#what if Angel can crawl on walls without his gloves

[rainydaysfw]

He crawlin’ he crawlin’

This one took me 5h (help)

Also the reason Angel’s half naked is purely because I didn’t know where that jacket’s sleeves ended lmao

[exorcisticlute]

Here for you until the end of time

FANFICTION: Adam x Lute

SFW || fluff || injury

{First fanfiction written and published here I hope you enjoy!}

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It was their first time flying down to hell to the new structure that was just built. The elders wanted a place where meetings can be held without sinners going up to heaven. Although Adam thought it was the most bullshit thing he has ever heard he was instructed by sera to head down but had Lute with him. Where ever he went Lute was there next to him. No matter the time of day, not even sera could separate them if she tried too.

Landing in front of the building it was a large hourglass as it was still under construction. There was tape wrapped around the building to make sure no one dared to enter. Surprisingly the building itself has not been vandalized with pentagrams all over. Entering the building was a long hallway. All very empty, a few rooms to the left and the right. "This is what we fucking waste our time on?" The lead of the exorcist complained squinting his eyes everywhere.

Lute ran her finger on the wall and looked down to see her gloves dusty. Grunting to herself "It's not even cleaned" Stepping foot into a room as she passed the frame of the door she felt her body being shoved foreword onto the cold marble. Grunting as she quickly grabbed hold of her sword getting up on her feet swiftly. "Adam!" She yelled his name loudly to hear if he was okay while she kept her eyes on the two demons that attacked her.

Two demons with wings and disfigured face both looked down at her with saliva running from their mouths. "What the fuck is it! Making me walk everywhere" You could hear the whine laced in his tone. He appeared as he was about to walk into the room but lute pushed off her feet and flew right towards him. Her hands gripping tightly onto his robe as she uses the force to push him back into the empty hallway. "If you wanted to be top just say so babe~" Smiling widely up at her as he made such an obnoxious face while he wiggled both his eyebrows and biting his lower lip.

"Right now is not the fucking time!" She got in her stance in front of Adam with her wings spread out to make herself bigger. "We got company" Their two heads appeared out the door frame as they crawled out into the hallway. They were a decent size, bigger than lute herself but smaller than Adam. One demon hissed and flew at Lute with a handmade shank in his hand as she jumped towards it with her sword watching their movements closely. It had taken Adam a couple seconds to come to terms with what was going on. The worst part? They were fighting in a brand new building.

Fuck him. He couldn't use his golden blast but he could use his guitar to beat them on the head with it. In a snap of a finger his guitar appeared in his hands as he gave the demon a sinister grin before they charged at each other. "Man you must really live a very pathetic life if it came down to being bold enough to attack an angel" Smirking as he dodged all of the demons moves in attempting to kick and punch the archangel. "Well you're in hell so man your life really is fucking pathetic" He snorted laughing uncontrollably as he took a good swing at him hearing the guitar meet with the side of his face.

From above Lute flew around trying to get a good point to face him head on. She made a quick wrap around a column and collided with the sinner who was chasing her. When their bodies collided the sinner had thrown the shank down as Lute quickly turned her head to see where it was falling towards. It had strike his other companion in the throat as his blood gushes as his body hit the concrete. Those moments where Lute had her back turned towards the enemy she was kicked into the wall. Her back hitting the cold stone as she yelled out in pain.

She fell onto the cold floor while trying to prop herself with her arm. 'What the fuck just happened' Thoughts running through her head. Just like that she remembered what was going down before she was flung into the wall. "Fuck... Adam!" She yelled weakly attempting to get up and looking around to find no one. Holding tightly onto her injured arm that she landed on as she limped her way over to each room. Her heart raced not hearing or seeing him. Hyperventilating started to set in as she became uneased. With the bit of adrenaline left in her body she pushed herself to run down the hallway passing the first sinner that died in battle.

Passing all the rooms, with no sight of him the tears start to form. Panic had clouded her mind at this rate letting the tears fall heavily. She approached the last room as she stared at the frame of the door hoping and praying Adam was inside. Shaking she walked in and saw him. All of a sudden she felt the boost of adrenaline shoot through her body as she ran over to him. "Adam... Adam!" She fell onto her knees next to him as she started shaking him. No response. "Fucking dammit wake the fuck up!" She yelled as her tears started to drip onto his robe leaving stains behind. Her wings lowered as she lifted the top half of his body the best she could. She rested his head on her lap with her arms wrapped around him.

She took his helmet off and threw it aside as her face buried into his brown hair. Her hand cupped his face as she sat there for a few minutes cherishing the moment. She lifted her head a bit giving him a kiss on his forehead. Seconds after that she heard his grunts as he started to slowly move. Her eyes opened wide looking down to see if she wasn't just dreaming but no. He was actually waking up. It felt as if life was just restored into her, a wave of relief washed over her.

His gold tired eyes meet with hers. Red and puffy from crying. "L-Lute?" you could hear it in his voice he was slightly sore from the battle as he remained laying in her lap. "Yes?" She pushes the strands of his hair from his face. "You're still here... you didn't leave me behind" His voice cracked slightly surprised to see her there next to him. She smiled down softly at him surprised he would even think she would leave him behind in this corrupted place. "I would never leave you behind.." She helped him sit up slowly as she sat in front of him.

"I am here for you until the end of time"

She stood up offering a hand to help him up as his hand grabbed hers. Lute could see the genuine smile and look Adam was giving her. It wasn't very often that Adam was genuine or they had moments like this. But when they did Lute would never forget. Helping him to his feet he immediately went in for a hug pulling her in close. Lute melted in his arms. "Thank you" He whispered to her. He had expected her to leave him behind. He was used to women leaving. Lilith left and Eve left. But not Lute she was loyal to him and even when he didn't want to admit it she holds a special place in his heart.

"Lets get the fuck out of here" He slung an arm around her shoulder as she smiled up at him. It was a constant fear of losing him but not today it made her happy that they were going back to heaven together.

[gorouinheat]

Drenched in jealousy -

obsessed!Rubedo

Rubedo x gn!reader obsessing over reader + gn!reader x Albedo

cw: stalking, obsession, identity theft, Rubedo is jealous of Albedo, Rubedo feels feelings

The sound of a pen scratching on paper echoed through the hidden cave, the only light was a lit lantern. There, Rubedo drew furiously - trying his best to remember every detail in your features. Ah, you. Endless drawings of you were scattered around the caves ground, they all had the same smile, the same smile you gave him.

He grits his teeth as he tears away another page. It wasn’t perfect, it was right, it wasn’t the real thing. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at his stained gloves. They were covered in ink and pastels, he’s been at this for days. He stares the new page and closes his eyes, picturing that day you smiled at him.

On that day, he walked around the peaks of Dragonspine. He was new to the changes of it, taking in the scenery. He heard the crunching of snow behind him and drew out his sword, “Woah woah, Albedo it’s just me!” You nervously laughed. His eyes widened at the name, wasn’t that- he shakes his head and decided to play along. Withdrawing his sword and putting on a light smile, “Sorry, you just creeped up on me.”

You laugh again, making his heart skip a beat. He held onto his chest, trying to figure out what this feeling was.

“You okay, ‘bedo?” You rubbed his shoulder, his blue orbs met your concerned gaze.

“Mm, Yeah Fine.” You gave him a smile, that smile. The smile that made him hold his breath, it felt so loving, so warm. He felt you pat his shoulder and turn away, “I’ve gotten what I needed here, I’m off to Mondstadt now. We can met up there if you’d like.”

He remembered where that old town was and nodded. He would do anything to be in your presence again. He watched you walk away until you were no longer visible, he let out a sigh and felt his cheeks where they burned. What was going on with him?

He decided to meet you in Mondstadt. He was cautious, knowing his original form was still present somewhere. He walked past the gates and looked around, his ears perk up as he heard laughter around Angel’s share, your laughter. A smile spread across his face as he sped towards the sound of your laughter.

His breath got caught in his throat and stopped immediately, around the corner he heard it. Albedo’s voice echoed in his ears, he quickly hid behind the building next to Angel’s share. There on the balcony was you and Albedo. Rubedo’s teeth grit as he saw Albedo’s hand freely touched yours and whisper you something, making you let out another laugh and rest a hand on Albedo’s shoulder.

He felt a tight feeling in his chest as his eyes narrowed sharply. That should be him, why is it Albedo? You said you’d meet him here, why are you hanging out with Albedo? Why are you smiling at him like that..in the way that made him feel human. It wasn’t fair, you were the one that smiled at him like that, not Albedo.

