#this person truly cursed themselves and I’m just sitting back and watching her get exactly what she deserves

[teawiththegods]

Apollo really was right when he said to me

“People like that aren’t worth your energy or the dirtying of your hands. They’ll cast curses on themselves. All you have to do is sit back and watch”

[hinakazino]

Meeting their future kid! || Angel, Aki

Summary: Meeting their future child they had with you!! Or, in which your child with them somehow lands in the past for awhile.

Context: This is before an established relationship, the kids a teen here. Oh and (C/N) stands for your Childs name.

Warnings: SPOILERS (mainly on Aki’s part), none, just fluff.

— angel devil

Honestly, he’s shocked. Literally thinking what? That’s impossible. Touching him shortens one’s lifespan! He didn’t have a lover either, humans and even devils didn’t interest him- So how is it possible that he has a child?

But he couldn’t deny it either, the girl standing in front of him looked like him. She carried the same features, like the red hair and had wings just like him. There wasn’t a halo though, and he could instantly tell she was a hybrid.

“Dad!”, his daughters voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized that he’d completely zoned out. Angel had no idea what to say, but listened as his daughter spoke. “Dad, I know this is quite shocking, but I’m really your kid, my names (C/N),” she said.

It seems that from this Angel regained his composure, he didn’t like beating around the bush anyway. So he asked straightforward, “who is your mother?” “Y/n,” and it clicks. He’d seen you around, and you were his recently assigned partner.

“Um.. you can ask any question you want dad, don’t worry I’ll answer!” your daughter says as she grabs his bare hand to take him to sit. Angels terrified and instantly slaps his daughters hand away. “Woah woah- sorry, I forgot to say, dad I’m immune to your curse!” she says.

His face shows skepticism, but he sits down next to her and he finds himself apologizing. “Sorry..What’s it like in the future?” he asks. “No worries! Oh well, you and mom are basically retired devil hunters. You still go on the job but you get 4 days off now."

He watches as his daughter talks with enthusiasm, and finds himself softly smiling when she says, “happy to hear right dad? Mom says you didn’t like fighting or working much.” Angel feels that he quite enjoys the thought of a future with you and his daughter, it was just truly too good.

Angel then wonders on, "what is it that you do?" he asks. He watches as his daughter responds, "I'm a devil hunter too- but you don't have to worry because I'm pretty strong!!" "Really?" he says. "Yeah! You know you still always have that look on your face father, I'm not a baby anymore," your daughter states proudly.

Angel chuckles at this, as he realizes that his future won't be a lonely one. He won’t be alone anymore, he has his own family. It was in that moment that another thought had occurred to him, my touch drains others lifespan so how strange is it that we were able to have offspring?

Before he could ask though, your daughters time was up. "Sorry dad, I gotta go, this mechanism that got me here doesn't last long," she says. "Ah, no it's okay, stay safe," angel says. "One last thing though! Mom said to give you this, she said it may solve a question you have."

He watches as his daughter hands him a note, and stiffens when she hugs him. Angel finds himself slowly recuperating the hug, hands softly placing themselves on his daughters back, it felt foreign to him. When his daughter had left, he had opened the note.

'From Y/N.

Angel I know you're probably wondering this, so what we did was ...'

Angel blushed, rather his whole face became flushed as he finished reading the note. He could tell that you knew him fairly well since this answered his question exactly, and when he saw you later that day he couldn't stop the thoughts constantly popping up in his head.

— aki

Aki was more so surprised he lived long enough to actually have his own family, but the point that it happened was pleasant to him. He’d lost every person that was there for him in his childhood. Aki felt a sense of warmth knowing that he’d become someone who was now there for others.

Truthfully the idea that a devil hunter lasted in public safety more than 7 years was considered celebratory and it was no secret why. Having a family on top of that? That’s quite the achievement.

But there’s a lot of questions he has, who is his lover? The mother of his child, what’s life like? Has a lot changed? What about Denji and Power, how are they doing? His curiosity shows itself on his face and his son starts off.

“Soooooo, dad like I said I’m your kid and it’s a lot to take in, but I know you have a lot of questions so ask away,” his son says. The kid looks like Aki for sure, he stares at his child’s face and offers a smile. Aki signals for his son to sit down next to them and a father-son talk ensues. “What’s your name kid?” he asks.

“I’m (C/N), and I’m pretty old now,” his son responds. Aki can feel a sense of annoyance, but not with any dislike. “I call you kid a lot huh?” “So you do realizes that you overuse the word,” his son says matter-of-factly. Aki chuckles and continues on, “Yeah uh, who is my lover?”

“Y/n,” and it makes sense, Aki’s noticed your recent starting at him. It wasn’t unwelcome, he could tell you were looking at him with admiration he just didn’t know it was much more. You were his recently assigned partner, one he was tasked to train.

“Mmh, what’s life like?” he asks, trying to sound casual. Aki’s face heated up as it started to settle in that you were a big part of his future. “You and mom are retired married devil hunters, both of you do get called on missions sometimes but it’s really just living and doing normal stuff now,” your son responds.

Aki felt relieved that he let go of his revenge. “How are power and denji?” he asks. “Uncle and Auntie are doing fine, they’re both still in the devil hunting business, you can bet they’re annoying the heck outta me,” your son says sighing. Aki can only smile hearing this.

Everything felt so perfect, he still couldn’t grasp that this was what his future was like. “You decided to be a devil hunter,” Aki comments softly, he genuinely felt slight concern hearing this since he himself has seen many of his coworkers lose their lives.

He watches as, (C/N), his sons face shifts to one of pride. “You don’t have to worry about me father, I know what I’m doing, I got taught by the best of the best after all,” he says. Aki feels proud to hear this, he’s glad knowing that this wasn’t something he pushed on his son. This actually made his curiosity spike again, what about the gun devil, makima, or the agency at his sons time?

“I- I just want to confirm some more, I didn’t force you into devil hunting right? I know I do dislike gun devil and all, what about miss makima-” Aki stops talking as his son cuts him off. “Dad this is my decision, for real, and I don’t know what you’re talking about? The gun devils captured during your time and it’s last appearance was to take down the control devil, Makima,” your son says while shrugging.

Aki couldn't help feeling confused, he had been given no time to ponder over this revelation though, as his son announced his retreat. "Sorry, I've got to go back to my time now father," his son says. Aki feels saddened by this but before he lets his kid go, he makes sure to give him a good hug.

"I'm proud of you, and tell your mom I'm on my way to see her," he says ruffling up his sons hair. He stand there watching as his son laughs and heads on his way with a soft wave.

© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[gallifrey1sburning]

Personalities

It took a few months after the war for anyone to start really noticing that Harry was different, including himself. It was understandable, really; no one was quite themselves for a while. But as things began to settle into some semblance of normalcy (whatever that was) again, it became clear that some core parts of Harry had truly changed.

At first, they all chalked it up to trauma. Then, Harry began to worry that he’d come back incorrectly when he’d died. But it had all begun to come together the first time he’d been called upon to speak Parseltongue in the aftermath of the war and found that he couldn’t.

“Oh,” Harry had said, taken aback. He’d been trying to open the Chamber of Secrets for a team of Curse Breakers who were helping to ready Hogwarts to admit students again, but the words that had come from his mouth were in English. Somewhat embarrassingly, Ron had had to employ the same odd mimicry he’d used during the final battle to obtain the basilisk fangs to get them in.

“Oh,” Hermione had said later, back at Grimmauld Place, when they’d told her what had happened. Her eyes had taken on that look they got whenever she had a new puzzle to solve. “I wonder if… Harry, I know you've noticed other changes. Do you… is it possible that…” She cringed a little, as though afraid of what his reaction might be to what came next, but soldiered on. “Is it possible that Parseltongue wasn’t the only thing you got from Voldemort?”

Once upon a time, before he’d died, Harry would have blown up at this insinuation. He knew it, she knew it, and Ron knew it. But as the two of them looked at him, Harry found that he wasn’t angry, just curious.

“Huh,” he said, sitting back in his chair. Ron and Hermione watched him for a moment as though he was a bomb on a time delay, but all he did was sit and think for a moment before shrugging. “Seems plausible, honestly, if you think about it. It’d be a bit weird if that was the only thing I got from him, actually.”

The easily offended part of him had, evidently, been Voldemort.

They started keeping a list.

Flying and Defense seemed, thankfully, to be all Harry. The deeply suspicious nature appeared to have been predominantly Voldemort. His snark was his own, as was his distrust of authority (which Harry thought was fairly reasonable, all things considered). The short temper appeared to have been both of them, as it was better than it had been, now, but was by no means gone.

Any inclination toward heterosexuality, he found out in a very awkward moment with Ginny when they’d tried to rekindle their relationship, had been entirely Voldemort.

“Er,” he’d said, grimacing as they’d pulled back from a kiss with exactly zero fire behind it. “I’m. Fuck. I’m really sorry, but I, ah… I think I might be gay?” Ginny, thankfully, had taken it all in stride and had very shortly thereafter begun dating Neville Longbottom.

Harry’s suspicions about his sexuality were confirmed when they returned to Hogwarts to finish their aborted education and Harry saw Draco Malfoy again for the first time, stopping in his tracks to stare.

Yep, Harry was definitely, absolutely, very gay. And although the constant suspicion had been a trait he’d picked up from the piece of psychopathic soul that had taken up lodging in his head for sixteen years, the obsession with a certain blond, pointy, and—Harry now saw—extremely attractive Slytherin was all his own.

As though he could feel Harry’s eyes on him, Malfoy looked up. He appeared to be on the verge of sneering, but whatever he saw on Harry’s face must have thrown him off, because his expression quickly turned confused and then calculating. Harry felt himself begin to flush and quickly turned away, leaving Malfoy to watch his swiftly-retreating back as he all but fled.

Well. Fuck.

On AO3

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Skinny Love II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: second part to skinny love. This is all angst. Very sad. I just watched the pain arc again and had to write something about Kakashi and what happens. Im guessing this could be tagged for spoilers but Naruto is old soooo. 

Word count: 5000

“I’m just saying, maybe the second novel is better than the first. You’re free to have your own opinion, that’s just what I think.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Whatever you say,” Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at the masked man sitting in front of her. She was sipping on a hot bowl of broth after coming home from her most recent mission. It was a nice day out, and she thought it would be a good idea to go out and get something to eat with her favorite shinobi. He was dangerously possessive over his romance novels, and felt immense embarrassment when Y/N decided to pick them up as well. 

For a week after finishing the series, she mocked him for liking the gushy, mushy romance that lied on the pages, not to mention the more inappropriate chapters that left nothing to the imagination. Master Jiraiya wasn’t kidding when he said he was doing “research” at the bath house.

“We should go out more often,” he commented, “It’s nice to relax with all this Akatsuki business going on.”

“Definitely. We used to go out like this all the time before you started training those kids,” she hummed. It was true. They had normal outings at that point in time, as the only thing they did was go on missions and then chill at home until the next outing. After Naruto and Sasuke revealed their unique personalities, and got themselves into some sticky situations, the times changed and they spent much more time apart than before. “Not to mention going out with you gives me an excuse to eat whatever I want.”

He nodded in reply, his eyes trailing down to his novel once again which he was skimming over. She didn’t mind him reading at the table. What was he supposed to do? Eat? There was no way he would take off the mask. He was content just giving her company. 

His reading gave Y/N an excuse to admire him. Her eyes would lift from the table every time he looked down at the pages, and she would take in all his features. She swore, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, even with the mask. Without a mask, he probably resembled a god. It was nice to just watch as he relaxed into his novel, enjoying himself without any cares in the world. 

She liked to talk to him even more. He always knew the right thing to say to make her feel important and wanted, even on her worst of days, he was there to make it better. He was brave and strong, but kind and gentle when need be. His soft words in the late nights they hung out, or his concern when she injured herself, or the happiness the times she made him laugh. Each moment meant so much more to her than he realized. 

It was evident to everyone that she had an attachment to him. What kind exactly was the complicated part. While they had been friends for quite a long time, she felt like he was more than just a normal friend or even a best friend. He felt more like a partner than anything, whether it be partner-in-crime or partner-in-love. She loved him with every bone in her body, more than she loved her comrades or her friends, she cared for him like she would a lover.

Maybe it was because she was so shy that she couldn’t tell him how she felt after all this time. Maybe it was fear of rejection. Maybe it was fear of death. She wasn’t sure what held her back from confessing her love to him, spilling all those words she kept under lock and key. She wanted there to be something more, but he’d never let on that he cared for her that way, and surely he would have said something if he did feel that way. It just seemed impossible.

But not to the ordinary person. 

People had mentioned in passing to Kakashi that he acted like a lovesick teenager when he was around the woman. She was just so perfect, how could he do anything but adore her. To him, she was one of the only people that truly mattered as more than a fellow shinobi or comrade.

There was no reason to rush it though. If she truly wanted a relationship with him, she would tell him eventually. He wasn’t one to go around throwing out love confessions first. He would wait until she was comfortable and ready. Until then, he would admire her from a distance, through friendly touches and smiles, and dreamy looks when the other wasn’t watching. To him, that was enough. 

This lunch outing was the perfect time to waste some hours with her just talking and reading in the others company. The day almost felt too good to be true. 

And it was.

First there was the explosion, followed by the screams. Oh, those screams would haunt Y/N’s dreams. Villagers who she’d known growing up screaming in pain. Quickly, she jumped to her feet as did the copy nin.  Their eyes frantically looked through the doorway of the restaurant, but there wasn’t anything on their particular street, just dust from the explosion floating down in thick clouds. 

“Someone’s attacked the village. Shit,” he cursed under her breath. 

They would have to go out there and fight, they both knew that very well. Fight who, they didn’t know, but Y/N could sense that the same foreign chakra signature was coming at her from multiple directions in the village. That couldn’t be good. It was probably that Akatsuki member that everyone was talking about. Pain. Pain with the rinnegan. How could the leaf compete against something as strong as that dojutsu?

“Everybody out! You know the evacuation route,” Y/N called out to the civilians in the restaurant, as she swallowed her panic. She made a move to usher the people from the store so they could run in the direction of refuge.

This wasn’t a normal battle. These intruders were a completely different breed than the ones they were used to fighting. She could feel the impending doom start to blanket around her body, and she took a deep breath. How could this happen? Was Pain here to take Naruto? Naruto wasn’t even in the village, how could that be? Was it the Akatsuki making a big statement attacking one of the five great villages?

There was just something off. She could feel it. Today was going to be one of the worst days, worse than anything else they’d experienced.

“Y/N, let’s go.”

“Kakashi…” she trailed off, not taking a step forward just yet. Was there something she needed to get off her chest before they rushed into a battle with an outcome unknown? As she met his frantic, panicked eyes with her own, she wondered if she should just confess her feelings right then and there, just so he could know before they put their lives on the line. 

Never in her life did she think that her or Kakashi might die. It was never a thought that crossed her mind. She assumed she had all the time in the world to gather the courage to tell him. Now it felt like she had run out of time, and they might never get the chance to see each other again. The chakra signatures around them were just too strong to guarantee they would live against their blows. It felt like this was her final chance. 

She started again, “Kakashi, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hurry this along. She could see plainly that this wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t in the right mind to hear her words, or comprehend the meaning behind them. Instead, she lowered her head and sighed. 

And so she kept that secret tightly bound deep in her heart. 

“Nevermind, it’s not important. Just be safe out there. Make it back to me in one piece, okay?”

“You know I can’t promise that,” he replied, and her heart sank in her chest. He was right. If he died, he died. If she died, she died. Nothing could stop fate from doing its dirty work.

“Just promise me. Give me some confidence before we jump into this mess. I-I can’t do this without you promising me you’ll live!” She cried, passion and fear dripping off her words. She had her eyes shut tightly at this point, just trying to keep herself from letting the potential tears gather in her eyes. Her fists clenched by her side as well. “Just say something!”

He nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “I promise I’ll make it back to you, Y/N. Now promise you’ll live. For me,” he demanded, lifting her head to face him. His fingers were strong against her cheek, firm when faced with danger. He wanted her to live, but knowing that Pain killed Jiraiya was enough to make him worry and plan for the worst. 

Why was he even asking? He knew that words meant nothing. That most promises were just bound to be empty. 

Just this one time, he prayed that she’d keep it.

“I promise.”

“Now let’s go. I’ll take this side, and you go that way. Sounds like explosions came from both directions.”

“Got it.”

There was no room for goodbyes.

After that, they went their separate ways. Y/N had to keep herself from losing control. Everything was going to be okay. She was worrying far too much. Kakashi was strong. Stronger than anyone else she knew really. He couldn’t be taken down by some terrorists. It wasn’t an option.

As long as she could sense his chakra lingering in the distance, she would know. 

__________

It was painful, the wound that tore through her thigh. Blood dripped thickly from the cut, but she continued to fight. In this situation, there was nothing else to do, nothing more to fight for than the safety of the village and the people within it. Y/N has never seen a villain this bad, someone so dead set on killing and tormenting that it brought the shinobi of the village to their knees. Yet, here he was, this orange haired creature who popped up at multiple points of their city, each with a different signature move yet a similar chakra pattern.

Y/N knew she couldn’t break down just yet, not after seeing comrade after comrade fall to the ground and lose their lives to the cause. She had to keep going for them. For her friends and her family who died. She was never the most talented at fighting, she was more of a sensory type, stay on the inside and study type of kunoichi. But not today. No one had that luxury today.

Constantly, she could feel the loss of the ninja alongside her, their chakra signatures melting into nothing as blasts continued to ravage their village. The fire within their bodies burned for the last time, disappearing into the ashes.

It wasn’t until she was on her knees, face buried in the dirt and rubble did she really feel the pain this man was so desperate to bestow upon the villagers. Kakashi’s chakra had burned out. It was as if her body gave up after that. She couldn’t move, her bones were broken and she couldn’t afford to stand and fall back down once again, believe it that she tried over and over again. Nothing mattered at this point. How could it? She couldn’t feel her best friend’s chakra signature any longer. He was dead.

Her crying into the dirt was the only thing that signalled another shinobi to come and help her to the infirmary. Someone she barely knew had picked her up by the arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, dragging her by his side to the hospital where the medical nin were no doubt working harder than ever. Her whole body felt like it was caked in bloody crimson mud, dust up her nose and muk between her teeth. 

Everything just made her cry harder and harder until she felt she was gasping to breathe. 

The harsh lights in the building did nothing but sting her eyes, and the dozens of medical nin rushing around those lying on the floor overwhelmed her. 

Sakura stood at the front of all the mess, and her eyes immediately caught onto Y/N and her rescuer. “Y/N-sensei, what happened to you?” she cried, rushing over with her frantic hands hovering over the state of the broken woman as she scanned for the wounds. This only caused more sobbing.

“One second she was fine, the next she was lying in the dirt screaming. I don’t know,” the man said, handing her off to the pink haired girl. “She’s got broken legs, I know that.”

“Thank you for bringing her,” she mumbled as she brought her sensei over to an empty cot, sitting her down on the cloth and beginning the healing process on the worst part of her leg where the bone was exposed. She was shaking so badly it was almost hard to concentrate on her work. She’d never seen Y/N so hopeless and lost. She was strong, she never faltered in the face of danger. It worried Sakura, no doubt.

“Sensei, what happened?”

“It’s Kakashi,” the woman croaked between her harsh breaths. “I-I can’t feel his chakra anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks furiously, dripping from her chin into her lap. She felt the hopelessness overtake her entire person, the only thing left being complete and utter fear. Her chest heaved, desperate for the next gulp of air into her lungs. 

