the sun had risen over the deserts of Bahrain. You groan, rolling over and smacking the solid shoulder of your boyfriend, startling him awake as well. “Turn it off, Pierre.”

He does as he’s told, then clumsily tucks an arm around you and pulls you to his chest. Voice rough with sleep, he murmurs, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” You echo, nuzzling into his warmth. You curl your frigid hands against his chest, utilizing your personal space heater to the fullest extent. “How long until testing?”

Pierre rests his cheek on your head. His hand traces lazy circles on your shoulder blade like you have all the time in the world. Your eyes slide shut again, sleep beaconing on the horizon. “About an hour.”

You sigh, suddenly awake. “Not much time for lounging around then."

Eagerness mingled with disappointment in his reply. “First day of the new season.”

Pierre's excitement had been palpable the entire week. Buzzing about like a honeybee on the first day of spring, he had prattled on about the specs of the AT02, what changes he was most excited to see, and his predictions on how the car would compare to others in the paddock. You offered your thoughts when prompted, but were just as happy to listen to his happy ramblings and share his enthusiasm. 

It had been his idea to arrive in Bahrain early, allowing the two of you a few precious, uninterrupted days with each other. From now on, his weekends would be packed. No more last minute trips to ski resorts or visits to Charles in Monaco. Starting today, his primary focus became Formula 1. He would travel around the world to compete in a total of 23 grand prix this year, and you would follow faithfully to cheer him on.

You lay tangled in each other for a few minutes, trading sweet kisses. “I have to go,” Pierre murmurs against your lips. You tighten your grip around his bare middle, determined to make him stay a little longer.

“You’ll be gone for so long though,” You whine, pouting. The last few days had spoiled you. He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Eleven whole hours without a beautiful Frenchman to keep me company.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And besides, you can watch the entire session from the comfort of our suite.”

“It’s not the same as being in the garage.” Damn the personnel restrictions the FIA had imposed for the upcoming season. You wouldn’t be allowed in the paddock for a single race. You understood and respected the decision, but it bothered you that you couldn't be there when he inevitably made it on the podium this year.

“I know.” Pierre tapped your arm in silent request. Reluctantly, you release your death grip and allow him to slide out of bed. He turns his back to you and stretches, granting you a moment to drink him in. He had packed on a significant amount of muscle during the offseason, filling out in all the right places.

Deciding there was no use trying to go back to sleep, you rise and join him at the dresser. He rummages through it, finally settling on a plain tshirt. As usual, you can’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly slides the fabric over his head. How did he make an everyday act so inherently sexy?

Catching your stare, he fights the smile playing on his soft lips. “What?”

“Just admiring the view,” You say simply. Going up on your tiptoes, you press a meaningful kiss to his cheek. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He holds out his pinkie to you. You smile, wrapping your own tightly around it. “Promise.” He allows you one more passionate kiss before he slips out the door to make his way to the track.

At least one perk of staying in a suite was the fully stocked kitchenette. You grabbed an apple before brewing a cup of strong coffee, taking in the view off the balcony while it percolated. You could just see the track from here, something you knew Pierre had specifically requested. Although it was early, heat already rippled from the pavement. Hopefully his Alpha Tauri would stay cool and not throw a tantrum in the intense temperatures.

After a quick shower, you threw on one of Pierre’s extra shirts and let the comforting scent envelop you. Settling into bed with your coffee in hand and a laptop humming on your legs, you wait for the testing livestream to begin. In the meantime you scroll through your phone, reading the comments on the pictures of Pierre arriving at the circuit. 

His carefully selected outfit had caused quite a stir and honestly, you understood why. A loose blue shirt, white skinny jeans and sunglasses. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have been impressive in any way, but on him… He somehow always managed to deliver exactly what his fans - and most importantly you - craved.

And when the livestream started and he stepped out on the track with his white and navy Alpha Tauri suit half undone, the moisture-wicking underlayer practically painted on… You damn near lost it.

In the months since last season, you’d forgotten how mouthwateringly attractive he was in a race suit. The underlayer left nothing to the imagination, clinging to the hard lines of his torso. The famous Bahrain heat didn't help your sanity either, the sweat soaked fabric turning slightly translucent in places. Your eyes stay glued to the screen as it flips between cameras, desperately praying for another glimpse of your frenchman. 

How were you supposed to wait nine more agonizing hours for him to return?

As if picking up on your neediness, you didn't see another shot of Pierre for twenty minutes. The camera cut to the Alpha Tauri garage, where Pierre’s car waited in the pit lane. The closeup of him geared up sitting in his Alpha waiting patiently made you slap a hand over your mouth. Those eyes. You knew the little quirk of his brow he threw at the camera was meant solely for you; a way to unravel you when he wasn’t physically there.

You silently cursed him for how well it worked. 

Moments later, the tire blankets are peeled off and his car is lowered to the ground. Gasly was one of the first drivers to head out onto the track, giving him plenty of clean air to lay down fast laps. He completes seventeen laps in the first hour, and by lap twenty he holds the second fastest time, less than a second behind Verstappen. 

You try to focus on the precision and skill Pierre is displaying, but your mind keeps wandering back to the image of him standing on the track in his race suit. The consuming need to strip him out of it is incredibly distracting. It doesn’t help that your social media feeds are flooded with images of it either, offering you no reprieve.

By the end of the second hour, Pierre edges past Verstappen to take the fastest lap and go purple. He nearly holds onto it at the end of the session, just a few tenths slower than Ricciardo and Verstappen. It doesn’t matter; pride and love swell in your chest when he finally pulls back into the garage, his excitement evident before he even pulls his helmet off. The Alpha mechanics share his excitement, the camera showing them congratulating him before cutting to post session interviews.

As much as you tried, nothing could make you focus on Max or Daniel’s interviews. You spun the ring on your pinkie impatiently, waiting for Pierre to make an appearance. Ages later, he finally took a seat at the press conference. He took no mercy on you. Again dressed in crisp white and navy that accented his sun kissed skin, the ring twin to yours back on his finger… 

“Fuck me,” You groaned, throwing your head back. Even with half his face covered, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. He carried himself with an easy confidence that no one else on the grid could match, on top of the world and determined to make it everyone else’s problem.

The entire time he spoke, you dreamed of running your tongue up the column of his neck, right over his Adam’s apple. You could taste the salt settled in the hollow of his collarbone, hear his breath catching as you worshipped him. 

Only half an hour until he came home to you.

The interview finally ended and you snapped your laptop shut, tossing it to the chair at the bedside. The second he came through that door, you’d pounce on him. Ten hours of straight torture, being forced to endure watching other women on social media drool over him and being unable to congratulate him on his amazing morning session at the garage. 

And fuck, would you congratulate him.

Minutes dragged by as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, the endless pictures of Pierre not helping your desperation. You started at the sound of a key fitting in a lock. Throwing your phone aside, you scrambled from the bed, launching yourself at the door as it opened.

“Hey baby-”

You cut him off with a feral kiss, your lust boiling over. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate in dropping his bag and kicking the door shut behind him. He caught you when you jumped, broad hands cupping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“I love whoever designed Alpha’s suit,” You mumble between the open-mouthed kisses you pepper along his stubbled jaw. “You look fucking amazing in white.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along.” Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull, exposing the thick column of his neck. Your tongue darts across his skin, savoring the softness. He groans, his grip shifting to dig his fingers into your thighs.

You don’t pause when he lays you on the bed, mouth continuing its needy exploration down to his shoulder. He settles over you, his solid body a familiar and welcome weight against you. 

“I couldn’t concentrate on anything once you stepped out onto the track,” You tell him, hands slipping under his polo. “Do you know how many women were talking about you today?”

“There’s only one that I care about,” He murmurs, pulling back to strip off his shirt. You take advantage of the power shift to wriggle out from under him. “Where are you-”

“Lay down,” You say, quiet but firm. The corner of his mouth quirks up but he obeys, taking his sweet time. You don’t mind; watching his shoulders ripple as he settles back against the downy pillows.

“Miss me much?” He taunts, the deep baritone resonating with some primal part within you and sending a shiver down your spine. “Usually our roles are flipped.”

You bracket a bare leg on either side of his with a wicked grin. “Do you really think I’d let you set the pace when you tortured me all day?” You bite your lip and let your gaze wander over the hard planes of his pecs, down his sculpted abdomen, finally coming to rest at the line of muscle disappearing beneath his waistband. You don’t miss the way his attention dips to your thighs, your center barely covered by the hem of his band tee you wore.

Pierre grins, folding an arm behind his head. “Do your worst.”

Your shirt joined his on the floor, piercing blue eyes eating up your newly exposed skin. You sink forward, eye to eye with him. You tip your head to the side, letting your hair slide forward to tickle his shoulder as you lean in to whisper, “I will.”

Lips, teeth and tongue float over his skin, leaving small, easily hidden marks in your wake. You let your hands slide across his abdomen as your mouth makes its way down his sternum, pausing to delight in his rapidly beating heart.

Fingers brushing the waistband of his riot-inducing white jeans, you press a tender kiss just below his belly button. "Why do you always insist on wearing white?"

"D-drives you wild," He gasps out, stumbling over the simple words. You hum against his skin in response, cock twitching against your shoulder. One of his hands flies back to grip the headboard, veins in his forearm bulging. 

Only when his eyes slide shut in anticipation do you finally undo the button, unzipping his fly agonizingly slow. Your name is a breathless plea tumbling from him as you ghost your fingers over his length. He lifts his hips just enough to allow you to slide his jeans down his thighs, followed by his boxers. The tip of your finger runs along the underside of his shaft, causing him to groan. The headboard creaks under his crushing grip as he tries to stop himself from shattering at your barest touch. 

Flicking your tongue over the tip, you spread the bead of precum that had gathered there. Slipping into French, Pierre swears viciously, his free hand tangling in your hair. He may know how to make you squirm from across the city, but you knew how to return the favor tenfold.

"You gonna win for me in two weeks, my love?" You purr, curling your fingers around his cock. 

"I'll w-win every race if it means you'll fuck me," He replies immediately, wholly submitted to the promise of your touch. 

You hum noncommittally before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue over the head. His hips buck, but you're already reacting in anticipation of that very movement. He groans in frustration when your mouth leaves him. A welcome change from your normal games, when it was his head between your thighs, his teasing tongue flicking across your center, your hips rocking in frustration. You enjoy his frustration for a few breaths, lazily drawing circles on his hip like he had done to you that morning.

"I think that could be arranged."

Bracing your hands on his chest, you position yourself so your slick folds brush against his cock. Arching your back, you grind your hips against him, your own chest heaving in time with his. The hours of anticipation had left you dripping wet, evidence of the effect he had on you. You silently praised yourself for your restraint; you wanted to drag out his need and tease him like he had done to you all damn day.

 "Mon amour," he murmurs, and you damn near lose your mind. Two words in his native tongue, dripping with honeyed softness but spoken with such rawness, it sets your soul on fire.

You reach a hand back, guiding him into as you sink down. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the thickness of him, and you have to give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness.

Sweat beads on his golden brow as you begin to ride him in earnest, his hips rolling to meet yours. Panting, you dig your nails into his forearm, leaving angry red crescents behind. No matter how many times you fucked, it always felt like the first. The perfect fit never ceased to amaze you, the angle of your hips putting delicious pressure on that magic spot inside you with every thrust. 

"Pierre," You breathe, head falling back. His own thrusts become more frenzied, the wet sound of skin on skin sending a bolt of ecstasy through you.

His breathy moan of your name guides you over the edge into oblivion, your orgasm slamming white hot over you. Your desperate movements begin to slow, Pierre stilling beneath you as you struggle to regain your senses. Limbs shaking, you roll over, allowing yourself a moment to steady your breathing before turning back to him.

Pierre jerks when you take him in your mouth once more, tasting yourself on his cock. Hollowing your cheeks while taking as much of him as you can, you wrap your hand around the rest of him.

"Fuck," He mumbles, over and over as he thrusts his hips into your mouth a handful of times before his release finds him. His hips jerk as he cums, your tongue coaxing every last drop from him. You let him finish before swallowing the salty liquid, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Sighing blissfully, you collapse onto the pillow next to your beloved. His arm hooks around you, still sticky with sweat but you don't care.

“I would say that counts as my workout for today,” He jokes, voice shaking in the aftermath. You laugh, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Tomorrow, I choose your outfit."

Pierre’s laugh rumbles through you, setting your toes curling. "As long as it makes you attack me when I get home, I'll wear anything you ask me to."

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[ickymichi]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

a tendou satori x reader series.

✟ there’s always been the one rule every person who’s been in a band knows not to break, never mess around with your band mates. but Satori was sick of the groupies, sick of catching the bra’s and panties that were flung at him every night. he just wanted the one thing he couldn’t have.

✟ warnings: swearing, eventual smut, eventual angst(?), drug use, inappropriate themes, comedy.

✟ things to know: band au!, some timeskip careers mentioned, slow updates.

✟ if you’d like to be added to the taglist just send an ask! <3

✟ word count: 1.8k

✟ note: first actual chapter of this series! it’s nothing big but obviously i wanted to get something written for this series! but i hope you enjoy my dears! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

all contents belongs to k1ttykawa 2021. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform.

.:previous:.

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.:masterlist:.

𝟎𝟎𝟐:. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

The bright lights and screams from the small crowd in the underground venue was what brings you back down from the high you’re always on whenever you sit on the small bouncing stool behind the drum set on stages every second or third night. You heard Semi thanking everyone for coming and whatever shit he always says. Once you seen him bow and Tendou go to pick up the collection of bra’s and panties thrown on stage, you raised a hand and threw one of the drumsticks into the crowd, your own way of saying goodbye before making your way offstage. Semi and Tendou’s tall frames following behind, the same order as always.

The sweat was pouring out of you, tonight being more of a wilder one than the usual calm sets you’ve been having in bars or party’s recently. they were easy money, but they got boring after just a few hours. so all three of you were in desperate need of a night like tonight.

Turning the corner of the small, dark corridor to your dressing room for tonight you were met with the stench of weed, 3 different girls on the beat up leather couch, a rolled joint in one of the girls hands and white lines on a tray to the others left. Like always, you went straight to the showers to get the scent of sweat and fake smoke of you.

You really don’t know when but the cropped black tank top you had on was ripped down one side but your usual headband you sported every show was missing and it now became you new priority to track it down. “Satori! Where the fuck is my headband?” you stomped back out to see the wanted man desperately trying to pull the tight leather pants down his lanky legs. His head was whipped up to at the sound of your annoyed voice and then quickly darted his eyes over to the blonde that had previously rolled the joints and was now fawning over semi and his revealed tattoos. “oi” was all you muttered out behind her and holding out your empty hand—also noting some of your rings were gone. She turned her head to you with a scowl covering her features, which also revealed your missing accessory that caused your distress. “that’s her bandana and she’s quite obviously looking for it back,” Tendou quipped in making every one bar the girl laugh. After time, she untied it from the back and forcefully placed it back in your hand. Dramatically you held your arm, acting as if she pained you, tendou again laughing with you.

Finally you were able to hop into the shower and quickly get your self freshened and rub the accesses makeup off your eyes that was already smudged from your constant wiping, trying to stop the sweat dripping from your hairline.

“(y/n)!! please help me out of these, semisemi just keeps fucking laughing!” the peace and quiet you had was quickly interrupted by Tendou’s loud whining. “how the fuck am I not supposed to laugh when your walking around with them swinging around your ankles and your dick hanging out?” “what, Its out?!”

The large door separating the bathroom from the connected dressing room swung open and revealed Satori with his leathers pooled at his ankles and— surprising his dick not actually ‘hanging out’. “please help me sugartits, they’re fucking stuck even with my skinny ankles,” he hopped onto the counter and held his legs up for you to guide them off him. “well for starters, take your fucking shoes off!, and also I swear i saw these in the women’s section of some online store?” jokingly you shouted at him and moved to untie the doc martin’s around his feet. “yeah? You probably did, stole them from that chick that wouldn’t stop hanging off me last month,” both of you laughing at his silliness and falling into a comfortable silence.