He looks away from the two and slid down the wall, looking down at his shaking hands. He only felt this angry when he was rejected by his creator, is it because he’s being rejected by you now? No, no this is Albedo’s fault. He was the one that took you away from him.

He looks back to see you cupping Albedo’s cheek and kissing him. His eyes widen as he crawled at the ground, how dare- how dare Albedo.

He opens his eyes to find tears streaming down his cheeks, he looks at the new drawing and smiles in satisfaction. There, there’s the smile that made him crazy - crazy over you. He still follows you when your present in Dragonspine, without you knowing. Albedo always trailed behind you, knowing who was lurking behind them.

[blackholelynn]

His Salvation - Part Four

<- Read Part Three

Summary: You have left your old life behind and started over with Dean, but you soon realize that you know almost nothing about the hunter you now live with.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, aftermath of grief/loss, description of suffocation, swearing - these warnings are for the series of parts as a whole, so while some of these warnings may not apply on this part, they will apply for future parts.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This part is full of Cas and Reader shenanigans, which was probably my favorite part of writing this sequel! I'm so happy to get this part out so you can all experience it too 😂 Enjoy!!

Series Tag List: @leigh70

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tag List: @siospins2

Supernatural Tag List: @hobby27

Also cross-posted on my AO3 account, you can read it here!

~~~

Bright white linoleum walls surrounded you on all sides, corralling you into a room with a drain in the middle of the cement floor. The smell of death permeated around you – not rot or decay, but the pure and unadulterated smell of death. If you believed in such things, you would’ve thought that the grim reaper was looking over your shoulder as you gazed down on a victim’s corpse splayed on the examination table.

You swallowed thickly to try and get the bile in your throat to dissipate and asked, “So, what’s next? I wasn’t here for this part.”

“We examine the victim.” Castiel’s tone remained clinical as he stayed zeroed in on the task at hand. He leaned in to get a better look at the victim’s chest, and a strained look passed across his face. Without any hesitation, he laid his hand flat across the corpse’s cold flesh and closed his eyes as if he were searching for something.

“Woah! Woah!” Your fingers gripped tightly around his wrist and wrenched his hand away from the dead body. “You can’t just touch the guy’s dead body without gloves! This is an active crime, and your fingerprints will be all over him if you do that.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but regardless, I’m done with my examination on this one. I need to examine the others.” Another cold storage locker was already ajar, and the angel was already hauling another body out. When he noticed your hesitance, he rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to move it back to the drawer.”

Indignant anger flared up inside you, and you couldn’t help the rise in your voice. “Are you kidding me? ‘It’ is someone’s son or brother or father! These dead bodies were people, Castiel!” Your voice broke as your emotions got a chokehold on you, and you uneasily turned to hide your expression. “We are not just here to poke and prod corpses.”

Castiel’s cold and calculated exterior faltered for a moment but was just replaced by confusion. “But…that is exactly what we’re here to do?”

“No, we’re here to find out what has been murdering people in cold blood, and we’re going to stop whatever it is so it can’t hurt anyone else. They should still be respected.”

“They’re dead.”

“But their families and loved ones aren’t, and they deserve to be able to plan a proper burial,” you explained, your tone softening. You put yourself between Castiel and the victim he was trying to haul out of the cold storage locker and gently picked her body up. Her petite frame made carrying her a simple task despite the dead weight. The cold feeling of her skin made your own crawl, but you took your time and laid her on the following examination table as gently as possible.

This time Castiel’s movements were more ginger, and after a simple placement of his hand, he knew all the information he needed. You repeated the process with the other two victims in silence with a better understanding of how the other operated. It wasn’t effortless, but with time, you were sure that you and Castiel would get more accustomed to each other.

With the last examination completed, Castiel helped you put the bodies back in the drawers and wiped his brow from the effort. “This was definitely enlightening.”

“What did you find in the examinations?”

“All of the victims were slowly crushed to death, with antemortem fracturing in the sternum and ribs. There were punctures in two victims’ lungs from where the rib fragments were dislodged. It seems as though a great weight was put on their chest, almost like they were smothered by a large person,” the angel explained as he assisted you in tidying the room back to the way it was found.

You cocked a brow and gave him an incredulous look. “A larger person? For the smaller girl, I can understand that, but one of the guys looked like he was Mister Universe. No way someone is big enough that they would be able to smother him.”

“I agree, which is where we run into the issue. Whatever could have done this would have been a great size, but nothing out of the ordinary was seen around the time of death. That’s where the trail of evidence ends for the autopsies, so we’ll have to research through lore.”

“Ugh, I had enough of the library during the last case. Is it always piles and piles of books? Because I distinctly remember Sam and Dean being able to do some fighting, and that sounds like a really empowering experience.”

“You just want to punch things, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” you answered with a wide grin. When you saw Castiel’s affronted expression, you playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “Aw, come on! You can’t tell me that giving an evil monster a good ass-kicking isn’t therapeutic as hell!”

And I really need that right now. Buckets and buckets of therapy.

At your words, a small smile broke through his stern exterior, and he nodded along. “I do have to admit that hunting releases some pent-up aggression.”

“That’s the spirit! Now before we hit up the library, I say we grab lunch. My stomach is really needing a break.” Your statement did not mix with your environment, and you made a beeline from the morgue toward your newly stolen car. Keeping track of all these illegal vehicles really started becoming difficult, and you had no idea how the Winchesters managed.

“So…” you drawled, awkwardly picking up one of the greasy fries from your plate.

You sat in a booth at the local diner across from the angel, the only quiet table in the restaurant. Actually, you were nearly the only table in the whole restaurant. The sole other occupant was one man at the counter jovially talking to your waitress, which made the lack of conversation even more unbearable.

Castiel blankly responded, “So?”

His lack of substantial reply made it harder to think of how to continue the conversation, and you ended up on the only topic you could think of that you two had in common. “How long have you known Sam and Dean?”

“About five years.”

“Uh-huh…” When you realized he wasn’t going to elaborate, you pressed, “So…since you’re an angel, are you like their guardian angel?”

A genuine bemused smile crossed Castiel's face for the first time since you met him, and he chuckled, “No, I wouldn’t say that. I feel that Dean would be scandalized by that description of me.”

Progress! You felt that Castiel was opening up, and it was making the atmosphere much lighter. You couldn’t help chuckling along with him, thinking about how offended Dean would become at the prospect of him needing a guardian angel. However, your pleasant thoughts quickly turned against you as the memory of Dean reminded you of your argument and the letter you left in your wake. A sickly feeling of guilt settled in your stomach, and you stopped eating the food in front of you.

Castiel noticed your change in demeanor and gently inquired, "I don't mean to pry, but I have been curious as to why you left the bunker. I only ask because it seems that you're conflicted about the decision."

"It's…complicated." You crossed your arms on the table after pushing your food away. "I just feel that I moved way too fast."

"Moved where? To the bunker?"

Castiel's innocent confusion spurred by your wording caused a fond smile to find its way to your face. "In a way, yes. But I meant that I moved too fast in the relationship. I'm worried I might've been so scared of this new world filled with monsters that I latched onto a new relationship when I didn't even know enough about Dean to know what I was getting into."

"What kind of things would you need to know? I had thought human relationships were built upon mutual attraction?"

God, if only.

You mulled through your thoughts before deciding the best way to explain relationships to a celestial being. "Attraction is a big part, but there are a lot of factors to relationships. I can't explain them all, but you get a feeling when it's going to work and when it's not. I want Dean and I to work, but I just can't figure him out. He has a lot of self-hatred going on."

Castiel nodded, his rigid posture relaxing as he leaned back in the booth with an exasperated expression. "Yes. Yes, he does. I find it difficult to assure him when he is in that mindset."

"Aha! So you know what I'm talking about! How he gets all withdrawn and broody?" With another nod from Castiel, you sighed in relief. So you weren't the only one baffled by Dean's behavior. "It's at least a bit reassuring to know he's not just like that with me."

"No, it's certainly not just you. That's Dean's nature."

"But that's also what I meant when I said I didn't know what I was getting into." You stiffened as a darker realization fell over you. "I still don't know what I'm getting into."

Castiel met your eyes and spoke sincerely, "I typically am not one to take advice from, but if anyone knows uncertainty, it would be me. From the moment I met the Winchesters, my entire life changed. I rebelled against Heaven after serving for centuries, and after all was said and done, I wasn't sure who I had become. I had no idea how to live without orders or a chain of command."