Sakura nearly faltered at the words. Kakashi sensei, dead? How could that be? He was one of the strongest shinobi they knew. He would never fall victim to a villain, would he? From the sounds of Y/N’s heartbroken cries, the medical nin knew that it was over. That another life had been stolen from them. 

Kakashi was Y/N’s heart and soul. She loved him for years and planned to love him for many more. Everyone knew that. Kakashi and her may have never acknowledged their feelings before his death, but the skinny love lingered in the air every time they were around each other. 

The longing looks when they passed each other in the street. The pain they felt when the other was hurt. The smiles they shared when something good happened in their no-good shinobi lives. They were more than willing to lay their lives on the line for the other, more than just a comrade, more than a friend. 

Her passion for Kakashi was the only good thing she had to come home to after missions. His face was the one thing she wanted to see after a bad day. His stupid face as he read his perverted novels, that grin that she positively adored.

All of that was gone, and her heart couldn’t take it. The pain from her injuries sat in the back of her mind, the only thing she could focus on was the loss. Knowing she would never see him again, never hear his voice. If only she could hear him laugh one more time. It was impossible, but she wished to the heavens above for mercy.

Sadly, no one was there to listen. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sakura whispered, not knowing what else to say. What could she say? 

“I need him. I can’t do this without him,” she sobbed, her hands shaking by her side, having to clench her fists just to stop the tremors. “Sakura, it’s been 15 years. I...I don’t know a life without him.”

Her heart broke at the words. It was true. She didn’t know life anymore without Kakashi. They’d been friends and comrades for so long that it seemed like that was all she knew. How can you come back from that? Sakura didn’t know. She might be able to heal the woman’s legs, but there was no way she could begin to heal such a broken heart. 

“It’s okay. You have plenty of others. You have Gai and Kurenai and-”

“Fuck everyone else. You know they can’t replace him,” she snapped. “No one can replace him.”

Sakura could only nod solemnly. They could lie all day and pretend that Gai would somehow swoop in and make up for that gaping hole in her heart. They could lie and say that Kurenai and her child would fill Y/N with a happiness she felt with Kakashi. Yes, they could certainly lie about it all. 

At the end of the day though, her pain would be unrivalled. Losing the one man you’ve loved from the moon and back. It would take an entire army and then some to combat such a struggle. 

When Sakura was done healing the woman, she handed her a roll of bandages from her pocket. “I’ve got to tend to others. Wrap this around your calf and then stay here to rest. Please, just rest yourself, sensei. You’ll heal faster that way.” Y/N took the bandages and nodded her head weakly, shaky hands going to wrap her bare and burned calf with the medical bandages.

Her mind still centered around Kakashi. She found herself curling up into a ball on the little bench she was sat at, hugging her knees close to her chest. She just cried. Right now, she couldn’t do anything else. 

Just cry.

________

The village was in complete and utter ruin. Y/N lay painfully utop a mountain of rubble, blood oozing from the back of her head and from her already injured leg. Pain’s final attack, one that completely demolished the village...it spared her life.

How could things get any fucking worse? 

She felt like the Gods were being especially cruel to her on this day. Especially cruel to every single person in the village, but they kept Y/N alive for their own personal amusement, laughing at her loss and her pain and her  frustration. 

Despite Lady Tsunade sending out Katsuyu to protect the villagers, Y/N only seemed to be in worse shape than before. She could feel the slug on her shoulder slowly healing her, but it wasn’t much compared to the pain and the numerous injuries.

Y/N rolled onto her side and groaned, pain shooting up her spine and giving her a brain-shattering headache. When she went to cough on something thick and slimy in her throat, what splattered on the ground was red. Maybe she was just meant to die slow and painfully. 

It was better this way, she decided. Nothing could make this day worth it. Nothing. The pain was unbearable.

“Y/N? Is that you?” a feminine voice called from a little while away, and the woman cursed, spitting up more blood as she did so. Sakura climbed through some of the rubble to approach her. Her hands hovered over the woman’s broken body, scanning over all her wounds. 

Naruto was down there fighting Pain. Everything was going to be okay as long as they had faith in the Uzumaki. Sakura could focus a bit of her energy on healing her sensei. There was nothing else to do except watch the fight below them, in the center of the wasteland that used to be the Hidden Leaf.

She began the healing process, medical chakra flowing into the woman’s chest wounds, the most critical of all. “Sakura…”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“What’s happening? Is everyone dead?”

“No, everyone is alive. Lady Tsunade sent out Katsuyu to protect everyone. It seems that you were injured before your healing slug could get to you. Thankfully, you have both of us to fix you up,” she muttered. Y/N would have been blind to not notice the way Sakura stared past her deeper into the wreckage as she spoke. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly, as loud as her body could muster.

“It’s Naruto. He’s out there fighting Pain alone,” she said, “He-he’s gotten so much stronger.”

The older woman smiled through her pain, shutting her eyes and letting a soft sigh leave her lips. She hadn’t anticipated Naruto to come saving the day, in fact, it seemed more likely that Pain would kill everyone and leave the village in ruin. Fortunately, Kakashi’s student, the one that people had underestimated for so long, was out there doing what the rest of them couldn’t. 

A hero. No matter if he won or not, these are the actions of a hero.

“It’s his destiny: to save this village,” she whispered. “Jiraiya once said so.”

“Let’s hope he was right.”

Together they lay there in the middle of ruin while Naruto battled Pain. They watched as the two men launched themselves away from the village into the woods, the nine tailed fox coming to life far away from where they huddled together. The village was safe from direct harm at this point and the two women let down their guard just a little bit. Down in the middle of the pit some of the students started to gather, including a heavily injured Hinata.

“Help me down there, Sakura. I need to see Gai,” she said, louder than before. After all that time healing, she found herself strong enough to prop up on her elbows and gaze into the destruction. 

Once down there, Sakura was quick to start healing Hinata, fearing that the girl had taken too much damage to handle. After all, she charged against Pain, the supposedly leader of this terrorist attack. All of that to help out young Naruto. Y/N felt like she was staring at an image of herself for a moment. A young woman ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of the man she loved. 

As her eyes moved around the area, she caught onto the bright green outfit of her long time friend. His eyes caught hers for a moment and quickly, he rushed over to her side. She collapsed onto her knees, wincing at the pain that ran through her body as she did so. She found herself still a bit too weak to stand. 

“Y/N, you’re alive,” he gasped. He knelt on the ground beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her shaky form. “Your injuries-”

“Forget about that, Gai,” she mumbled. “Something terrible has happened.” He couldn’t imagine what she had to say could be any worse than the destruction of the entire village. But he nodded and sat there listening as she spoke her words carefully, painfully with each syllable that left her lips. “Kakashi is dead.”

He felt his heart drop in his chest. As he looked at the woman before him, he knew that she wanted nothing more to cry, yet there were no tears. He assumed that she had already cried her fill earlier and could only mourn at this point. He didn’t ask before wrapping her smaller form up in his arms and tugging her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder, dry sobs causing her entire form to quiver.

In a moment like this one, he just remained still for her. Sit there and be there through this pain. He felt crushed at the thought of his best friend dead, his eternal rival somewhere out there in all that rubble fatally injured. Gai had lost a brother that day, and Y/N had lost her one and only lover.

He listened as she hopelessly bawled in the comfort of his arms, feeling every bit of her pain sink into his form. They had gone through battles together before, they grew up teammates and friends, how could they not. They had seen death and pain all their lives. This was on another level, incomprehensible to either of them. 

Pure misery. Every emotion seemed to burn in her chest. She wanted to curl up and die herself.

________

It felt like hours went by before the lives were returned. She hadn’t thought much of it when the elderly Toad woke up from his eternal slumber. For a moment, she thought it was just a fluke. That he had never really died in the first place, they just thought he did. But then, she watched as people above the trench started to stand from their resting places on the ground and in the rubble. 

That is when she realized that somehow, someway, the lives lost during this terrible battle had been reclaimed. It was only a matter of time before she found out if Kakashi had come back to life as well. She sat there, focusing all her energy into sensing nearby chakra, sorting through hundreds of people for the one she wanted. 

Gai had left to help out some of the others, so she just sat there waiting. Waiting for Kakashi to come back to her. Just like he promised.

After all this chaos, she couldn’t imagine keeping her love a secret from him any longer. He needed to know. She wouldn’t let this opportunity go wasted. Y/N was given a second chance at finding love in her friend, and she would be damned if she let that go to waste. 

After a while, she began to feel his chakra. At first it was very faint, like he was a mile away hidden underneath rocks and everything else you could imagine. But then it got stronger. 

He was alive.

When she saw his form climb down into the pit with the rest of them, his mask torn and only the bottom layer of his clothes still intact, she nearly cried once again. For hours before this, she was prepared to never see him alive again, never see that masked face look down upon hers once more. She had mourned the loss of Kakashi Hatake, only for him to be returned. 

It was as if the God’s had listened to her prayers.

“Kakashi!” she exclaimed as she struggled to get herself up from the ground. She knelt on one knee, pushing herself up with the other, desperate to walk over to him. Her body failed her of course, and she fell back onto her butt. He noticed her though, her tiny figure in the crowd of hundreds. She was the one person he wanted to find all along. 

He fell onto his knees beside her, his hands coming up to grasp her cheeks with his dusty, calloused hands. She relaxed into his rough fingers, sinking into the warmth that he was sharing. His thumbs slid along her lips and chin, trying to rub away the dirt that was caked in some places. She was a mess, messier than he was. He could only imagine the suffering that she went through as well, to have survived all of that without death as a retreat in the middle.

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Pain’s final blow caused some pretty bad wounds, but it’s fine. Sakura healed me enough that I’ll make it through,” she told him. Softly, she lifted her hands to place them over top his, her fingers slowly wrapping around his. “Kakashi, you broke your promise to me.”

“I know.”

She found that the words came out faster than she anticipated. Emotions and feelings being laid out in the open for him to see/ “I-I completely lost myself when I couldn’t feel your chakra anymore. I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t stop crying, and I was angry at you for breaking your promise to me,” she rambled, “I didn’t know what I was gonna do without you.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now. Whatever Naruto has done saved my life,” he soothed, letting their hands fall into her lap. She wouldn’t let go of his hands even if he wanted them to himself. She was afraid. Afraid that if she let him go once more that he would be gone forever. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I really shouldn’t have died like that. So irresponsible of me.”

There he was cracking a fucking joke about his own death. She wanted to smack him for being so dimwitted in a moment of vulnerability. Just the thought of being with him again made tears spring up in her eyes, and she shut her eyes to keep them from falling. Happy tears or not, she wasn’t going to cry again.

 “I need to tell you what I was too afraid to say before. What I wanted to say before we went our separate ways,” she confessed, her breaths coming out harsh and rushed. Once again, she gripped his hands tighter in hers. 

After taking a couple breaths, she lifted her eyes to meet his, mouth just agape. He really was all she could ever need. This moment wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t ideal, but it was just right for what she needed to say. “I’ve always loved you, Kakashi.”

“Y/N-”

“Listen, I know it’s not exactly an appropriate time to be confessing my love to you and all, but I couldn’t risk another day going by without telling you.”

“I love you, too.”

And silence. 

There wasn’t anything else to say. The love was mutual, it had been all this time. They just took their time getting around to admitting it, to just hear those words leave the other’s lips for the first time. There were no butterflies in her stomach nor did her heart race in her chest at his confession. 

She could only feel comfort in the umbrella they’d created for themselves, the outside world lost to the both of them. 

In a flash, she lurched forward to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face deep into his neck. “Don’t die ever again, Hatake, or I’ll kick your ass,” she laughed, the sound of her laugh reaching his ear. He held her to his chest and sighed. 

“No promises.”

Despite what happened that day, he felt comfortable. For the first time, in a very long time, he felt relief wash over him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Kakashi!”

Requests Are Open!

[the-widow-sisters]

My Reason

Summary: When Natasha and Yelena are practicing knife-throwing, something goes wrong with Yelena. Natasha soon finds out that her sister is exceedingly touch-starved. What happens when Yelena finds out that Natasha craves affection just as much as Yelena?

Word Count: 2520

  “Alright, poser, move out of the way and let the master show you how it’s done,” Yelena told her older sister, raising an eyebrow as she took some knives from Natasha. Natasha stepped back, giving her younger sister some room as she proudly watched Yelena.

  The two of them had some time to themselves that day, and the two had decided to do a little bit of practice together to see if they could learn from one another. They were currently throwing knives, and Natasha had managed to land every one of them in the middle of the targets.

  Now that it was Yelena’s turn, Natasha was excited to see how her younger sister would do.

  “Aren’t you going to take the knives out of the targets?”

  “That would be too easy. Don’t you want a real challenge?” Yelena questioned, her eyes full of mirth and playfulness as she eyed Natasha. Natasha smiled a little in reply, wondering how Yelena was going to land any shots in the middle of the targets when Natasha’s knives were already lodged in the centers of them.

  Yelena stopped where Natasha had been standing. She eyed the target carefully before stepping to the side a bit and chucking her knife. She landed it perfectly in the middle, the blade squeezed in a tight fit directly next to Natasha’s knife.

  She repeated this multiple times before finally emptying her supply of knives. She smirked proudly before heading forward and collecting the knives from the targets. Natasha had an enormous grin on her face just from watching her sister’s skills in action, and as Yelena returned, the blonde faked a few bows.

  “That is how it’s done,” Yelena informed her before dumping all of the knives on the table except for one that she kept in her hand and was flipping around in a slight show. Natasha could see the way Yelena was looking at her. She had hope in her eyes, and she was looking at her with such pride, but there was also some anxiousness as she gazed at Natasha expectantly, presumably waiting on some sort of praise from the older woman.

  “Wow… Awesome job,” Natasha complimented finally, a loving smile on her face as she reached out and squeezed the joint between Yelena’s shoulder and neck with her hand fondly before running it up her neck slightly to cup just under Yelena’s jaw.

  Yelena automatically melted into the touch the moment that Natasha made contact. Natasha furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly as she looked at the girl. Yelena immediately snapped to attention, realizing what she had done as she guiltily glanced in Natasha’s direction. She pulled away from the older woman, her walls surrounding her heart pulled back to their usual slightly more guarded position as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Yeah,” Yelena cleared her throat, seemingly recollecting herself. Natasha just watched her carefully, her thoughts flitting about in an attempt to try to understand what exactly was wrong with the younger girl.

  “Going to have to step up your game if you’re going to top that,” Yelena confidently spoke and pointed at the target in front of her, her eyebrow raised as some semblance of that signature irritatingly confident smirk came back to tug at her lips. However, Natasha could easily see the nervousness in her gaze since she could not quite meet the redhead’s eyes.

  Natasha squinted just a tiny bit, trying to decipher the nervousness, and Yelena quickly caught onto the body language before stretching in a somewhat over-exaggerated manner.

  “Well… It was fun kicking your rear and all, but I’m going to go get a shower so I don’t stink as bad as you,” Yelena insulted lightly, and Natasha smiled slightly since it was such a Yelena thing to say. Yelena reached over, offering the knife left over in her hand to Natasha. The older woman took it from her, her hand brushing Yelena’s, and the blonde quickly pulled her hand away before making her way out of the practice area. Natasha watched her leave and hesitantly let her gaze drop to the knife in her hand.

  She sighed deeply, throwing the knife in the direction of the target without looking and landing it close to the middle of the target.

  Later in the evening, Natasha and Yelena were reclined in the living room on the couch, the television running. However, Natasha was not really watching it, and her mind kept wandering to the girl that was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, curled away from Natasha a bit.

  Natasha truly was not sure what was going on with the other girl. Ever since Natasha touched her earlier that day, Yelena had been keeping her distance and trying not to get too close. Natasha was really worried that she had overstepped some boundary or upset the girl by the affection.

  However, she could not understand it. Yelena always seemed to be okay with shoulder bumps and casual things like that. And when they hugged toward the end of their adventure a while back, Yelena seemed perfectly fine with that and actually seemed as if she enjoyed it. Natasha herself had been terribly uncomfortable with touch at first, but once she realized how wonderful it was and how nice it felt, she began to treasure it. But since Yelena handled it so well so fast, Natasha had decided to try to make more contact with her, knowing that everyone reacted differently.

  So why was the shoulder squeeze such an issue?

  Natasha kept thinking it over, flashing glances in Yelena’s direction, and she finally found herself extremely worried about upsetting the girl and bringing back flashbacks or some sort of trauma that Natasha did not know about.

  After a long moment, she finally reached over and grabbed the television remote, muting it quickly.

  “Natalia! What are you doing?! How am I supposed to know who gets chopped now?!” Yelena whined, looking at Natasha desperately as she waved a hand in the direction of the television, and Natasha just returned her gaze with calm concern. Yelena suddenly seemed to catch onto what was going on, and she stiffened a bit, looking much more uncomfortable.

  “I, um…. About earlier,” Natasha started, not sure how to begin the conversation. She was not too good at discussing feelings and things, and she was almost as uncomfortable as Yelena was at the moment. Yelena shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, and Natasha let her words die off as Yelena seemed to be taking initiative on speaking about it.

  “It is nothing. You don’t need to worry about it,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha could see that there was more to it than that.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, little one… Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to bring back memories or anything—”

  “No, no, no, it is not that at all,” Yelena negated, and Natasha could see the sincerity in her dark green eyes. The redhead tilted her head, confused. She now had absolutely no idea what had caused the girl to be so uncomfortable.

  “I just… In the Red Room, we had no contact. When we received it, it was a reward. The trainers and people there knew that a small touch went a long way. Many of us… We,” Yelena paused, looking away stubbornly as she settled her gaze on the television. Natasha could tell she was not really watching it and she was more just resting her eyes on a place as she thought through her words.

  “A lot of us needed that, and it was punishable to hug or touch each other… But they used it as a sort of reward as long as it was coming from them,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha quietly listened and nodded softly. She knew that was the case. She personally had to face such hardships, but it saddened her to see that they kept such a system of training alive even during Yelena’s time in the Red Room.

  “When you touched me today… It,” Yelena trailed off, obviously terribly awkward with this and quite uncomfortable as a whole. Natasha was honestly not completely at ease either, but she was trying to at least portray some semblance of it in order to coax the words from Yelena.

  “Well, it was just really nice and I accidentally…

  “I’m sorry, it’s just… This is hard to talk about,” Yelena swallowed, and Natasha just calmly eyed her.

  “When you touch me, it’s so different. It’s long and it lasts and it’s not a reward for killing someone,” Yelena admitted, and Natasha felt pain stab at her heart at her sister’s struggle.

  “And you don’t have any problem giving it so freely. It’s so different and so nice, and it was embarrassing,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha looked at her strangely, finding herself confused even after this lengthy explanation that Yelena was trying to get through and offer her.

  Yelena sighed deeply, and Natasha heard a light curse roll off of her tongue quietly before she spoke.

  “I enjoyed it too much and I was afraid that if you saw that, you wouldn’t want to,” Yelena let herself trail off, clamming up as she tried desperately to avoid looking at Natasha. The redhead just thought about this statement for a long moment, not sure what to say in response. Conversations with this many feelings involved were always hard for her.

  However, after a long moment, she moved on the couch so that she was facing her sister a bit more and she opened her arms. In response to the movement, Yelena finally brought her gaze back to look at Natasha, and she eyed her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Come here,” Natasha spoke, and Yelena looked between her open arms and her light green eyes staring the blonde down. Yelena furrowed her brow, at a loss as to precisely what the redhead meant.