The only noise was the voices off the others in the separate room and a recognisable Mötley Crüe song shaking the floor from the stage.

“what you think of tonight then?” the silence being broken by Satori like usual. “uhhh, it was definitely something but yeah, it was fun. Its nice to have a night like that every now and then, specially since we’ve just been in bars doing the same covers for the past two weeks. What about you huh?” he hummed, a noise of agreement showing he was listening, a habit you grew to learn. “I guess it was good fun yeah, although I didn’t appreciate nearly getting hit with a dildo within the first two songs. But I agree, it’s nice to do our own shit and not covers in a bar with a bunch of middle age boring shits. I think we’ve another show that’ll probably be like this again on Saturday.”

Saturday, today was Thursday so you’ve a nice day or two to just lie around, the other probably filled with travelling and setting up.

After about 10 minutes you had unlaced both his boots and chucked them onto the floor and not too long later his ‘borrowed’ pants joined them. “thanks chicken, lifesaver as always,” he pulled you into an embrace with one arm before leaving to find his spare clothes in the other room. He did always have the weirdest nicknames.

The night bled into the early hours of the morning, Semi and Tendou both getting their share of the girls there while you kicked your feet up, sparking up a conversation and passing the joints with your friend Taichi who was also your ‘manager’, he wasn’t really he just acted like it when venues would ask important questions and tagged along for the free show and nights at different clubs.

He was also the one who suggested you start moving to the motel down the street for the night before the venue boots you all out. Quickly you agreed, not fancying seeing any more glimpses of your friends and strangers body parts. Obviously the girls whined to the boys, asking if they could come, saying it’s dangerous for girls to walk home alone at night, “sorry ladies, but we’ll be sharing a bed tonight and I don’t fancy getting an unwanted facial on a Thursday night,” you butted into their persuasive conversation by wrapping an arm around the boys from the back of the couch and giving a friendly smile.

By the time you all got your equipment packed away and into the van it was nearing 4:30 in the morning and you, quite literally we’re going to fall into the bed. It wasn’t the nicest of places but you were just spending tonight and the next two there, unless you decided to go out after the shows and find some rando’s condo to spend the night in. All three of you pushed your way into the small room trying to get the edges of the double bed. And it wasn’t easy trying to squeeze through two 6’2 lean men, resulting in you again stuck in the middle of them staring at the blank roof, desperately waiting for the sun to rise so you could find some place to get food and away from the mess of limbs under the covers.

When you did wake up it felt like you’d only slept for two hours, when in reality it had been about 10. The afternoon sun melting through the old curtains and falling into your pillow. As you moved to see what had finally woke you from the deep sleep you saw Semi at the small table, his guitar resting on his knees and his worn, nimble fingers scribbling words on his notebook he kept for when lyrics would come to him.

“mornin’ early bird,” all you could let out was a groan, your mind still coming to its senses. “there’s food n’ shit there Satori went out to get it, we was the first up, surprisingly,” he breathed out the last remark before moving to pick up the red pencil and get back to writing lyrics before they left his head.

The food that Tendou got was still warm so he must’ve of been up long before you anyway. “where is he?” “beats me, probably wandering round like always,” quickly he responded and took the pic from between his teeth and started strumming a tune while humming, what you were guessing, was the lyrics on the page.

Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you pulled your phone from where it was connected to the wall by the charger and found Satori’s contact and pressed the call icon, moving away from the sound of Eita and his guitar you went to go outside and sit on the bench outside your rooms window.

“hello, hello,” his ever cheerful voice filled the speakers of your phone that was wedged between your shoulder and ear. “hey, I was just calling to see where you are that’s all,” you piped up when he went quiet, tutting when you realised you were out of cigarettes. “oh you know, just out sightseeing ‘tis all,” “cool cool, well i’m going to the store now you need anything?” he hummed into the phone, indicating that he was thinking of something he needed. “just cigs I guess and get me that drink I like while there, i’ll pay you later,” bidding him goodbye as the small shop on the corner came into view you slipped your phone into your sweatpants pocket and walked to the back where they kept the energy drinks.

Exiting the shop with everything you needed you walked to make your way back till you saw a familiar head of red locks across the street and quickly, but quietly made your way to his figure.

Sneaking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his ribs press into your arms, something you’ve noted recently. He sucked air into his lungs and jumped slightly before laughing with you. “here you go your highness,” was how you greeted him and chucked him his requested items. “thanks muffincake, i’ll pay you back later I swear,” you scoffed and shook his offer off, suggesting you stroll around the city until Semi called either of you to ‘get your sorry asses back to the room’.

Your stroll progressed into a very long walk and by the time Satori suggested you head back with an arm around your shoulder it was already dark, the night life staring to come out of hiding. eyeing a club across the street you thought might be a good shout to visit in case you three got bored tonight, making a mental note of its location.

“Didn’t Semisemi say we need to go over the set list again cause, someone, messed up last night,” a sing-song voice dragged you out of your club browsing and brought a scowl to your face. “excuse me, you’re the one who told me we were doing ‘nasty’ after the interlude, prick,” he pulled his chin up and started to ‘think’ about your accusation before loudly dubbing it false; “nope, I don’t recall doing such a thing. I could never, but if it boots your already sky high ego then, of course I did my dearest apologies baby cakes,” “do you ever shut up,” “when i’m face first in pus-” “Don’t even!”

t a g l i s t: @evan-rose @elianetsantana @weebintheinternet @kuroos-roosterhead

please lmk if i missed you if your not there! <3

[itsclydebitches]

I was under the firm belief that if someone was going to call out the group it’d have to be an outside party to avoid hypocrisy. RWBY managed to fuck on both ends. It had Yang, THE WORST OPTION DUE TO HER ACTIONS, do so (now I hate her the most) but then had Ren call them out while actually taking responsibility and had the show shit on him. Like…what the fuck?!

I was of precisely the same mind and that's largely why I was holding out some amount of hope going into Volume 7. Sure, the group's reaction to Ozpin was horrible, Qrow was treated nearly as badly, Maria quickly became a comic relief ally, and thus there are no mentors to pull them back when they decide on an insane plan that tests both the kingdoms' political standings and the lives of everyone in that city. The group screwed up there, plain and simple, and the story put them into a position where there was no one around to reign them in — no one they will listen to, anyway.

But then they're heading to Ironwood! Ironwood, the guy who has been an established ally since the Beacon days. Ironwood, who Qrow personally wrote to explaining what he could in a letter and implying that he'd learn the details of their situation upon arrival. Ironwood, whose city was Ozpin's first choice when the Lamp left its fault and who everyone in the group unanimously decided to seek out, even when Ozpin himself was hated. Surely he'll be the one to set the group right again, starting the process of growth as everyone works through their personal and battle choices of the last volume. Sure, things were dicey when they first arrived, but by the second episode we've established that Ironwood is not hurting Mantle for the hell of it, he has a plan, he trusts the group, and the story even began to acknowledge the seriousness of their actions by showing an arrest. All they need to do is trust Ironwood in turn, kickstarting that reflection. They're no longer wandering the wilderness doing what they please to survive. They're now stationed in what is presented as the strictest kingdom under both the protection and the expectation of a military general with years of experience in this war. They made mistakes while floundering on their own and now need to learn from them in the first structured, mentor-run place since Beacon.

Yeeeeaah.

Instead we have the group's charges immediately ignored, them lying to Ironwood in the same manner Ozpin lied to them, months where they do nothing to try figure out a solution to the Salem problem, or reconcile with Ozpin, they are given licenses without grappling with whether those are deserved given their recent behavior, two of them recklessly trust Robyn in a manner that further betrays Ironwood, they pressure him into telling Mantle about Salem before telling him about her immortality (again, the thing they're furious about), randomly decide to spring that information on him afterwards, turn on him completely when they don't like his solution to an unsolvable crisis but can't think of a better one, beat the Ace Ops into unconsciousness, steal more military property to send out a message that likely caused grimm attacks across the world, sat around in a mansion, and then dumped the entirety of Atlas/Mantle's population in a single location that they know Salem is gunning for after she's been obliterated for a time and they know she's only after the magical objects, not the people. THAT'S SO MUCH. The story never used Ironwood as the mentor figure, deciding to make him a villain instead, and as a result the group got even worse, not better. And then yeah, the writers seemed to realize that they needed to acknowledge this behavior in some manner or another, but who is left to do that? Ozpin is still gone. Qrow is in jail. Maria is the funny grandma on Amity. Ironwood is the bad guy. So they make Ren do it, with Yang on the opposite side, reinforcing both the lack of work done on Ren's part — why is he the one to question all this? Why the loyalty to Ironwood? — as well as the intense hypocrisy of Yang claiming things are as good as they can be when she just accused Ruby of failing them. Then the show goes even further by rejecting Ren's points entirely. Yang's incredibly biased summary of events is taken as fact. Jaune takes her side after getting pissed. Yang turns it into an issue of Ren pushing everyone away. Jaune later reinforces this by claiming he bottles things up too much which, in this context, reads as, "Share your emotions and opinions, but only if they align with ours. Don't bring up things we disagree with, like you just did." Ren 100% understandably goes to get some space and when we next see him he's developed a new aspect of his semblance that oh so conveniently makes him think exactly as Yang and Jaune think. By the time Nora is re-criticizing him for supposedly pushing them away, he agrees entirely that he was an awful teammate, an awful friend, that was the only problem here. But now he's fixed it! Issues resolved.

An established ally, someone who immediately trusts the group, an adult with years of experience as both a huntsmen and a soldier in this war, a city as safe as it can be under these circumstances, a situation that puts the group in Ozpin's shoes... the beginning of Volume 7 was perfectly poised to have an outside party criticizing the group's actions and who they would listen to in order to develop from. The fact that it all fell apart so badly is kind of more frustrating than not having had a chance at that story at all. RWBY never intended to treat the group's actions as anything other than 100% justified and heroic, but sadly that only became obvious after we tossed out all the potential to do otherwise.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Phobia (one-shot)

Pairing: OC (female character) x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: suggestions of smut, violence, language, mentions of blood and gore

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: He found her when she was nothing - disgraced by her family and cast aside as an outsider. Yet, Chan made her feel wanted for the first time in her life, in more ways than one, which leads to countless nights of passionate love...until their worst fears come to fruition. 

A/N: Chan, you will always be a perfect husband to me. Thank you for coming to my short Ted Talk.

This time when he came home, he was covered in blood...

I almost broke down in the foyer at the sight of him, but Chan was quick to reassure me, shaking me by the shoulders as he patiently explained that it wasn’t his blood - there was a shooting at their exchange, but neither Chan nor his men had been injured. Of course, it doesn’t stop me from leading him upstairs, drawing a warm bath in our shared en-suite while fussing over the state of Chan’s suit, or what was left of it. His pale skin was apparent behind the black fabric of his dress pants, and there were long tears in his shirt. 

Needless to say, I threw all of those blood-stained clothes away before urging him into the bathtub, carefully kneeling down onto my knees as I started dragging a soft cloth over his skin. Chan moaned in delight, throwing back his head against the shower tiles while he allowed me to fuss over him - to reassure myself that he was okay, and that the horrific image of my husband standing in front of me drenched in blood was nothing more than a terrible memory.

I softly ran my fingers through his blond-hair, working through the tangles while being mindful of his eyes, using my hand to move his head back when I used a pitcher to wash the shampoo out of his delicate curls. “Hey,” Chan said, voice hoarse from overuse as he watched me drag his hand out of the bath water, working on the dirt and grim under his fingernails. 

I paused when I fingered across his wedding band. “Don’t come home like that ever again.”

I could feel Chan looking at me, and there was a lot of regret in his eyes, but I didn’t feel any remorse over my sharp tone. “I’m sorry, babygirl,” he said. “They were shooting at Felix and I-”

“You don’t have to justify your work to me,” I interrupted him. “I know the risks, but I never want to see something like that when I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chan nodded, and I shifted back when he sat up in the bathtub, allowing sensual rivulets of water to climb down the toned expanse of his chest and stomach. Meanwhile, I used the towel holder to help myself stand up, grabbing a spare towel for Chan, and trying to ignore how red the water remained after my husband had climbed out to wrap the towel around his waist.

Afterward, I allowed Chan some privacy in the bathroom while I returned to our bedroom, crawling into bed while remaining mindful of my stomach - the evidence of life bloating the skin. I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands along the exposed flesh, and I knew that it was bad to feel any kind of stress while I was pregnant. Unfortunately, my husband’s chosen line of work never made things easier.

Eventually, Chan joined me on the bed, leaving the towel hanging loosely from his hips while he shot me a concerned glance. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, and his eyes immediately dropped.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, and I looked over at him as Chan slid one hand around my waist, holding me and our unborn child protectively.

“You’re right about everything, baby girl,” he said. “I’ll never scare you like that again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned him, but Chan shook his head sternly, keeping me close before landing a soft kiss to the edge of my lips.

“I have a lot to clean-up tomorrow,” he said. “Work might take awhile.”

I sighed in return, looking up at the ceiling. “Wake me up before you go.”

Past

When Chan and I first met, his ledger wasn’t nearly as red. He actually served my family, taking on small cases with his friends, Jisung and Changbin, in service to my father. However, he had started to garner a reputation for being a quick hand and a good shot when it came to using guns, and Jisung and Changbin provided the perfect support for their little unit.

My father considered Chan to be one of his favorite apprentices, and he even approved of my early relationship with Chan. Despite my tendency to rebel against my father’s chosen favorites, I couldn’t resist Chan’s dark persona and contagious personality. He could probably talk the wealthiest man into giving away half of his fortune once he listened to Chan’s cunning words. 

On our first date, he showed me how to count cards in the Casino that my father owned, and after only three weeks of dating, he fucked me so hard in the backseat of his car that I saw stars after almost passing out from the pleasure.

We technically met in my father’s office because I had stormed in on one of their meetings unannounced, ready to confront my father because he had forced my youngest brother, Jeongin, to attend some lousy military school. Jeongin had cried for the entirety of the days leading up to his unwanted departure, and I had stood outside on the porch fuming as he was taken away from me.

But my father was really good at screwing over the members of his family, and I had finally had enough of his intervention. However, I also remembered hesitating when I saw Chan standing next to my father’s desk, freshly dyed hair glowing under the Chandelier. “Oh, it’s you,” my father grumbled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said in return, maintaining eye-contact with Chan as I retreated from the office. 

Later that day, I asked my mother about Chan, and she told me that she didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that his parents had been killed in a raid - probably from my father’s doing - and he was serving our family. “Your father seems to like him,” my mother said, and it was only one of the very few times in her life that she had told the truth. 

Thereafter, I developed an unfavorable opinion of Chan since my father liked him, but it didn’t take Chan very long to change my mind and prove me wrong. He wasn’t blindly loyal to the man who destroyed his family - he was cold and methodical, and he told me how he planned to eventually break away from my father and form his own business with Jisung and Changbin. He spoke so passionately that it was hard not to fall in love with the burning look in his dark eyes. 

From then on, we became close to one another, sharing our deepest fears and desires, and we weren’t afraid to demonstrate our affection for one another. I was actually happy for once, which meant that something had to go wrong in my life. And it turned out that one of my father’s business partners was threatening our family because we owed them a lot of money, and my father planned to pay his debt by doing something rather despicable: selling me into their service.

It was humiliating, and I knew exactly what I would become working for a family that was notorious for its influence in the adult entertainment industry. I was enraged that my family would sentence me to that kind of life, but I wasn’t nearly as upset as Chan. We had been together for six months, and Chan had already started to include me in his future plans...the exchange was unacceptable.

So, on the night when my family planned to sell me to their rivals, Chan and I drove away in one of the cars that we stole from my father, bringing along Jisung and Changbin who fired off rounds of bullets from the windows as we escaped into the solitude of the night. Consequently, my family disowned me, snatching my last name and removing me from the family tree. But it never concerned me, especially when Chan offered me his last name instead, vowing his loyalty by exchanging intimate vows and marrying me on a warm, spring afternoon. When he fucked me that same night, he whispered sweet little nothings that contradicted the filthy way that his hips moved against mine, driving his cock deep inside.