"But here you are in a crappy diner, hunting with me. So I take it you figured it out?"

"I'm still trying, but I have a better idea now. I spent a lot of time on my own and made a lot of mistakes on the way."

The waitress dropped off the check at your table without a word to avoid disrupting your serious conversation, but you decided it would be best to keep things moving and grabbed the small slip. "Guess this means we should get going. Which means the next stop is a whole bunch of boring reading." You laid a few bills on the table and stood up, stretching to limber up your muscles. The greasy food made you feel sluggish and tired.

"Yes, that would be for the best," Castiel agreed, standing up as well.

You could see his walls slowly rising back up, and you stopped him before he made his way to the door. "I just want to thank you, by the way."

"For what, exactly?"

"For telling me how you navigated life after it got turned upside down. That's what has been so difficult, moving past the trauma and finding my new normal."

Castiel seemed to relax again, and his eyes softened. "I am sure that you will find that 'normal' again. Only you will be able to tell what that is."

His words resonated inside your head, and although your conversation lapsed into an easy silence on the way to the car, you were contemplating what that normal could be.

You had left to learn about hunting and create equal ground between Dean and you, but how were you expected to know what Dean needed when you didn't even know what you needed? That thought began to create a sense of dread as you didn't want to lose your sense of self simply because you were pouring all of your efforts into a relationship to escape complicated feelings.

You started to wonder if returning to the bunker was even the choice you wanted to make. After the hunt. Focus on the hunt. Your grip on the steering wheel was deathly tight the entire way to the library.

Continue to Part Five ->

[after-witch]

Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Title: Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: Your “boyfriend” is having a rough day and he doesn’t appreciate you being such a difficult partner. If you can’t behave, maybe he can’t behave, either. 

For request: a fic with Yandere hawks. Maybe he breaks/ ruins something extremely precious to his darling. Something that money just can’t buy.

Word Count: 1800ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped, abuse

The muffled sounds of Hawks returning to the apartment are all too familiar. Jingling of keys. Click, click, clicking of the locks. You know he'd love it if you greeted him at the door, like you used to do. Which is partially why you choose to remain in bed--though really, you've hardly left it since that morning, except to greedily drink water from the tap and use the restroom.

So it comes as no surprise when the door to your 'shared' bedroom opens and Keigo stands in the doorway, looking disapproving and sad and--you catch it, in the way his eyebrows furrow--slightly annoyed at the way you're in practically the same position as when he left: curled up on the bed, holding onto a pillow like a shield in front of you.

"Babe," he says. "We've talked about this. You need to get dressed after I leave. Did you even eat?" His tone is worried, oh so worried, but you see the way he looks around the room--at the mess, at his laundry on the floor where he dropped it--in distaste. "You could at least pick up when I'm gone. We both have responsibilities around the place, y’know."

You suck in some much-needed air and hold the pillow tighter.

"Then let me leave so I can live on my own and you don’t have to worry about me not cleaning up." 

"Babe, you--." He clicks his tongue--stops himself from continuing on whatever road he was about to walk down. "Let's not start this again. We agreed to move in together. We agreed that I'd handle the bills, if you handled most of the housework."

The pillow is practically folded in half now, with the way you're clenching it. "Yes. Yes we did agreed to that. Until I realized that you're a fucking crazy person and you locked me up in this apartment for trying to leave." You stare directly at him, a challenge, daring him to contradict you again with his manipulative, deluded bullshit.

Instead, he sighs, and runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "Hey, okay, okay. I've had a really.... rough day." His voice is lower, almost gravely, and you believe him when he says it. Too bad you don't care anymore. "I'm really not up for a fight tonight. Let's call a truce."

When he says truce, your mind spins on a familiar reel. He wants a truce. He locked you up in this apartment and won't let you leave. He wants a truce. He made your friends and family believe you'd run off. He wants a truce?

The force of your thoughts has you scooching up in the bed and bracing your back against the headboard. You watch him--watching you--and wonder if he thinks you'll give in. Sometimes you do--it's inevitable, something you've thought long and hard about when you're in the apartment for hours upon end. You couldn't stand to live if you were constantly yelling at him, screaming, crying.

But you've had a few good naps, and you can stand it today.

"Fuck your truce," you spit, "and fuck your rough day--and fuck you."

His shoulders jerk in response to your words and fuck, is that satisfying. You've gotten to him. He wanted you to force a smile and say fine, whatever, what's for dinner. But you didn't. And now he can't go about the rest of his night in his deluded little fantasy that you're a willing spouse and he's going to have shitty dreams and hopefully an even shittier day tomorrow.

He's not at his limit, though, because he simply walks further into the bedroom. He stares at your dresser, the one pushed right up against his. You'd decorated it with your own knickknacks, back when you'd moved in--back when you were here willingly. Picture frames and personal mementos and jewelry that you don't bother wearing anymore.

He picks up a necklace, one he always complimented when you wore it out on dates--then increasingly, when you wore it on your evenings-in after he began insisting that you spend quality time in private instead, until finally you were trapped here and stubbornly refused to put it around your neck again.

"Angel, sweetheart, my sweet chickadee." He's tired. You're not--naps, good stuff. "Let's just both agree we're being… testy." He sets the necklace down and walks towards the bed. You flip your body around, bury your face down in the soft pillow so you can avoid looking at him. It’s childish, but you don’t care. "Then we can go make some dinner. Or we can order takeout, whatever you want. What do you say?"

His voice has an edge. You should be wary, you know this, yet your instinct for self-preservation lately has been smoothed away in favor of defiance, some meager inch of pride you can dig out for yourself.

And so you dig.

"Go. to. hell."

Something SLAMS--his fist, hard--on the headboard above you, just inches above the top of your head. 

You don't have enough time to process what just happened before Keigo gets up, furious, feet pounding on the floor and voice hot with anger. You cringe at the tone, which has crossed from annoyed into flat-out pissed. 

"How many other guys would put up with this shit? Huh?" You're half-listening, half-frozen.

You force yourself to turn over, keeping the pillow in front of you like a shield for more reasons than one, now.

"Most guys would expect to come home to a clean house and a good meal and a girlfriend who doesn't lay her ass in bed all day, crying about stupid shit."

You feel your own fury blooming in your chest. "I'm not your girlfriend--"

In a second, something shatters on the wall behind you, above you, throw just inches above your head. You crane your head down and you can just make out the mess on the floor, between the side table and the legs of the bed: jumbled shards of an ashtray, old and unused, something you'd stuck on the dresser ages ago when you were still allowed to have cigarettes. Before his jealousy turned to control, before he wouldn't let you leave--before you couldn't even smoke, because you couldn't open the windows.

You slowly turn your head to look at Keigo, and you stare at each other in silence, the air thick and hot between you. You can see his feathers bristling and your skin crawls at the thought of his feathers being the next thing to come flying towards you.

"I treat you like a princess," he says finally--and you scoff. You regret it immediately when you see his entire body, from his feet to his feathers, tense at the sound. You dug too deep.

"I treat you like a princess," he repeats, harsher, more strained. "And you don't appreciate it one fucking bit."

He picks up your phone, one of the few non-dusty items you've routinely set on your dresser in recent weeks. In a flash his arm moves, and you don't have time to say or do anything before it joins the ash tray on the floor. You glance and you can see the screen, black and shimmery, cracked into a hundred hairline cobwebs.

Don't move, you think. Don't move don't move.

He picks up a porcelain plate, thick with dust. A trinket from an antique mall Keigo took you on your... third date, you think. Or fourth. He trails his gloved finger along the dusty rim and wipes off the gunk on his pants.

"I clean for you," he says, voice low and spiteful. "You refuse to wash one fucking dish without trying to throw it at my head when my back is turned."

The plate is whipped so fast that it brushes your arm before it lands on the floor in a heap. At least its shards are on the floor, not your face.

"I cook for you. I buy you whatever takeout you want. You don't give so much as a nice little thank you."

You're waiting for something else to fly your way, waiting for the moment he finally says fuck it and hits you instead of the headboard, instead of the wall. But he's standing stock still now.

You're furious with him. You're scared of him. You want to reason with him. You don't know which feeling to deal with and so your words fall somewhere in between anger and terror and the need to placate.

"Keigo--" he looks at you when you say his name, and it's something. "Keigo, you kidnapped me. I don't want to be here. I--I broke up with you. We're not... we're not healthy together. Why can't you understand that?'