  “What?”

  “Come here,” Natasha told her, moving one of her hands to wave Yelena in her direction. The blonde finally seemed to realize what she meant, and she slowly scooted forward, crawling nearer to her big sister. Natasha just nodded slightly in encouragement.

  Yelena moved a bit closer so that she was in Natasha’s space a bit more, and Natasha snagged the opportunity, taking the younger woman in her arms. She pulled her close and hugged her to her chest.

  To Natasha’s happiness, Yelena immediately let her weight settle heavily against the older woman and she wrapped her arms around her sister tightly, her cheek squished against Natasha’s shoulder and her legs stretched across the couch on top of Natasha’s. Natasha rubbed her back carefully, and she quickly noticed the happy sigh and groan combo that Yelena released as she just fully relaxed in it and even pushed herself a bit closer to the redhead.

  “I enjoy it, too. Contact is not so new for me, but having it with you is, and it just… I really would just hug you all the time if I could.”

  “Why can’t you?” Yelena questioned, her words muffled and her voice akin to a mumble from its place stuffed against Natasha. Natasha ran her hands up and down the girl’s back comfortingly, a chuckle resounding in her throat a little as she looked down at the blonde.

  “Well… I was afraid that you wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Yelena immediately responded without any hesitation whatsoever, her voice suddenly quite clear despite her position. Natasha could hear the intense disapproval in the words.

  “Would you be embarrassed?” Natasha asked somewhat worriedly.

  “Would you?” Yelena challenged, her voice now filled with way too much affection and fondness to be too serious. Natasha quickly noted that Yelena had somehow managed to worm her way further up Natasha and was now laying there with her head shoved underneath Natasha’s chin.

  “No… I haven’t really thought about it before,” Natasha admitted, and Yelena huffed a little in response. A tiny smile tugged at Natasha’s lips, the sudden puff of air feeling strange but not unpleasant against her neck.

  “I’d like to try… Y’know… To touch more,” Natasha admitted somewhat awkwardly, and Yelena froze a little, but Natasha could feel the grin breaking out across the blonde’s face as she just snuggled closer to the older woman. Natasha’s smile grew on her face, and she reveled in the contact of the person that she loved the most in the world.

  “We should be careful. We’re starting to sound like those girls on that movie Chilly.”

  “What?” Natasha asked in complete confusion, trying to understand what her sister was trying to communicate. She could tell that Yelena was trying to tease, but she could not exactly get what was so funny because she did not completely understand what Yelena was talking about.

  “You know… Chilly. That movie.”

  “Umm… No, I don’t actually.”

  “Chilly! The animated movie. The one where the sister had powers and was blonde and awesome and shot stuff out of her hands,” Yelena tried to explain, and it suddenly occurred to Natasha precisely what the younger girl was talking about.

  “Frozen?” Natasha questioned, barely holding back laughter.

  “Yes!” Yelena exclaimed, and Natasha chuckled heartily.

  “Hey! Don’t laugh! I was serious!” Yelena whined, and Natasha moved her head over to the side to press a gentle kiss to the Yelena’s forehead. Yelena stilled for a moment but sighed out of her nose in something that sounded like contentment.

  “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you.”

  “I was not laughing,” Yelena told her, completely and deadly serious, and Natasha started to laugh once again, the sound heartier and fuller this time. Yelena actually started chuckling with her at this point.

  “I made you laugh,” Yelena proudly pointed out, her voice relaxed and calm as could be. Once Natasha finally got ahold of her mirth in response to her sister, Natasha smiled wider than she had in weeks as she ran her hand up to touch the back of Yelena’s hair. Yelena sighed happily, a slight shiver running through her as Natasha ran her fingers through the blonde tresses.

  “You make it sound like I never laugh,” Natasha chuckled just a bit, and Yelena shrugged sluggishly.

  “You don’t laugh much.”

  “Maybe I never had a reason to,” Natasha countered, and Yelena huffed.

  “So you’re saying I’m your reason? That’s pretty sappy,” Yelena somewhat sleepily told her, her voice slurring just a bit as she shut her eyes tightly in pure enjoyment of her sister’s attentions.

  “I learned it all from you,” Natasha teased, and Yelena just hummed, unimpressed but too comfortable to grace the statement with an articulated response.

  Yelena was slowly nestling herself even closer to Natasha, her breathing growing deeper and more spaced out as she got comfortable, and Natasha smiled lovingly, a warmth radiating through her.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu,” Natasha muttered under her breath, kissing Yelena’s head as she closed her eyes, enjoying her sister’s proximity. Yelena stirred just a little, barely coherent words on her lips as she replied.

  “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu…”

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Three

Rating: NSFW Length: 2272 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The finale for the romance for @kim-monsterlings!

xxx

Much to your surprise, Ruathym gives you space. There are fewer summons and the spies make themselves ever scarcer, until you could swear there were long stretches of time in which you were truly alone. Even more surprising, you found yourself becoming restless and ill-tempered in these moments, losing your patience with even Tinki. (Of course, you make it up to the little, well-meaning creature; spiders, you learn, are surprisingly good at puppy-dog eyes.)

“You’ve been snapping at the staff left and right,” Ruathym says with no small amount of amusement some days later, braiding your hair down your scalp. It’s gotten longer, you realise, and you contemplate cutting it before your captor speaks. “Have I displeased you in some way?”

Yes, you wish to say, but you’re sure that the King has done nothing wrong. Not truly. “No,” you say instead, though it sounds unconvincing to your own ears.

“Hm,” hums Ruathym, tugging gently at your hair in admonishment. “With the way you’ve been acting, one might get the impression that you dislike being far from my side.” You twitch and he laughs, triumphant. “Is that it, my little bug? Have you come to crave the pull of my silk?”

“I wish you wouldn’t mock me,” you grouse, sighing heavily. “It reminds me why I prefer my own company.”

Ruathym chuckles, fingertips skating along the skin of your back before he picks you up and cradles you against him in his four arms. “I thought humans needed time to mourn their losses,” he says, searching your face with something sharper in his eyes than his usual derision. “I’m no reader of minds, my sweet. You must tell me if you have want of me.”

You scoff. You can’t help it. When has being vulnerable ever served you well? You almost bite his fingers when he turns your face to look into your eyes, sighing once again in your defeat. “And if I do?” you challenge, lifting your proud chin. “What of it?”

“Then you shall become my consort,” says Ruathym, with a simple frankness that flabbergasts you.

“Your—what?” you gasp, distantly aware that your lips are flapping like a fish on the docks.

“Do try not to make me repeat myself,” Ruathym replies in exasperation, pinching your chin. “My consort. My lover. Whatever you humans call those of our stations in courtship.”

“But I’m human!” you splutter, struggling to sit up straighter in his arms.

“I’m aware,” drawls Ruathym, helping you get your bearings—at least physically. “Did you think I was sleeping with you because you disgusted me?”

“I…” You don’t have the words. You don’t know what you thought, but it definitely wasn’t this. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What did I just say about making me repeat myself?”

You huff, scowling up into his handsome, angular face. “You wouldn’t be. I want answers, not riddles.”

Ruathym snorts indelicately, one of his few habits that doesn’t come with some modicum of damnable grace. “Yes, I find you attractive. No one else has the audacity to speak to me the way that you do. I find it thrilling.”

“You mean you like it when I’m cruel.” You frown. “That’s not what I’m after. I don’t want to be cruel to my lover. If you want to court me, you do it right.”

Ruathym carefully sets you down on the bed, curling his legs up under himself and draping his humanoid torso across plump, velvety pillows. “Teach me what humans do ‘right’, then,” he commands, gesturing for you to speak.

You flounder for a moment; this was not how you expected your evening to go. “We… We court,” you say dumbly, gesticulating helplessly. “We exchange gifts of trinkets and flowers, we write one another letters, we—well, usually there’s pining involved, I suppose.”

“How dull,” sighs the King, watching you beneath his thick, silvery lashes. “Driders kill for their lovers.”

The weight of his words isn’t lost on you. You think of your brother and his knights—of the entirety of the kingdom laid to waste at your feet. You feel lightheaded, blood creeping up your neck and up into your face. You have to resist the urge to hide from the slow, smug smirk of satisfaction that melts onto the Drider King’s face. Damn the man. Had he been courting you in his own way this entire time? Damn him!

“What about the Queen?” you ask, hedging around the obvious revelation and latching onto one of your more prominent doubts.

Ruathym blinks hard, clearly startled. “What about her?”

“You’re married,” you say, “and she hates me. Won’t she want me dead once she realises her lover’s attention has strayed?”

The King laughs, hard and loud, throwing his head back with his mirth and revealing his fangs. “She’s never loved me a day in her life,” he manages to gurgle after several seconds of laughter, “and the feeling is mutual. We married for politics and to spawn strong children. That’s all. If she so much as schemes to harm a hair on your head, I will kill her or die trying.”

“Ruathym!”

“What? Does it shock you? I protect what is mine, little bug, and you are what I wish to possess in your entirety.”

You bristle at this, though you curse your stupid heart for fluttering in your chest like a tizzied moth. “I’m not a thing, Ruathym. You can’t possess me. Either you love me, or our arrangement remains the same.”

Ruathym shrugs an elegant shoulder, expression shifting into something bordering on thoughtful. “What is love to a human may not be love to a drider, little one. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Is that not love? I would kill you before I allowed you to court another. Is that not love? I would lay down my life to protect you. Is that not love, this powerful, ugly thing?”

You don’t know what to say to this. You want to object, but your heart is pounding too loudly, your thoughts are too muddled. Never has someone felt so strongly about you, and while your feelings are conflicted, you can’t deny that there’s something intoxicating about the King and his firm command of you in and out of the bedchambers.

Courtship with Ruathym is… interesting. He sends you poisonous flowers at first for their beauty, unaware that their very touch could kill you. When you correct him, he expresses his disdain for human frailty, but then he sends for roses and takes the care to have their thorns removed so as to avoid any chance of injury. It’s excessive and obnoxious, but it’s endearing in its own way, even if you’ve never been particularly fond of roses. Still, each bouquet is a different colour paired with different complimentary flowers, and you begin to look forward to your weekly deliveries with something like anticipation.

Then there are the letters.

As expected, Ruathym’s lettering is swooping and elegant, more reminiscent of ornamental calligraphy than what one would use for writing to a lover. Still, each letter holds within it a terribly sweet awkwardness that lets you know that he’s never written a letter out of love in the whole of his life. He’s strangely formal at first, addressing you by all of your names in the greetings of his first few letters, but it isn’t long before he’s dropping them all in favour of addressing you as he does in person. It makes your heart flutter oddly in your chest to see ‘little bug’ written in such beautiful, glittering script, shimmering silver on charcoal grey parchment.

Soon, they become less letters and more little notes delivered on scraps here and there. Tiny doodles of advisors dying terrible deaths done in the throes of boredom, or tidbits of trivia from the kingdom at large. Did you know we had 5,363 cattle in the region of the L’Surba Caverns? Neither did I know nor care, one says, and you snort into your tea at the thought of the King sitting proudly while some poor sod with an abacus counted out their livestock from the sum of several reports. While you missed the weight of your crown, you did not exactly miss all of the bureaucracy attached to it.

He takes you on little outings, here and there. At first it’s a simple stroll through the gardens, sharing meals and speaking about your days. Then, as you both grow bolder, outings to meet—or, in his case, intimidate—the people. Finally, with glamours and enchantments, you take to the countryside for days at a time, disguised as a couple or adventurers on a quest. It’s during these outings that you get to know him best, away from the bustle of the castle, where his impetuous charm and rakish smiles lure you to him like a moth to flame, and you crash and burn in his heated embrace.

One evening many months later, you are summoned to a part of the palace that you rarely frequent, for it is usually crawling with servants and vassals of every kind. Now, however, the halls are quiet and still, and the servant who leads you to the chamber where Ruathym awaits disappears like a whisper in the dark. There, in the centre of the room, is a set of robes unlike any you’ve ever seen, woven in shimmering silk dyed the colour of rubies. You approach as if in a dream, running your fingers along embroidery in the shape of tiny silver spiderlings along the shoulders and hems—you nearly jump out of your skin when the King drapes himself across your back.

“What is this?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder at his soft, searching face.

“Your wedding attire,” he says, and he seems unperturbed when you draw away, stunned.

“My what? Your wife!”

“Is dead,” Ruathym simply replies, shaking his head at your unasked question. “We had a clutch of eggs. She went the natural way. The children feed on her yet.”

You grimace at this, though you can’t deny the relief you feel at her passing. “You’re a father now?”

“I am. You will also be their parent, when we wed.”

“‘When’? You’re assuming I’ll accept!”

“Would you deny me?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowing into gleaming slits.

Your stomach flips. “Well,” you say, flustered and at a loss. “This is all so sudden, Ruathym!”

“Is it really?” he asks, reeling you in against him again. “We’ve posed as newlyweds before. Why is it so different now?”

“Because it’s real now! We wouldn’t be pretending!”

“Who says that I was pretending before?” he demands, trapping you between his body and the robe on the mannequin. “It was practise.”

You feel your face burning, and you’re sure you might blend into the robe at your back if given just a little more provocation. “You despicable little—“

“Yes, yes, call me names,” he says, waving away your insults. “Later. Give me your answer now.”

“You know my answer,” you grumble, pushing ineffectively at his chest.

“I know it,” he confirms, smugness in every syllable. “I wish to hear it.”

You kiss him instead, drawing him into a passionate embrace and climbing up into his arms when he lifts you off your feet. You hadn’t seen the bed in the corner of the room, but that’s where he takes you a moment later, tossing your “irritating human clothing” over the edge of it and onto the floor. You expect him to bend you over the pillows. You expect him to claw at your skin, to bite at your shoulders, to whisper filth into your ears.

He kisses you instead.

He kisses you like neither of you have ever borne a crown—as if he could find the answers in the hazing of your eyes when he steals your breath with his tongue, hands in your hair and burning along your spine. He teases you open with his fingers until you’re reduced to begging for release, and then he presses into you with soft, shuddering breaths spilling from his lips, eyes on your face as you toss your head back into the sheets and writhe.

He sighs your name like a psalm when you come around him, and then he pushes into you again and again, his cool fingers threading between yours and holding you firmly against the bed as you shake apart beneath him. You feel something in your chest unbreak when he bites you without fang, staying present for every moment that his lips brush against yours and your name falls into the pool of heat between you.

This time, when he comes, he shatters like a shower of glass and sparks, cresting against you like a wave and pushing you over the edge all over again, throat trapped desperately—willingly—between his teeth. When your eyes focus again, you find him looking down at you with a tenderness you’d never thought him capable of, and it makes you want to hide. “What?” you whisper up at him, trying and failing to tug a bit of the sheets over your body.

“I love you, little bug,” Ruathym whispers back, tracing your lips with his thumb. “I have done and will do so until this heart in my chest stops beating.”

“That’s so dark,” you say, “for a declaration of love.”

“It is my declaration, and I am not a man of light. Would you deny me?”

“No,” you breathe, shyly reaching up to touch his face. “I love you, too.”

Ruathym smiles, and despite his words, it lights up the room. “I know.”

You snort. “Bastard.”

“I know that, too.”

[cozy-the-overlord]

Happiness

Summary: A daughter of Thanos, Eija had grown accustomed to the isolated nature of life on the Sanctuary. Only when her father orders her to keep watch over an injured prisoner does she begin to realize how lonely it is.

Written for @lucywrites02′s Lucywrites19 Writing Challenge on prompt #6

Word Count: 4,078

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

A/N: Lucy: *puts together a list of really nice, sweet, loving prompts that would make for some wonderful, fluffy fics* 

Me: And I took that personally

Honestly, this turned into more of a separate challenge for me to see if I could take a fluffy prompt and write an angst bomb. I can say I’m both pleased and thoroughly ashamed of myself.

Happy Birthday, Lucy! I hope you don’t hate me too much after this one ...

Warnings: Implied/referenced torture (it’s not super graphic, but it’s definitely there), blood/injury, character death

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“Are you happy, child?”

It wasn’t the type of thing Eija had expected the hulking warrior to ask a street urchin like her, especially not after catching her wrist in his pocket. Really, she should have known better than to try to steal from someone so clearly capable of crushing her skull within his fist, but his golden armor had glistened so temptingly in the sunlight and besides, she had never been caught before …

When he caught her wrist and yanked her in front of him, Eija was sure that this was the end. The penalty for stealing was steep to begin with, but stealing from a noble (and certainly this man must have been a noble) could lose you your head. But he said nothing of punishment. Instead, he curled his purple lips into a smile and asked her that question.

“Are you happy, child?”

No one had ever asked her that before. No one ever really asked her anything—the most Eija ever got were the curses spat at her on the street, on the luckless days when pickpocketing had brought her nothing and she was forced to beg for sustenance. No one cared enough to ask after her.

No, she told the warrior-noble, no, she wasn’t happy. She was hungry and tired and cold, and she didn’t have money to buy food.

The towering creature laughed, caressing the brilliant hilt that hung at his waist. “I thought not. Come,” he said, stepping forward and motioning her to follow. “I have something for you to eat on my ship.”

…

Eija tugged at the laces on her boot. She had tied and untied them three times already, but she could think of nothing else to do in this tiny room, so she went in for the fourth. Besides her, the Jotun sagged against his braces in the metal chair, his labored breathing the only sound to break the stillness. He didn’t look very Jotun. Lord Thanos had explained that it was some kind of enchantment—the AllFather had magicked away his blue skin when he was a baby to make him look more Asgardian. Eija didn’t really understand the reasoning behind such an action, but she didn’t need to. Her job was simply to make sure he survived the night.

It was a frustrating assignment. Eija wasn’t a healer—she had no idea what she was supposed to do if death came knocking for the prisoner. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly an assassin either, and so unlike the rest of her adoptive siblings her role on the Sanctuary wasn’t considered to be of critical importance.

So here she was. Babysitting.

The Jotun groaned. It was a soft noise, but it was enough to rip Eija’s attention away from her shoes. He shifted against his restraints, but there was no force behind the movements.

“Hey,” she called. “Are you awake?” She shouldn’t have been talking to the prisoner. Somehow, she knew Lord Thanos wouldn’t like it if he were to find out. Still, the metallic room housed a lonely existence, and Eija was desperate for any kind of distraction.

Although the prisoner didn’t exactly seem to be the ideal conversation partner. He flinched at the sound of her voice, his feeble movement falling still as abruptly as it began. Perhaps she should have gone back to her laces, but Eija was intrigued. She left her stool to stand before the Jotun, peering down at him through his shackles.

“Are you awake?” she asked again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his head hanging limply against his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been rustling about. The thought of some grand Jotun (Asgardian?) prince trying to trick her by playing dead was so comical that Eija had to bite back her laugh.

“Hey,” she said instead, trying to add some of that Black Order sharpness to her voice as she tapped his arm. “Knock it off. I know you’re awake.”

He looked up at her then, his movement slow and labored. It almost made her wince, just looking at the way he struggled to open his bloodshot eyes. Lord Thanos had allowed Proxima charge of the Jotun today, and she had clearly made the most of it—his face was so swollen that she never would have recognized the man Corvus had pulled out of the depths of space only a week ago.

“What do you want?” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. He was making a valiant effort to control his breathing, but Eija knew the look of fear when she saw it. She had seen it in the faces of almost everyone who found themselves in the presence of Lord Thanos and his children, although those faces were never focused on her. This must have been the first time she was the cause of such terror.