After that, the two of us were inseparable - a dynamic duo that was ready to take the underground mafia world by storm...

Present

Before the sun had completely risen, Chan was stumbling out of bed with exhaustion written across his wearied countenance. I watched him move around the room, admiring the hard planes of his back as he dressed himself in the usual combination of black dress pants and a white button-up shirt. Chan claimed that it was important to look his best when it involved meeting with our rivals.

I closed my eyes when he neared my bedside, and I could feel him leaning down to press soft kisses to my forehead, fingers trailing across my stomach before he was leaving our bedroom with a heavy sigh. I swallowed hard against a sudden wave of emotions, remembering his appearance from the previous night, and the same restless anxiety managed to bleed its way around my heart.

Graciously, I managed to eventually fall back asleep, but it was only for a few hours because I was brought back to reality by the sound of the fire alarm blaring throughout the house. I groaned in complaint, throwing off the sheets before grabbing my dress robes and trudging downstairs. 

As I grew closer to the commotion, I could hear two men loudly arguing from one of the adjoining rooms, attempting to be heard over the sound of the annoying alarm. When I walked into the kitchen, I wrinkled my nose at the burning smell from the stove, waving my hand to clear the smoke. And standing at the center of the drama was Chan’s younger brother, Felix, as he engaged in a heated argument with my brother, Jeongin. “It’s your fault!” I heard Felix say. “You can’t cook bacon like that!”

“I told you to watch the pan!” Jeongin retaliated, and I rolled my eyes at their immature behavior.

“Hey!” I yelled, forcing both of them to pause. “Can you seriously not do this right now?”

Felix was the first to notice me, pointing an accusing finger at Jeongin. “Hey, he started it!”

I closed my eyes. “How old are you again?”

It was a surprise to me that they had both managed to live with us this long without engaging in more than just verbal altercations. After Chan and I rescued Jeongin from his cruel military academy, my husband invited him to join the organization. At first, I was hesitant of the decision, but Chan never invited Jeongin out on missions with them. Instead, he and Felix did most of the reconnaissance work from behind the scenes, and Jeongin was remarkably good with computers. Maybe he wasn’t on par with Felix’s hacking skills, but my younger brother continued to expand his skill set because she was determined to be the best.

Unfortunately, working in close proximity to one another on a regular basis inevitably led to numerous arguments. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, and neither Jeongin nor Felix was capable of flexibility, especially when it meant admitting that they were wrong. So, they often argued over trivial things, and I was usually left around to mend their bruised egos.

But a cooking dispute? At this hour? I shook my head because I didn’t have the patience to deal with them. “Leave the pan and go upstairs. I’ll take care of everything.”

Felix and Jeongin shot each other nasty glares as they obeyed, and I waited until they were gone before opening the windows in the kitchen and resetting the fire alarm. Finally, I turned my attention to the mess on the stove, cleaning with an exaggerated sigh. It was moments like this that made me long for the days when I used to accompany Chan on some of his missions...

Past

Chan only ever brought me along with him when he felt that a situation was incapable of turning violent, and he liked having me around to distract lesser men as he talked them into agreeing with anything that he said. I, of course, liked being helpful to my husband, and I always played my part well. For example, dressing in low-cut affairs that tended to produce insatiable responses from my husband who loved to drag me into his lap.

It made me feel powerful, arching my back as Chan ran one of his hands down my waist. “Look at your tits,” Chan said, stroking his fingers across the swell of my breasts. “Gorgeous.”

I beamed at his compliment, allowing him to handle as he liked while Chan turned to finally address the impatient man sitting across from us. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all night,” the man said with a challenging stare.

“My apologies,” Chan smirked. “I’ve been rather busy.”

“I can see that,” the man said, but his smirk suggested that he wasn’t entirely understanding of Chan’s delayed commitment. Apparently, Chan was trying to sign some kind of arms deal with him, and my husband was very greedy when it came to our money. 

“I have my price listed,” Chan said, shoving the contract at the other man. “You can sign at the bottom.”

“Isn’t this a bit cheap?” the man asked. “The cost of labor alone is barely covered by your...generous offering.”

“It’s my final compromise,” Chan said, feigning boredom as he tugged at the neckline of my dress. “What do you say?”

“How about one night with your whore?” the man asked, leaning in across the table to reveal two rows of slimy teeth.

Immediately, I could feel the way that Chan tensed from underneath me, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. “I hope you’re not referring to my wife.”

The man chuckled. “What difference does it make?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, and I saw a myriad of emotions reflected in his narrowed eyes. “Baby girl,” he eventually said while looking at me. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks?”

I nodded my head, scrambling to find my footing as I left the comfort of Chan’s lap to retrace my steps to the bar at the opposite end of the club. The bartender recognized me, sliding two beers in my direction with a smile before sending me on my way.

However, I suddenly paused when I started to approach our table, realizing that Chan had wanted to keep me away for a valid reason. He had also drawn a crowd of onlookers who watched as my husband smashed our target’s face into a pile of broken glass on the table. There was already so much blood, and Chan’s eyes were wild with his rage. He was also flanked by Jisung and Changbin whose fingers wrapped around the handles of their weapons. “You learned a lesson tonight, didn’t you?” Chan growled, grabbing the man by his collar to toss him into the floor. I winced when Chan’s heeled boot pressed down against the man’s throat, and his hands immediately wrapped themselves around my husband’s leg as he choked. 

There was every reason to feel horrified, watching my husband handle a man with so much violence while surrounded by blood and gore. But I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I smiled as I stood aside with our drinks, watching the action unfold with greedy eyes.

Present

It was late, and I could feel myself growing anxious. I passed the time by pacing the floor, resisting the urge to run into the other room and demand an update from Jeongin and Felix. They were playing a pivotal role in tonight’s mission, and they didn’t need my distraction.

But I could tell that something was wrong. The clock was ticking away loudly in the background, and every instinct was screaming at me to call my husband and demand his whereabouts. “Come on,” I muttered, hugging my arms around my stomach as I was prone to do these days.

Sleep wasn’t an option. Becaus my mind was a chaotic mess of restless thoughts and horrible scenarios flashing across my eyes. What if something bad happened to Chan?

I couldn’t stand it anymore. He had always promised me that he would come home, but it felt shallow on nights like this. Because life never promised any guarantees, especially when you put yourself in harms way on a regular basis.

I was approaching my wits end when Jeongin burst into my room with wide eyes. “What is it?” I snapped at him, allowing my frustration to boil over like a steaming kettle.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jeongin said, and he somehow managed to catch me before I collapsed in the floor.

Past

But I suddenly couldn’t breathe, looking down at the seemingly mundane object in my hand. It was forecasting a fate that neither Chan nor myself had planned for our future. Something that could be dangerous in our world, and I already feared for my unborn child’s life.

However, it wasn’t something that I could hide - a secret to hold onto because it wouldn’t bear any consequences. This changed everything, and I had no idea how to tell Chan when I saw him later that evening. We had plans to have dinner together, and he looked divine as always, dressed impeccably with his hair slicked back, and perhaps to anyone else he would appear perfectly put together. But I knew better than most.

“How was work?” I asked, staring down at my dinner plate because I had lost my appetite.

“It was fine,” Chan said, shoveling another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth like it was his last meal on Earth. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“Not much,” I said, hesitating as I looked down at the pregnancy test in my lap. “Felix kept me entertained.”

“As long as he’s staying out of trouble,” Chan said, reclining back in his chair as he looked at me from over the table. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my tone was quiet and uncertain, but Chan must’ve had a billion other thoughts on his mind because he didn’t comment on my mood.

“I’m not busy tomorrow,” Chan said. “We can do whatever you want.”

It made my heart swell with affection to hear him say that since I knew that he was either lying or exaggerating. Because Chan never had any free time. “Channie,” I started, “I have something to tell you.”

Chan adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms. “What is it?”

I bit my tongue, wrapping my fingers around the pregnancy test as I carefully brought it onto the table. There were so many ways that I could tell him, but nothing seemed to sound correct inside my head, and I was fumbling with an explanation. However, when I met Chan’s sweet smile and kind eyes, I managed to latch onto an inkling of confidence, finding my voice the longer we continued to look at one another. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered to Chan, watching him carefully as he listened.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I would’ve never noticed if I wasn’t paying such close attention. But then he noticed the test I had brought resting on top of the table. “It was positive,” he said, almost like an observation.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod, waiting with bated breath as he folded his arms across his chest - and it was a vulnerable position.

Eventually, Chan stood up from the table, and I shivered when I thought that he might leave the room, but he instead came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “We’ll make it work, baby girl,” he said, holding me like I was something fragile that he needed to protect. There were tears in my eyes before I could hold them back, and Chan was kneeling on the floor and looking at me with so much love. “I’m gonna give you the world,” he promised, and it was a solemn declaration, sealed with a kiss to my shirt-covered stomach.

Present

Time was a social construct, and we can feel its effects most profoundly in the moments when it feels like it might run out before we can do anything to stop the inevitable. In desperation, we struggle to breach the surface of the water and take a much-needed deep breath - but there’s only so much that we can do for the things beyond our control. Yet, we still try to remedy them, and I found myself pacing anxiously outside of his hospital room, ignoring the suggestions from his other members to relax and sit down. Because my mind was incapable of settling down, and I could only chant the words, he can’t die, as they repeated over and over again inside my head, remembering how the doctor looked at me when I confronted him.

“We’ll do the best we can,” the doctor had told me, but it wasn’t good enough.

I was on the edge of total self-destruction, and maybe it was the first time that I finally realized just how affected I would be without Chan. Because the world would be so cold without him next to my side, and I couldn’t bear the thought of facing that oblivion of darkness.

He had to keep living for me...

“Mrs. Bang,” a nurse said, pulling my attention to the smiling woman approaching me. “You can see him now.”

I sniffled and nodded, following the nurse as she led me to Chan’s room, feeling my heart grow lighter with every step in the right direction. Until I was confronted with Chan’s familiar presence, watching me from his hospital bed, and I was on cloud nine as I rushed to him. Wrapping my arms around him as I cried softly into his shoulder. “Channie,” I whimpered, pulling back to press my lips against his for the necessary reassurance of his touch.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

I shook my head because the fear was still there - lingering at the edges of my subconscious, acting as a reminder of the utter dread that I had experienced when Jeongin first told me that Chan was somewhere I never wanted to see him. “I thought you were gone,” I whispered, grabbing his hands to ground myself in this reality with Chan, surviving the impossible for another day. “This is my worst fear, Chan,” I continued. “That you won’t come home, and our kid will grow up without their father.”

Chan sighed, and I noticed that his eyes were swollen around the rims, and there were unshed tears waiting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It can’t happen again,” I told him sternly, hoping I looked more fierce than I felt on the inside. Because Chan needed to be explicitly told these things in the only way that he would understand.

“I’ll always do my best for you,” he said, and I realized that his tone was thick with emotion and the unsaid words between us that we were both still too afraid to vocalize.

“I love you, Chan,” I said. “I know you like the work that you do, but I think it might be time to take on less responsibilities.”

“You’re right,” he said, looking up at me with a sad smile. “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I just need you,” I said, allowing him to pull me onto the bed next to him, and we both savored the silence humming throughout the room and the familiar presence of the person who we needed more than anything else in this cruel world. 

[uchihasakurawrites]

Of T-Shirts and Monsoons

Rating: T for language

Summary: In which Sasuke proposes to a fuming Sakura in a cave in the middle of Rain. 

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been about seven years since I last wrote for this fandom (or wrote creatively at all, really). This random idea popped into my head while I was watching old SasuSaku AMVs, and I just thought I’d go for it! I have a few ideas for longer SasuSaku fics, so I wanted to test out a few drabbles/oneshots to shake off some of the rust since it’s been a while. Let me know what you think! Also feel free to send prompts my way. This was done in about an hour, but I hope you enjoy~

Cross posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

___________________________________

Sakura was fuming as she stomped into the cave, ignoring Sasuke’s wary gaze as she slung her pack to the ground with enough force to create fine cracks in the stone beneath it. She stripped out of her blood-and-rain soaked jonin vest and tossed it equally as haphazardly to the side, not sparing a glance to where it landed with a decided thwack. Sasuke rubbed the bridge of his nose and made quick work of using a small katon to set a small fire in the back of the cave. Typically, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of attracting unwanted attention, but he figured the benefits of not having to deal with an angry and cold Sakura were decidedly worth dispatching any rogues that were foolish enough to have followed them. Not that he and Sakura had left any of the nin in a state to pursue them, he thought with a smirk.

“Stupid Rain with it’s stupid freak monsoons and stupid rogue nin who ambush anything that fucking moves through their ‘territory.’ Sure, take out the fact that you’re bored in a time of peace out on civilians who can’t fight back.”

The clang of Sakura’s weapons pouch against the cave wall punctuated her impatience with the recent trend of rogue bands staking claim to smaller civilian towns and merchant paths. They’d managed to defend three different merchant caravans and liberated two villages from rogues in the past month and a half alone. She didn’t mind helping the civilians, of course, but why couldn’t these rogues get it through their skulls that this was peace time? She just wanted a little peace, dammit!

Sasuke crouched down next to his own pack to dig out a spare change of clothes. After just over a year and a half of traveling together, he was more than used to Sakura’s flinty temper and knew she would tire herself out soon. Best to keep out of it.

Sakura dropped to the ground to hunt for a clean shirt of her own. She pulled out shirt after shirt, noting with growing frustration that each was either covered in blood, lacerations, or sand. If she ever saw another grain of sand, it would be far too soon. A growl tore from the back of her throat.

“Stupid Suna with it’s stupid sand. Why the hell can’t some other village have poison experts so I don’t have to trudge through the damned desert just to collaborate on our new Inter-Village Poison Center? Who the fuck even came up with that idea?” Sasuke sent her a pointed look, knowing full well that she had fully supported Shizune’s initiative, which Sakura missed. “And why the hell can’t an epidemic break out in, I don’t know, the Land of Tea and not the middle of fucking Rain? At least then-”

Sakura nearly choked when she glanced up  just in time to see Sasuke pull off his rain-soaked shirt and wring it out. No matter how long they spent together or how intimate they became, Sakura’s mind never failed to short-circuit at the sight of Sasuke’s bare skin. It didn’t matter where or how much - one glimpse, and her mind checked out. Although he would never express it outright, Sakura surmised that Sasuke knew exactly what his body did to her and used it to his advantage - say, when he was trying to distract her from a particularly troublesome conversation or train of thought.

It worked more often then she cared to admit.

Her sharp eyes caught the way Sasuke shifted his weight away from his left side as he moved to pull on a fresh shirt - crisp black with the Uchiha fan emblazoned proudly on the back. After a brief moment admiring his figure before it was hidden by the fabric, Sakura frowned at the inflammation beginning to flare up around his ankle. She cleared her throat and motioned for him to come over, tirade momentarily forgotten. Kami knows Sasuke would never admit that he had lost his footing for a moment during their earlier confrontation, unused to fighting on branches that had been rotted through from near-constant rain, and actually ask her to heal him. He’d become much more willing to allow her to heal him after a particularly difficult fight, but it was rare for him to outright ask for her assistance. She usually offered before he needed to.

She met his withering look with a hard gaze of her own.

“You,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, and he raised a brow, “stop being a stubborn ass and sit.” She motioned to the spot next to her with a touch more force than necessary. Sasuke didn’t budge and continued to ruffle through his pack. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Sasuke-kun, --”

With a sigh, Sasuke fixed Sakura with a stern look and tossed her one of his extra shirts before coming to sit next to her. Laying a hand on Sakura’s shoulder, he formed the tiger seal to send a small katon over her skin to dry off the remnants of water that clung to her skin and hair. His jaw tightened at the blue-purple tint her lips had begun to take in the chill. A smile worked its way onto Sakura’s face when she realized the telltale signs of concern in his posture as he hovered near her.