Tears are pricking at your eyes and his figure is a little blurry as he faces you with a strange calmness--strange, considering he just hurled hard, potentially sharp objects close to your face. You wipe your tears and his eyes are practically piercing into yours before he speaks.

"Take that back. Take that back right now."

You swallow against the harsh tightness pressing inside your throat.

"We're dating," he says, with the same low intensity. "We're very happy together."

You're so tired, now, so tired that it's hard to be angry with him. You just settle for being sad. 

"We're not."

He turns back to the dresser and picks up a figurine--the figurine, the one you carefully set on your dresser the very first day you moved on; the only thing on your dresser that you dust off every morning. The last figurine your mother made you before she died, hand-painted and hand-made and the only one of her creations that you have left.

And he knows, he knows all this, he knows it's important and you can only let out a breathy, desperate cry before it's hurled at the wall with cruel force.

Your hands fly out to catch it--impossible--and the brief brush of the hard porcelain against your outstretched fingers is the last memory you'll have of it before it smashes against the wall. Fragile, broken, in shards.

The sound that comes out of your mouth when you see the shards of the figure, the shards of your mother’s memory is involuntary and primal. A sound that makes you clutch your chest to make sure you’re not dead--you’re not, no, you’re alive and you hurt so much that you think you’re going to break in half. Your hands clutch at your mouth and you scratch your lips without feeling or knowing it.

Keigo has already swooped in, and you don’t hear every word so much as his tone--so sorry and worried and oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck, he didn’t mean it, he was just so angry, he’ll fix it he’ll fix it he’ll fix this. His arms and his wings are wrapped around you, gentle and invading, as he rocks you slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. You don’t fight. You don’t scream at him. You just stare ahead, at the empty space where the figurine used to be, a clean circle surrounded by a layer of dust. It was a fragile little thing--and so are you.

[gashinabts]

Ask Me Out (m)

Words: 5k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Idiots to lovers

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: You and Taehyung get in a fight because you were allegedly cheating, the only problem is, who are you dating and who are you cheating on.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, DomTae, slapping, jealously sex

A/N: Just a small one shot, hope you enjoy!! This is my work no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Holding the letter tight to your chest you breathe out a heavy sigh before giving the letter to Eunha. Taehyung texted her that he will meet with her across the administration building, instead here you are standing in front of her, counting the seconds of when this interaction will end. She opens the letter and you cringe at every second she reads it, you look off at a distance to see if Taehyung could be watching this scene unfold. “ What the hell is this Y/N? Where’s Taehyung?,” she crumbles the letter and there’s irritation evident on her angelic face.

The one con of being Taehyung’s friend is that you have to break up with his girlfriends since he doesn’t like confrontation, to see them yell at him or worst cry in front of them.

In middle school Taehyung told you to break up with Soojin for him on Valentine's day, that was the first time you got bitch slapped by someone at school. Taehyung went to visit you at the nurse office with a red rose. “ Where did you get that?,” you asked him as you pressed the ice pack closer to your cheek. “ I stole it from Jungkook’s valentine’s gift,” he says, as he hands you the rose and sits next to you. His hands gently take off the ice pack inspecting your pink slap mark. “ Ouch. This will be the last time I let you do this for me,” he gives you a boxy smile. Another con of being his friend, Taehyung could be quite the liar.

“ Well as it says on the letter, he wants to break up with you…” you trail off taking a centimeter back. You don’t think she’ll do anything crazy, Eunha was nice when she was with Taehyung, however break ups can change a person.

Eunha takes a step closer and takes the lid of her ice coffee and throws it on your sweatshirt. The cup is empty and the ice cold coffee makes you flinch, “ I knew you guys were sleeping behind my back. Tell him, ‘ The next time he wants to break up with someone, he should be a man and tell them in person,’” she bumps her shoulder against you hard as she walks past you. You groan at her comment and walk towards the center of the campus where the water fountain is, there are students who briefly look at your coffee stain white sweatshirt. “ Well she got you good?,” Taehyung bites his lip and you glare at him. He stands tall right next to you, with his neutral tone baggy pants and sweatshirt.  “ Hey I’m sorry I didn’t know she’ll react that way. Take my sweater,” he pulls his already oversized sweater and hands it to you.

You pull off your soaked sweater, “ That’s what you always say Tae,” then you put on his ugly dark green sweater. “ When are you ever going to have the guts to ask the girls you like out and also break up with them?” There’s also another thing he has a problem with, he needs to have someone, you, to ask the girls he likes out. It’s always awkward for you to tell them that Taehyung, the guy that you have a slight crush on, likes them.

“ Y/N, I can’t do that! Just imagine if I ask someone out and they straight out reject me. I would be traumatized for my whole life,” he takes your dirty sweater and walks with you to the apartment.

“ Nope. I can’t possibly see that. You are attractive and funny so I don’t see how you’ll be rejected,” you smell yourself and groan at the scent of ice americano. “ Look, ask me out right now,” you joke around while laughing to yourself. The short laugh becomes a gasp when Taehyung pushes you against a wall with his arm caging you in. His face is close to yours, you could almost count all the long dark eyelashes. Time feels like it slows down because the wind started to lessen along with chirping sounds from the birds.

“ Y/N. Go out with me,” he looks at you dead in the eye, his black curls slightly cover them. Without thinking much you let out a small okay and he backs up giving you space.

His face returns back to his bubbly self smiling, “ Do you want to order fried chicken and beer or pizza?,” he asked you while adjusting the straps of his backpack. The question takes you back and you pinch yourself just to see if this is a dream or an alternative universel. “ Fried chicken and beer,” you tell him, walking alongside him. There is silence between you two as he orders the food on his phone, he gives you the phone so you can review the order, you smile as he orders an extra order of spicy chicken since you are the only one that likes it. “ Looks good,” you say while handing it back.

You and Taehyung are watching a movie while eating the fried chicken peacefully until Jungkook barges in the living room from the front door, “ BAHAHA...Y/N you’re like all over everyone's snapchat. I even saw this video on my fyp on tiktok. Look it almost has one million likes,” he hands his phone while sitting down on the couch. ‘It’s the cheating for me’ you groan as you read the description. “ What the hell? Did you at least comment and tell them that I wasn’t the other woman?,” you ask Jungkook, the video plays and Eunha throws the coffee at you and your face grimaces.

“Yeah but like my comment got lost through the thousands of comments that are there,” he grabs a beer from the table, “ just live through your fifteen minutes of fame,” he chugs the beer. “ Ohh spicy chicken, my favorite,” his hands grab your chicken eating it with gusto.

You toss the phone on the couch, “ Y/N-” you ignore Taehyung’s voice as you go to your room. You take solace in your warm comforter hugging your stuffed penguin and taking a nap. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm hands wakes you up, he’s spooning you, hugging you tightly against his chest. You are used to Taehyung's skin ship at home, he typically does this when he sees a scary movie and has nightmares so he crawls into your bed or when the apartment is too cold and he doesn’t want to spend money on the heater. “ Are you okay?,” he asked carefully.

“ Yeah, I just hate how people don’t know the real story but it’s whatever I have you to make me feel better,” you sigh as you hug your penguin tighter.

He laughs and grabs the stuffed animal, “ You still have this raggedy thing?”

“ I’m not gonna throw him away. It was a present,” you take it back in your arms. Yeah, it looks beaten down but it was something special you cherished.

“ Man, I still can’t believe you dated Jungkook in high school. Doesn’t it feel weird to have that since you guys are not dating?,” he hugs you closer to him, you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“ Nah, we are still good friends even if he is kind of an asshole,” one of your hands reaches back raking your fingers against his curls. He hums deeply, “ Are you jealous of Mr. Penguin?,” you teased him with the question.

“ Kind of,” he mutters and snuggles into your hair. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you ignore it going back to sleep.

---

You grab an ice coffee for Taehyung and add sugar but a light tap halts you, turning you see a girl holding a phone zooming onto your face, “ Is this you?,” she asked you, eyes peering for a reaction. It was that stupid video from tiktok.

You laugh lightly, “ No, that is my twin,” you lie eaisly, you ignore her calls as you continue walking. You wait outside Taehyung’s office since he is talking to one of his students. The student adorably bows multiple times and thanks him, as she exits his room. “ She’s cute,” you comment as you enter his office with his coffee. He has his glasses on, along with his usual comfy aesthetic, there are a bunch of papers on the desk, and he looks the part as professor but clearly isn’t because he is a TA.

“ You are cute,” his large hand holds your hand giving it a quick kiss, while grabbing the coffee with his other hand and starts to gulp it. Today you were far from cute, you had no makeup, and you feel bloated because you were on your period.  “ There’s an essay due about the elements of Gothic architecture and she was having a hard time about what to write,” he moves his hand as he talks, he finally sits down on his desk.