It was an odd feeling. Eija wasn’t sure she liked it.

She shrugged, dropping the serious tone. “I just wanted to talk to someone. It gets very dull in here.”

The prisoner only stared at her.

No, not the ideal conversation partner at all.

Eija sighed. It seemed she’d be returning to her shoelaces in short time after all.

“Can you tell me your name at least?” she asked. No one had mentioned it yet, and Eija had been afraid to inquire. Lord Thanos hadn’t been particularly happy when he gave her this assignment—his anger had been more directed at Proxima, for nearly killing the prisoner, but Eija didn’t want to give him a reason to turn on her. She wasn’t often the target of the Mad Titan’s fury, but the few times she was were enough of a lesson for a lifetime.

But the Jotun made no response. “Is this a trick?” he asked finally.

“No. I’m just curious.” A strand of black hair had fallen into his eye. Eija was tempted to brush it away, but she held herself back. “I’ll tell you my name, if it makes you feel better,” she offered.

She waited a moment for him to give some kind of answer. He didn’t.

“Eija,” she said. “My name’s Eija.”

He inhaled. “Did he send you to kill me?”

The question caught her off guard, although perhaps it was fair. “What? No, no I’m just— no,” she stuttered. “I don’t … kill people.”

He eyed her, unconvinced. “Why are you here, then?”

“To make sure you don’t die,” she said. “They were worried, you know.” Proxima had been quite proud of herself. Eija had overheard her bragging to some of the others earlier in the day about how she had the little prince calling out for his mother by the end. They had been laughing about it, how quickly he had succumbed to childish instincts, but the thought intrigued Eija.

She had never known her mother. Before Lord Thanos had found her, she had had no one but herself, scrounging up what food she could from what she stole on the street. She never cried for anyone, no matter how frightened she was. She had no one to cry for.

She wondered what it was like.

“Are you truly not going to tell me your name?” she asked. It was a bit disappointing. She had hoped he’d be at least a little more interesting than this.

He swallowed slowly, painfully. Whereas before it seemed he was afraid to take his eyes off of her, now he seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“Loki,” he finally whispered.

“Loki,” Eija repeated. The name made her smile, although she wasn’t quite sure why it would. “It’s nice to meet you, Loki.”

She asked him more questions as the night went on—questions about his home, his family, his childhood memories. At first, he wouldn’t answer any of them. He’d just stare at her blankly as she posed her queries or whip his head away as if he couldn’t stand to be faced with the words.

So, she changed tactics. She told him about growing up on Knowhere, before Thanos found her, about how when she was not yet six years of age the man she had known as her father dumped her on the side of the road and flew away into permanent obscurity, and about how she taught herself how to reach into another’s pocket and pull out exactly what she was looking for by practicing on the other unsuspecting urchins who lived alongside her on the street. It was strange, to relieve those stories before an audience. Because he was an audience, like it or not. He was listening to every word she said, even more so, she suspected, than he wanted to let on.

When she left that morning, after Corvus came to take over for the day, her throat was so dry she could barely speak. It was a nice kind of dry, though. The Black Order never demanded her voice anyways, so it wasn’t a noticeable inconvenience.

It was worth it.

“You again,” Loki muttered when she slipped into the cell the following evening. “Eija.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You remembered my name!”

“You talked a lot.” He blinked sleepily. “You had a nice voice.”

Eija stopped. She wasn’t certain she heard him incorrectly. “What?”

He yawned. “You had a nice voice.”

She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. It was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her, as ridiculous as it seemed. Eija doubted her siblings could even recognize the sound of her voice—if they did, it would have been to scold her for stepping so far out of line, certainly not to pay her a compliment.

“If you’d like,” she said eagerly, pulling the stool across the room so she could sit next to him. “I can tell you more stories?”

It became the part of the day Eija looked forward to most—the moments where she could talk for hours about anything she wanted, without the ever-present fear of her siblings’ mockery or the Mad Titan’s chastening. It felt … safe, in a way that she hadn’t felt safe before. Warm. She always felt so alone on this ship, wasting away whilst awaiting orders. There were points where even her own thoughts seemed to abandon her to the darkness.

But not here. Not with Loki.

He seemed to enjoy it as well. Of course, she held no illusions that he was quite literally a captive audience, but he listened. He remembered the things she said to him. On good days, he’d even ask her questions, add in thoughts and stories of his own.

“You said you don’t kill people,” he asked suddenly, on one such visit. “Did you mean that?”

Eija shifted uncomfortably. This had always been an awkward subject. “Yes,” she said. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t have the training.”

“What do you do here, then?”

She inhaled. “Steal things.”

“Steal things?” he repeated. “What kind of things?”

Eija shrugged. “Anything he wants,” she said. “Weapons, passkeys, precious gems—whatever.” She remembered that day, when Lord Thanos had taken her from the streets to his ship, what he had said as she devoured the soup his servant placed in front of her.

“I have more trained killers than I know what to do with,” he told her. “But perhaps I could use a sneak thief.”

Eija had agreed to everything he said— it wasn’t as if she was in any position to refuse him, and besides, anything had to be better than sleeping in a trash bin. And so, she became the Titan’s personal retriever, sneaking her way across the galaxy and returning with the treasures he coveted in her pockets. Her methods were straight and to the point. She was in and out before anyone even noticed her presence, and, unlike her adopted siblings, there wasn’t a trail of bodies left in her wake.

“But if your role is to steal things,” Loki asked. “Then what are you doing with me?”

Eija didn’t answer right away. Thanos had not ordered her to continue her night watch over the Jotun prisoner. He hadn’t said that she couldn’t, but she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be pleased to find that she had. What was she doing here?

“I just like to talk to somebody, I guess,” she said. “Besides, somebody has to make sure you make it through the night.”

Although it became exceedingly clear with each passing day that such a task may be outside of her abilities. One night, she could hear his hacking all the way down the hall, rattling the walls as she rushed to his side. She found him sagging limply against his shackles, soaked in blood and sweat and goodness knows what else as he choked on his own breath.

Eija didn’t know what to do—she could only wipe the blood from his face and hold the bottle of water to his lips.

“What does he want from me?” he croaked, once he could finally speak. There were tears running down the creases of his face, although whether that was from emotion or pain Eija couldn’t be sure. “Why is he doing this to me?”

For once, she said nothing. She had no answer for him.

She tried asking Gamora once. It was no secret that the Zehoberei was Lord Thanos’ favorite—if he were to tell anyone his intentions for the prisoner, it would be her.

But the assassin gave her nothing. “He has a use in mind,” she said. “Don’t question him.”

“But,” Eija hesitated. “If that’s the case, why is he hurting him?” She gulped. “If he has a use for him, shouldn’t he be … using him?”

Gamora glared at her. “If he’s not strong enough to survive this, he’s not strong enough to do Thanos’ bidding.” Her tone lowered in warning. “Remember your place.”

Eija did remember her place. She was reminded of it with every passing moment—leashed to her lord’s beck and call, every day walking that delicate tightrope of anticipating his wishes without asserting herself too far in his eyes, living in fear of the day when the bottom finally fell through and he decided to unsheathe the blade at his waist.

Was this his plan for Loki as well? Torture him to death’s edge until it pleased him to make him yet another glorified slave? She thought of Loki, shackled to his chair, heaving and coughing up blood, sentenced to wither away until Thanos found use for him … for what? The mere crime of existence?

And here she was, letting it happen, watching as Thanos sucked the life out of him, simply using him as a receptacle to her own selfish need for attention.

She was just as awful.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Was there?

Unless …

The thought started as a hypothetical. Isn’t that how all treason began? A tiny what-if, buried under one’s daily worries? The hangers of the Sanctuary were hardly well-guarded. There was little reason to guard them, after all—few on this vessel had cause to sneak off of it, and those who did hadn’t the opportunity. And with the current position they had been holding the last few days, only a small way from the Krylor jump point, which could then take you down through one of the major galactical traffic-ways …

Stealing a ship would be almost too easy.

It wouldn’t work, she told herself as she stood amongst her siblings in Thanos’ court. The ship was one thing, the passenger was something else entirely. Loki’s chains were specifically designed by the Mad Titan to stifle the magic of that whom they held. They were the very definition of unbreakable. And the key—Thanos kept it on his person at all times, hooked to his belt alongside his blades. Any scheme was doomed to fail.

But sometimes, opportunities present themselves.

“And where are you going, child?”

Eija jumped out of her skin when she turned the corner and nearly collided with the lord himself. It took her a moment to find her voice.

“To watch over the prisoner, as you ordered, sir.”

He frowned. “That was weeks ago. You’re not still doing that now?”

She bit her tongue, so hard it hurt. “W-with all due respect sir, you never told me to stop.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. Such action is no longer necessary.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded. “Apologies, sir.”

Eija stood there shaking long after he had continued down the hall. Her heart felt as if it might pound its way out of her chest. He had to have noticed. In a moment, he’d come storming back up the corridor, grab her by her neck, and crush her skull against the wall.

But he never did.

It was just Eija, alone in the hallway, clutching the golden key between her trembling fingers.

There was little time. Her theft could only go overlooked for so long. She didn’t have the chance to question herself as she rushed to Loki’s cell—any moment spent in doubt was a moment wasted.

Loki seemed to be unconscious when she first arrived at his side, but he popped up with a start the moment she reached for his chains.

“What—" he gasped, eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

The key clicked in the lock. He heaved a breath, falling forward as the shackles fell open.

“You’re going home.” Eija’s mind was racing at a mile a minute. They couldn’t steal a Q-ship—it was too big; they’d would be noticed immediately … “Can you fly a pod?” she asked.

He gulped. “Possibly?”

“Good enough.” She pulled him to his feet. It was at this moment she became aware of the fact that she had only every seen him seated. Loki was tall. Much, much taller than her, and when he sagged against her it took all of her strength to keep him from tumbling to the metallic floor. For a moment she feared that he was too weak to even stand on his own and nearly panicked, because oh goodness how was she supposed to carry him all the way to the hanger—

But he managed to stabilize himself, gripping her shoulder so tightly that she lost feeling in it, but standing on his own. Slowly, she was able to walk him into the hallway.

The hanger was only a few floors above them, but the elevator ride felt like an eternity.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop …

If it stopped before they reached their destination, they were both dead.

Besides her, Loki’s breathing was labored. He hadn’t said anything since she had come to get him.

She squeezed his forearm, hoping he couldn’t feel how she was trembling like a leaf. “You alright?”

He nodded weakly. “I assume you have a plan?”

“The pods are lined on the far wall of the hanger.” She inhaled. “When the door opens, we run like mad and get you on one. And then you take off for the jump point, and don’t stop until you’ve hit traffic.”

Loki turned to her, brow furrowed. “What about you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. Surely you’ll not stay here?”

Eija gulped. There wasn’t time to think about that now.

The elevator doors clicked open to reveal a thicket of barbed shadows and twisted metal. The hanger was lifeless and barren this time of night, lit only by the glow of the cosmos streaming in through the glass. They made their way in perfect silence, the only sound being the pounding of her heartbeat behind her eardrums. Every dark shape seemed like a waiting figure. Now, it was Eija that clung to him too tightly, terrified that at any moment someone would jump out and rip him from her grasp. By the time they reached their destination, they were both wildly out of breath.

The pods were small, thin one-man transports. Calling them ships was really being too generous. They weren’t really meant for long term travel, but they could work for a few jumps—long enough to get to civilized airspace, which was all he needed. She helped Loki into the compartment, careful to keep him from hitting his head on the low ceiling. This damn ship had caused him enough pain already.

He sighed, leaning against the seat in one short moment of rest before turning back to her. “You still haven’t said what you plan to do.”

Eija hesitated. What could she plan to do? She had nothing waiting for her beyond this ship. As with all of his children, Thanos held a piece of her that he would never relinquish, no matter how far she flew.

“I’ll stay here,” she murmured. “For now, at least. They might pick up on something if too much is out of place.”

“But—"

“Please,” Eija hissed. “You remember what I said, right? Take the Krylor jump, and just keep towards Xandar.” She inhaled so deeply it hurt, trying to bury the aching dread building in her chest. “Stay with the crowds whenever you can—he won’t bother with you if it means he has to go through heavy populations.”

Loki nodded, but she wasn’t certain he was listening. There was a sadness behind his eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul. He squeezed her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips in the lightest of kisses.

“Thank you, Eija,” he whispered. “May fate be kind to you.”

…

The alarm went off some hours later, when morning dawned upon an empty cell. They came for her only minutes after. Eija hadn’t been certain of what she would do—would she scream when they broke down her door? Cry for help? Fight for her life? But as the Black Order filed into her room with their weapons drawn, Eija felt only an overwhelming calm. It was good that they were here. The longer they spent with her, the more of a chance Loki had of getting away.

She went with her adoptive siblings willingly.

They took her to the same tiny room where this had all begun, shackled her to the same chair she had watched over so diligently. Eija barely registered it.

Surely, Loki was hundreds of star systems away from here now.

Surely he was safe.

When the pain did come, it filled every fiber of her being, burning through her body as if she were nothing but dry kindling. Her vision bled white. Her screams ripped her throat raw.

They asked no questions. She was relieved for that at least, because her every coherent thought shattered to pieces long before it could reach her lips.

She understood now why Loki had cried for his mother. She would have too, had she a mother to cry for. Instead, she just cried.

Eija wasn’t certain how much time had passed before he arrived. It could have been hours, it could have been months, but at some point when she dragged her aching head to look up she found Lord Thanos staring down at her, the stony weight of disappointment heavy on his features.

Gamora stood next to him. She spared a glance at her former sister, softer, sadder, almost sympathetic, before she turned back to her father.

“Sir, the Jotun is out of tracking range. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”

Out of range.

Eija thought of Loki, raven hair streaming in the breeze behind him as he pulled himself out of the craft, safe on some green, luscious, faraway planet that the Black Order could never reach. She smiled, blood dripping from her lips.

Thanos’ expression remained immovable.

“Well, child,” he finally said, looking down at her as he caressed the glinting hilt at his waist. “Look upon this mess. See what you have done. Are you happy now?” He reached out with his other hand, tipping her chin up towards him with a single finger, as if the mere thought of touching her disgusted him. “You look happy.”

Eija felt a laugh tickle her throat. It came out as more of a cough, blood and bile staining her tongue. Still, she could not bring herself to stop smiling.

“I am happy, sir.”

It was true. A beautiful warmth flooded her aching chest. She laughed again, closing her eyes and letting the feeling wash over her.

She was still laughing when the blade severed her throat. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Chivalry is dead (JJK x Reader) 💜(☁️)🔞

🖤 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🖤 Genre: CEO x Secretary AU, Fluff/Romance, Coworkers to lovers?, mild angst, Smut

🖤 Warnings: swearing, mentions of surgery, did I mention swearing, Kookster is whipped, it’s kinda cheesy, please someone get me a Jungkook like that, slow sex, gentle lovemaking, it’s nothing freaky this time, oral (f rec.) protected sex, sugary sweet live confession you might get diabetes

🖤 Summary: Jeon Jungkook was your boss. The roles were clear as day, so why did it seem so complicated?

You had no idea who in the hell actually invented coffee- like who thought roasting some weird beans and spilling hot water over that stuff was a good idea? Well, whoever it was, that person could go fuck themselves royally; because first of all, that stuff tasted bitter as hell, and second of all, it made your early morning shift an absolute nightmare.

Maybe it wasn't the coffee, but the person who loved them- Jeon Jungkook. Self-proclaimed savior of his Dad's company after taking over at the mere age of 22. Now, at 25, he was a well known face in his business, with famous magazines naming him 'one to watch out for' when talking about deals and sudden decisions. He's headstrong, smart, and unbelievably good looking too.

And also an asshole.

Thats at least what your flatmate Jenny usually says whenever he's the main course of your conversations. You'd told her time and time again that he was merely this rough with you because he was stressed- yet she simply stated that you were just an angel too good for this world- and especially too good for him.

"2 Minutes late." Came his rough voice as he didn't even look up to greet you, simply tapping on the surface of his crisp white table where he expected you to put his coffee. (Black and bitter as his soul, as Jenny always said.) He nodded, hand raising to dismiss you as always, until his eyes turned downwards, spotting your scaped up knee; half-hazardly covered by a bandaid that already came off at one side due to the rush you'd been in. Sure, you could apologize now, tell him how you were late because that freaking dogwalker let a leash of one of his huskies slip, which basically ran you over like a truck considering your rather short height, but you'd found out early on that Jeon Jungkook didn't care about your stories. Yet with his still lingering stare, you felt like he'd glued you to the ground by the soles of your shoes, without his dismissal you were forced to stay right where you were. He took a sip of his black beverage before setting the cup down with a sigh, getting up to walk towards a small bathroom connected to his office. Emerging out of the room again with a couple of items in his hand, he sat down on his chair behind his laptop, turning it towards you.

He had to lean down a bit as he took off the bandaid, not even saying sorry as you hissed at the sting. You did notice however how he took it off more gently after that, as he threw it into his bin, opening the plastic bag of desinfectant wipes, before his large hand held the back of your knee, almost delicately. He began to clean the scrape, brows furrowing a bit at the view of the raw skin, thinking about how you probably ran with that all the way to his office just to not be even later. He wanted to apologize, at least give you some form of verbal reassurance that it was okay to put your own health before his goddamn coffee, but the words got stuck inside his throat as he gently placed a new, more properly sized bandaid over the wound, sighing as some red seeped through immediately. "Get that checked after work today." He simply said before getting up to put all of the items away into their proper place as you were left with still tingling skin from his touch. He turned around, looking at you with an almost bored, but soft look. "What're you standing there for? You're dismissed." He said, and you practically ran out of the office.

"He wants to fuck you." Jenny simply said as she bit into her sandwich, while you were left almost spitting out your lunch. "What? That was electricity, I'm telling you! He so wants to screw you." She said, almost accusingly pointing a finger at you as she took a sip of her water, watching you.

"Stop. He only did that because he.." Oh well yeah, why did he do that? He could've simply told you to get it checked instead of taking care of it himself for that matter. But he was someone who wanted things done immediately- e rarely could wait for things to finish or to be done, so maybe he just wanted to have things more proper during your shift? Exactly. He just wanted to keep the image of his company intact- maybe even raise it by showing other employees that he cared for everyone deeply, even if he didn't. "He probably just wanted me not to look like I got scraped off the streets." You mumbled before taking a bite of your lunch, Jennies eyes rolling.

"Truth is;" She started, as she threw away her plastic waste before checking her watch, "That I still think he wants you bend over his desk." She finished, as you turned shades of pink, lowering your gaze at that. You always tried to keep those thoughts away from you, knowing how unprofessional it was. "Does he know you're leaving soon?" She asked, now a bit softer since she knew it was a touchy topic. You shook your head.

"I haven't put in my termination yet." You answered, your food suddenly looking stale. Jenny sighed, hugging your side.

"I'll buy some icecream on the way home, you're finishing later than I do I assume?" She asked, and you nodded again as a confirmation. "Alright. Let's binge on movies tonight, and have a nice weekend alright? Heads up." Came her reply as she left with a wave, to get back to her own desk in the company.

Jenny and you had met while you were waiting for your interview with Jeon to begin, and when you began to talk, you immediately hit off. You'd told her how much the driving back and forth from your old apartment to work would be, and eventually she'd decided to share her apartment with you close to the company. You were a bit hesitant at first, but eventually agreed; and it was one of your best decisions yet. The way to work was basically half an hour by foot- if it wasn't for your daily task of bringing your boss a coffee from this one specific shop downtown, almost an hour away by foot. It was okay however. Everyone had their preference.