“Change, Sakura. Then heal.”

His gaze dropped pointedly below her chin, and Sakura’s cheeks heated as she followed his eyes and realized her state of undress. Over the course of her rant, she had stripped down to her chest bindings and fitted shorts. Although Sasuke had seen her in far less, embarrassment washed through her as she scrambled to unfold the shirt he had tossed to her.

Her demeanor shifted when she went to slip it on. Sasuke glanced over when he felt Sakura stiffen at his side, brow furrowing when he noted the pensive look on Sakura’s features. Her eyes, previously a battle-worn seafoam green, took on a deeper, more thoughtful jade. She snagged her lip between her teeth, and Sasuke glanced down to see her fingers gently tracing the outline of the Uchiha fan printed on the back of the shirt.

 Spine going rigid, Sasuke wracked his brain for the other instances Sakura had borrowed clothes from his pack - a shirt here, a poncho there. Her hands-on approach to fighting combined with the blood, bile, and poison that came with being a medic meant that her clothes tended to ruin more quickly than his. The sight of her rummaging through his pack for a spare change of clothes was a familiar one. What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that Sakura was always careful to select one of the few articles of clothing he carried that didn’t carry his clan’s symbol. He kept a few basics on hand just in case they needed to be incognito through a town that was still hostile towards the Leaf.

His mind jumped to the easiest explanation he could think of for her hesitation: she was ashamed. Not that he blamed her for wanting to distance herself from his clan’s marred legacy, but the very thought lit a fire in his veins that had him pulling away from her. Anger and bitterness combined with a pang of disappointment that he didn’t particularly want to address.

Sakura started, broken from her thoughts as she took note of Sasuke’s sudden change in demeanor. It was a testament to the time she had spent becoming attuned to the small giveaways of Sasuke’s emotions that she pieced two-and-two together. His flinty eyes shifted between the shirt in her hands and the cave wall as he refused to look at her.

With another quiet smile, Sakura carefully folded the shirt, laid it on top of her pack, and moved to stand next to Sasuke. She could feel some of the tension leave him when her shoulder brushed his, but his eyes remained stony.

“Sasuke-kun.” She waited for a moment before his gaze flickered down to hers, hoping that the softness in her own gaze would convey whatever she wasn’t able to in words. She placed a gentle hand on his bicep, hoping to ground him as she mulled over her words. Talking about the Uchiha Clan with Sasuke took a delicate touch, a touch she had learned after a short but explosive period of trial and error.

“Sasuke-kun, your clan’s history has nothing to do with why I won’t wear the Uchiha fan. Your legacy is a part of you, and I love you. All of you. Even the darkest parts that you don’t think love can reach. You know I’m damn persistent, and if I can wait this long to get you to accept that I love you, then I can wait as long as you need me to before you accept that that includes everything about you.”

She took a deep breath, averting her own eyes now that he had fixed her with an unreadable gaze of his own.

“Even if you won’t outright admit it, I know that your clan is precious to you. I’ve watched you carve the clan’s symbol into your kunai every time you replenish your stock. And I’m not an Uchiha, Sasuke-kun, so wearing the clan’s symbol - even casually like this, just feels like I’m not giving it the honor it deserves.”

Silence. Sakura was used to silence from Sasuke, and had learned how to interpret his different silences. There were the more distraught, brooding ones that required a bright, calming touch and the occasional pouty silence after she had smiled just a touch too openly at a flirty cashier; the explosive silences that she usually drew him into a spar during to release some energy and the frustrated, yet concerned silence when he thought she was too reckless in a battle.

This seemed to be one of his thoughtful silences - one that she didn’t feel she should interrupt. Noting with no small amount of satisfaction that most of the rigidity had melted away from his body, Sakura moved to turn back towards her pack.

“As for clothes, I’m sure I can put together something for tonight, so don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sure there’s a little merchant town not to far from here that we can stop by tomorrow to stock up on some new -”

Sakura swallowed her words as a cool hand enclosed her wrist and tugged her back. Her eyes widened when she found herself pressed to Sasuke’s chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her back. While Sakura was no stranger to small acts of affection from Sasuke - a forehead poke here and a sleepy  arm around her waist there - it was incredibly rare for him to initiate a hug. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count the number of times he had hugged her on one hand.

“Sa-Sasuke-kun?”

He huffed into her hair, something between a laugh or a sigh - she couldn’t quite tell. So she simply decided to remain quiet, tracing her fingertips along his back as she waited for him to voice his thoughts. She swore Sasuke Uchiha was going to be the death of her when he spoke again and she quite literally choked.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet that Sakura nearly convinced herself that they were a figment of her imagination. A statement, not a request. She pulled back slightly, wide eyes meeting Sasuke’s steady gaze.

“W-What?”

Sakura winced as soon as she asked the question, knowing Sasuke loathed repeating himself (though it was a well-kept secret that Sasuke didn’t mind repeating himself for her and her alone). But surely he couldn’t hold it against her given the situation. He simply sighed at her request, arching a brow that said he knew that she had clearly heard him yet repeated himself anyways.

“Marry me and wear the damn shirt, Sakura.”

When she continued to stand in front of him with nothing more than a shocked stare, Sasuke huffed again and half-rolled his eyes in a rare display of amusement. Tonight seemed to be a night for rare occasions, it seemed.

Sidestepping Sakura’s frozen form, he retrieved his spare shirt from its place on Sakura’s pack, unfolded it, and gently worked it over her head. A warm glow replaced the earlier fire in his veins as Sakura came to and allowed her arms to be guided into the shirt’s sleeves.

Sasuke spent a minute admiring the fan on her back, pride burning in his chest at the thought of Sakura as the Uchiha matriarch. A small part of him idly wondered if his mother would be pleased to see her position passed on to Sakura. He liked to think she would.

Sakura turned towards him, feeling a tug in her chest at the vulnerability in Sasuke’s expression. She wasn’t sure what kind of proposal she had expected from Sasuke - hell, she hadn’t even been certain she should expect one at all. At least, not for a while. She certainly hadn’t imagined one of the happiest moments of her life to come in the middle of a freezing cave in Rain after treating a minor epidemic, getting ambushed by a plucky squad of overambitious rogue nin, and nearly drowning in a monsoon.

So yes, she hadn’t expected a proposal to come in this type of situation, but she had known her answer to this question for nearly a decade.

“Yes.”

[guigz1-coldwar]

'A ghost in town': New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

'A ghost in town'

"Question...is your turtleneck good-looking enough for me or not, Park?

Chapter Summary: Yirina & Park are both surprised & shocked to learn that Harry Stone that they killed in Cuba 2 months ago wasn't dead at all as another surprise awaits for them...

Link of the Picrew used !

To read it on AO3, click here!

Words : +3200

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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Harry Stone...If there were a name that we didn't want to talk or even heard now was this particular one but this is what came out of Park's lips after she hanged up the phone, looking at me with the most confused face I could have ever seen and me, I was following the same mood inside of me, shocked & confused at hearing this. I didn't see happen but it was clear, Park, me & SAS lived what happened that day in Cuba, I'm the one pulling the trigger on Stone's gun who killed him, and....how he can be alive? I shot him!

I think I never saw Park standing up from her seat in a fast move, her chair hitting the wall behind it almost brutally while she took back her jacket and quickly walked out of the room with me, trying to copy her moves. It was better for me that I don't speak at all during the whole walk as looking at her, seeing her fists clench all along the way, almost ready to punch anyone that was going to step in front of her, and frankly, I prefer to not be that person.

She was walking this fast that around the hallways of the building to join Zasha's team office that it was sort of exhausting, her not stopping at all or taking a simple breath to calm herself down with me and it's with that attitude that when we arrived in front of the door leading to our destination, she opened the door widely, nearly at the point that she could have removed the door from its frame.

"You better hope that's a joke, Sarah!" She started, her hand pointing towards Sarah who was standing near Peter's desk, him sitting on his chair as Zasha & Portnova were here too, waiting for us, and leaned against the front Sarah's own desk. "I don't like to joke on that," She added.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything funny, miss Park," Sarah defended herself, putting her hands above her heart.

"You don't know how much I'm not that pleased to hear that, if it's a joke, it's not fucking funny," Park warned her, sounding very serious, a voice that could kill everyone around her...including me.

"Calm down, Park," I suggested, stepping between the two in the case as Park wasn't removing her angered face against Sarah, having to put my hands on her chest to make her fall back. "Anger isn't helping, calm down, okay?" I said, looking at her but that face wasn't getting away.

"Yirina, it ain't a joke at all," Zasha's voice intervened, making me turn my head around to see them crossing their arms as Portnova had her both hands together. "She showed us the proofs," They added, gesturing with their head towards Sarah.

"Is it right?" I asked nonetheless to Sarah, keeping Park under control, calmer than her.

"Miss Grigoriev, what we got isn't making us laugh," Peter spoke up, tapping his finger on his desk at a slower pace.

"I saw it happened: I shot Stone in the shoulder through mine," I protested, seeing him looking down at his hands.

"That wasn't Stone at Cuba, miss Grigoriev," Sarah called me out as she handed to me a medical report of Stone when his body was taken from the Cuban compound. "Here's one of the proofs we got," I took her file in my hands, checking up, and by looking at it, everything was looking clean.

"What's wrong with that?" I demanded, confused as I gave gently the report to Park who looked it up.

"You didn't see what was wrong with it?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms at me as the others were staying silent to me & Park as if they wanted us to guess the answer on our own.

"The blood type..." Park muttered in a low voice as she lowered the report in her hands along with her body slides. "We didn't even check the bloody blood type," She continued, sniffing away in anger before she throws hardly the report on the ground, the others not moving an inch from their positions.

"The blood type?" I narrowed my eyes, avoiding the report at my feet, to look at Sarah.

"Stone's blood type is O+, this report said that it's A-," Portnova was the one who gave me the answer. "The person that you killed in Cuba wasn't Stone but a double," She continued, going off the desk but staying near Zasha.

"Even if we did multiple checks, that detail managed to be hidden," Zasha told us, the palms of their hands moving to grab the side of the desk they were leaned on. "We send a copy of this to the director but also the SAS,"

"How did you discover it?" Park demanded, seemingly calm in her voice but I prefer to stay near her in case, seeing her fists still clenched.

"I was crossing around some report until I was given something," She replied, Portnova putting her hands on Sarah's desk to grab something and gave it to me, it was an envelope...'For the Majesty's Secret Services from Perseus'...that was marked on it with a marker pen, and then, I took my hand inside the envelope and take out a picture. "That's what makes me curious," My eyes went wide at seeing that picture in black & white.

On it, we could see Lukas Ritter but he wasn't alone at all. Near him, a man was wearing some glasses with a sort of leather jacket, hands up pointing towards Lukas and..the third man was none other than Stone himself, wearing the very same military outfit he was always having in those pictures of him each time my eyes were on them...but also in the memories he was involved in. The picture was having a date on it, it was taken one day ago...in London.

I kept the picture in my hands as I showed it to Park who wanted to take it inside her hands but she was looking ready to tear it apart, judging by the face she was making. I even had to get my right hand on her left shoulder to keep her calm at the moment before she took a deep breath, looking away from me and the others to sit on a chair that was near Peter's office.

"The MI6 wasn't the only one that was sent that picture," Sarah explained as I gave her back the picture. "We've got a phone call from the MI5, saying that they received it too," She added, moving to get back to her desk, Zasha & Portnova moving aside to be next to Zasha's office door.

"When Sarah received that, we decided to check up everything we got on Stone and we found a lot of things with him," Peter elaborated, getting himself well in his seat. "We concluded that Stone is still alive,"

"Yes, that's mean he's becoming again a priority," Zasha breathed, scratching the back of their head, looking at my feet. "That shit...dammit," They cursed.

"Did you know anything about a double, Portnova?" I asked Portnova, knowing that she was the third one in the room that could tell us more about him since she worked with him in her time in Perseus.

"No, that's the first time I heard of it," She responded in a serious voice, shaking her head as her hands were on her waist. "That wasn't something we would have heard of, Stone always been a man making his things away," She commented.

"That's always been like him," Park's muffled voice was heard through the palm of her hands as she was holding her face. "Faking his death, I know that and he did the trick again," She stated.

"How's that?" Peter questioned her with curiosity.

"One year ago, we got signs of a criminal mastermind in Leningrad and I was sent there to investigate," Park started, removing her hands away from her face as she slowly turned her head around to look back at everyone. "Stone was at that time, hidden under the nickname 'Janus' and he knows that I was going to be the one that the MI6 will send," She sighed before going up from her, rather better than a few minutes ago. "He made his revelation to me...and since, he became one of the MI6 top targets until we ended him...until now,"

"How a man like him can always escape from us?" Peter demanded, sounding & looking confused.

"Because he's thinking higher than us, that's the thing," I answered like that to him, crossing my arms and walking to lean myself on one of the walls of the big office. "I know him too and he wasn't very friendly, thinking for his own," I complained, biting with my teeth the left part of my bottom lip, a bit distraught by that news as I lean my back against the wall near the door leading to the hallway outside. "Apart from that, any other bad news?" I asked.

"We finally found who was this I.B from the transmissions," Zasha exclaimed, getting mine & Park's attention to them who gestured towards Sarah with their head.

"Name's Ingo Beck, a former operative of the Diensteinheit IX turned Perseus agent years ago in 1981," Sarah replied, adding to her words, tapping on another file looking like records as Park moved to get to it. "Said to be an explosives expert with a big sense of humor," She scoffed, her tone not looking funny for Park who looked at her with a deadly glare. "And...Uhm...he seems to be involved personally with Stone,"

"So, our I.B was an East-German operative...like Ritter," Park whispered, her eyes on the file.

"We discovered it inside another envelope that we received," Peter spoke up, grabbing another envelope on his desk and he showed it to us...'From a friend, take care of it'...this time marked with a red pen. "We make some research about it but nothing about who has sent this one...and the other one,"

"Nothing?" I said.

"Nothing at all, Yirina," Zasha responded at me, shrugging. "I tried to..." They tried to say before they were cut by the sound that was coming inside their office. "Wait, I think that someone's calling me," They thought before they moved to walk away, opening the door of their office and closing it behind them.

"Perseus sent to the MI6 and the MI5, picture of Stone to taunt us that he isn't dead and in London...and someone else sends to us, a file explaining who is this mysterious I.B," I basically resumed the entire situation now, actually trying to figure out anything wrong from it. "Dammit, how is this fucking possible? What Perseus is planning?"

"A lot of inexplicable things," Peter suggested, raising his shoulders.

"Petrov trying to kill me, sending Ritter & Beck in London and now with Stone, something's big is going to happen," Portnova recalled us, making a brief resume of the situation...now much worse than we thought. "In two words, we're in deep troubles,"

"Soon, the whole MI6 & MI5 will be on high alert so..." Peter talked until he was cut off by Zasha's door getting opened, having finished their call apparently.

"Yirina, Park, you're needed," They said and the first thing we did was to look at them with narrowed eyes, surprised. "A CIA agent is awaiting in your office right now," They added and by that, I was immediately having my blood froze in place...fearing the worst.

"Did he tell his name?" Park asked, eyes on me but her voice directed to them.

"Said he goes by 'Alex', that's all," They responded before Park passed her hands through her hair as I took a relieving breath...not so relieving after hearing that a CIA agent was in our office.

"Shit, we're going, we're talking about that later," Park sighed before she decided to walk away from the office, following her and leaving the others.

If the day wasn't going to be shitty enough, learning that Stone was still alive after all and that mission in Cuba, discovering the true identity of 'I.B', there was now a CIA agent that was inside on our own office just above us and even if it wasn't Hudson or even Adler, questions were flowing in me & Park, wondering what's the CIA is doing in London and why they wanted to see us in particular...maybe me...