“ That sounds fun,” you sarcastically state. Sitting down on the chair you look on his desk and there’s a picture of you and him at the Louvre, it was two years ago that you guys spontaneously took a trip to Paris.

“ Sorry you aren’t a fan of art history,” he nudges you with his leg, “ Anyways let’s go to this new hotpot restaurant,” he gets up putting his laptop away along with his papers. “ Should we invite Jungkook?,” you asked while putting your seatbelt on in Taehyung's car.

“ No. It’s Y/N and Taehyung time,” he firmly states but his sparkly teeth show as he smiles.

---

“ You guys look closer than ever, which is weird because how can you guys possibly get closer,” Jungkook comments as you wash the dishes. It’s obvious that he is talking about Taehyung. Taehyung had been more clingy with you, almost every night sleeping in your bed and taking you to random restaurants without Jungkook.

“ What do you mean? We are always like that, you are just jealous that we don’t take you out anymore and pay for you,” you finish washing the last plate, you put the gloves away to dry. Jungkook crosses his arms which cause his biceps to bulge and you throw your head back with a laugh, “ Is that supposed to intimidate me?,” you lean against the counter.

He walks closer, “ Kinda, I’ve been working out,” he flexes it more. You roll your eyes and he stands right in front of you, “ So friends just invade other people’s personal space?,” his face comes closer to you, making eye contact with you. He’s provoking you and you just want to slap his smirk off his face. Jungkook lays his head against your neck, rubbing his nose against your neck, his body is against yours. “ This kind of reminds me of our first time, we did it in my parent’s kitchen when they weren’t home,” his hands gripped your waist.

You decided to play at his game, your hands reach his nape pulling his hair, “ But then you came the minute you put it in,” you whisper against his ear. You laugh as his face flush with embarrassment, you push him against his chest so he can give you space.

“ C’mon Y/N that wasn’t nice,” he groans, he tugs his situation in his grey sweatpants to not make it obvious that he has a boner. You stop laughing when you see Taehyung standing near the entrance of the kitchen, he has a blank face and goes to the fridge. Jungkook turned around looking at Taehyung as he quietly grabbed a coke, “ Hey Hyung, have you eaten? Y/N made dinner.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, “ I’m good,” he doesn’t even acknowledge you, walking away from the kitchen and you hear his door shut.

It’s quiet as you eat dinner alone and it is even quieter when you go to sleep by yourself. The bed feels more bigger and you might think it’s more comfortable but it’s not since you don’t have Taehyung hugging you like a pillow. The next morning you wake up late, Taehyung usually wakes you up and cooks you burnt toast with a shitload of jam but this time he’s already gone.

After class, you get his favorite coffee drink, and go to his office, there is another cute student talking to him. You peer through the window and see how happily he exchanges words with her. You wait until their session is done and she thanks him and he waves goodbye, you walk into his office. He looks at you but quickly reverts his gaze back at his laptop screen typing mindlessly. Placing the coffee on his desk, “ She’s cute,” you comment.

“ Yeah,” he says and continues typing, your heart lurches not expecting him to agree with you. There’s so much tension you feel like you are walking on eggshells.

“ Umm...are you okay?,” you ask timidly. You aren’t sure if he heard you since a minute goes by and he looks through his paper and then again types. There is sweat coming off your hands and wipe them down against your jeans,“ Taehyung?,” you speak just a decibel louder.

He closes his laptop, packing up his papers, throwing them harpazidly in his backpack, throwing the ice coffee that he hasn’t even got a sip of into the trash. “ I’m meeting with someone,” he brushes past you trying to exit his office. You grab his wrist before he can leave, “ Tae, are you mad at me?,” is the only question you can think of.

This is the first time he looks at you, it’s the first time he has ever shown anger at you, he yanks his hand back to himself and the feeling of the subtle warmth is gone from the palms of your hand. “ I just didn’t think you were the type of girl to cheat and try to fuck their ex in the kitchen,” he says seriously.

Cheating? Who were you cheating on? “ I wasn’t- Jungkook and I-,” you try to explain yourself but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He interrupts you, “ I don’t care anymore...I don’t want to see your face,” he jabs at you with a disgusted face one last time before leaving. There’s tears coming out and you quickly wipe them but they still stream down your cheeks. This is the first time in your friendship that you had a fight with Taehyung and it looks like it will be the last time you grab the tissue of his desk blowing your nose. The picture of you and Taehyung gleefully smiling in Paris is mocking you, you grab the picture and take it with you before he can also throw it away as easily as he did with the ice coffee.

You usually don’t like going to your parent’s house but this time you accept their invitation, planning to stay with them for a week, you already submitted all the assignments for classes and you could always look at the podcast lectures. There’s not much clothes you have to pack up since you hardly buy any new clothes and you usually borrow Taehyung's infinite amount of clothes, well used to. “ I’ll see you in a week,” you hug Jungkook goodbye.

“ Make sure you get some rest,” he walks you to the car, you nod and smile at him, waving him goodbye.

This is the last time you will ever visit your family, they make you do chores and take care of your nephews and nieces. It doesn’t even feel like you got any rest, you found a box under your bed and it’s filled with pictures of you and Taehyung, some of Jungkook but mostly of Taehyung. The more you shuffle through the pictures it gets harder to hold your tears. You have the urge to call him but you are afraid that he has you blocked.

---

It feels and sounds quiet in the apartment, Taehyung thinks to himself. Jungkook isn’t even making noise either which is odd since he is loud. He hasn’t seen you in three days, he was sure that he was going to eventually bump into around the house while you cook or get out of the shower but nothing, he hasn’t even seen light peek out of your door. He hears the door opening expecting it was you but it was Jungkook. Jungkook goes straight to the kitchen taking out a pan and vegetables out of the fridge, “ You want some Kimchi fried rice?,” Jungkook asks as he cuts some kimchi.

“ No,” Taehyung shakes his head and scrolls down on his instagram.

Jungkook sighs loudly, “ Wow this is going to suck. I have to start learning how to cook better since Y/N moved out.”

Taehyung drops his phone on the ground, “ What?,” he asked while walking towards the kitchen to where Jungkook is at.

Jungkook puts oil in the pan and adds onions, “ Yeah she moved out three days ago. She looked really sad, took everything she had and left.” Taehyung doesn’t believe him and enters her room, the bed looks empty, there are no comforters or pillows, he opens your drawers and is met with nothing, there are some skincare products on the table but those can easily be left behind. However there are pictures of you and Taehyung on the dresser, and he easily spots the one that he kept in his office. He walks back out and Jungkook looks like he is almost done cooking. “ You could be a real asshole Taehyung. Y/N would never do anything with me since she already whipped for you. The things you make her do and how she always does it because your Taehyung,” Jungkook says and finally turns off the stove.

“ What are talking about?,” Taehyung asked with hesitance.

“ Ask Y/N, why does she break up with people for you despite the many times she gets hurt from it. Ask her why does she spend so much money on your dumb ice americano? Ask her why she broke up with me in high school?,” Jungkook didn’t mean for the last question to come out but he’s tired of his two best friends being idiots. “ I’m going to eat in my room,” he leaves with a plate of Kimchi fried rice.

Taehyung sits in silence in his room thinking about your last conversation with him, and how he didn’t let you explain. How he yelled at you, how he threw his coffee, and how you looked like you wanted to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly desperately wishing that it was you and maybe if he thought hard enough you would appear.

---

“ Are you sure you don’t want to stay the whole week?,” your Mom asked while she helped you put your suitcase in your car. It’s the fourth day, six in the morning, and you don’t think you can last another day with her yelling at you to stop taking naps and to go grocery shopping with her.

Getting in your small car you sigh,“ Yeah, I have to go back. I forgot to turn something in for class,” you make up a lie.

“ What? Are you serious? Why didn’t you do that before when you came here, that’s very irresponsible-” Maybe on another day you can take her lecturing but not today.

“ Okay, bye Mom. Love you!,” you close your door waving at her as you leave the driveway.

It is expected for the apartment to be quiet since it’s early in the morning, you drag the suitcase quietly hoping that you won’t wake them up. Opening the door slowly, you are shocked to see a sleeping figure in your bed, your hand let’s go of the suitcase and you yelp trying to get it but it comes down crashing loudly on the wooden floor. Taehyung's head pops up from his small blanket, looking at you with wide eyes. “ I umm- I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now,” you pathetically try to excuse yourself. Taehyung said he didn’t want to see your face anymore so you hurry to pick up your things. Your shaky hands try to grab your suitcase but you are tackled into a hug, Taehyung’s arms engulf you trying to make you part of his body.

“ You came...I was scared that you were gone forever,” he whispers. “ I’m sorry for what I said. I was an asshole and didn’t let you speak. I hurt you in many ways that I never expected. Then Jungkook said you moved out…” he trailed off you couldn’t clearly hear him since his voice muffled in your hair.