At least you told yourself that to feel better about being Jeon Jungkooks personal slave.

"You're in love with her." Jimin stated, as Jungkook almost choked on his instant ramen.

"What the fuck dude, I don't." He exclaimed in a scandalized manner, long dark hair successfully hiding the red tips of his ears. He simply furrowed his brows, chopsticks now digging in his cup as if to search for treasure, just so he didn't have to look up and meet the eyes of his very nosy friends who were sitting in his living room.

"So you only want to fuck her." Yoongi grumbled as he hit after Jimin, who'd tried to steal a peace of meat from his plate.

"Exactly- Wait no!" The young company leader corrected himself immediately. No, this wasn't just pleasure he was seeking with you- but he also denied every single clue that he was into you, romantically. After all, he'd had his fair share of romantic involvements in the past; all pathetically killing themselves royally simply because there was never true love involved. It was either for benefit, for public image, or most of the time- for his money. It was never truly just about him.

Jungkook was simply a number, nothing more. In a way, his success was mostly just a curse for his soul; he was convinced by now that everyone just wanted something from him at this point, as pathetic as it sounded. He was always just the punchline of a joke, elderly woman seeing him as a piece of meat on a richly designed table ready to be consumed- just to be spit out as soon as he'd loose flavor. It was sad really, how much he hated trusting at this point.

"Look." Namjoon started, putting down his empty cup as he sniffled from the spicy meal he'd just consumed. "As far as I know, she'd from a regular background, right?" He asked, and Jungkook nodded, slurping some noodles without paying much attention. "How long has she been working for you at this point, two years? Three years?" The younger in question nodded at three, remembering the moment you'd stepped into his office for your interview, back then with a different haircut and color, and a bit more shy than you were now. You'd found friends in coworkers, when it came to gatherings and dinners you were always missing, however. He'd never seen you at any afterparty or bithday gathering for that matter as well. "She also didn't eye you up at all during these years, right?" He asked, and Jungkook got a bit more serious as that, because his friend was right. You surely looked interested in him, but you kept it charmingly subtle- it was more like a shy glance every now and then, never to linger uncomfortably. Just like a mouse showing itself to the cat every now and then to keep the chase going without any intention to.

"Oh, did you ever pay her for buying you a new suit by the way? The one she spilled her strawberry milk on?" Jimin asked with a laugh as Jungkook shook his head.

"She didn't want it." He said, and suddenly everyone got quiet.

"She what?" Yoongi asked. "Is she stupid?" He got out before Jungkook threw him a serious glance.

"Shut up." He said through gritted teeth, as Jimin laughed and the oldest in the round threw his hands up in mocking defense. "No but.. I offered several times, but she said it was her fault. She even got mad at me when I simply put the money on her paycheck- she practically demanded me to take it back." He explained, and Namjoon nodded.

"Probably because she'd feel bad." He answered. He knew you longest and most personally out of everyone in the current gathering; he'd been in the same class back in school for a few years. And you'd always been like that- you hated being paid back favours, because you didn't want to seem like you did them just to gain something afterwards. You kept people at a safe distance, never to have them cross that line, so you could always push them away without getting seriously hurt in the process. You'd also never been in a romantic relationship for long as far as he knew- only having had one scandal back in school, where the guy you'd lost your virginity to had publicly shamed you for being 'bad in bed'. It was a mess really, and Namjoon had felt bad back then, but there was no way you'd let anyone close to you afterwards. "Look." Namjoon started, looking at the youngest. "I'd say go for it. From what I know, she's a genuine person. I'm more concerned about her in this situation than you, if I'm being honest." He said, and Jungkook looked at him scandalized.

Yoongi chimed in. "You're known to fuck around. Don't just use her as a place to throw your half-assed cumshots into, that's what he wants to say." He replied, making Jimin scrunch up his nose in distaste.

Jungkook only continued to eat in silence. You maybe had the role of the mouse in this chase- but he was a tiger waiting to be taimed.

"What is this?" He asked, very unamused, and very much not pleased. It was understandable to a level- after three and a half years you'd just handed in your termination. What you did not understand however, was the amount of emotion you could spot swimming behind his eyes- he looked a bit like when he'd accidentally spilled tea over his workspace once, scared to death if that accident would mean the death of all his hard work of the day. You'd reassured him back then that everything had been saved on the main servers, so even if his laptop was to die, which it did not, everything would still be save. He could surely find a new secretary however- there was no use to make such a huge fuss over it.

"It's my termination sir. I'll be leaving at the end of this month." You answered, a bit unsure now on your spot in front of his desk, as he pushed the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a clear sign of irritation on his side.

"Thats in two weeks, Y/N." He stated, and you nodded. "As a reason you stated 'health issues'. Is there something I should be worried about?" He asked, and you swallowed, hard.

"Is it uhm.. do I need to answer-" You began, but he cut you off with a stern voice.

"You don't have to, but I'd have to decline the termination if I don't see the reasoning as fit to be taken seriously under such short notice." He began, putting down the papers as he suddenly looked at you more intensely. "We have clear rules here Y/N, I thought you knew them by now. Vacation requests three weeks prior, and terminations as well, except for important reasons." He said, and you looked down.

"I'll be having an operation that can't be pushed anymore soon sir, and I fear I won't be able to meet your standards afterwards. Which is why I'm terminating my contract." You stated, and you swore you could see a flash of concern in his gaze as he nodded.

"Is there anything I can help you with, in preparation for that?" He asked, now shifting his interest on his laptop screen again, typing something as you got confused.

"Pardon sir?" You asked, and he clicked a few times on his touchbad, seemingly searching for something before he turned his attention back onto you.

"Your severance pay will be quite high due to the quality and timespan you've worked here. I want to make sure however, that you're taken care of personally as well, if you'd let me." He said, in such a manner that you felt like he was actually growing a bit self-conscious.

"I uhm.. I will stay at the hospital for a while to recover, and afterwards I guess I'll be fine on my own. It's really fine sir, I don't uhm.. you don't need to do anything really." You said, before sending a smile his way, trying hard not to think of this chapter as finished. Your eyes already stung at the realization that you'd be leaving this comfortable environment soon. It may seemed childish for someone else, but you considered this place a second home- everything was familiar, every routine saved into the memory of your bones, it was your comfort to work here. "I uhm.. I really enjoyed working here." You finished, as Jungkook took a closer look at you.

He seemed to think about something, before he carefully stood up, slowly walking over towards you. For the first time he didn't look detached or as if he needed to do something; his gaze was soft and gentle, and it made it so much harder not to be a crybaby in this situation. You'd always thought that he merely saw you as a secretary, but this situation, as normal as it seemed, felt so intimate. "I'm glad." He simply said, slightly opening his arms to give you the option to take or not to take his invitation for a hug.

You would've been a fool not to. After all, Jungkook wasn't a physically affectionate person- he hated the act of merely shaking hands with a passion, he'd once told you.

"Will you tell me what exactly it is?" He asked, voice so much richer and deeper now that the side of your face was leaning against his chest, head growing dizzy from his presence. You could smell his faint cologne and a fabric softener similar to the one you used- again showing you that he preferred to wash his clothes himself rather than letting others do it for him. "You don't have to, but you have me worried." He simply said, now detaching himself from you hesitantly as he saw some coworkers outside the office staring. He didn't want to make you the talk of town now, only weeks before leaving. Rumors could be aggressive, after all.

"I uhm.." You started, sniffling a bit as you sat down in front of his workdesk. "I'll have a surgery on my knee, since I take a lot of medication for the pain now, and I kinda don't want that anymore so.." You explained to him, as his brows furrowed.

"Why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have let you work so hard if I'd known you were in pain." He said, almost with a whine, which made you smile a bit in return. You waved him off, however.

"No no, it's fine really. I keep stuff like that to myself anyways." You admitted, and he thought for a moment, before he decided, no.

He wouldn't keep you working just so he could benefit from seeing you. That would be selfish- and he didn't want to be like that. Not with you, at least. He screwed up his chance, and that was okay; he'd had all the time to ask you out, to get closer with you, after all. Maybe it was simply karma. "Take those two weeks off. Don't worry, it won't affect your payment in any form- you'll need to take your vacation time anyways, or I'll get a slap on my hands for not letting you have freetime." He simply said, as you nodded. "Dismissed." He said, in his usual tone.

This time, it made you smile, as you nodded, stood up and walked towards the door. "Y/N." He said from his desk, not looking up. "I really enjoyed having you here." He mumbled, and you grinned, nodding, before leaving the office- and the building alltogether.

"Still can't believe you haven't hired anyone else yet." Jimin accused,as he drank his soju across from Jungkook, who'd simply shrugged. It's been two months by now, and he still refused to let any secretary work as closely with him as you did before. He rather got up a bit earlier and got his morning coffee himself instead of telling anyone to do so; it was as if that was reserved to you. It wasn't the act of having you bring him his coffee like a personal assistand; it was more the fact that he got to see you first thing in the morning. In a weird way, he didn't want to see anyone so early apart form you- he was simply too grumpy for that. "What about Hannah?" He asked, and Jungkook shook his head. Hannah was a promising candidate for the role of a future girlfriend- he really liked her. But there was no romantic spark between the two, and when she'd looked at him almost as if he'd ate her dog when he'd told the waiter to split the bill of their shared dinner, he knew that it wouldn't work out. She'd been so sure that he would simply pay for everything that he had to pay the entire thing- because she didn't even carry her purse with her. "Another piranha, I see."

Namjoon came into the room, several take out boxes in hand. "What're you talking about?" He asked, and Jimin chuckled.

"Jungkookies nonexistent sex-life." He said, before getting hit with a spoon from the younger one.

"Oh, interesting actually-" He began, putting down the food before sitting down himself. "Just saw Y/N-" He started, but Jungkook, almost chomically, cut him off.

"Did she look okay? Was she alright?" He asked, and Namjoon laughed for a second before taking some chopsticks for himself, breaking them apart and making Jimin laugh when they broke the wrong way.

"She seemed okay. Walked without help, but seemed a bit wobbly still." He explained, and Jungkook nodded. "My dad said she's gonna be alright, but it's gonna take a while since she waited so long to get it done-" Suddenly, Jungkook coughed.

"Your DAD did the surgery on her?!" He yelled out, making his dog bark as if alerted, as Namjoon became wide-eyed.

"Yeah, I mean, didn't I tell you.?" He began, but Jungkook shook his head, still heavily irritated.

"No, you did not!" He began, before letting himself fall into the couch defeatedly, whining. "I could've sent her flowers or some other shit, now I fucked it up!" He exclaimed to no one in particular, his dog jumping onto his lap.

"And they say chivalry is dead." Jimin said, playfully wiggling his eyebrows as Namjoon shot him a look to shut him up.

"You can still do that though?" He asked, and Jungkook furrowed his brows.

"No, that's just.. weird. Like, imagine getting flowers from your boss MONTHS after you quit." He said, before huffing like a child. "I screwed it up, its fine." He mumbled, before Namjoon continued.

"I mean, she asked about you though.." He hummed, taking a bite of his food.

"She did what?!" Both Jimin and Jungkook asked in disbelief.

"She asked about you. How you were doing, you know, that stuff." He explained, before continuing. "Told her you fuck around, she left after that." He said, shrugging his shoulders as Jungkook yelled furiously.

"You did what?! Namjoon, what the fuck-" He started, almost tearing up before the elder one laughed. "Not funny." Jungkook commented, clearly unamused by the humor in Namjoons face.

"Sorry." He said, putting down his chopsticks. "No, but for real, she actually told me to tell you she didn't change her number or anything so.."

Jungkook looked at him quesitoningly. "So?" He asked, and Jimin groaned.

"What the fuck, is she supposed to lay on your doorstep with her legs spread out while telling you 'Oh hey come inside and make yourself at home' for you to get the message?" A grumpy Yoongi groaned out as he walked into the living room, greeting the dog. "She basically told Namjoon to tell you she wants to sit on your dick." He said, stealing a dumpling from Jimin as he took off his jacket.

"She did not-" Namjoon started, before turning to the youngest again. "But she basically did say you should message her."

"To make up a date to fuck each other!" Yoongi yelled from the kitchen. Jungkook groaned.

"I mean I do have her number.." He mumbled, and suddenly a hand was on his shoulder as the eldest came back, a glass of water in his hands.

"Then go get pussy." He said, and everyone laughed.

Everyone but the young man in question.

"You uh.. sorry its nothing special but you said you wanted something not fancy so.." He said, as he pulled out the chair as you sat down.

"No no, its fine. I like this." You answered, now a bit shy with him sitting in front of you- all casual and not at all in the regular environment you both met in. He wore a simple black button up, ripped jeans- clothes that were so.. regular, yet he made them look so expensive. Maybe it was how his body was proportioned, with long legs and a broad chest, or maybe it was simply the way he carried himself.

"You look really nice." He casually complimented, as you blushed a bit, unfamiliar with such compliments as he smiled at your reaction, licking his lips almost impishly.

He would've been a bit more shy if it wasn't for the several conversations over the phone you both have had in the past couple of days; your answers and innuendos making it clear that you were genuinely interested in him, on a higher level than just 'hit and run'. No, you'd asked about his dog when he'd sent you a picture of him, you'd wanted to know about his family, or what he did in his freetime- you both even played several rounds of overwatch together when you'd revealed to him that you play the game as well.

It made him feel confident.

Another reason he was so adamant on making sure his impression on you was the best was that you'd openly talked about your, admittedly shitty ex partners, giving him even more reason to treat you the best he could think of.

You felt a bit weird.

Not a bad weird, but a.. tingling weird. This kind of weird where you don't know where to put your hands because wherever you began to rest them your mind thought about if it looked weird. It made you feel like a kid waiting to finally be let loose on a playground. You felt so comfortable with him, that it was important for you to make a good impression on him. So when the waitress came back after you both ate a bite, you began to search for your wallet, as he smiled at you, his larger hand covering yours in a manner that told you he'd pay. "All on me." He simply said, as he payed, making you pout a bit.

Walking outside, he made sure that you were comfortable with him walking you home before walking side by side with you, never too close to not pressure you. After a moment, you began to speak. "I could've payed, you know-" You started, but he cut you off with a question.

"Why won't you call me by my name?" He asked, and you began to chew on your lip. There was no specific reason you could think of that would make sense to him. It just felt like you'd let him in if you were to say his name out loud. It was a taboo thing to call your superior by his first name, but that had been the past. Now it would mean that you were considering him your friend. Or maybe even.. more. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" He asked, and you shook your head immediately.

"No, its just.." You started, trying to think of something.

"Don't make something up now just for me. I promise I won't be offended; just be honest." He said, and you nodded.

"I'm not someone who, you know, lets people get close to me, normally." You explained, before you continued after he'd nodded, telling you wordlessly that he was following your words. "It just seems.. so intimate, if that makes sense?" Against what you'd expected however, he simply continued his gentle smile.

"That's okay. You don't have to love me right away." He offered, looking down at you with a smile. "Say it when you feel like it. We'll do whatever is comfortable with you." He offered, and you smiled.

"So you both did not, in fact, fuck each other." Jenny said, as she ate another spoonful of icecream.

"No, we did not." You said, and smiled a bit at the memory. Jenny had just gotten back from her business trip; a week full of torture as she'd called it. "We simply talked and he brought me home every day." You explained, and your friend fake-gagged playfully at that.

"Oh god, someone get me a grater for all that cheese!" She laughed, as she suddenly smiled a bit more seriously. "No but really, I'm happy. He seems nice." She said, and you nodded.

"He does."

"Do you treat everyone like me?" You'd asked one night as you shared takeout with Jungkook in his living room, having agreed to meet up at his place.

He shook his head. "Not to that extend, no. But I learned from my dad was common chivalry is- it's not that deep to be honest." He explained, as he continued eating. He looked so young like this; merely wearing a sweater and sweatpants combo, hair a bit unruled and piercings on full display. With all that business on his shoulders, one could easily forget that he was just a young man, even if he did turn 26 recently.

"Its not common, though." You commented, and he shrugged his shoulders, leaning back against the couch as he finished his meal.

"Do you want to take my bed or the couch?" He asked after a moment, after you'd finished your meal as well. You shrugged. "Then we'll sleep together." He playfully said, but got a bit shy after you'd simply nodded, not having noticed that he didn't truly mean his statement. No taking it back now though.

"Are you tired?" You asked, wondering if that was why he'd brought up the question. Jungkook was an honest guy, so he affirmed.

"A bit, honestly. Sorry." He said, but you shook your head, already picking up the empty containers and plastic bags to throw them away.

"It's fine." You simply said, as he nodded, his gaze following you for a moment before he opened the door to his backyard, ushering his dog to go out to finish his business before bedtime.

You knew you should feel at least a bit nervous, after all you'd be sharing a bed with him. But for some reason you weren't- even if something was to happen, you felt comfortable with him- enough to trust you at your most vulnerable state. At this point he'd already sneaked his way around your made up walls, way too close now to be let go off without pulling on your skin painfully at the same time. Hurting him would hurt you now- so you had simply accepted the fact that he was going to stay at your side for as long as he saw fit.

"Alright, bedtime mister." He said, leading the dog to its bed by the front door- a place his pet had chosen willingly, he once told you. "Goodnight." He mumbled, gently petting his companions head before he made his way inside his bedroom, where you followed. He closed the door quietly, turning on a small lamp on his bedside desk, before opening a window. "I like to sleep with the window open, hope you don't mind." He said, as you shook your head. You simply got into the bed after him, your way of trying to find out which side he preferred as you slipped under the covers, the smell of his by now familiar fabric softener, and distinctively his smell flooding your senses. His mattress was soft, way softer than yours at home- but it was probably worth several months worth of rent as well.

"I uh.." he suddenly said, low voice cutting through the silence after he'd turned off the lights, darkness swallowing the room fully. "I have a habit of, uhm.. undressing myself during the night so. Just to warn you." He said, before groaning a bit. "Oh god that came of kind of creepy, sorry-" But you simply laughed.

"It's okay. I hug things when I sleep, so I'll probably latch onto you during the night." You admitted, and he chuckled.

"Oh I don't mind that at all." He hummed, as you felt him turn over, probably to face you as your suspicions were confirmed when a finger almost shyly brushed over your bare arm. He was silently testing the waters, trying to find out if you were comfortable enough with him to let him go that far. To his surprise you reacted by scooting closer towards him, until your nose was close to his. He couldn't quite see you, only able to make out rough outlines as the moon wasn't shining at all outside his apartment. "Is that okay?" He asked, in a whisper, careful as if he didn't want to scare you away. He felt you nod as his hand went to lay down on your cheek, thumb finding your lower lip as he guided his onto yours, slow, as if he was only testing the waters yet.

Always so considerate.

You slowly deepened the kiss, a bit hesitant since it has been a while you'd ever kissed someone; but he took the lead after noticing you accepting his gesture, his tongue gently asking for entrance as you granted his wish, making him close his eyes as he lazily continued kissing you, his desire taking over.

Everything was slow, comfortable, and warm- the way he slowly moved to lean over you, the way his hands roamed over your body underneath your clothes. It was as if you both knew eachother already, as if you didn't need to hurry anything at all. And it was true.