Park was seeming calmer in appearance but deep inside of me, I knew that she was very tense that her anger could maybe appear again at any moment, it was like the first time I saw her angry like that...it was the first time I really saw her angry after all and I wasn't confused about it, knowing the history between her & Stone, that anger was understandable for me but now, is that meeting with this CIA agent was going to be good or wrong?

When we approached our office, the door was already widely opened, two men who were wearing the same type of clothes as Adler and guarding our own office, making us feel that we weren't at Century House in here. When the agents saw us arrived, they let us pass and we could see a man that was a bit taller than us, waiting near Park's desk, his face with some scars on his left part.

"You must be the famous Helen Park," The man started, his eyes focusing towards Park and his voice not looking very...happy.

"Yes, and you?" She asked, a bit curious.

"I'm Aleksander Smirnoff...but for you both, call me 'Alex'," He replied as I moved to offer my hand for a shake, staying polite above all but instead, he refused to hand over his hand to me. "I'm sorry but not shaking with woman, I don't like that," He told us.

"And why that?" I narrowed my eyes to him, getting my hand back along with my slides. *

"Because I have my reasons, that's all," He responded in a harsh tone, looking at Park with a deadly glare as she was moving at the other side of her desk, causing him to move away from it and getting next to me. "You know why I'm here, right?" He demanded to both of us.

"No, it wasn't said to us," I answered, crossing my arms as I lean against my desk, Park sitting in her chair.

"Well, to start, we got wind that one of the MI6 top targets faked his death," He revealed in a normal voice, getting his hands around his waist.

"Uhm...how did you know that?" Park questioned him, surprised that the CIA was already aware of the situation along with me.

"It was pretty simple: the CIA has ears & eyes everywhere in London," He said, turning around to look at me with a not trustful look.

"You, in the CIA, can't avoid spying on your own allies...typical," I mumbled, finding this type of move very something that the CIA is doing everywhere....fucking typical. "You'll never change, that's for sure," I added.

"Maybe what we're doing is to make sure that Perseus isn't making his moves everywhere, we're working with our allies, not spying on them, that's different," He corrected me but I was unconvinced by them, used to the CIA's lies against me. "Oh...you must be Yirina Grigoriev...the one that we call...

"Don't say that name," Park called him out, pointing her left index finger at him.

"Always been like that, miss Park," He sighed, looking at her with desperation. "Was it with that attitude that you caused the death of some of my friends in the CIA months ago?" He asked in a normal voice, pointing at her.

"What are you telling right now, Alex?" She demanded, her hands on the armrests of her chair, looking ready to get up very fast.

"Are you the woman who likes to..." He stopped himself to look at me with a smile. "Well...to play & manipulate like a little witch?" He finished his question and that wasn't something I liked and her too, going up from her seat to reach him.

"Park, don't," I stepped myself in front of her, putting my hand against her chest again to stop her in her walk, her fist already clenched for a punch. "He's trying to make you angry, don't cross that line, please," I pleaded, saying it silently at her, looking at her.

"Yiri, if you just..."

"Don't, please," I cut her gently in her words, pleading again, my hand feeling like struggling to stop her to move forwards in her path.

"You can hold her as much as you want, ain't going to stop her," Alex added in a normal voice again.

"If you can just stop what you're doing, it will help," I advised him, feeling inside of me that I could be like Park and doing it by myself. "Why are you here, to be frank with us?" I asked him finally, not looking at him.

"I'm here because I wanted to remind you of things," He started, hearing him walk away as Park was not removing her eyes from him, allowing him to know where he was in the room. "The CIA will be working on Stone, pleasing you or not," He said.

"I thought that you will stay focus on Perseus at Verdansk, right?" I muttered, finally turning my head around and keeping my left hand on Park.

"Let's just say that Stone's sudden reappearance did make us willing to make what you weren't able to do," He sounded a bit joking in his voice, feeling Park's chest struggling to get away from me. "And besides, you both are still under our watch as we're now chasing a ghost in town,"

"What do you mean?" I mumbled, narrowing my eyes at him as he was going to walk away from the office, standing in front of the door.

"As I said, the CIA has ears & eyes everywhere in London," He told us, making us remember his words earlier before he decided to get out of our office, his presumed friends guarding the door following him until they disappear from our sight.

"You should have let me hit him," Park suggested in a serious voice, her right hand moving gently above my left one.

"It wasn't going to help you and you're not the only one who resisted about it," I then move my hand away from her chest before looking down at our feet, a bit confused. "I don't want to see you angry, that's it," I whispered.

"I'm sorry, it's just..."

"Don't tell me, it was just to test your nerves, it's okay," I exclaimed, cutting her again gently. "With what we heard & learned, I can understand your anger," I continued, taking a deep breath while staying at the same spot. "Listen, this situation isn't really good but we're going to make sure that things came back right...including putting Stone back where he belongs," I proclaimed, passing my right hand through my redhead's hair.

"I know, we should stay calm...I should stay calm, maybe some coffee will help," She proposed and I nodded, looking back at her with a little smile on my face. "Do you want one?" She demanded at me.

"As it's nearly noon, we can maybe go out with Zasha & Portnova for lunch," I suggested to her and she nodded too, looking at her watch and seeing that it was almost noon, as I said to her. "If we can just go out and try to depressure a bit, it can be better, right?" She nodded again, a smile forming on her lips as I was wondering where we could go...

"Why don't we go to a Burger Town?"

[littlespoonevan]

listen!!! ian/mickey/mandy was my original brot3 i had to bring her back!!!!! i hope you like it, bud :D <3

*

Mandy never used to believe that Ian and Mickey would last.

To be fair, the day she found out was also the day their relationship reached its first real breaking point. (Though a part of her remembers not feeling shocked at all, all the pieces – Ian seeing someone he refused to name, Ian overly concerned about Mickey’s wedding, Mickey always conveniently showing up whenever she and Ian were hanging out – suddenly falling into place.)

And she’d taken Ian’s side because- well, as far as she could see Mickey was fucking Ian over just so he could stay in the closet. She’d been wrong, obviously, though no one’s ever actually told her that directly. But there were enough context clues for her to more or less figure out what had happened – especially after the night of Yevgeny’s christening.

So she’d found out about them and she’d been around them and she knew, deep down, they loved each other. But to her it had always seemed like a doomed sort of love. In the way that love tends to be if you’re a Milkovich or a Gallagher.

She’d watched for about a year and a half as they’d clung to each other, desperately trying to make it work despite the world throwing every fucking problem it possibly could at them. And then one day it ended and she wasn’t in Chicago anymore and she still wishes she could’ve said she was surprised when she heard the news.

Time passed after that and she didn’t really talk much to either them but she hoped they’d move on. At least, she knew Ian was trying.

Then one day she’d gotten a phonecall from Beckman Correctional and Mickey was on the other line. (She’d known he’d escaped prison the first time – the cops had come knocking on her door too.) And it was strange talking to him after so long but nice too. In its own way. She’d nearly dropped the phone when he told her Ian was his cellmate.

(She’d heard about that too – Gay Jesus could still reach her even in Boston.)

After that Mickey started using his weekly phonecall to call her while Ian, with a much longer laundry list of relatives, started calling her once a month. It had been the most she’d spoken to either of them in years but she liked it – it made her feel connected to someone again, like her family hadn’t been totally obliterated.

She hadn’t planned on missing the wedding.

But part of getting her shit together meant not flaking on work responsibilities and she’d been roped into securing some account in Toronto with her boss and couldn’t get out of it. She’d managed to score a long weekend off a few weeks later though and promised she’d come visit then which had seemed to be enough to appease them both.

That’s how she finds herself standing on the steps of the Gallagher house on a Friday in February with an overnight bag on her shoulder.

Ian had insisted there’d be plenty of room for her here but she’ll believe that when she sees it. There’s always more people than there should be in this house. She hesitates for a moment, considering knocking but then feeling weird for even thinking it. No one knocks on the door to the Gallagher house. Testing the handle, she finds it unlocked and gently pushes it open.

The house is a lot quieter than it used to be and it throws her for a loop for a moment before she hears voices in the kitchen.

She steps further into the living room, pausing by the back of the couch when she catches sight of Ian and Mickey through the kitchen door. They’re…doing dishes. She thinks.

More specifically, they’re laughing as Ian replaces the glasses in the cabinet and Mickey idly spins a dishtowel in his hand.

“You’re so full of shit!” Mickey’s saying and the size of his grin momentarily leaves Mandy dumbstruck. She can’t even remember the last time Mickey smiled like that. Looking so…content and at ease and happy in own skin.

“I swear to god!” Ian exclaims, turning away from the cabinets and giving Mandy a clear view of the mischievous expression on his face as he holds in a laugh. “The guy’s dick was fuckin’ purple. Nastiest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Mickey makes a face before dropping the towel on the counter and taking the two steps it takes to put himself in Ian’s path. He cups Ian’s face between his hands and says, very solemnly, “You ever break my dick when we’re having sex and I’ll break your neck.”

Ian barks out a laugh and Mandy has to quickly bite her lip to stop a snort of her own as she watches Ian’s hands fit to her brother’s waist. “Pretty sure I’m the one who needs to worry about that,” he points out, expression light and amused as he quirks an eyebrow at Mickey’s reply.

He says it too quietly for Mandy to hear but whatever it is they’re kissing hardly a second later. She considers clearing her throat to make her presence known then because she knows what happens when Ian and Mickey start kissing when they’ve got the house to themselves but they break apart after a few seconds with matching grins. Ian looks up absentmindedly and his eyes land on her, his grin freezing on his face.

“Mandy!” he says, surprise and excitement colouring his voice. He lets his hands fall from Mickey’s waist just as Mickey turns to look at her.

She only has the briefest moment to share a look with him before Ian’s bounding over and sweeping her into a hug. “Hey,” he breathes, squeezing her tight. “Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in.”

Mandy hugs him back and instantly feels herself calm. Ian’s presence has always been comforting. She still remembers stealing whatever bit of affection she could from him when they were teenagers. When he dutifully let her call him her boyfriend even after it became very clear that was never gonna happen.

“It’s okay,” she says on a laugh. “You two looked busy.”

Ian leans back with a bashful expression, squeezing her shoulders before stepping out of the way so she can say hi to Mickey. There’s a single second where they both flounder as they stare at each other before Mickey’s pulling her into a hug and letting out a soft, “Hey.”

She doesn’t expect it but as she wraps her arms around Mickey’s shoulders she can’t help the feeling of déjà-vu that hits her, thinking back to the day she and Ian went to pick Mickey up from juvie. It’s a similar hug, light and familiar and comfortable, and it makes her smile.

In a lot of ways, they used to be normal siblings. They’d been the closest in age out of all their siblings and as the two youngest they sort of naturally fell into that dynamic of driving each other insane while also being willing to defend each other to the death.

Things got more complicated as they got older. Their words becoming sharper sometimes, their inability to help each other like they used to suddenly paralysing them both and making it difficult to know how to interact.

But this feels like before.

Mickey messes up her hair when she pulls away and, inexplicably, it makes a lump form in her throat. Fuck, it’s been so long since they could just joke with each other. But Mandy hasn’t had bruises on her face for years and Mickey has a wedding ring on his finger that he actually wants so maybe it’s time they can get back to that.

“You kept the blonde, huh?” Mickey says when he steps back and Mandy lifts her chin in a haughty smirk.

“Anything to stop people from saying I look like your ugly mug,” she retorts, slipping back into an old banter that comes to her without even thinking about it.

“Bitch,” Mickey grumbles but he’s smiling like he’s amused.

Ian’s hand lands on Mickey’s shoulder before his other reaches for Mandy. “Mands, drop your bag. We can talk in the kitchen.”

Mandy does as she’s told, letting Ian shepherd them both into the kitchen. She tries not to smirk at the fact Mickey doesn’t shrug Ian off this time, electing instead to wind his own arm around Ian’s waist.

They sit at the kitchen table as Ian goes to the fridge to inspect its contents. “You want a drink?” he asks over his shoulder. “We’ve got beer, milk, orange juice, soda, coffee-“

“Coffee sounds good,” she says. The flight hadn’t been all that long but travelling always wears her out a little.

“Mick?” Ian asks and Mickey considers him for just a second before saying, “Make one for me too.”

Mandy raises an eyebrow at him and he ducks his head, looking embarrassed. “’m tryna stop drinking beer before five o’clock.”

The laugh that comes out of her is a little disbelieving but she’s impressed. It’s rare to see Mickey actively trying to take care of himself.

Ian sets the coffee pot going and there’s a sort of awkward pause where none of them quite know what to say before she finally decides on the safest topic. “So tell me about the wedding.”

Mickey scoffs at the same time Ian laughs and she looks between them until Mickey says, “Long version or short version?”

And is that even a question. “Long,” she says decisively.

As Ian returns to the table with their coffees they regale her with the complicated events leading up to their wedding ceremony – including her dad burning their fucking venue down.

“Have you heard from him since?” she asks, feeling an old anxiety twist around her spine. She can’t say she’s missed Terry Milkovich since she’s been gone.

“Not since he shot up our fuckin’ honeymoon suite,” Mickey mutters and Mandy feels a pang of sympathy for them. It’s about fucking time the two of them just got to be happy with no strings attached.

Before she can say anything though Ian’s hand reaches out to grasp Mickey’s on the table-top and Mickey offers him a small, grateful smile. And it’s these little moments that keep shocking her, really. The causal ways they touch each other or look at each other. The way they keep picking up each other’s sentences as they tell the wedding story.

Everything about their relationship before had felt so life or death, these moments of just being were few and far between.

Eventually the conversation about the wedding winds down and Ian asks her about her job and it’s weird, the three of them having such a grown-up conversation, but every second word out of Mickey’s mouth is still “fuck” and Ian’s still got that puppy-dog grin he used to wear when he was fifteen so maybe things haven’t changed all that much.

Ian gets up when Liam comes home from school, following him up the stairs to help him move whatever he needs out of his bedroom and into Carl’s while Mandy stays over since, “Liam’s room is definitely the cleanest,” and Mandy watches Mickey watch Ian, a soft smile on his lips as he stares after Ian until he’s out of sight.

Mickey’s gaze returns to the table then but the smile is still there. After a second or two of silence Mandy kicks his leg under the table. Mickey’s gaze snaps up to stare at her. “What?”

She feels herself start to smile without actually planning to. “You’re really fucking happy now, huh?”

Mickey’s face goes blank with surprise before that bashful twist to his mouth comes back and he averts his gaze, shrugging once. “I guess.”

“Oh, you guess!” she scoffs, kicking him again. “Jesus Christ, Ian’s dick can’t be that great.”

Mickey smirks then. “Jealous you never got to find out for yourself?”

“Shut up, asshole,” she huffs, laughing in spite of herself. “I’m being serious.”

Mickey makes an incredulous noise and Mandy clears her throat, forcing herself to be sincere. “I mean it, Mick,” she says and his expression smooths out at the earnestness in her voice. “You two really figured shit out.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything for a moment before he breathes out a soft laugh. “I mean it was about fuckin’ time.”

Mandy grins. “No arguments there.”

Mickey looks like he’s about to say more when Ian’s footsteps suddenly sound on the staircase again. “What are you two talking about?” he asks, jogging down the last few steps.

“Just about how Mandy’s still jealous you had sex with me and not her,” Mickey says casually and Mandy lets out a choked noise, reaching over and punching Mickey’s arm as hard as she can.

Ian’s laughing as he comes to stand behind Mickey, hands settling on Mickey’s shoulders like they belong there and Mickey looks from him to Mandy with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t worry, Mands,” Ian says. “You got to call me your boyfriend first.”

“Ey!” Mickey calls out, affronted, and Ian grins down at him, eyebrows raised in an, Am I wrong? look.

And Mandy’s just- she’s relieved, more than anything. Because they fucking deserve this – all three of them do. They deserve to be able joke about the good shit in their past in the safety of a present that isn’t threatening to take away their future. They deserve some fucking peace of mind.