“ Taehyung, let’s sit down and talk, okay?,” you asked him and brushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. He nods and sits down beside you and your bed, “ I wasn’t going to move out, I just went to visit my parents hoping that would relax me but it didn’t so I came back early,” you smile at him. “ Okay good,” he smiles back and scoots closer to you. “ Taehyung, I need to ask you something?,” you look away nervously.

“ Ask me,” he encourages and grabs your chin to look at you.

You swallow nervously, “ Are we together? I mean were we together? Since you said I cheated on you and I was kind of confused…” you trail off playing with your fingers.

He grabs your hands gently squeezing them “ Of course we were together. I mean we still are. Remember when you told me to ask you out?,” he asked, you nodded remembering it vividly, “ Well since that day we’ve been dating.” You didn’t think that was serious but it did make sense because of all the skinship he was doing and the places he would take out to eat. He did take you to the Han river and had a picnic during the night which you found oddly romantic but you didn’t think much into it.  “ Y/N, I’m sorry,”  he asked, kissing your hands.

“ It’s okay there was a misunderstanding. Next time, let’s talk before we act out on our emotions,” you tell him softly, before pecking him on his cheek. Turning quickly away so he won’t see you blushing in the morning sun.  “ Help me set up comforters,” you get up, grabbing the comforters off the floor. He helps you set it up while complaining about how he missed you while you were gone, crying in your bed until Jungkook told him to shut up. You place Mr. Penguin on the bed and lay down hugging it.

Taehyung turns your body easily around so you're facing him, “ I actually didn’t know we were dating, I thought we were joking around,” your hand caresses his sharp jawline.

“ Idiot. I would never joke around about dating you,” he scoffs and takes the hand you were caressing him with, bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly.  His lips move to your wrist, trailing up your forearm, arising goosebumps and leaving a giggly response from you, making him smile. Taehyung scoots closer to your neck so he can leave kisses there and you hug him closer when he kisses a particular spot that makes you squirm. The kisses trail upwards to your jaw, going closer to the area you wanted. He looks at you seeking permission and you pull him to feel your lips against his. It’s soft as you expected and you sigh happily at the feeling of his warmth. He pulls aways looking at you, “ That was nice,” he says as he moves over to hover you.

“ Yeah, it was,” you pull him down for another kiss, this time it’s more needier. Lips smacking at each other can be heard along with some heavy breathing. Your hands leave his tousled hair and go under his baggy sleeping shirt, feeling his naked back. You never thought you could feel Taehyung this way, but here are lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. His mouth leaves yours kissing your neck and leaving marks here and there, he pulls the collar of your shirt down trying to get more access but gets frustrated. Laughing at him, you pull your shirt off, laying back down so he can kiss wherever he desires. His eyes sparkle at the sight of the swell of your breast, immediately leaving open mouth kisses that make you shudder with excitement. His large hands pull the cups of bra and his mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking while his other fondles with your other breast. Your pants are being louder and you can’t take anymore of the teasing. Your hands pull his hair as he lightly bites your nipple leaving you with pleasure and pain, “ Touch me Taehyung,” moaning at the end of the sentence.

“ Baby, I am touching you,” his lips leave your abused nipple and go to the other one giving it the same treatment. It looks like he enjoys you getting impatient since he is smiling at your frustration as you try to grind against him. “ No no no, touch me somewhere else,” you tell him shyly, you are never this coy with your partners but Taehyung just screams out dominance. His eyes darken and his mouth leave your nipple along with a string of salvia, his hand wipes his spit all over your chest. He sits up pulling off his shirt, his eyebrow arched, “ Where does my baby want to be touched?,” he asked, looking down on you. Your hand trails down to the button of your jeans, slightly tugging at it, refusing to tell him in words. His index finger tugs at the belt loop, “ You want me to touch your pussy?” Blushing at his words you nod, he takes off your jeans and looks at your panties, smirking at your evident arousal. He bends down and kisses above the hem of your panties before tugging them down your legs.

“ Please Tae,” you whine as he teasingly kisses the inside of your thighs, Taehyung finally listens to your words and eats you out like his favorite dessert, his hands holding your thighs up trying to taste more of you. Crying out in pleasure, as his tongue pays special attention to your clit and his two fingers slowly inched his way into your seeping hole. Afraid that you are making too much noise, you moan into your palm, his head lifts up and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “ Who told you you can cover your pretty mouth?,” Taehyung slaps your cunt, making you moan louder.  “ Sorry,” you meekly let out but you desperately want to be punished again. He chuckles at your apology, rubbing your cunt to soothe the pain, “ Do you want me to fuck this needy pussy?”

“ Yes, I want you so bad,” you drawl at your words, hips rising and riding his long fingers. His fingers withdraw from you, quickly taking off his sweats and boxers, as you finally discard your bra. “ Spit,” he commands, his hand is below your mouth. Following his command, his large hand wraps around his impressive dick and you can’t wait for it to stretch you. Reaching to your drawer, you give him a condom and he puts it on. Taehyung slowly enters you and you feel an immediate stretch, your nails scratch his back at the slight pain. He kisses you to relax you and smile at his encouraging words. Moaning at the slow thrusting, the pain is completely gone, wanting to feel him deeper you tell him to fuck you harder. His hips move at fast pace and you can feel him in your stomach, “ You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna have to fuck you everyday,” he moans out. “ Gonna have to fuck you everywhere too, so Jungkook can no longer flirt with you,” he thrust deeper hitting that particular spot that makes your toes curl. Nodding deliriously you meet his thrust, eyes rolling back at the euphoric feeling of Taehyung fucking you good. Moaning his name louder, as he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him, “ I’m the only one that makes you feel this good, right?,” he asked but he already knows the answer.

“ Only you, only Taehyung,” you scream out feeling his other hand rubbing your clit. “ No one else,” you confirm once more, pulling him down for a messy kiss. Your approach is coming, clenching around him harder, “ I’m gonna cum,” you claw his back more, “ Can I please cum?,” begging him.

Rubbing your clit faster, “ Yeah, fucking cum for me, scream out my name,” he gives your clit you couple smacks. Crying out his name you come loudly with your body shaking in pleasure. Taehyung's pace falters, groaning at your tight cunt swallowing him in, holding your body closer as he orgasms. Kissing you softly Taehyung pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash bin. “ How’s my baby?,” he asked while stroking your flush cheeks.

“ Good but kinda tired,” giving him a tired smile. “ Taehyung I like you so much,” you confess, holding his warm hand against your cheek. High school you would be so proud that you finally confessed to him.

Taehyung grabs your hand and kisses it, “ I like you so much more. I liked you since high school but I was afraid to tell you and then you started dating Jungkook. So I thought I can never be your type. But then you told me to ask you out, joke or not, I thought that was finally my chance to have you be my girl,” he softly speaks but there’s an underlying insecurity in voice. Your hands pull him close to your body causing him to squeal, his head is on top of your breast listening to your heartbeat, as one of your hands comb his hair.

“ I guess we are both idiots, I liked you since high school too. But here we are now in each other's arms, better late than never right?,” you sigh. His fingers trace shapes your stomach, “ Just gotta make up for the lost time,” he agrees and his hand trails down.

“ Yes but not now because I’m tired,” you grab his hand before it can go any further. He laughs and kisses your breast tenderly.

“ I’m just glad that Mr. Penguin got to see me fuck my girl,” he snuggles more into you with heavy eyelids.

You sleepy smile at his words, “ You are so weird.”

——————————————————————————

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

[eonghwa]

answer!seonghwa x halahala!seonghwa x fem!reader

answer!sh profile

halahala!sh profile

ː into the #seonghwa-verse — intro + masterlist ː

just answer!sh and halahala!sh cockblocking each other

a/n: i have no idea what the fuck this is, is this crack or smut? anyway halahala!sh is not easy to deal with, he drained my brain and i’m in pain. AND i didn’t know i was such a simp for answer!seonghwa til this happened. not funny.

cw: sub!reader. threesome, fingering, rough sex, dacryphilia, hair pulling, mention of safe word (sh being overprotective), overstimulation implied, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie.

you are in bed with answer!sh being the lovey-dovey couple you often are, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears and giggling every now and then. you are both half naked, you wearing a long shirt and some panties and him just in his underwear setting the mood for some lazy sex as he’s fingering you with just his pinkie and pressing the end of his palm on your clit from time to time all the while looking straight in your eyes with a smile.

when you close your eyes to let out a soft moan he gently grazes the skin of your neck with his lips and leaves a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your chest pecking at your hardened nipples every time you pant.