He slowly undressed himself, before directing his attention towards you, helping you out of your clothes as well, careful to leave the covers over his body, as if to shield you from the chilly air coming inside from the opened window. He truly enjoyed every second, every inch of skin he laid bare of you, as his head dipped downwards, placing open mouthed kisses against your neck and collarbone as his hand gently ran over your chest, squeezing the soft flesh or a moment before his thumb grazed over the hardened nipple, making you squirm underneath him. You felt torn between a feeling of being worshipped almost, and the frustration of him going so slow. Every past sexual encounter had always been straight to the point- this was entirely new territory.

"We got time darling." He hummed suddenly amused as you began to squirm more underneath his touch. You felt his hard on against your inner thigh clear as day, yet he seemed to absolutely not notice it; his attention more so on you, as he suddenly moved underneath the covers, shaking his head a bit to get his long hair out of his eyes, piercings jingling brightly at his sudden movement before he dipped downwards, making you gasp as you felt his tongue on your center. He chuckled again as his hands held down your lower belly, keeping your hips down and legs open for him as he sucked and swallowed, making you whine at the feeling. This was the first time someone had ever gone down on you, and it made you feel absolutely incredible.

Jungkook moved again as you became close to your orgasm, hands fumbling around for a moment until he found in his drawer what he'd searched for; the crinkling sound of the foil package filling the room as you still breathed heavily. He rolled the condom over his length before he moved over you again, cooing at the cold feel of your damp skin, sweat making your body cool down rapidly. "Are you cold?" He asked, and you nodded, but held out your arms, desperate to have him close to you again. "Let me warm you up." He hummed lowly, pulling the covers over his back again before he led his cock into your core with the help of his hand, groaning at the feel of your warm walls welcoming him inside. He moved after a moment, kissing you again as if he needed to confirm that this was truly happening. "You feel like home darling." He whispered out of breath as he slowly moved a bit faster, your hands searching for his as he helped you find them, fingers intertwining as he felt his soul grow fond. He loved you, he truly did, and in that moment he realized it to the full extend. It was the same for you as he kissed your neck, hot breath against your skin making you feel protected and adored as he picked up his pace, thrusts becoming more erratic as he suddenly pushed himself inside you in one swift move, hand leaving yours to desperately move over your pearl, making your back arch off the mattress as you whined in pleasure, throwing him off the edge as well as he spilled inside the condom.

His forehead rested against your shoulder as he chuckled, slowly slipping out of you as you laughed along with him.

"I swear that was not my intention when I said we'd sleep together." He said, and you laughed a bit harder at that, kissing the side of his jaw affectionately as he kissed your neck. "I love you. I really do."

"That's okay." you said still a bit out of breath, and he wished you could've seen the bright smile he sported at your next words.

"I love you too, Jungkook."

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

-

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took  a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably. 

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

-

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me." 

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress. 

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed. 

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them.  Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends. 

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way.  Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter. 

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry. 

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it. 

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents. 

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family. 

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently. 

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.  

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard. 

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.  

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct. 

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much. 

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened. 

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him. 

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out. 

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey. 

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

[imagineaworlds]

I Had a Dream (Part One) -- Aaron Hotchner

“Good Morning”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Sir kink, Dom/sub relationship, cock warming, dirty talk, impregnation kink. SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy)

Word Count: 2800

A/N: The next chapter will include the entire team.... yeah... i know... i just couldn’t help myself OKAY AH

I groaned as I rolled over under the covers. Hotch caught me in his arms as I nuzzled against his chest, but it caught me off guard when my hips moved closer to his and I could feel his morning wood. I bit my lip and giggled, my face still buried in his warm chest and my eyes still screwed shut. He sighed as he held me tighter while still half asleep. His erection kept pressing into my thigh, and the longer it was there, the more I noticed how wet my shorts were getting.

“Don’t make me ruin another pair of pajama shorts this early,” I played, referencing how he hadn’t just turned me onto my back and fucked me yet. He could if he wanted to. We were both tired and still half asleep, but he could fuck me as lazily as he wanted, and I would still cum for him, there was no doubt. Hell, I wanted him to do it at that point. If he wasn’t going to make a move soon, I was just going to start touching myself. “I’m going to have to do laundry before Wednesday if we keep at it like this.”

“Maybe you should just sleep naked.” He yawned.

I smirked, “You’d like that.”

He bucked his hips in a way that made my left leg snake over his body and hug his thighs. His erection was between my legs now, just against where I needed him most. “I’m too tired,” he insisted in regards to fucking me the way we always liked, which was as hard and fast as possible. “I was dreaming about something, though.”

“What was it?” I asked, grinding my clit against the outline of his length to give myself some kind of relief.

“Remember that night with Emily?”

A wide smile crept onto my face as I nodded. Emily had come over to our house for dinner and drinks after she came back from Paris. We had invited her over because we missed her and wanted to catch up with her. Hotch had known the entire time that she was alive, but I didn’t, and the shock was still racing through my veins— which was likely why I was so brave to offer the idea of a threesome with her. Well, shock mixed with alcohol was probably the cause, but still. All it took was an hour of booze and talking on the couch for the question to leave my mouth, and within minutes, Emily was hovering over me, her lips on mine. I vividly remembered how she tasted. She tasted like wine and oranges, which shouldn’t have been as intoxicating as it was. Her lips were so plump and soft against mine, but her tongue and the dominance she fought for was anything but soft and inviting.

By the time she had my shirt off, Hotch had already told her that I was the biggest submissive he had ever met in his life, and she was desperate to learn more about it for herself. I didn’t stop her as she stuffed Hotch’s tie in my mouth and she began to finger me with an expertise that I didn’t think was possible. Hotch was the only other person I had ever met that knew exactly where to touch me and how in order to bring me to the brink, but then Emily came along and she seemed to know even more. Shit, she even found sensitive spots within my body that I didn’t know about, and they made my knees weak. I couldn’t do anything but moan in the gag and fall apart around her fingers.

Before I could even recover from my orgasm, Emily was already on her knees in front of Hotch and she was wrestling with his buckle. I watched, still gagged and shaking, as she took his length in her mouth and his head fell back as he let out a deep groan. His fingers brushed through her hair before grabbing on tight, and he pushed her mouth all the way down on him forcefully. I swear, I nearly came again while just watching them.

“That’s unfair of you to bring up if you’re not literally going to fuck me right now,” I told Hotch after breaking away from my trance of memories.

He chuckled lightly. “I didn’t want to tell you, but the others found out the other day.”

My eyes shot wide, my body suddenly jolting awake, and I looked up at him. “What?”

“They noticed that something was off with the three of us, and Dave profiled it before we could say anything.”

“How the fuck did I not know about this?”

“You were picking up Jack from school when it happened.”

“You’re joking.”

Hotch lifted a thumb to my mouth and slid it in slowly to keep my quiet. I rolled my tongue around it as I calmed down again. “They all joked that they’d want to see for themselves one day just how much of a whore you are…” I moaned around his thumb, blinded by the passion to even worry about what the truth to what he was saying. “I was dreaming about them taking you. All of them.” I bucked my hips against his again. “Maybe we should take them up on their offer. Would you like that?” I nodded as I continued to suck on his thumb seductively. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal.” He pulled his thumb from my mouth. “If you can be a good girl and hold still while you keep my cock warm as I wake up, I’ll invite them over.”

“And if I’m bad, Sir?”

“You won’t cum for a month.”

I gulped. “I’ll be good, Sir.”

He smiled, “That’s my good girl.” He slid his hand between us and his fingers brushed against my clit. I jolted my hips up against his erection again in response. He chuckled wickedly, “So sensitive.” My face fell back against his chest as I felt his touch leave me so that he could push his boxers down ever so slightly. His erection sprang free and I felt his tip brush over the seam of my shorts, just over my clothed slit. “Keep your leg on me,” he demanded, squeezing my thigh that was draped over his side. His finger brushed my clit again by accident while he tried to move my shorts to the side in order to give himself access to what he truly desired. “Baby girl, you’re so wet already.”

“Because of you, Sir,” I said into his chest. I moaned suddenly and quietly as Hotch lined his tip up with my wet entrance.

He shushed me as he slowly slid in every inch he had to offer me. “Be quiet,” he demanded. I bit down on some of his nightshirt to stop myself from making any more noise, but the more he filled me, the more I wanted to scream his name until my throat was sore. “Don’t move,” he reminded me as he bottomed out inside of me. “Good girl.” My walls clenched around him, earning a groan from him in response, but neither of us moved. “You’re so wet. Fuck.” He kissed my head. “So tight.” He kissed my temple. “All for me.”

“Please, Sir. Just one thrust. Please,” I whined against his shirt.

It was absolute torture not being able to move. His entire long and hard length was buried to the hilt, yet it wasn’t enough. Anything other than just laying there would have been better. Hell, I would have even accepted going back to just grinding against him through our pants because at least it gave me some kind of relief. The way we were only barely feeling each other with not enough movement or pressure to make us feel anything but need was… unbearable yet entirely euphoric.

“Just focus on not moving.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I told you to be quiet,” he hissed. I nodded against his shirt and released my hold on him.

Just like he said, I tried to focus on not moving my hips, or really thinking about the fact that he was sitting inside me and that we would be like that until he got bored— which, with how aroused we both were by the concept, I doubted that he’d give in any time soon. I was fucked, for a lack of a better term. Even when he twitched with excitement inside of me, I didn’t budge, that was how focused I was. I wanted my reward so bad, I was going to do anything to get it. He was challenging me with a task that he thought would be nearly impossible, but I wasn’t going to give up until I got what I wanted. Ever. There was too much on the line to just roll over on top of him and start fucking him until he came inside me. The thought was so appealing I felt myself clench around him again, but the fact that he wanted to invite them over finally… that was worth more than just getting to ride him and not getting to touch him again for a month.

Hotch pulled my left leg further over his hip so that he could fit more of himself inside me while also testing the waters a bit more. He knew that the more he moved around innocently, the more I’d break, and he was so hoping that I would. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he asked finally. I knew what game he was playing. He knew that if he just kept my mind on the fact that he could fuck me until I was sore at any minute, but he wasn’t going to, would drive me insane. “You want me to cum inside of you…” His thumb caressed my stomach as he twitched inside me again. When he adjusted his hips, his cock hit my walls, sending a shiver of euphoria up my spine. He chuckled, “So desperate for more. Maybe I should keep you like this all the time…”

“No, Sir, please.”

Hotch pinched my face with one hand and made me look at him, “I told you to be fucking quiet.” He released his grip and I bit my lip. “Do you want to know what I saw them doing to you in my dream?”

Really, the game he was playing was only going to make it worse for him, not me. My imagination could only do so much to picture what he saw in his dream, but he was going to relive that and it would break him sooner or later. So, of course, I nodded innocently. I wanted to know every little detail in order to break him down faster. And he really didn’t spare any details, just like I had hoped. He told me that he was pinning my arms down as Emily rode my face and Morgan fucked me needy cunt until my thrashing body was nothing but jello. As he told me that he imagined JJ and Reid were both playing with my nipples, Hotch reached down and pinched the sensitive nubs through my pajama shirt. I hissed at the feeling and tried my absolute best to not buck my hips in response.

“Asshole…”

Hotch immediately stopped speaking and moving. Just as I realized that I had said it aloud, I looked up at him to gauge if I should apologize or just stop talking altogether, but the second my eyes were on his, Hotch grabbed my wrist and he pushed me onto my back roughly. Still buried deep inside of me, Hotch adjusted himself so that he was hovering over me. I gulped when I saw that his eyes were black and dilated with lust and anger— which meant I was absolutely fucked. Whatever he was going to do was not going to be good for me.

“I pinned you just like this,” he said gruffly while collecting my wrists together in one of his hands, then holding them against the pillows above my head. “And Morgan fucked you just like this,” he started thrusting into me at a pace I thought was nearly impossible.

He went fast and hard, a yelp escaping my lips at the sudden movement and pleasure. He drove into me over and over again, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting every single inch back into me. If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now. I was already breathless between the moans, the curses, the thrusts, and the kisses. Every part of me that was focused on not losing control of minutes ago had now lost all control.

“Sir—“ I gasped, fighting against his grasp on my wrists.

Hotch muffled my moans and pleas by kissing me roughly. With the next rough thrust, I felt myself start to get close. The way he was holding me down so that I could move, mixed with his kisses to silence me, and the way he practically hate fucked me… My mind was spinning and the knot in my stomach was tightening. My walls clenched around him again, a sign that I was about to tip over the edge, and I moaned into his mouth. Before I knew it, he pulled out of me and sat back on his knees, and the orgasm that had been building in my body disappeared without a trace. I whined, thrashing around the best I could while still pinned.

“Sir, please— Please— Let me cum.”

“Look at you,” he cooed as he brought his free hand to his cock, “whining and begging for release like a needy slut.”

I nodded, “Yes, Sir. Yes. I’m a needy whore. Please—”

His hand turned into a tight fist around his hard length and he started pumping up and down as fast as he could. I whined again, trying to buck my hips up and out in order to find his cock again, but he only moved away to maintain our distance. I panted as I relaxed, hoping that my sudden obedience would coax him into rewarding me by fucking me again.

He tsked his tongue, “What? No more begging?” I shook my head. “So you don’t want me, then?”

“Wait—”

He groaned as his stomach tensed, his abs flexing ever so slightly under his tight nightshirt. “You keep my cock warm all morning like a good girl…” he moaned again, “and then you beg like a slut…” he leaned over me, his fist still fucking his length, “but you stop because you think it will convince me to fuck you again…” He was so close, I could see it. “Baby girl,” his eyes screwed shut, “the only time you’re going to cum today is when they come over and give you permission.” He buried himself all the way inside of me one last time. As I moaned at the feeling of being filled and stretched, his body convulsed as he came inside of me. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he thrust into me twice more while riding out his high.

I wrapped my legs around his waist to hold him tight to encourage him to move, but he did no such thing. “Sir…”

“No.” He sounded so demanding and sure, a way to get me to shut up for real this time. As he caught his breath and finished coming down from his high, Hotch pried my legs off of him and pulled out of me. “I’ll call them. Clean yourself up.” He released my hands and crawled off the bed. “Don’t even think about touching yourself, I swear—”

“I won’t,” I insisted, wanting to be good for him. My reward was coming and I wasn’t about to let that all slip out of my fingers at the last second. I pushed myself upright and felt how needy I still was. My shorts were ruined with the mix of my own arousal and Hotch’s cum— and it was even more obvious as I stood up and it all started running down my legs. I felt my knees go weak, “Sir,” I moaned, still needy.

Hotch turned to look at me and a smile crept onto his face when he saw what a mess I was. I rubbed my thighs together for some kind of friction, and he continued to watch me squirm as he called someone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, that was how quiet he was being, and it didn’t help that I kept whining and moaning from where I was standing. He shot me a look to tell me to get cleaned up. I gulped and hurried to the bathroom.

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @marvelismylifffe @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn​

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 6.(Part 1)

The main female protagonist who, has been the “mother /psychiatrist/ fixer/curse-breaker” for 57 eps & 2 seasons, has finally had her own “I’m a real person with my own issues” ep !!!! YESS! So happy!!! also, so underwhelmed. Tohru has been painted to be this utterly selfless & altruistic character for long, that when she’s finally a balanced character it’s presented in half an episode? Don’t get me wrong, I like the ep, but there’s also the same feeling of bullet train that I felt in momiji’s ep! ugh!! I hated that feeling! Go away~ oh well.. I’ll quickly state what I didn’t like, before jumping into what I liked, in order to end with a happier note~

What I didn’t like:

Tohru’s monologue after leaving shigure & Isuzu felt more like a background exposition more than a true character’s thoughts. The reason is that It is quickly narrated with quick flashbacks from the past with intentional pieces missing from the flashback. Pieces like” how did Kyoko hurt tohru? She said to kyo, in se02, ep “ I feel like I’ve only caused her sadness” &  tohru’s flashbacks in se02 of her mother leaving/ closing a door. All these things not included in tohru’s 1st ever personal monologue made it seem like quick fill in for the audience more than tohru’s main struggle. Compare it to Yuki’s 3 ep monologue in se02, filled with all his own background info, hence, we as audience sit back & just feel. With tohru a little brain work is needed of putting things together in the puzzle is needed because NOTHING abt her trauma has ever been explained to us prior to her monologue . Also, compare this kyo. A character who ONLY have 2 eps dedicated to him in 57 eps, yet even without monologues & with hidden secrets for climax purposes, his emotions are clear cuz his background was explained early in se01, ep24 & se02, ep9. Compared to them both, her monologue felt a bit lacking.

What’s up with the following scene? Her crying & kyo comforting her mid-street. He saw her crying, asked what’s wrong & she couldn’t say & he gave her a comforting advice. All good. Kyo always give the most needed advice for tohru to be herself & feel comforted. Se01, “complain more, be selfish” Se02, somen table scene & asking her abt her future plans & the hiro incident. Kyo has tried to guess whats wrong first. Here he saw her cry in the middle of the street & just gave her an advice? couldn’t he at least guess wrongly if it is her granpa? school? anything? This scene is AMAZING but it feels off a little.

Kyo’s “ now I remember” EXCUSE ME?????? se01, ep14, valentine ep, he got a nightmare, then when shigure talked to him, we saw a quick flashback that we didn’t now what it is but now it IS kyoko. se02, the entirety of ep9 & the “ I won’t forgive you” & the flashback of young him with kyoko talking abt tohru. se02, ep 22 his fight with yuki & the clear face of kyoko telling him abt something regarding the hat. His entire shutdown of tohru IS abt kyoko NOT abt him being a monster cuz tohru accepted monster kyo in se01 ep 24! so.. REMEMBER WHAT????? the accident?? I feel like being hit with a rock. I mean, it makes sense that kyo will get PTSD after seeing the hat, cuz he remembers the bloody accident vividly. But it is the dialogue that IS weird. “ I remember” ?? it makes no sense? unless it is another hidden secret & will be revealed later. If so, then forget this point.

Kagura (more on her below). Now, let’s talk abt what I liked!

-Grief (the most difficult theme to express in literature): Excellent writing!

Grief is one of the most diverse human emotions. ppl who grief a loved one either erase everything abt them in order to cope with the pain of loss & live on, or drastically engrave everything, not want any memory to slip away, or hold the deceased on a pedestal, or hate them irrationally in order to forget abt them, some deny that the loved one is gone, others talk to them daily, some act & live normally for years & suddenly it hits them that this loved person is truly gone & they breakdown. Others, direct their disbelief of losing a precious one into the envy that other bad ppl are still living, why my precious one is dead?. Thats why, it is a difficulty emotion to understand by others. Ppl watching you will always think that comforting you is enough & that the longer you take, the more impatient they are with you. Tell me, watching tohru this ep, didn’t you feel that:

Come on. tohru, you can love your mom & kyo! who says only ONE person can be your precious?

Umm, why she cries for her mom NOW? 2 years after her death? Is she over it already?

Tohru~~ your mom aint going no where cuz you loved a guy? she’s in your heart, girl. Ugh!

Compared to yuki who was abused by his parents & kyo whose mom commit suicide in front of him, tohru’s trauma is meh~

Feeling this way abt tohru is exactly how many feel abt ppl struggling with grief. You are NOT a bad person if you felt this way. It means that thankfully you weren’t struck by grief to tohru’s extent or that your grief went about differently than tohru. Grief is a crippling feeling. It is valid, strong, overwhelming, paralyzing & above all very unique to the person themselves. Tohru feeling that her mom is slipping away from her memory is so realistic & utterly heartbreaking. Grief hurts & moving on from grief hurts more!!!! The more you go on & live your life, the more you feel like you betray your loved one.