And as she watches Ian lean down to kiss the top of Mickey’s head before he returns to his seat at the table she thinks it’s probably time to rethink her stance on whether or not Mickey and Ian are going to make it.

*

[bibliophilicwitch]

Okay this is going to be a pretty big update related to work. And it’s gonna be pretty big because I haven’t been writing my rambling posts lately because I’ve been too busy at work when I normally would’ve gotten my feelings written down. idk how many are interested in this these days, but I know I’ve had followers that found my work updates interesting.

As you may remember I worked as a supervisor at a fabric store for many years and was worked into the ground with a horrible pittance for my effort. That company folded and I worked at Target for just over a year at the front end to utilize my management skills, but I realized that I had basically learned everything I could in such retail settings and I wasn’t happy. So I left and ended up working for Shopko pharmacy... for about a year until they also folded.

So the last two years I have been working at a Kroger pharmacy. I will be blunt - I am not a fan of Kroger though the reasons why are not specific to just Kroger but are evident in most retail pharmacy chains (and corporate customer service in general).

When we started administering COVID vaccines it was... rough. It wasn’t quite as horrible as the first few months after opening the new pharmacy because now we have learned a lot and know how to do most of what we’re doing and overall our patients are not abusing us as they had early on. But we are running around 26 vaccines over the course of two hours and not processing and dispensing medications during that time so we then spend the rest of the day frantically attempting to catch up while all of our patients that had to wait until we resumed daily services flooded us at once. We were short a tech for nearly three months and she has just returned and I already noticed the difference this past week. This means that now we are not spread thin with no extra coverage but instead no longer have to pick up tons of extra hours on top of having no extra coverage to help catch up from the vaccine clinic.

A few weeks ago I stayed over five hours after my shift, two of which during closed hours, and even two techs working literally all day including after closing with the pharmacist and getting caught up on several projects wasn’t enough because by noon the next day we were already sinking. It was at that point that I determined I was done. It didn’t matter how much we tried, we couldn’t get ahead and this meant that every day it felt like we were terrible techs unable to do our jobs competently. 

I didn’t have any deadlines or programs at the library the following Monday so I decided to use my first vacation day in over a year for a three-day weekend only to be asked if I could come in Monday evening at the pharmacy because it was such a shit show. I decided not to go in because we are very limited on what we can do after 5 anyways but I felt so damn guilty about it so a few days later I started job hunting with the goal of looking for something that will use the different skillsets I have developed at the library hopefully I can find a part-time job running a local business’s social media though that isn’t very likely in the small community I live in. All I know is that I am Done with pharmacy.

Meanwhile about ten years ago I started working at the circulation desk at my local library and found I was truly passionate about libraryship as a career. I’ve wanted to work in technical services processing books full-time for years, but technology and the changes of how libraries run means this is not a likely option unless I am at a much larger library. Around five years ago I kinda fell into the program and volunteer coordinator position and while I have had to manage many challenges and work to improve myself to meet those challenges it has been a good experience. Unfortunately it is only a 20hr position and after years of telling my director I would like more hours and I could bring so much more to the position if I had those hours, she kept hesitating to explore that.

This past year my old director retired and we hired a new director. This director has experience at libraries that had dedicated positions for building and managing an online presence and reaching communities in a variety of ways, so when she heard the ideas and suggestions I made throughout the pandemic while we were offering services virtually and determining that we had a HORRIBLE online presence it became an interest to her to possibly utilize my skillset to build that online presence. She tasked me with working on social media plans only to realize I was overburdened with programming at 20 hours and unable to put time into social media so she stepped that back.

The need to build our online presence hasn’t gone away though as Youth Services posts all their virtual programs via Facebook Live and has been sharing many other posts and Adult Services has stepped up their game as well meaning posting conflicts have started to be an issue since everyone has basically just been posting whatever they want with little to no consistency or branding. So my director tasked me with herding cats even though there has been no recognition of my role as a leader leading to me not wanting to overstep.

I asked my director in my bi-monthly meeting about a desire for more hours as well as a better understanding of my role in the future of our library. My city fucked up their budget a year or two ago and with COVID our hours and positions are actually on a freeze so I cannot get more hours though my director does have the goal of getting more hours to a few positions including mine. We are joining our local system this year which may mean we do not need our technical services positions so if any of them leave those hours could be allocated elsewhere. I just have no idea when these hours could become available. But this conversation did lead to giving all of programming to Adult Services and having my job become marketing and volunteer coordinator instead of program and volunteer coordinator.

My only concern is that this change may mean my position doesn’t need more hours later down the road? And that is literally all I want: a full-time position at my current library (since I am settled into this community) so I can work one damn job and have benefits. (My teeth have been a mess for years and yesterday I ate a nut wrong and was in so much pain I left one job early and called in sick to the other.)

Over the past couple of years Youth Services has started tasking each of their staff with planning and running their own programs and our goal is to do something similar with Adult Services. The biggest issue with that is that my current programs may not really play to any of Adult Services strengths, so some of my programs may be dissolved later this year.

I suspect Garden Guru which we market and host but is planned and presented by Master Gardener Volunteers will continue as it is fantastic series with minimal work on our end. We will probably end up changing around book club a fair bit which is fine as it has always been in a state of flux as I worked to figure out how to make it work well. Paint & Sip hasn’t been run in over a year due to the pandemic but will likely continue in some form. Make & Mingle has been monthly kits which is EXTREMELY time consuming and will likely be changed a fair bit when taken over by Adult Services at least during the transition and probably afterwards as they plan for its future.

Paint & Sip’s popularity has been my biggest frustration over the years but it and Make & Mingle have also been the most gratifying for me as I have always gotten the most positive feedback during and after those programs from participants. Also my office is basically a craft storage space and I am going to miss being known for the crafts.

I need to write up a new job description. I need to write out my programming planning and organization for Adult Services as a guide as they take over. I need to continue moving the Google Drive folders from my personal Google to the library’s new Gmail so that Adult Services will have control over them. I need to make sure these programs are all planned out enough to make sure transition is relatively smooth (Adult Services staff will either shadow my programs a few times or I will shadow with them as they take over and I figure I will work with the staff picking up different programs for transition plans).

So yeah... a fuck ton has been going on the last several months both overwhelming and exciting.

[meowmerson]

A tomione time travel but she’s just pissing off Tom because she keeps sending roosters to the Chamber of Secrets to kill his basilisk. I’m just saying

Initially, she laid low.

It seemed like the sensible thing to do. Stranded in an unfamiliar world and desperate to get home before her very existence brought about horrific consequences with only an old man (younger now) who she barely trusted as an ally, it made sense for her to just keep her head down and focus on getting through each day until she could go home.

For six months, she did. Six fucking months.

She knew what happened here in 1943. Every time she felt the urge to intervene she reminded herself what was at stake. When she saw a young girl in Ravenclaw robes wiping at her eyes after something a cruel group of girls had said she bit her tongue, and when she saw a handsome, unassuming boy with Slytherin robes and perfect hair and a disgusting, vile, evil soul, she dug her nails into her thigh until she drew blood and told herself that if she couldn’t do anything now she would be able to do it later, when she was home.

Myrtle died, and Hermione–though she never knew the younger girl–felt her loss like a hole in her heart. 

And then she couldn’t go home.

Dumbledore didn’t understand her reaction when he told her that it was increasingly unlikely they would ever find a way to send her home. He kept saying things like ‘you can make a new home here,’ and ‘you’ll see your friends again, if its meant to be,’ and ‘open yourself up, you can have a life here,’ and she couldn’t make him understand that it wasn’t true. She couldn’t make him understand all the reasons she could never have a home here, and when she opened her mouth, thinking what’s the point if I can’t go home, I may as well just tell him everything, but the words got caught in her throat, and all she could keep thinking was Myrtle died for nothing, I could have saved her and it wouldn’t have made any difference but I let her die anyway.

It ate her up inside.

So she retaliated in the only way she could think of short of murdering Tom Riddle in his sleep.

She flooded the whole fucking school with roosters. 

She wasn’t sure the basilisk would still be awake, and even if it was, she wasn’t sure it would be anywhere within hearing distance of the roosters. But it wasn’t really for the basilisk, she did it to see the look on Tom Riddle’s face as he stormed through the hallways filled with roosters, slapped one off of the Slytherin table with an expression on his face like he was in physical pain. 

Dumbledore saught her out almost immediately, a rooster sat upon his head, and calmly asked her to join him in his office for a chat.

“Miss Granger,” He began, his voice soft, “It is unclear to me what the purpose of this was.”

“I’m not clear on the purpose either,” She said, plucking a rooster off the floor and holding it in her arms. “I’m also not clear on why you think I would know what the purpose is.”

“Miss Granger,” Albus repeated.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment, nothing but the soft coos of the cockerels filling the room.

“Miss Granger,” The old man repeated, “Closely following our last conversation about the…permanence of your situation, our school was inexplicably filled to the brim with Roosters.” 

“Yes, it was.” Hermione confirmed. 

“I have every reason to believe–” He was briefly interrupted by the Rooster in Hermione’s arms suddenly crowing, “I have every reason to believe,” He repeated, still sounding very calm, Hermione was always impressed by his ability to remain calm in all situations, “That the person who has somehow managed to pull this off, is you.”

“Interesting conclusion, Professor.” Hermione said, and refused to say anything else. 

The truth is she was angry. She was angry that she was here in this time, she was angry that Dumbledore was so quick to give up, that he refused to understand why she didn’t want to be here. She was angry that the rules of using a time turner had been ingrained so strongly into her that she was afraid to say anything, to tell him about the monster disguised as a boy, to warn him about the impending war. 

She was angry that she didn’t know what to do. So she just did something that would be satisfying for a moment. 

She wouldn’t think on it too much for fear of upsetting herself, but she did have the brief realization that she had never related to the twins more. 

But Dumbledore did not pull her into his office to speak about the Roosters, not exactly, and this became explicitly clear when he continued, “I wonder, and I hope you will indulge an old man’s curiosities when I ask you,” Hermione watched the rooster on his head, instead of meeting his twinkling eyes, “If this has anything to do with our most recent tragedy, and if you know what, or even who, is responsible.”

She did know. And she ached to tell him, to take him by the hand and walk him right up to Tom Riddle and say it’s him, that’s the monster you’ve been looking for, bring Hagrid back and give him his wand, put this man in Azkaban for a thousand lifetimes and don’t ask any more questions. 

She still watched the rooster. It cocked its head at her, beady little eyes staring back at her. “I have not yet decided,” She said quietly, because she lacked the strength currently to raise her voice, “If it is wise to tell you.”

Albus understood, as he always did. He nodded silently, and the Rooster did a funny little dance on his head to keep his balance. “Time is a funny thing,” He answered, “It is worth considering, perhaps, that if you are stuck here, you might as well do all you can to make your life here a happy one.”

It did not escape Hermione’s considerations that Dumbledore’s insistence that she was stuck here may have less to do with the possibilities of time travel and more to do with his desire to pry information out of her. She didn’t precisely resent him for it, but it did make her angry, and the way he continued to imply that she could ever be happy here away from everyone she ever loved upset her just as much as it always did. 

“Is that what you think?” She asked.

“It is.” He answered

She was teary-eyed, and still watched the rooster who stared back at her with black, beady little eyes, and she said, “Then you are a fucking fool.”

The door flew open, and the roosters in front of it crowed and flew away. Hermione turned, rooster still cradled in her arms, to see Slughorn and Tom Riddle in the doorway. Slughorn was rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed, looking extremely stressed. Tom Riddle was stone-faced and stiff-shouldered, and he looked straight at her. 

They hadn’t spoken, not once. She noticed when she first arrived, he paid some attention to the new transfer student, but after some time lost interest when she proved to be ordinary. She made friends within her house, sat quietly in class, achieved average marks. Soon his observations of her became less frequent until eventually, he lost interest altogether. So seeing his attention fully fixed on her once more was more than a bit jarring. 

“I apologize, Albus!” Slughorn said, sounding out of breath, “I didn’t know you were with a student! How do you do, uhh…” He looked at her, and remained there with his mouth open for some time. 

He forgot her name. Hilarious.

“Granger,” She confirmed, and turned back to Dumbledore. “Case in point,” She said, referring to her previous statement and pointedly nodding to what was clearly an unlocked door. She stood, let the rooster flap out of her arms and land on Dumbledore’s desk. 

“Albus, we simply must do something about these Roosters!” Slughorn said as Hermione picked up her bag, “Tom has graciously offered to help.”

Of course he has, Hermione thought. 

“Perhaps Miss Granger would also like to help?” Dumbledore offered.

“Not particularly,” Hermione answered, “But good luck to all of you.”

“Perhaps we can continue our conversation later,” Dumbledore said, and Hermione really wished he would stop singling her out right in front of Tom Riddle. 

“No need,” She said, “Thank you for meeting with me, but I have everything I need now.”

She thought Dumbledore might’ve noticed how she pointedly made it sound like she had arranged for this meeting herself, if the way he glanced toward Tom Riddle said anything. She didn’t want to let on that she was suspicious of Riddle though, not yet, let Dumbledore craft his own suspicions, but she refused to make any major changes yet. 

“Of course,” Dumbledore said. 

Hermione knew she shouldn’t do it, but when she noticed a dainty little hen sat amongst Dumbledor’s books on his shelf, she couldn’t stop herself from plucking it up and walking toward to door. 

She deposited it into Tom Riddle’s arms just to see his microexpression of disgust, “This one is a hen, better keep her separate.”

“Thank you, Miss–!” Slughorn began. 

He forgot her name again. Lovely. 

She left them like that, Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes, Slughorn looking flustered, and Tom Riddle looking distinctly uncomfortable with a hen cooing in his arms. 

–

“Miss Granger!” A voice called from behind her in the corridor, and she tried to contain her disgust. 

It had been two weeks since the incident, and Abraxas Malfoy had taken to checking in on her. He spoke to her nearly every day despite her obvious disinterest and was somehow more annoying than his grandson, and she didn’t think that was possible. 

She knew it was for Tom. He had taken to quietly observing her again, but she couldn’t say for sure if he had decided he would keep an eye on her before or after she thrust a hen into his arms. But if she could shake his interest once, she could do it again, so she didn’t allow herself to worry. 

“Malfoy.” She greeted as pleasantly as she was able, but she didn’t stop to wait for him, so he was forced to jog to catch up with her until he could match her strides. 

“You walk frightfully fast for a woman.” He commented.

“I’m not sure what that means.” She answered evenly. 

“Well, the way women walk is always slow, and sweet, and delicate.” He answered. She sped up her pace just a hair, just to be difficult. 

“I have never heard of anyone walking sweetly.” She said. 

“Ah well–” He continued, nonplussed, “Not a surprise, considering your upbringing.”

She ignored that comment. She had to ignore that comment because if she was going to avoid attention she couldn’t be righteously defending her muggle-born status. It was obvious with her name that she wasn’t pureblood, but she wouldn’t turn herself into an activist, not when she still had plans to leave this time relatively unscathed (the rooster incident notwithstanding) and return home.

“How can I help you Malfoy?” She asked. 

“I was hoping you might accompany me to Hogsmead this weekend.” He answered promptly.

Peculiar, she thought, but not altogether unexpected. “No, thank you,” She answered politely, “I’m going with some of my friends.”

Malfoy laughed, a cutting sound, one that grated on her ears, “Your friends?” He repeated, “What, the chatty one who’s balding at 15 and keeps worms? Or the one who smells like eggs?”

“Alfred is not balding and he only kept worms once and it was for the plants he keeps in his bedroom,” Hermione curtly replied, “And I’m not sure who you are referring to with that second comment–” Yes she did, she only had 2 friends, “–But none of my friends smell like eggs.”

“Miss Granger,” Malfoy said firmly, cutting in front of her so she was forced to stop walking, “I am simply suggesting that…perhaps you need a little help deciding who is the…wrong sort.”

It runs in the family, she thought. But then she already knew that. She thought of Harry, and felt a horrible pain in her heart, “I think I can decide the wrong sort for myself, thank you.”