the door suddenly opens and halahala!sh enters just to freeze a second later when he sees you in bed together. you jolt caught off guard and answer!sh pulls out chuckling at you reaction “you need something?” he asks the other man wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

halahala!sh looks at you with a stern glare and you shiver, his eyes always so fierce. at times you still don’t know if he’s judging you or not. “i’ll talk to you later” he says eventually, turning around ready to leave the room. “wait” answer!sh exclaims drawing yours and halahala!sh attention.

he turns his head towards you “what do you say if we ask him to join us?” he questions smirking, looking at him and then at you again, not knowing how much he’s gonna regret this later.

“he looks tense” he adds cupping your cheeks, his eyes boring into yours waiting for your answer. “he always does.” you joke making sure only him can hear you and he snorts.

“come on baby, take him here“ he prods and you nod approaching halahala!sh as he stares at you intently, watching your every move with his piercing eyes. you falters as you take his hand in yours but when you touch him he immediately flinches cutting his eyes at you. “i’m sorry” you apologize when you notice he’s not wearing his usual gloves, you try to touch him but he stops you right away “don’t.”

you hear the man behind you calling the attention to him again “who fucking cares about your gloves.” you can tell by his voice he’s slightly annoyed “if you are not interested you can leave.“ he adds pointing to the door and with that halahala!sh rests his hand on your back groping your ass and landing a harsh spank on it making you moan.

he takes his hat off and lets it fall on the floor before pushing you on the bed with another spank and answer!sh pat the mattress so you can crawl back to him, placing yourself between his legs with your back resting on his bare chest. “good girl” he whispers in your ear as he leaves little kisses on your shoulders “open up your legs now, let our guest see how wet you are” halahala!sh stretches out his arm and takes off your panties with just one finger, his eyes fixed on your dripping core.  

answer!sh plunges his fingers back inside you and you close your eyes letting your head rest on his shoulder and giving in to the pleasure. you let the most sinful sounds and waves of heat runs through your body as you meet halahala!sh’s eyes, darkening even more out of lust.

“take off your shirt.” you do as told and you can see the tent in his pants growing. you look up at him and urge him to strip with your pleading eyes as you let out another small whimper.

he gets on the bed with you and hiss as soon as your hands touch his dick, twitching when you stroke him. he tugs at your hair and angles your face better so that your mouth is just few inches away from his throbbing cock prodding at your lips with his red tip but answer!sh pushes him away with his foot earning a glare from him but he just handles him a condom as he keeps fingering you.

he adds another finger inside you and he pumps them until you arch your back leaking so much arousal “i think you are ready for him kitten” he says pulling out once again and licking off your juices coating his fingers, humming at the taste “always tasting so fucking good.”

halahala!sh pulls you away from answer!sh and lays you on the sheets as he positions himself between your legs making you open them wider and lining up with your entrance.

“baby, remember the safe word” answer!sh tells you but his words are muffled by a sudden loud moan that escapes your lips when halahala!sh pushes himself deep inside your wet cunt in one rough thrust.

answer!sh intently watches you, feeling his cock getting impossibly harder the flushed tip and precum beginning to drip down his length. “you are so pretty like this, angel” he brushes his fingers over his erection but doesn’t move his hand any further waiting for his turn and have you sink down onto him.

“you are always so fucking tight and wet... maybe we don’t fuck you enough.” halahala!sh says in a low voice more to himself than you but hearing him makes you moan again as he pounds in your pussy restlessly hitting your spot with sharp thrusts.

his thrusts gain more speed and you open your mouth in a silent gasp when he harshly rubs against your walls, your eyes rolling in the back of your head out of pleasure. he fasten his pace once more and you squeeze your eyes shut gripping the bedsheet tightly. the sight so erotic he stifles a moan as you squirt all over his cock and the bed.

“does he feel good?” answer!sh chimes in again “let me hear you kitten, you know how much i love your moans” his voice trembling watching your face scrunched up in pain and pleasure. "please touch me” you say, your voice almost inaudible and your eyes filling up with tears for the continuous stimulation, whenever you have sex with him he always feels so cold and you just want to feel his hands on you.

“for fuck’s sake just kiss her!” answer!sh says in a frustrated tone as he watches halahala!sh fucking into you with no emotion and not giving in to any touch “ah fuck off.” he groans back.

he stops for a moment to adjust your positions, shoving you on your hands and knees. your mouth hanging open and your breath heavy as he picks up his pace again pounding hard from behind. answer!sh stiffen as he hears you yelping in pain. “slow down” he warns the other man a first time but halahala!sh just pulls your hair to keep your head in place and you squeeze answer!sh’s hand when another jolt runs through you and tears start falling from your eyes. “i said slow down” he urges the man again this time placing a hand on his shoulder firmly.

halahala!sh can tell you’re at the edge as he delivers the last thrusts. “RED! FUCKING STOP!” answer!sh almost yells at the same time as the orgasm hits you both and he cums in the condom making your body shiver once again at the sensation.

you collapse on the bed and for a brief moment his hand lingers on your thigh  brushing so faintly on your skin that you almost think you made that up, i mean  he wouldn’t touch you like this or show you any kind of affection, would he? he looks at you but diverts his eyes when he sees you gazing back at him with your big glossy eyes.

“baby, are u okay?” answer!sh throws himself at you pushing halahala!sh away “you’re a fucking idiot” adds, this time directing his angry words at the man who’s now glaring at him without saying anything. you nod. “i’m fine. i was just caught off guard. he didn’t hurt me.” you reassure him “i would’ve used the safe word if that was to much, i promise.”

he helps you up and kisses you slowly, stroking your body gently looking at you for any sign of discomfort. “you think you can take one more?” he finally asks hesitantly. you chuckle at his question and nod “are u sure?” you mewl as his hands start massaging your inner thighs “cute.”

when he sinks into you he stays still for a moment, loving how warm you are  around him and then he starts thrusting in a slow pace, enjoying your every reaction. “god, your pussy feels so good.” you clench at his words and he groans in pleasure. “you always take me so well.” you arch your back for him and he uses that to put his hand on you pulling you closer.

doesn’t take much for you to be on the edge close to your orgasms “cum inside, please” you whine. “yes baby. i’m gonna fill you up so much.” his thrusts become sloppy and his words a little muffled “i’m gonna knock you up. you would look so pretty swollen with my babies- fuck” he feels your walls spasming around him and he knows you’re seconds away from your high. “baby let go for me!” he urges you squeezing your hands and grazing your skin with his lips as you ride your high together.

he hold himself deep inside of you not pulling out yet as he collapse over you. when he finally does you look at him with a small frown feeling empty and he laugh softly “now you need rest baby.”

you slump down on the bed and let your eyes close, catching your breath as he leaves a kiss on your head. his eyes lower down and linger on the cum oozing out of you. he he lets out a groan “babygirl, you did so well.” his fingers tracing your cum covered clit “so well for me.”

he leaves one last kiss on your forehead and helps you up to lead you to the bathroom to clean up and make sure you do everything you need.

when you’re back in the room you see halahala!sh fully clothed putting back on his hat before leaving.

“what the fuck? this is the last time i let him in the bedroom with us” spoiler: it’s a lie.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 5

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: A call with one of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,075

Warnings: Reader experiences a panic attack, use of a swear word, angst, reference to most recent Mandalorian episode so I guess it’s kind of spoiler-ish, hurt/comfort and more angst

Author Note: All the love to everyone who follows along with this series! I joined AO3 recently so all these parts will be on there as well at LittleMissPascal. I’m actually really nervous about the response to this particular segment so...be gentle, please ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 4 and Part 6

Photo Inspiration: 

“Cupid 1-1-7, am I hearing you correctly? You said there was an explosion?”

You scrub a hand over your face, biting back a sigh lest the comlink picks it up. “Not a literal one, sir. I’m still not sure what happened, just that when my client touched a potential match’s hand there was this...invisible blast of energy or something.”

The silence on the other end is enough to make you want to slam your head against the wall of the Razor Crest. You’d called headquarters as soon as you and Din had returned to his ship, figuring if anyone had a clue as to what the hell had happened it’d be one of your superiors. 

After twenty minutes of explaining your predicament not once, but three times, you’re beginning to realize you were evidently mistaken.

“Remind me again, Cupid 1-1-7, what name was it you referred to this immortal client of yours as?” Over the comlink, your boss’ voice sounds as if he’s gargling jagged rocks, deep and throaty. You can imagine the narrowed-eyed look he’d be giving you in person and you’re grateful you’re not currently having this conversation over a holoprojector. 

“I didn’t.” 