Tohru’s entire existence is for her mother & so her mother LIVES inside her:

Finishing high school cuz it’s her mother’s request.

Getting a job to sustain herself cuz she has no one to support her financially.

Giving her mom’s wisdom & teachings abt life to others.

imitating her dad’s speaking style to prevent her mom from “leaving”.

Being the perfect girl in order to portray that her mom, who is a gangster & is hinted by the ugly relatives to be unfaithful to her husband due to tohru not taking after her dad, actually raised a respectful girl!

Talking to a dead cold lifeless picture as if it is a living human being & going into panic attacks when she looses such pictures.

Suppressing all her true “ ugly, negative” emotions & only giving the fake smiles & positive attitude.

She fears that ppl will leave her if she isn’t “comforting, happy”, hence, the whole facade of “ i’m okay, I’m okay”.

Immersing her self in ppl’s issues so she won’t face her own feelings of utter loneliness, fear of the future, & being left behind when everybody moves on with their lives.

Thinking that having selfish desires contradicts the “ hopeful, kind” girl images, hence, the fear to actually wants sth for herself. Everything HAS TO BE for the sake of the others.

Tohru is deeply traumatized & her complex, unhealthy but extremely realistic attachment to her mom must be broken. Tohru must learn to LET GO.

-Kagura’s character’s assassination. aka (violence heals y’all!)

The show wanted to express the emotion that kagura is still in love with kyo, but is learning to let go & accepting kyo/tohru love. I love that. Her speech with kazuma abt not being able to face tohru cuz her face will show her emotions is so relatable & it hit ME personally. Loved that. Then, she learns that tohru truly loves kyo & should confess to him not talk to Isuzu & I get that, it make sense that she lashes on thru & teach her the value of being open abt your feelings & dont loose him. all cool & understandable. BUT:

How dare you slap tohru like that? you don’t know what she’s going through? tohru is wearing funeral clothes for God’s sake! she just visited her dead mom, you insensitive woman! How dare you assume that all tohru is struggling with is love love, romance romance yay~ confess, kiss, be happy?

Tohru & kyo’s issues are deeper than typical, normal, shallow shojo love. It is related to child trauma & abuse. To their own individual identity & self-image! Their romantic love is meant to guide them towards better choices for the future, not magically heal everything. Their mutual love is NOT the answer to their issues.

How dare you slap someone to make them go back to their senses? this is such an anime move! ugh!~ it cheapens the emotional weight of character’s emotions.

“ I’m not apologizing to tohru. We communicate thro fists” excuse me?  you arent even communicating with kyo thro fists! he sees you & run! the only time he thanked you for, was when you didn’t “ communicate thro fists” & played with him as a child! Not only make her hit tohru but not apologize??

No one told her off? are you foreal?? Isuzu pouting lips is no match for Isuzu powerful emotions when she’s embarrassed, & kazuma! where you at? Happy at the “ open confrontation”? Why do you kill kagura’s character like that?

Side Notes:

I hate how this went by in half an ep like they did with machi!! tohru is THE main character for God’s sake! But it looks like the show is not so fond of the true tohru who wants stuff & screams & talks to herself, alas she isn’t the angelic, innocent girl that is saturating the heck out of all shojo amines. Oh well~ perhaps tohru’s issues will be visited again in the finale?

Kyo gets PTSD reaction in front of tohru. great. Now what’s next? I won’t ever forgive the anime if next ep, kyo & tohru are all normal or worse the episodic theme prevents the continuation & jumps elsewhere. Nearly all the eps that didn’t end with a happy note, started the next ep somewhere & totally forgot the cliff hanger. such as, Isuzu’s ep in se02, it ended with tohru’s nightmare & next ep started yuki’s issues with tohru all smiley & bright. Another example, the Cinderella play ended with kyo/tohru torn symbolism where each is awkward with the other, next ep machi !!!!!! & kyo/ tohru all normal in kazuma’s house. But this time, it will be an epic mistake to do the same. Kyo going full traumatic in front of tohru to the point of her screaming is not sth you skip & start over erasing. Don’t disappoint me show! you can’t screw that, can you?

I love the symbolism of kyoko disappearing from the picture & the crack of her framed pic at the end with it still continued in he ED. Good job.

They are building for a hug clashing scene between kyo & tohtu. it must hurt. It is designed to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. It is not abt romance. It is abt mental & emotional trauma. I’m excited. But I’m scared. After today’s ep, I can confidently say I don’t trust the director. I’m an anime-only, but tohru’s part in the story is the least touched upon, the quickest to get over with & has the wackiest animation. They just don’t know how to depict an emotional tohru~ sigh~

Tohru is written to be a unique protagonist in the sea of innocent, selfless & always happy shojo heroine & opposed to the badass, physically strong female protag in shonen. She is the most realistic, but so much of her potential is wasted so far~~

“ saving the sohma’s. breaking the curse for others is a lie, in reality I wanted to do it for kyo” This line is supposed to be liberating for tohru cuz for once she is putting herself FIRST! It is not abt kyo. It is abt herself! it is cuz SHE wants him. See the difference? See how this line gives tohru the biggest character development!! but still sth is missing. I duno..

I have lots to say abt tohru, kyo, shigure, the grandpa, kyoko, Isuzu & even kazuma! I’ll do that in part 2.

I still liked the ep tho. It is solid. I”ll like it MORE if they continued from here & didn’t cut it cold.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2020 Anime Overview

I started out watching the a ton of anime for the Fall 2020 season, but then ended up not being caught up with most of them by the the time the end rolled around. I still pretty much intend to catch up with Yashahime Princess Half Demon someday (I do like the three leads, it just the plot’s been dull as dirt and the fights aren’t very inspired either) and though I dropped Wandering Witch after bad press started rolling in (I CANNOT deal with pointless tragedy in my current state of mind) I might check out a few more episodes someday just to from my own opinion. For now, let’s just quickly review the anime I DID manage to finish on time this season.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle is exactly what it says on the tin: Princess Syalis isn’t too bothered about being captured by demons and locked in their castle, but she does value a good night’s sleep, and she is absolutely ruthless when it comes to getting it- so ruthless, in fact, that the demons realized it might not be that she’s trapped in here with them, but that they’re trapped in here with her.

Sleepy Princess is top tier comedy comfort food. It rarely got a huge belly laugh, but it always but a smile on my face and was a great thing to watch before going to bed. Syalis’s single-minded search for some shut eye is a joke that could have gotten old very quickly, but the show consistently found creative ways to expand on the gags and build it’s world and a fun cast of characters along the way. 

Though Syalis is downright brutal to the demons when it comes to getting what she wants (and has a knack for getting herself killed at well), thanks to a demon cleric that offers easy resurrections, you never feel too bad for anyone involved. In fact, the demons and Syalis form a strangely heartwarming bond over the course of the show , and it’s clear by the end that Syalis definitely has the ability to come and go if she damn well pleases and just finds this castle a fun place where she can find respite from her princessly responsibilities. 

A nice bonus for those of us who like a little subversion is that the show has a lot of fun playing with standard adventure tropes- the demons often lament that Syalis is not at all what they expected from a captive princess, for one, but my favorite fun little twist is how Syalis feels about the hero currently on a (seemingly endless) quest to rescue her- she manages to both hold him in contempt AND consistently fail to remember his name. That level of disregard takes some impressive effort.

The show has the same director as the Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun anime and as such has a similarly nice comic and visual flourishes throughout. It definitely gets two sleepy thumbs up for me.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Jujutsu Kaisen follows a young man named Yuuji Itadori who, after tangling with a demon, ends up with one inside him. With a death sentence hanging over his head, he’s inducted into a school for “jujutsu sorcerers”, and begins training to use his newfound powers to defeat demons and curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen quickly tells you on no uncertain terms it is Action Shonen, introducing a huge cast of a characters and powers and super high stakes and hey there’s even gonna be a tournament arc soon. It is really, really pretty to look at, with a killer opening and ending, some seriously great animation and cool visuals for the fights especially. But is it particularly memorable otherwise? Noooooot really, so far. The sea of technobabble it tends to descend into when trying to explain how the various powers work often has me zoning out and wishing they’d just let me watch the pretty punches. The villains and the general plot isn’t particularly compelling. The characters are nice enough, but haven’t given me much to be attached to so far. Though I do appreciate this one dude who is the embodiment of millennial ennui:

I’ll keep watching though, because it is a visually stunning, action-y thing to my turn your brain off to and god knows I want to turn my brain off all the time lately. 

And the characters do have potential- the One Girl of the main group, Nobara, has a really fun personality in that she’s a total shitlord doofus brawler who can thus doof around with our equally dumbass protagonist, which is an pretty fun, unusual personality for the One Girl to have! Her interactions with Maki, the weapons expert senpai girl, are promising too. I’m just waiting for her to actually, you know, DO something that really shows off her skills- I’m told she DOES eventually get to (gasp) win fights on her own and do cool stuff, but so far show has kind at that of failed miserably and underused her like most action shonen underuse their girls. Plus, taking Yuuji out of the group for such a long stretch seems like a weird choice, we’ve been deprived really seeing him for relationships with his peers. The pacing seems off. But maybe the upcoming tournament arc will make up for that and actually be worthwhile!

Talentless Nana

In a world where kids with superpowers are sent to island schools to fight mysterious “enemies of humanity”, one class of such kids is thrown into chaos when they find themselves targeted by a deadly force.

It’s pretty much impossible to talk about Talentless Nana without discussing how it deviates dramatically from what its premise appears to be in episode one, so I’ll just say if you like stories with superpowers and intrigue, you should definitely sit through that first episode and see if the plot that’s eventually revealed is something that you’re here for. But if you want to avoid spoilers, DON’T GO BELOW THE CUT, because I’m about to get very spoilery.

Basically, Talentless Nana pulls a bait and switch, starting it’s first episode posing as generic superhero anime where the protagonist appears to be your standard meek-but-powerful anime boy (Nanao) who just needs some support and encouragement from a pink haired mind reading manic pixie dream girl (Nana) to unlock his self-confidence and ~true power~ (ugh)...only to take SHARP swerve when  Nana ruthlessly murders Nanao and reveals she’s been sent by the government to take out the superpowered kids one by one because THEY are the considered the true enemies of humanity. Oh, and she doesn’t have any superpowers, or “talents”- she was just able to sus out everything Nanao was thinking through basic deductive reasoning because he was so flippin’ obvious and basic.

As my love for a certain character in a certain game may have clued people into, I am ALWAYS delighted when what appears to be a generic, underwritten girlfriend character is then revealed to be an interesting, ruthless mastermind. And having an anime appear to be about a bland boy with a Dream Girlfriend but then actually turn into a show about a deeply cynical, morally dubious girl who’s clearly holding down a lot of messy feelings as she considers everyone her enemy...well, it may be a cheap trick to some, but it also feels a little bit like justice for all the underwritten female characters sacrificed to bland male leads. It’s still rare enough that I dig it when it happens. And the metatext of Nana zeroing in on this kid as the most standard of main character boys, assessing him as the biggest threat because of it and knowing the perfect way to take him out, is pretty inherently funny to me.

But if the show JUST banked on that twist and was about Nana brutally and cynically slaughtering these kids, it would get boring quickly and Nana would be a bland character herself. Fortunately, it doesn’t go that route. Nana struggles and grows a lot over the course of the show. She finds opposition in transfer student Kyoya, a stoic (and socially awkward) young man who pretty quickly becomes suspicious of her. A lot of the tension from the early episodes comes from her sweating as she tries to outmaneuver him and she makes plenty of mistakes along the way. She also slowly but surely starts to question her mission, and we get an idea of her backstory and how the government specifically has groomed her into believing people with powers to be evil. That belief is one that’s challenged by her friendship with another girl, and it’s pretty rewarding to watch Nana’s feelings and world expand little by little.

The show is definitely a little schlocky-some of the plots (as well as the general premise of the government thinking this is the optimal way to get rid of their superpowered kids problem) fall apart if you think too much about them, and some of the kids Nana goes up against are sleazy and unlikeable in over the top ways (which makes it easy for her to stick to her convictions all these kids deserve to die at first). In particular, I have to give a heads up for some sleazy guys doing and saying sleazy things, though the show never gets too overbearing or graphic with it (and the gore is generally PG-13 level as well). 

Basically. There are some truly ridiculous happenings in this show. But how ridiculous and pulpy and over the top it is can be part of the appeal, and it’s fun to just sit back and watch the spectacle of Nana and her peers head-scratching machinations. 

So, while certainly not an anime with airtight construction or flawless quality and depth, I found Nana an overall entertaining watch, especially as a fan of cat-and-mouse murder-y shenanigans, and thought it has a very compelling main character and managed to end on a heartwrenching (but earned) note. I definitely wouldn’t say no to a second season and would be interested to see where things go from here.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

you belong with me- thomas

this is thomas’s pov. i like doing both pov (i dont know if you can tell) but there are a few things im working on but enjoy!

“How could-? Are you even hearing yourself speak you fool? No- no. God, you know what I'm done.” I throw my phone on the bed, scaring Sir Issac in the process. I cringe even as I begin pacing back and forth. It was truly absurd, utterly crazy, that William lived in such a world where he would ever consider me being with anyone but Audrey Rose. Whilst we weren’t together per say, it was clear there would be no one else for me. The fact that he had already caused trouble for us once makes this even more irritating. I turn and find Audrey Rose already watching me. Her hair disheveled in a messy bun which tells me she is studying or researching something. I give her what I hope classifies as a smile and watches as she pulls out a familiar notebook, searches for her pen and then writes: Are you okay?

Of course she would ask if I'm okay and not what happened; using our absurd way of talking to each other instead of using the window or even messaging me. I shake my head but smile and make my way towards my window. The wind hits me, sending my hair flying but I embrace the fresh air as I watch her move herself off her bed, cursing at her stiff legs. She has been there most of the day, not moving and lost in her work and music. She curses once more as she hits her elbow on the window sill and she looks truly adorable. “You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” I try to ignore the other thoughts I have of her mouth.

“Fuck you,” she scowls at me. It always makes me smile hearing her curse, she always sounds confident in them somehow, making them seem so real. The first time she swore was the time she failed a science test. Well, not exactly a fail, but she was marked wrong by a substitute teacher who didn't like her so she decided to berate him in front of the whole class, starting with her shouting ‘bullshit!’ as soon as she saw her results.

“I assume dear wadsworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” As much as I would rather climb across the gap and make her watch another one of my romance films again instead of talk about it, I know that I should. Otherwise it'll eat at my mind when I go to sleep. As well as it being used against wadsworth in some way too.

“Perhaps,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief as she rests her head on the wall and brings her knees to her chest, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” I nearly burst out laughing at her. She has a love hate relationship with my cat. She pretends to hate the ‘beast’ but will often let him sit on her lap or pet him whenever she is over here. When I first got him, she stayed round mine for the night and we settled him. Even then she had tried to pretend not to like him but she doesn’t remember that she fell asleep with him curled up next to her. I had to sleep on my chair because they were sprawled out, surrounded by her work.

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” Said cat brushes against me and I look at him, the memory still clear in my mind. Yet I know I need to stop avoiding the problem, Audrey Rose is too kind to push me into telling her, and will let me avoid it for as long as I need. It is not the worst thing we’ve faced yet I still hate it.  

“I assume you saw the call, well that was William,” she nods, her face already falling at the mention of his name, “Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumor that I'm with Miss whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I scoff at the sheer audacity of him and his friends. Sir Issac nuzzles into me, knowing that I'm upset and wanting to change that. As well get attention.

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?”

“Yes.” Anger rolls through me at the memory of that disaster. What hurt Audrey Rose the most is that she truly thought he was a friend. She’d explained that with me she didn't try, but everyone else she had too, so when they'd fallen into easy conversations during lessons she really enjoyed having someone other than me and lize and her uncle to talk to.

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' She begins pacing, her mind working faster than her steps as she no doubt recalls everything that happened. I am inclined to do the same. I can still remember her walking into her room, looking at me and falling apart. I climbed into her room and held her letting her calm before she spoke to me. I cried as well, slightly, knowing how much that friendship had meant to her. I'd made us watch a really cheesy film and she'd fallen asleep in my arms.

“I have never once,”I say to drag her back to the present “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” I drag a hand through my hair. “She's just- a lot.” the first time id met her she was just very loud and demanding, I couldn't stand her. I'd watched her insult so many people for being themselves, for liking childish things, or in Audrey Rose's case, morbid things.

“That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Besides, you wouldn’t work, she's too- your,” she falls silent, either lost in thought or not wanting to tell me those thoughts. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink and I smile. She doesn't meet my eye as she sits herself down and I raise my brows as she asks what? As though she didn’t just show me that she has many inappropriate thoughts about me. She curls herself into a ball, hiding in her oversized hoodie, which is mine that I'm not sure she realizes is.

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“You're absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” she rolls her eyes though, even as the pink deepens slightly. Her eyes focused on my own. So I face her fully, like an astute student in class dying to seek knowledge, “you're too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” she stops talking immediately, as though whatever is in her mind she cant voice. Her face twists into something unreadable and I get the sense that she would rather not ever speak about me being with someone other than her.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” she suppresses an eye roll and her smile and ignores the way my voice deepens ever so slightly. I pat Sir Issac off me and earn a whine but he jumps off me. I reach out to her and she leans, her hair ripping free of her bun with little effort from the wind. Her dark curls cling to her face, framing her perfectly too. It makes me want to hold her face in her hands and kiss her deeply.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.”

She inflates my ego every time she smiles at me, whether that be because of my joke or simply smiling at me because I am her friend. “I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-I don’t belong with her, you’re right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.”

She blinks at me, her face falling flat. Silence falls over us and I realize she thinks I'm talking about someone else. And idea forms, one that she may hate me for but one I'm going to do anyway.

“I-” she begins, no doubt going to tell me she wants me to be happy without whomever I'm with. I stand before she can say anything and she stares at me for a second so I motion for her to move. I want to be able to hold her and be next to her. I climb over and set myself on her window sill, leaving enough space for her on the other side. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I try to hide my smirk at her. Preparing myself for the worst. Preparing myself for her calling me an idiot and that she doesn't like me that way. I wouldn’t blame her.

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” she blurts out, her cheeks red now and eyes bright with shock, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

I can’t help but laugh. She is one of the smartest people I have ever met yet she, just like I do, struggles with social cues sometimes. Albeit it she is better than I will ever be. “Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” Not that that would be a problem. As of right now I'd happily list the way her eyes are filled with both relief and shock and happiness and it's a look I want to capture whenever I need a reminder of something good in life.

She scowls at me, ignoring her blush. I take a risk and reach out my hand, moving closer so that her back is straightened on the wall, her attention fixed on me completely. No fake scowl or bright smile, just an intent gaze I can't quite pick apart. I rest my hand on her leg, now free of her (my) hoodie. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.”

I stare at my best friend, my love, as she tries to convince herself this is real. It's truly adorable. Then her eyes widen slightly as she whispers: “I have something to show you.”

She jumps from my grip, running the short distance to her bed and then shuffling through the mountain of books and papers sprawled there until she pulls out a notebook and shakes it, letting a piece of paper drop. It's folded and creased a lot, as though it has been opened often. I watch as she faces me and slowly, her face fixed on the sheet as she opens and holds it out to me.

I read the words: I love you.

I love you.