He blinked, seemingly unsure of what to say, then laughed a bit hesitantly and said, “I am trying to look out for you, Miss Granger.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Hermione said, and feeling as if she might be a bit too abrupt, added, “But thank you very much for trying.”

She tried to move around him, but he stopped her with a hand on his arm. 

“Hermione,” He said quietly, and she wished he wouldn’t use her name, wouldn’t touch her like they were friends, they were not friends and they never would be. “I really do suggest–”

“Get your hand off of my arm, immediately.” She spoke lowly, wouldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. She could handle his irritating attempts to befriend her, speak to her, learn about her in order to report to Tom, but she absolutely would not let a monster put this hands on her without her consent. 

He laughed, which completely erased any small bit of patience she had left, and then he said her name again, “Hermione,” He said, and just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, he continued, “You must know the way people think about mudbloods, but I really do believe that you–”

It was that word, spoken so casually, as if it meant nothing at all, that finally sent her over the edge. She thought of Draco Malfoy, the vitriol with which he spoke, spat slurs and insults at her every day for no reason other than that she existed. That horrible, disgusting word, thrown around like it wasn’t used as justification for wars, torture, genocide–

She grabbed his wrist tight, wrenched herself out of his grasp, and pinned his wrist to his chest. She stared him right in the eye as he kept glancing between her hold on his wrist and her face. “If I tell you to get your hand off of my arm,” She said severely, “Then you take your hand off of my fucking arm.”

She let go of him, and he took a large step away from her, looking caught between offended, outraged, and shocked. 

She shouldered past him and he said nothing to her.

–

Hermione sat outside before the Hogsmead trip staring at the place where the Whomping Willow would eventually sit. She knew she shouldn’t have shown her anger with Malfoy, but she hoped it wouldn’t raise too much suspicion. Surely it was normal if she became angry when she heard a slur, but then it didn’t quite match up with the mellow, ordinary, unbothered persona she had crafted since she arrived. The anger was one thing, wrenching his wrist off her arm, swearing at him, and practically threatening him was another. 

She couldn’t help but feel like things were unraveling. 

“Miss Granger.” 

Shit.

She looked up from the field to see Tom Riddle standing a couple meters away. 

“What are you doing out here all alone?” He asked. 

She couldn’t breathe, she tried to be sure her face was schooled into something pleasant, unsuspicious, unreadable, but she couldn’t be sure she succeeded. “Just finding a moment of quiet, it can be difficult sometimes to find time on one’s own.”

He smiled, looking unfairly beautiful, and said, “It’s not as if you are surrounded by friends demanding your attention, though, is it?”

She was sure that was meant to rile her. It didn’t. 

“No, I suppose you’re right.” She said. She didn’t make a move to leave, if she tried to leave now he might change tactics and try to anger her like Malfoy did, and if Tom Riddle touched her she would punch him in his sodding face, she swore to Merlin. 

“Do you mind if I join you, then?” He asked politely. The early morning light suited him, it fell on his hair and made it shine shades of brown and brass, it shone on the highest point of his cheek. Harry was right, Tom Riddle was handsome. 

The thought of Harry hurt her heart. She looked away from Tom and back to the empty field where the Whomping Willow should be. 

“You can if you wish,” She said, still staring out at the field, “Don’t you have many friends fighting for your attention?”

“None quite so interesting as you.” He parried, and sat beside her at a respectable distance. She didn’t like that answer, it felt flirtatious, and she didn’t know why he would be flirting with her. It felt like a strange tactic.

She glanced toward him, tried to keep her expression mild, but he could clearly read the confusion on it. 

“Does that surprise you?” He asked, “That I would prefer your company?”

“Yes,” She admitted, and she didn’t think that would raise a brow, she felt that was a perfectly ordinary thing to express. 

He smiled a quiet, private sort of smile. One that felt like it was reserved for you. She knew it was an act, but she couldn’t figure out what the act was, or why he was playing it. “I must admit, you escaped my notice for quite a while,” She didn’t like his use of the word ‘escaped,’ but found it fitting nonetheless. He didn’t elaborate, and she tried to search for something nondescript to say. 

“Well, I…” She faltered, looked back at the field so she didn’t have to see him staring at her, but she still felt his gaze on her like a physical weight. She had no idea what to say. 

“Miss Granger,” Tom said, quietly, his voice carried over to her only by the grace of the wind, “I was disappointed when Abraxas said you wouldn’t be joining us in Hogsmead.”

Some part of her knew that when Abraxas asked for her to join him in Hogsmead, that extended to Tom and possibly more of his followers, but Abraxas had never mentioned it, and she had no reason to know that, so she asked, “I didn’t realize he was asking me to join the both of you.”

“A group of us,” Tom confirmed, and then with a tinge of genuine confusion in his tone, he asked, “Did you think he was asking the two of you to go…alone?”

Hermione turned back to look at him. She didn’t understand why that would be so unheard of - there was the obvious that Abraxas Malfoy would sooner die than ask her on a date, but she didn’t necessarily think it was so incredibly strange for a girl to assume it means ‘alone’ when a boy asked her to accompany him and mentioned no one else. 

“Don’t you think that would be inappropriate?” Tom asked. 

She blinked. Of course, it would be. this wasn’t the 90s anymore. She grappled for a response, and finally settled on, “He called me a mudblood. I don’t exactly have a lot of confidence in his manners and deocrum.”

That seemed to settle Tom, he lost the edge to his features that Hermione was coming to associate with suspicion. “Yes,” He said, “Abraxas told me that you were…upset.” She looked away again. “He was quite shaken himself.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Hermione responded. 

“He said he had never seen a woman look at him like that before.” Tom pressed. She didn’t look at him, kept staring at the empty field. 

“I find it difficult to believe he has never had a woman look at him with disdain,” Hermoine said.

“Disdain, perhaps.” Tom agreed, “Were you looking at him with disdain?”

A strange question. A strange tone. Hermione had a feeling she had made a wrong decision at some point of this conversation, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out where she went wrong. She didn’t want to look at him, she truly didn’t, but she did anyway, she turned and met his gaze and realized he had shifted closer. She didn’t like it, having him near her made her feel on edge, it made her feel twitchy and afraid, and the way he was looking at her was too invasive, like he was trying to read her. She tried not to look afraid, but she knew she was failing, and the only way she ever knew to cover up fear was through anger. 

“I’m not sure what the point of this conversation is,” She snapped, “Abraxas called me a mudblood and I reacted in kind. If you have something you want to say to me, I would appreciate it if you just said it.”

“I have nothing to say,” Tom said quickly, shaking his head, his eyebrows raised and he blinked once, his lips had the slightest downward turn. The perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing except I find it an admirable trait in a woman when she can strike the fear of god straight into a man’s heart.”

It was a joke, she realized. He was joking with her. He had lightened his tone to one of a teasing nature, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. She thought of every interaction she had with anyone in this time period so far and tried to find a reason for the way he was looking at her now, and could find none. 

“If you have nothing to say,” Hermione settled on, “Then I will take my leave.”

She pushed herself to her feet, and he did a peculiar thing then. He quickly raised to his feet as well, and without asking, without warning her, reached for her arm to help her stand. It was too quick, and too sudden, and as soon as his fingers wrapped around her arm she found herself reacting in a way that was entirely out of her own control. 

She wrenched her arm out of his grip, turned, and slammed the heel of her pal straight into his sternum in order to shove him away. It was a brief, hard strike, and he was pushed away. It only lasted a second, he caught himself by taking a quick step back, and there was space between them again. 

He stared at her with a strange look. Suspicious, surprised, perhaps a bit angry. But he also tilted his head the way a cat does when it locks in on its prey, and Hermione didn’t like the look of that at all. 

“I apologize,” She said, and she was out of breath, the fear of feeling this monster’s hand wrap around her arm was so sudden and so fierce that she found herself breathless and couldn’t right herself in time. “I don’t like to be touched.” 

“Of course,” He nodded, and his eyebrow quirked briefly before he righted his expression, as if he didn’t believe her. “I will be sure to relay that to Abraxas as well, it may settle his mind as to why you reacted the way you did.”

Hermione knew that she had complete, irrevocably fucked everything up. 

“Thank you,” She said, and she had control of her voice again, but that only seemed to intrigue him further, “And thank you for sharing your time with me. I’m going to go find my friends.”

“Of course,” Tom Riddle said, and his voice was quiet again, so so quiet, “Have a lovely time in Hogsmead, Miss Granger.”

She wanted to go home. She wanted to leave this time and see her friends and family, but the more time she spent here the more she so desperately wanted to make him pay for everything he would do. She hated him so much, she felt so much anger within herself and she hoped to Merlin it didn’t show on her face, she hoped beyond hoping that she could find some way to get him to stop staring at her like she was some marvelous discovery. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Riddle.” She said, and she walked around him, ignored the way he watched her leave. 

She would need to do something, anything, to get his eyes off of her. She just didn’t know what yet, or if she could even distract him anymore. 

[sorcererinthestars]

The Wolf Inside

In the hellstorm we are currently living, the RT Writers Discord called off their Secret Skeleton event. However, I was almost done with my piece and I thought, since it has nothing to do with The Offender, I would still share it. Maybe we need to be revitalized in our work, in our love of those who we still have.  Trigger Warning: Suicide Mention. This is sort of dark/angsty, but no major character death. It’s for spooky season, after all!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994361

Michael is a werewolf. Gavin begs to see that part of his life, and nearly pays the ultimate price. (Ragehappy/Mavin.)

--

As he presses himself farther into his closet and shoves his fist in his mouth to stop the gasping whimpers that are ripping themselves out of his chest, he knows this is the end. It’s curious, knowing when you were going to meet your death. He had hoped he would go out in bed, surrounded by family, but no.

He was going to meet his death hidden in a closet behind a load of clothes, a balled fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs and a bent metal coat hanger in his hand to use as a weapon.

The noises outside were muffled, but easily heard when he was straining to locate them. A scuffle, the sound of a chair moving and hot, labored breathing. A small whine and then — crash! — the sound of something glass shattering.

It was Gavin’s idea. He had pressed for this, he had said it was okay. He had honestly begged, wanting to know what happened when the transformation came. It was always a secret between them, a gap. It was something Michael never wanted to talk about, always kept hidden. Once a month, he would leave their home, disappear somewhere for a few days.

Gavin never knew if the other was safe. He could never know for certain if this would be the time that Michael would never return to him, would be gone forever and he would be left waiting alone at home, checking his phone for a call that would never come.

So he had begged. Take me with you, he pleaded. We can rent a cabin. I can stay inside, safe. You go do what you need to do, but at least I’ll be near if you need me.

Michael had protested and as Gavin shrinks farther back against the wood of the closet, trying to hide himself and his scent under moldering blankets, he finally fucking understands the reason for that protest. Michael was dangerous. He guesses he must have not fully comprehended that, not really. Yes, Michael was a dangerous creature who transformed once a month, but he was also his fiancé. Almost his goddamn husband. And the fact that Michael tried to keep a part of himself so integral to his being away from him made Gavin upset.

As the sounds came up the stairs and the snuffling grew louder, along with the panting and the growls and sound of sharp claws ripping its way through the wood, Gavin knew he should learn to leave some things the fuck alone. If he had time after tonight to worry about anything.

Michael had got bit as a child, he had admitted to Gavin over a year into dating. He had been playing in the woods under the light of the full moon and he had gone to the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, he had managed to get away. Most people who got bit didn’t have to worry about the transformation. They were eaten first.

Gavin couldn’t help but think of the scenes Michael had described to him. Of bodies ripped to shreds, of nothing left of people but pieces of their clothes. The thing that Michael became was not him. He had pleaded with Gavin to understand that. He had little to no control over the beast. It overwhelmed him, terrorized him, and when he came back, he had a full belly, a raging headache, and only sensations and fear where there should be memories.

But Gavin had insisted he wanted to be with Michael during this months’ transformation. He had done the stupid puppy dog eyes that Michael pretends to hate, pouting lower lip and all, and had threatened to follow him if he went alone. So Michael had taken him. They’d rented a cabin deep out in the woods, far away from any civilization. It had been almost an hour drive on empty dirt roads to get out here to this hunters’ cabin.

The man who had rented it to them had scoffed. Warned them of what lurked out there this time of the month. A creature, he had said. Something bigger than anything ought to be. Something that disappeared, something they couldn’t catch.

Michael had just shifted awkwardly. As they sat side by side in their Jeep, he had turned to Gavin and turned a bit red, as if he was trying to fight back his anger. Again, he had tried to get Gavin to go. He had pressed his credit card into Gavin’s hand, asked him to get a hotel room back in the city. He would pay and he would join Gavin there as soon as he could. It was dangerous, he had insisted, among other choice words.

Gavin always knew his stubbornness and blind loyalty was likely going to get him hurt or killed, but didn’t realize how literal that was going to be. Now, as he stared at the ceiling of the closet in order to try not to cry, he kind of wanted to throw himself off the roof to stop the guilt. If something did happen and Michael came back and realized…

It was funny, how the mind fixated on the lesser of two problems in a bad situation. Here he was, about to die at the hands of a creature from a fucking fairy tale or a bad dream, and he was worried about how Michael was going to take it.

The first night at the cabin had been fine. Michael seemed tense, but they had set up safeguards around the front and back of the home. They made dinner, just pasta over a hot plate, and watched the stars. The moon was almost but not completely full. Gavin had learned that Michael knew a great deal about the night sky. Maybe he even fell a bit more in love. There wasn’t any electricity for video games. Turned out they didn’t need any.

There were times when they were sitting and chatting that Michael would go quiet and stiff. A breeze would come by and distract him, or he would shift and grunt like he was uncomfortable. It was the beginning of the shift, Gavin theorized, but Michael wouldn’t talk about it and Gavin knew better than to press him. He was lucky to even be allowed to be here, to share this with him. He wouldn’t ruin it by getting in the way.

He would share more than the experience with Michael now. The creature — the thing — was nearing the second floor now. The bedroom wasn’t even a bedroom, really. More like a walled-off loft. And he was sitting in the back, trapped. Like a rat in a cage. Ready for the cat.

When the howl came, Gavin almost wets himself, cowering even farther back. It sounded close, but it also sounded anguished. Like he could hear the pain of the creature, the rage and frustration by being able to smell its prey, but not chase it.

Michael had been nearly certain that when transformed, he would leave the cabin and get distracted by deer and bear and whatever the hell else was out here at night. But he couldn’t be certain, so as the day started turning dusky, he had taken the truck out into the woods. No argument could be made here. Michael was adamant that this was as far as Gavin would go. And as much as Gavin wanted to see the beast with his own two eyes, he had agreed to keep the peace.

They hadn’t counted on the senses of the Creature to be able to smell Gavin’s scent from miles away. Michael had only been gone a couple hours before Gavin started hearing the sounds of something heavy in the woods. The moonlight was like liquid silver as it washed across the clearing. Something was out there.

Gavin had at first wanted to see it. Maybe Michael had changed his mind, maybe he had come back to share this part of himself entirely with Gavin. But as the Wolf, in all its glory, smashed out of the clearing, Gavin’s bowels nearly failed as he stared down at the animal.

Michael’s werewolf form was eight feet long and at least five feet tall. It was thick and furry, with sharp teeth and yellow eyes. When it snarled, all razor rows of teeth were shown. This thing was a predator, plain and simple. There was nothing of Michael left.

Now, sitting in the closet and waiting to be torn to shreds by the man he loved, Gavin considers his options. They were slim to none. He could try to stab the eye of the beast when it broke in, but that would potentially hurt Michael as well. Maybe even blind him. Could he live with that? It would certainly be better than the alternative — death — but what if it didn’t even stop the Wolf?

He could try to run, but the idea of that thing chasing him when it was faster, could see better, and was stronger than him was less than appealing. He shivers from fear and shrinks down even deeper into a ball.

Why the fuck had he decided to go? Why had Michael let him?

Because, a stupid voice in his head had whispered, becuase he wanted to be loved and accepted for all of him as much as you wanted to know all of him. You’re both idiots.

Love made you do stupid things, but this had to be among the stupidest.

But he didn’t have time to think anymore as the door to the room was shoved inwards with a harsh slam that shook the house. The Wolf roars and Gavin bites through the skin of his finger to keep himself from crying out, blood hot and iron and red against his lips.

That was his last mistake. Like an arrow loosed from the bow, the Wolf whips around and hyperfocuses on the hot scent of fresh blood in the closet. And without another moment of hesitation, the door rips open and there the Wolf is.

Gavin forgets to breathe. For a moment they sit there, staring, the giant Wolf’s breast heaving with every garbled breath, saliva dripping out of his mouth. And Gavin, small, human, and breakable, staring back with wide eyes.

Then Michael roars, a loud agonizing sound that reveals rows and rows of sharp teeth, and Gavin knows this was where he dies.

A paw whips out faster than can be seen and clobbers Gavin in the shoulder. His arm supernovas into pain before immediately going numb, causing him to shriek and fly forward into the room and out of his shelter. Claws rake across the skin of his back in the process, blood immediately wetting his t-shirt. If anything, it was like a shark, enraging the beast further, who snarls and paces as it surrounds him.

Panic driving him to lengths he never would have considered, Gavin tries to stab with the coat hanger and all he manages to do is glance the flimsy piece of metal off of Michael’s iron hide. This refocuses the beast, which Gavin notices seems to be… pacing?

It stalks around him, snarling and spitting, but … not attacking. Like some invisible forcefield was keeping the beast away. Gavin risks trying to move.

Bad idea. The Wolf lunges, capturing Gavin’s ankle in his jaws. He yanks and Gavin slams unceremoniously down on the ground, dragged a few feet away from the closet until he’s exposed in the middle of the room. Blood drips from the teeth marks in his legs, but Gavin almost doesn’t notice as the Wolf hovers over him and teeth, saliva, and bright yellow eyes become all he can see.

His breath is ragged. What do you do when you see your death? Gavin’s lower lip starts quivering and he tries to bite it as tears well in his eyes. “M-Michael,” he gasps. “P-please don’t.”

And the Wolf… doesn’t.

A beat of silence between them, the heaving hulking form pinning Gavin to the ground, blood pooling under the man from the cuts and scratches along his back, one arm limp and obviously dislocated. He could rip his throat out, but he… doesn’t.

Michael.

Michael is inside the Wolf. With a gasp, Gavin realizes. Somewhere inside this beast is his boyfriend, his fiancé, and despite claiming he had no control, something is stopping the beast from killing him. Gavin can almost laugh with relief, but — the Wolf isn’t moving. And sooner or later, Michael is going to lose to the Will of the Beast.

“Michael,” Gavin whispers. “Michael, if you’re in there, please. It’s me. It’s Gavin, your boyfriend. I love you, please….”

The Wolf actually whines. It’s a terrifying sound, but its the sound of confusion and not rage. Progress. He just needed to keep talking. “Michael, baby, please. You’re in control. Just… get it to go. Turn around and go catch deer. P-please, god, no…” The Wolf lowers his head and takes a big sniff of Gavin’s face, the teeth agonizingly close, the saliva smearing across his cheek. Gavin doesn’t dare to move, as if the slightest extra sound or movement would break this spell that they are weaving together over this rabid animal.

Then, every millisecond drawn out to the longest amount of time possible, the Wolf rears back and steps off of Gavin. It looks at him and roars again furiously, shaking the house, and Gavin screws his eyes shut. He fucked up, this is it…

But then he hears the sound of claws on wood and the large form of a Wolf shoving its way through the cabin and then blissful, complete silence.

Laying on the floor, bleeding and in pain, Gavin finally allows himself to weep. Not in fear, but in relief. In love — Michael knew him. Michael wouldn’t allow that demon to kill him, no matter how little control he claimed to have. Tomorrow they would talk, tomorrow they would atone for their many many sins that came about that night, but tonight…

Tonight he would lay here and cry until the sun warms the trees and his fiancé comes back to him.

Some things are better left a mystery, after all.

[voltagesmutter]

Kiro - Cruel comments [Smut]

How OC (Bella) reacts when images of her and Kiro’s relationship are leaked and the fans are not happy. Smut and wee bit of fluff cause its Kiro and he’s frigging adorable and hugely under appreciated.

Smut and NSFW content.

You sobbed slightly as you flicked through the comments on social media, watching the endless stream of comments run across your eyes.

‘Seriously who is she?’

‘Why is Kiro HOLDING HER HAND!’

‘Is she ill? Is Kiro taking care of the sick people?’

‘What is Kiro doing!! My husband is touching another woman’

All subtle comments from fans posted on a photo the press had leaked of Kiro and you holding hands as you walked out a building together. You admitted you didn’t look great but you’d been on set all day and wasn’t exactly expecting the swarm of hidden paparazzi outside. You couldn’t help but sob uncontrollably, the painstaking words hurt you, even though they were only words. Kiro’s fans were so loyal and dedicated, they were the main reason you had not publicly announced you were a couple, regardless of dating for months. 

A knock at your front door distracted you and you opened it to see Gavin standing there.

“I saw the comments online, are you okay?” He asked, a slight blush to his cheeks and you give a nod with a smile. You invited him in. 

“You didn’t have to come,”.

“I wanted to come, I wanted to check you was okay,”.

“Thank you, it’s just a bit hard, some comments are so cruel,”.

“I know, I’ve seen them, his fans are scary, you need to be careful,”. You giggle slightly at his comment and shake your head.

“I’m not scared by teenage girls,” A comment you would live to regret. 

Kiro had been on tour to promote his newest tv show meaning you had to face the oncoming abuse alone. The first day after the photos had been released, you were on your way to work when you saw some girls staring at you with anger. The following day they were the again only it had gone from two to a group of nearly 20, all eyes staring at you and it made you beyond uncomfortable. By day three it felt like a swarm, each set of eyes following you and your movement, like a lion eyeing up a helpless gazelle. That was when you had to call Gavin, you wanted to reach for Kiro but he was in a whole other city, what help would he be. 

“Come on, just keep walking,” Gavin said, reassuring you, even though he was pure muscle even he felt intimidated by the hoard of girls that had appeared. You managed to keep it together until you heard it.

“She’s not even that pretty, what does Kiro see in her” The harsh comment burned into your brain and you felt tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Gavin shielded you and led you away before turning to comfort you.

“Have you spoken to Kiro?” He softly asks you. 

“N-no he-he’s on tour I don't want to distract him,” You sobbed through your tears.

“Bella, you need to tell him, this is abuse, ignore their words please, I think you're beautiful,” He whispers before mumbling the end as he wipes away your tears. Your breath hitched as you tried to calm yourself down before looking up at Gavin. He had a slightly blush on his cheeks as he gazed back at you.

*Click*

You both heard the click and saw the flash before turning to see what was happening. One of the girls had followed you and ran off, she had captured a sweet comforting moment between you and Gavin. 

“You need to speak to Kiro, come on let's get you home,” As he gently squeezes your hold, guiding you back home. 

By the time you had got home social media was already blowing up.

“Girl spotted with Kiro now prays on to next victim”

“Mystery girl clearly moves on”

“Has she broken our Kiro’s heart?”

All you wanted was to see and talk to Kiro but he wasn’t here. You dialled his number but it went to voicemail. What if he saw the image? What if he got the wrong idea and thought something was going on between Gavin and you? Surely not, he knew how much you valued his friendship. But then again, the image spoke a thousand words if you didn’t know the situation. Unable to speak to Kiro, the abuse, false stories, the herd and the girl's comment rang through your head and it became too much as you sobbed into your pillow.

You knew dating Kiro would be difficult at times, but this? This was cruel and harsh, you felt sorry for Kiro having to deal with this all through his career but he never came in the wrong light. He was a sweetheart in their eyes, and yours, but what had you done to deserve these comments? You adore Kiro with all your heart, you knew you had fallen in love with him, but you couldn’t do this…

You had finally managed to fall asleep, after much tossing and turning, you wanted to be with Kiro but he would never be yours, you would always share him with his fans and clearly they didn’t take to you. You had switched your phone off, the endless stream of comments and re-sharing of the photo of Gavin and you were dominating your platforms. You knew when you next spoke to Kiro, things had to end, you weren't strong enough to deal with this.

A rapid banging at your door startled you from your sleep. You clutched your bedsheets, it was 3 am, who was here. Your face went white, what if it was one of Kiro’s fans… The knocking started again and you slowly crept to the floor, grabbing a slipper and holding it close to you, if anything happened to you at least you could try retaliating with some kind of weapon. You kept the chain locked and slowly opened the door before you saw him. His blonde hair was sticking to his face, he was panting slightly.

“Kiro?” You asked as you opened the door, seeing his standing in front of you. Was this a dream?

“I know I’m being stupid, please tell me I’m being stupid and that photo isn’t wasn’t it’s saying online” He panted as he looked at you. 

“Kiro what are you doing here? Your supposed to be on tour,”.

“Please, please tell me it’s nothing,” He pleaded.

“He was comforting me, that was all, I tried to call you but it went to voicemail, I turned my phone off,” You yawned. You took Kiro’s hand and pulled him inside, sitting him down on the sofa. You felt your eyes tear up, you had to do this now.

“Why was he comforting you?”.

“It’s nothing, Kiro look we need to talk-”

“It’s not nothing, I’m your boyfriend please tell me,” He says softly, reaching forward and taking your hand. As you blink a tear escapes, he was so perfect and he was yours but you couldn’t have it no more.

“It was just a run in with one of your fans,”.

“What happened,”.

“It’s fine, look Kiro-”.

“Tell me” He said with a stern voice that shook you a little. Kiro was always so soft and gentle, this was the first time you heard him raise his voice. 

“Your fans, it started with the comments online, then they began swarming me on my way to work and it just got too much, I had to ask Gavin to escort me because it made me feel so uncomfortable, then… then one made a comment towards me and it got to much and he was just comforting me but one of your fans followed us and they twisted it completely,” You began but ended up sobbing and Kiro pulled you close to his chest, stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry, you should have called me the first day with the comment,” He whispers against your hair, holding you tight to him as you sobbed into his chest.

“Kiro, I can’t do this,” You sobbed even harder against him, your tears soaking through his shirt.

“Gavin rang me, he told me everything, he told me what horrible thing that girl said, how upset and scared you, so I raced back here as fast as I could,” He said, holding you tighter. He was just so caring.

“But your tour,” You whispered and looked up at him.

“I’ve postponed it, you're more important than any promotional tour,” He said, cradling you tight to him.

“I’ll address my fans, I don’t want to hide this anymore, I want the world to know I love you , I don’t care what the fans think, all I care about is you and making sure your safe,” He whispers and leans down, pressing a kiss to you as you grip his jacket.

“I love you too Kiro,” You manage between kisses as the passion between you build up. You’d hadn’t seen him in weeks and it was rare you got time alone like this, even if it was stupid am. As things got heated he pushed you back gently, so you lay against the sofa, his lips still in contact with your as his fingers undid your silk pyjama top. You arched your back slightly, giving him easy access to slip it off, his fingers grazing over your exposed nipples causing you moan into his mouth.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He whispered as he placed kisses down your neck before his mouth met your breasts. You let out a low moan and his mouth takes you nipple, wetting it before moving to the other, subconsciously you begin to grind your lower half against him, feeling his strong erection against your thin material shorts. 

“I missed you too-Ah” You moaned as he bit sharply onto your collarbone, your fingers tugged at the material of his hoodie and within a second it was gone. You ran your fingers down his toned chest, with the amount of snacks you find him indulging into it's a surprise how he’s still so toned. Your fingers stop as you reach his trousers before undoing them.

“Someone’s eager, Miss. Chips,” He mutters as he places kisses down your exposed stomach before taking your shorts hem into his mouth and pulling them off. The sight was breathtaking as he dropped them from his teeth and spread your legs, since you’d been in bed alone you had no panties on and your soaking core was on show to him.

“Only for you… fuck, fuck Kiro!” You cry as his fingers tease your clit before running down your soaked fold. He gives you a mischievous grin before sink a finger into you and thrusting into you. Your back aches slightly and the moans slip from you as another finger enters into you. He knew exactly where to touch you, where made you cry his name on repeat. Your eyes roll back whilst your hips thrust against his hand, still pumping into you and curling, hitting that intense spot inside you. 

“That's it, cry my name, tell everyone who’s you are,” He groans as you tighten around him, ‘kiro’ constantly falling from your mouth. One more curl against your sweet spot and he had you undone, pulsing around his fingers.

“Oh-Kiro..Oh!” You cry in pleasure at your orgasm, your hips bucking but Kiro holds them in place with his other hand. He continues to pump into, letting you ride out the intense pleasure you had experience before removing them and sucking them clean. You almost came from the sight. Slightly breathless, you sit up and reach once more for his trousers, your eyes hazed with lust.

“Ah, ah, this is all about you, making you feel better, now let me take care of you,” He groaned as he pulled down his trousers and boxers, his erection springing free, standing solid and proud. 

He pushes you back down, your lips once again meeting before settling between your legs, he bends your knees so the bottom of your feet are lying flat on the sofa and kneels up. He breaks the kiss as he pushes himself into you, his hands planted firmly onto your hips as your back arches from the sensation. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before thrusting into you, the moans spewing from your lips giving him encouragement to increase his speed. He watched as one of your hands get lost in your hair, the other holding your breast, tugging at your nipple as they bounced to his thrusts. He takes one hand and places it under your lower back, helping to deepen the angle and within one thrust you cried his name in ecstasy. 

“K-Kiro-Oh-Oh god there,” You manage between moans, your skin tingling on fire as he thrusts deeply into you, hitting the spot that would undone you in seconds. Your hips began to thrash, your back fully arching off the sofa and the hand in your hair moved down to toy with your clit. The sight for Kiro was too much and he groaned your name, his hips snapping against you before releasing his load into you triggering you and your release. You pulsed intensely around him, yours eyes screwed tightly shut as tears ran from them, his name repeatedly falling from your mouth.

“You're so beautiful,” Kiro whispered into your ear as he was spooning you, the pair of you basking in your afterglow. 

“That was so intense,” You were still panting from the high intensity session you had both endured.

“I promise you, first thing we get this whole mess sorted, I won’t have anyone harming the woman I love,” He says, pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist and you fall asleep feeling safe in his arms. 

The following morning Kiro did a live stream and you was doing your best to avoid being pulled onto the camera.

“So you see guys, this is Miss.Chips,” He said and playfully tugged you so you landed in his lap, your face going red.

“Kiro!” You cried and tried to cover your face but Kiro pulled them away laughing.

“And I love her, I love her so much and I know you’ll all love her too,” His gaze was fixed fully on you, not on the camera or the comments flooding in, he looked at you as if you was the only person in the world.

“I love you too,” You whisper as he leans forward and kisses you softly before giving you his famous smile.

“So please, don’t harass her, swarm her, make horrible comments about her, follow her, take photos and twist situations, respect her please, otherwise I’ll retire,” His tone was serious and you looked at him shocked, his career was everything to him. With that he ended the video and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“See I told you they would love you,” He whispered as he flicks through the comments with you.

‘Sweetest couple ever’

‘Kiro, why did you keep her hidden for so long! She’s adorable’

‘I want someone to look at me at how Miss.Chips look at Kiro!’

Your heart melts at the comment and you relax against Kiro’s chest. 

“They can love you as much as they want, but their not allowed to love you like I do,” He mumbles against your neck before pressing kisses down it and gently biting it, causing you to moan slightly. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, I’m going to make love to you for every mean comment you read,”.

“I think we might be here for a long time Kiro,” You panted as one hand fondles your breast over your top, the other running up between your thighs, sweet kisses being placed against your neck.

“Good thing I cleared my schedule then,” And with that you spent the rest of the day feeling the love Kiro had for you.