I read them over and over and over, trying to imprint it on my brain. Her delicate handwriting and her confession reaches out to me and I desperately want to reach out to her, hold her against me and press kisses and make her laugh.

Audrey rose takes her seat across from me and I instantly reach out, holding her leg again. Anything to reassure me this is real. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time.” her voice is soft, her curls once again framing her face as she looks at me, “Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Audrey Rose would never need saving, never want it, yet her words save my own dark heart that she has felt this way for so long, and we have somehow lived alongside each other and been so blinded by our love entwined with fears that it has taken so long to finally acknowledge them.

I debate pinching myself. Only minutes ago was I miserable and upset, yet Audrey Rose has taken her time to cheer me up. Yet even if I had left it as I am fine, even though she knows me better than that, she wouldn't have pressed for answers; would have waited for me to open up. So i lean in and the world stops as we both wait until our lips are pressed together It's a light kiss, one full of promise and wonder. When I lean back we are both smiling so freely my heart feels as though it too is reaching out to hold Audrey rose. We trade kisses, never wanting to leave this loop but I do lean back away from her. I’m already too drunk on her kisses, I need to breathe, to process this so I can remember it. Once my back is against the wall I pull her, twisting so her back is against mine, leaning into my warmth and I rest my head atop hers. Trying to contain my smiles but to no avail. My hand covers hers and as i look down at her i notice she doesn't bother controlling her smile. It is a magnificent sight.  

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.”

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[mochegato]

The Gravity of Light

For the Jasonette July ‘Children’ prompt.  Great liberties taken here but children are mentioned several times.  If you squint hard enough, it fits.

Jason watched Marinette flit about her kitchen, truly earning her Pixie nickname.  His arm was propped on the back of the couch, fingers tapping impatiently as he sat back against the armrest so he could watch her more easily. She was humming happily to herself as she grabbed the things she needed to finish making the cake she was preparing for him.  There was no particular reason for it, she just knew he loved it so she was going to make it for him, as though she sensed his dark mood and instinctively sought to lighten it.  She had a small smile and her eyes twinkled as she worked.

This was one of his favorite things to do; watch Marinette.  He loved watching her do anything, but he especially loved watching her bake for him.  There was something very domestic about it.  It made him feel warm and secure.  It made him feel like he was home and he had a place there, with her.  That they could get married, have children, build a real life.

But he couldn’t.  He knew that. And even if he could, he didn’t deserve it, not really.  Not that life and not Marinette.  Everything in her world was light and soft and kind.  Everything in his world was dark and hard and brutal.  And the darkness overtook the light, every time. It was like a black hole.  No light could escape.  Sooner or later, all light succumbed.  Everyone in his life succumbed.  He was not willing to let that happen to Marinette.

He had tried to break up with Marinette before, several times before.  If he was being honest, he thought about it almost every day before he saw her.  But as soon as he saw her his resolve disappeared, gone just like the light or maybe it was his darkness that disappeared when he was with her.  One look in her brilliant blue eyes and he was lost.  Body and soul lost to her radiance.

But today was different.  Last night had been rough, rougher than he’d had in a while. It seemed like it had taken him hours to clean the blood off when he had gotten home.  It had gotten brutal.  He had gotten brutal.  He had gone too far and he knew it.  Nobody died, at least not yet, but it was close, close enough that it could still happen. The children the thugs had taken had seen more than they should, both before he came and while he was there.  That was where he had taken it too far.  Not what he did, but that he did it where the kids could see.  It would take years of therapy for them to get over all of it, if they ever could. Their innocence had been stolen, the brightness in their eyes dulled, and he had played a part in that.  

God, he didn’t want that for Marinette.  She still looked at the world with luminescent eyes, like it was inherently good, like people were inherently good, like everyone had a chance at redemption.  Years working with Batman had taught him differently.  The League had definitely taught him differently.  Working as a crime lord and taking down the worst of Gotham had taught him differently.  The Joker had taught him differently.  But, she didn’t have to be exposed to that.  She could keep that effervescent light that she radiated.

Finally finished with her task in the kitchen, Marinette bounded over to him, wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed him on the top of his head.  He wrapped his arms over hers and leaned back into her.  She tightened her embrace for a moment then swung around to sit on the couch next to him.  “Okay Jay, what is going on?  You haven’t made one sarcastic, smartass, or snarky comment all night. I’ve been keeping track, there has not been a single snark in sight,” she joked trying to tease a smile out of him.  “Not even a flirty comment or grab for attention.  That’s like 90% of your personality gone.”

She looked at him expecting to see at least a hint of a smile but his brow was still furrowed staring at his hands.  She looked over at him with concerned eyes and took his hand to rub circles on it with her thumb. “Hey, rough day?  …Night?  …Both?”

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, refusing to look up.

“About?”  She encouraged cautiously.

“About how amazing you are,” he said gently, looking in her eyes and pushing a strand of hair out of her face and running his thumb along her cheek.  “And how I don’t deserve you.  If I was a better man, I never would have started up with you in the first place.  And if I truly want what’s best for you, I’ll walk away.  I need to walk away.”

Marinette sucked in a breath, a hurt look crossing her face for a moment before changing to sympathy and understanding.  She knew Jason struggled and didn’t want to include her in it, but she wasn’t fragile, damn it.  And she wasn’t going to let him suffer alone.  “Don’t I get a say in that?” she asked gently.

His eyes were now pleading with her, “Mari… I’m a vigilante. And I'm not one of the good ones.  I work with low lives and scum of the earth…”

“Yes, I've met Roy.”

“That’s not…. Okay fair. Not what I meant, but fair.” He pressed his lips into a thin line at Marinette’s cheeky smile.  “Come on, I’m trying to be serious here.  I’m trying to do the right thing.  Stop being cute,” he begged.  His eyes softening as he watched her.  This is one of the reasons he could never walk away.  She knew exactly what to say to make him feel better, to make him feel like he wasn’t cursed.

“You think I’m cute?” she looked up at him with a pretend innocent look in her eyes.  He wanted so badly to kiss the smirk off of her face.  

He looked away to refocus with a huff, trying to remember the look in the kids’ eyes, trying to remember the end goal, protecting Marinette.  “There’s a reason he’s my best friend, Pixie.  I’m not a good guy."  He looked back up to her with a desperate look.  “You have a good heart and I… I don’t.  I don’t want to drag you down with me and I will if I stay with you.  Everyone who has the bad luck to be a part of my life gets sucked into the worst parts of it.  I’ve seen bad things, I’ve done bad things.  I still do.  I made choices you never would have made, choices you would never approve of.”  

She nodded in contemplation. “Maybe… I don’t know. It was different for me.  Our villains were good people who just had a bad day, well almost all of them.  They never wanted to hurt anyone in the first place.  They never would have let themselves go that far, it was the akuma that pushed them to become something they weren’t, someone they weren’t.  Your villains are terrible people who do terrible, terrible things, things I don’t think I could handle seeing.  The things you’ve seen… It’s different.  It's easier in some ways and harder in others.  I don’t know how I would have reacted in your place, if I knew they could get back out and hurt more kids.”

“I know how you would have reacted.  You would try to talk them down and to help them get better.  I mean, fuck Mari, you walk around GOTHAM with a smile on your face.  Gotham! You give out baked goods to random people on the street. Hell, your favorite color is pink!” His voice was rising now, he couldn’t control it.  She needed to understand.  “Meanwhile, I’m like the King Midas of turning things to shit.  And I don’t want you to be caught in that.”

Marinette fixed him with a firm look, eyes narrowed and lips taut. “Don’t let the pink fool you,” she admonished him.  “Just because I like pink, that doesn't mean I haven't seen god awful things, Jason.  I’ve gone through terrible things.  Done terrible things.  I've seen people die, people I loved, die right in front of me, because of me.  It wasn’t uncommon.  I've had to leave friends behind to be captured or tortured so I could complete the mission.  I’ve watched people suffer and beg for death.  I've had to push past dead bodies… so many bodies… bodies of children…” her voice got rougher and her eyes unfocused as she remembered the scene before she shook her head trying to dislodge the images, “…to survive, to stop the villain.  I've seen the world flooded and the moon destroyed. Don't think for a moment that just because I smile now, that I haven't suffered. I have suffered A LOT. I still do in a lot of ways.  I still have nightmares.  I still have flashbacks.  I still can’t go near large bodies of water without having a complete breakdown.  But, I refuse to live in fear.  I refuse to let the darkness win.  It isn’t stronger than me.  I can and will survive it.”

He looked at her in shock and horror.  She hadn’t ever spoken about her past like this before.  Anytime she discussed her time fighting Hawkmoth she made it seem like fun, like a kid’s show version of superheroes.  There were no long lasting consequences.  There was no suffering, especially not for her.  “How… how did… how can…” he stumbled over the words trying to figure out what he wanted to ask and how to form the words.  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?  You made it all seem so…  How do you… how can you… you walk around with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face like the only thing keeping you down is gravity.  How… you make it look easy.  How do you still believe there is hope.”

“Having hope has never been easy.  It is a choice; to search for light in the Darkness.  It's hard. It fucking sucks some days.  Some days I can’t do it.  Some days I…” she looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts.  “I don't deny that the darkness is there.  I’m the Guardian, Jason.  I see the darkness even when others don’t.  I know it's all around me, all around us.  And God, Gotham just seems to breed it, doesn’t it.  But, I can’t live like that.  And it’s actually kind of my job to find the balance, or cause it if I can’t find it.  So, if I can't find the light, then I'll become it.”  She smiled up at him wanly.  “You do the same, you know. You offer hope to Gotham.” He huffed out a disbelieving breath.  Marinette cocked her head to the side and cupped his face, angling it to look at her. She needed him to see how earnest she was, how deeply she believed what she was saying.  “Just because you don’t do it with a smile like Dick does, doesn’t mean you aren’t still doing it.  Kids, they see you and they know you’re going to make it okay, that you’re watching out for them.  More than any of the other vigilantes, they look to you for hope.”  

She smiled up at him and crawled into his lap, straddling his legs.  She slowly ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and up to his neck to run her thumbs along his cheeks.  She was now looking at him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen her use.  “You do it for me, too.  You give me hope.  Those nightmares I mentioned, I don’t have them when you’re around.  You make me feel safe.  You are my light in the dark. I’m not afraid of the darkness as long as you are there with me because I know you’ll stand by me, holding my hand as I tell it to kindly back the fuck off.”

He pulled away from her slightly to look her in the eyes, her shining eyes.  He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers before gently touching his lips to hers, quickly tilting his head to deepen it.  When she pulled away a few minutes later to look at him again he followed her and recaptured her lips pouring all of his emotions into the second kiss, trying to convey everything he felt about her, all the desperation, the guilt, the love, and the hope.  His arms wound around her waist pulling her flush against him.  Her hands found their way into his hair and gripping it tightly.  She finally broke away from him to catch her breath.

He stared in her brilliant eyes that had their own center of gravity and it made him believe; believe there was hope, believe he could have a future with her, a life, kids. That it was all possible. That maybe they could be a light for each other.  He gave in to the promise he saw in her eyes, rising up so he could push her down onto the couch, crashing his lips into hers again, as if to seal the promise.  

 Special thanks to @ethelphantom for helping with the mood music.

Tag list:

@maribat-is-lifeblood  @fsketchart @boldlyanxious @thethirdwheelfriend 

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

(This is based off the lovely prompt you gave me a while ago, and I decided to incorporate it into the kid!verse. Khaleel is five years old now.)

Part 14 of Jimercury Kid series

Freddie’s hands were shaking as he held the wrapped package in his hand and he cursed himself internally, wishing his nerves would settle long enough for him to just open the door and give Jim his damn present. He had never been this apprehensive about giving someone a gift before; he usually couldn’t wait to surprise his loved ones, to see the absolute delight on their faces when they unwrapped the paper and saw what he had bought them. It was usually something expensive, something unobtainable to them, something grandiose that only someone with his paycheque could afford.

That’s what everyone wanted, right? Big, expensive presents?

Not Jim, apparently.

Jim was a simple man. That’s part of the reason why Freddie had fallen so hard for him, aside from his unmeasurable kindness and rugged good looks, of course. And being a simple man, he preferred the simpler things in life; he appreciated the lavish gifts and parties that Freddie treated him to, of course, but Freddie knew fully well that he could have been a road sweeper and Jim would still be in love with him. That’s the kind of person his husband was.

Which was precisely why Freddie was in the predicament he was in now.

--

He had been trying to figure out what to get Jim for his birthday for weeks, enlisting the help of Phoebe and Mary to scout out all the local department stores in search of the perfect gift. Phoebe found a nice pair of garden shears, which would come in useful, given that Jim’s current ones were old and rusting and Jim was always talking about replacing them. Practical, thought Freddie, but not exactly the most personal of gifts. Mary found a lovely ceramic cat ornament, its features hand painted by the artist; Jim would love it, Freddie knew, but he had already bought him a similar gift years before. In the end, Phoebe and Mary purchased the presents to give Jim themselves and the search continued.

It was their son who ended up inspiring Freddie, though that was hardly surprising because Khaleel was always inspiring him. Freddie had come home from a long day at the studio and found the little boy painting at the kitchen table with Phoebe, old newspapers spread out to make sure he didn’t make a mess. They had been at it for a while, judging by how many paintings there were scattered around; paintings of flowers, and dinosaurs and, of course, every one of the cats with their names scribbled underneath in felt tip.

‘These are lovely, Bijou.’ Freddie beamed, after Phoebe had excused himself to wash the paint off his hands. ‘You’re so talented. We should hang them up in your room.’

Khaleel nodded enthusiastically, adding one final dab of paint to his wonky picture of Garden Lodge before setting it beside the others. ‘Daddy said you paint too, Baba.’

‘Did he now?’

‘Yeah. He showed me a painting of Delilah you did. It was pretty.’

Freddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly. He had thought he’d thrown out the unfinished portrait of his favourite cat, but he should have known Jim had held onto it. ‘Baba doesn’t really have time to paint anymore, darling. I’m too busy with my music.’

Khaleel looked disappointed. He glanced down at his messy fingers and began to fiddle with them. ‘Your painting made Daddy smile so much, Baba. You should do it again. It’s pretty.’

Freddie was at a loss for words. He had always loved art and still found himself doing the odd sketches and doodles now and then; but painting was something he had given up long ago in favour of singing. He simply didn’t have the time or the patience to commit to it. But Khaleel’s words were now engrained in his mind.

‘I’ll think about it, Bijou.’ He said softly, before leaning down to pick the child up. ‘Come on, you’re going to need a nice, warm bubble bath to get all this paint off you.’

He smiled as Khaleel squealed with excitement. (1/2)

It had taken Freddie a while to figure out what exactly he was going to paint. He still had the old brushes and materials Phoebe and Joe had bought him years ago, when he was ill and had temporarily been inspired to try his hand at art again; but as he sat there, staring at the blank canvas in front of him, he realised he had no idea what he intended to make for his husband.

He considered finishing the painting of Delilah but couldn’t summon up the motivation to continue it. He tried doing a landscape of the garden, but after a few attempts on some scrap paper, he gave up and decided to stick to what he knew best – portraits.

It was only when he leaned back in his seat and surveyed the room a moment that his eye fell upon the large photo frame he kept beside his bed; the one of himself, Jim and Khaleel, professionally taken a year before. There was a copy of it hanging up in the lounge, over the fireplace, but Freddie always kept the original right by his bed, so it was the first thing he woke up to every morning. Safe to say, of all the hundreds of photographs that lived in Garden Lodge, this one was by far his favourite. He and his two favourite boys. His perfect family.

Without giving it a second thought, he picked up his brush and began to paint.

------

It had been two long weeks of staying up late and sneaking around to make sure Jim didn’t catch him, but on the eve of his husband’s birthday, Freddie’s portrait was finally complete, and he carefully wrapped it in brown paper in preparation for the party the next day. He was satisfied with the finished product, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist with uncertainty as he stored the painting away in a drawer to keep it from prying eyes. He knew there wasn’t a materialistic bone in Jim’s body but… what if he didn’t like the gift? Phoebe and Mary had bought him such lovely things, what if Jim was disappointed when he got to Freddie’s?

Thoughts like that were why Freddie was now standing outside the door to the lounge, trying to gather the courage to go back in. He had excused himself under the guise of getting another bottle of wine and had quickly darted up to the bedroom to collect the package and bring it down. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed open the door and re-joined the others, who were already sitting down to start opening Jim’s presents.

‘Mary, I love it!’ Jim smiled widely as he examined the ceramic cat, turning it over in his hands before carefully placing it on the coffee table beside the garden shears Phoebe had gifted him. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’

Mary smiled back, ‘you’re welcome, Jim.’ And they leaned forward to give each other a kiss on the cheek.

Freddie’s heart fluttered in his chest. Mary hadn’t been very supportive of his relationship with Jim at the start, most likely out of overprotectiveness and jealousy. But once they adopted Khaleel, she finally had to accept that Freddie had found the love of his life and it was time for her to move on. She seemed a much happier person for it. It touched Freddie to see her and Jim gradually becoming good friends.

Finally, it was Freddie’s turn to present his gift. Despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t help shaking slightly as he watched Jim slowly tear off the paper. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should have gotten Jim a new suit. Or a pair of cufflinks. Or-

‘Freddie…’ Jim sounded breathless and when Freddie looked up, he could see the Irishman’s eyes were sparkling with tears. ‘Freddie, did you paint this?’

The singer nodded, his mouth dry. ‘Do… do you like it?’

His answer was Jim leaning over and pressing their mouths together in a passionate kiss. When they pulled away, the tears in Jim’s eyes had spilled down his cheeks. ‘Sweetheart, it’s beautiful. It’s amazing, it’s perfect.’

Jim wasn’t usually one for PDA, but he was so overwhelmed in that moment, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing every inch of Freddie’s face, while their guests admired the gift that had enthralled him. It was a painting of Freddie, Jim and Khaleel, almost an exact copy of the family portrait hanging up above the fireplace except they were surrounded by flowers; yellow freesias, azaleas, and Khaleel’s favourite, Eden roses, all painted in watercolour.

When Khaleel saw it, he almost fell off Phoebe’s lap in excitement. ‘Baba painted me! Baba painted me!’

After the party was over and their friends had gone home, Jim snuck up behind his husband as the singer was placing the canvas on the mantlepiece and wound his arms around his waist. ‘So, this is why you wouldn’t come to bed all those nights? You were working on this?’

Freddie nodded, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. ‘I was going to buy you something, but I know how you always feel guilty when I spoil you. I wanted to give you something personal, that I made with my own two hands. Even if it isn’t perfect…’

He felt Jim kiss his ear, his thick Irish accent murmuring softly, ‘it’s the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me, sweetheart. And the best thing about it is that it came straight from your heart. I love it and I’m going to keep it with me. Always.’ (2/2)

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

OMG THIS IS PERFECT😭😭😭 This is the best interpretation of the prompt, MY HEART😭😭

Call me dumb, but whenever I'd think of Freddie doing something for Jim, it'd always be related to music. Until now, I had never considered art as one of the possible ways in which Freddie could've expressed his love for his husband. But this... this is so beautiful, oof.

I genuinely marvel at your ability to convey so many emotions in these short drabbles. You managed to portray Freddie's insecurities, his want to please his husband and do something special, his nervousness and fear so brilliantly. And Jim's reaction was so sweet🥺 This was truly such a special gift for him, and for their family, I am crying😭

Thank you so much for this, anon💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)