Your eyes drift to the ladder leading up to the cockpit where Din is located. Something inside of you is insistent you keep Din’s identity hidden from your superiors. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, certainly not with any of your former clients. Part of you thinks of the sensation as possessiveness, but what have you to be possessive of? You have no claim to him, nothing tying you to one another. 

“Interesting,” your boss says, dry as the Dune Sea.

“My client is high-profile, sir. He asked me to remain discreet and I intend to uphold his request.” You clutch the comlink against your chest, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm as you wait to hear if he believed your lie or not.

“This...incident you’ve described, it does bring to mind an event in history with similar details.” There is a shuffling sound that echoes over the device, resembling papers being picked up and flipped through. He hums, a long drawn out note that makes your skin crawl. “Yep, here’s the report right here, referencing an outburst erupting as a result of the physical contact between a potential pair.”

You wait for more information, drumming your fingers against a nearby crate.

“Unfortunately, you are not of rank to hear the specifics.”

“But—”

“I must say though, the Moff will be most interested in this development,” he continues, ignoring your protest as if you hadn’t opened your mouth at all. 

Heart lodging in your throat at the mention of the head seraph, you manage to choke out, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Hess.”

“That’s sir to you, Cupid 1-1-7.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Forgive me, sir.” You’re two seconds from babbling yourself off a cliff and you can’t find the off switch for your mouth. “It’s just. Moff Gideon is so busy, as I’m sure you know, and I would hate to bother him with this case when I have everything under control—”

“Except that you clearly don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made this call.”

His words hit you like a punch, silencing you.

“The Moff will hear about this, as well as your breaking protocol by concealing information from your superior when directly asked. No doubt he will be as displeased about your behavior as I am.” 

Your eyes fall shut as you listen, slumping against the ship’s wall and sliding down onto the cold floor. You feel disconnected from the situation, as if he’s discussing someone else’s fate instead of your own. 

“In the meantime,” his voice drones on, adding more weight to the pressure on your chest. “I will permit you forty-eight hours to complete your assignment before I officially relegate it to another Cupid. You will also be ordered to take a reassessment test of your basic understanding of standard Cupid regulations.”

You squeeze your eyes together tighter, feeling like you’re about to throw up. Each breath you take feels pointless, as if there is no longer any oxygen in the air, but you have enough pride left to keep you from having a breakdown with your boss still on the line. 

“Do you understand the terms in which I’ve stated to you, Cupid 1-1-7?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amor vincit omnia.” The parting mantra sounds almost sinister coming from his mouth.

“Amor vincit omnia,” you echo, forcing your voice to remain steady.

The comlink clicks off. The floodgates open not a second later.

You press your palms against your mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wrack your body so they don’t disrupt the silence of the cargo hold. The tears streaming down your face refuse to be stifled though, burning your eyes as they fall. Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, a frantic drumming counting down the seconds until you either scream or pass out. Or both.

It’s an ugly, hysterical kind of crying that can’t be stopped once started, not even when you hear movement from the ladder right before Din slides down it, boots thudding loudly against the floor. 

And then it seems like Din is right there in front of you without ever having moved, unnaturally fast and stealthy, gloved fingers resting on your shoulders. He’s taken off his helmet, brown eyes full of such concern it only makes you cry harder seeing them, further increasing his worry.

“Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he murmurs, a note of franticness in his voice as he looks you over for injuries, finding none except for the few scratches along your arms you’d received earlier when you landed in the dirt.

You shake your head when he tries to move your hands away from your face, emitting a choked hiccup that threatens to crack your already-bruised rib cage with its intensity. 

“Angel, you’ve got to breathe, okay?” Din says, soft and soothing. You blink through your watery vision, finding his gaze again, and he offers you a small, reassuring smile. “In and out. Just like this.” He inhales a purposefully deep breath, then slowly releases it without once breaking eye contact.

You try to copy him, but your nose is stuffed with snot and your lungs hitch with another round of sobs, ruining your attempt.

“Can I…?” Din again reaches for one of your hands, this time hovering without attempting direct contact, waiting for your consent. 

Trembling, it feels like a monumental task to remove your hand from where it’s glued to the top of your other one still covering your mouth. Din grabs onto your wrist and brings your hand to his chest plate, pressing it against the cool beskar.

“Together, okay? In and out.”

He continues his litany of encouragement, patient and calm, and gradually your heaving sobs begin to lose their power, enabling you to reclaim control of your lungs. Catching your breath, you begin to wipe away the lingering tears with the hand not still held gently in Din’s grip. 

“Sorry,” you sniff, embarrassed. The beginning ache of a migraine starts to form in the back of your head, worsening when you try to move too quickly, and you bite back a wince.

His grip on your wrist tightens in admonishment. “There’s no need to be,” he says, but your ears detect his thinly restrained anger. “Who were you speaking to?”

“He’s one of my superiors. Valin Hess,” you answer, biting your lip.

“I should have him wiped clean from the galaxy for making you cry,” Din hisses, a snarl on his face and eyes darkening with rage.

Face to face with anyone else, you would have felt terrified being so close to such open hostility. But this is how Din expresses his overprotective nature, making himself a more dangerous threat than the enemy, and for that reason, you could never be scared of him. 

“Din, listen to me,” you say, curling your hand in his grasp until he yields to your movements and allows you to intertwine your fingers with his gloved ones. “What happened on Sorgan when you touched Omera’s hand, Hess said it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. He wouldn’t give me the details though because I’m not high enough rank.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Cupids had any kind of ranking system.”

“It’s based on how long you’ve existed. I’ve only been a Cupid for fifty years now, barely made any kind of lasting imprint on the galaxy.”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, shooting you a stern look. “You’ve made a bigger impact than you could ever know.”

Struck momentarily speechless, you can only watch as he moves to sit on the floor beside you, clasped hands settling between his thigh and yours. The pauldron on his shoulder presses against the upper half of your arm and you tilt your head until your temple rests against it.

“That’s not what made you upset,” Din says.

You don’t need to shake your head, confirming the truth he already knows, but you do anyway, comforted by the cold metal rubbing across your forehead.

“What did he tell you, angel?”

You know by how he squeezes your hand that he genuinely wants to hear what happened. You know he must hear it from you because no one else can break the news. And you know you cannot lie to him because Hess’ intervening affects him even more than it does yourself. Still, in spite of knowing all of this, the words don’t come out any easier.

“I have only two days to figure out who your soulmate is before he reassigns you another Cupid.”

Din goes abruptly stiff. “What.”

“Because of the explosion and then also because I broke protocol by refusing to say you were my client, Hess believes I’m not handling things well and should be replaced by someone better.”

If you hadn’t known Din was immortal, you would think he died with how still he remains at your side. Leaning back with increasing worry, you see him staring forward across the cargo hold, granting you only a glimpse of the side of his face.

He...Oh, Maker. 

He looks kriffing pissed.

“Din—”

“How...” he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw. “How could they ever think there is anyone better than you?”

For the job, you tell yourself, not allowing your hopes to rise. He means there isn’t anyone better for the job.

“I’m just a Cupid,” you tell him weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “I—”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” he snaps, the closest he’s ever come to yelling at you, turning to meet your gaze with fire burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, his intensity making you feel like cornered prey. 

When he speaks again, his baritone voice has become a low murmur, each word carefully chosen and bleeding sincerity. “Everything you said about knowing who your soulmate is—I want to experience all of it with you. Only you. You’re it for me, angel.”

You freeze, unable to believe what you’re hearing, train of thought coming to a screeching halt. For the second time during this conversation, you’ve lost your voice, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“You’re it for me,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s pleading for you to believe him. “So tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. You’re the only Cupid I could ever want by my side.”

The reference of your designation is like dumping a bucket of ice water over your head, shocking your entire system. You wrench yourself away from him, stumbling onto your feet.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you say as you start to pace around the room, hearing the hysterical edge in your own voice.

He stands up, expression warring between confusion and irritation. “I know you feel something too. Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because we can’t be together, Din,” you answer, blinking back the unbidden tears starting to form again. “I’m not your soulmate. It isn’t possible!” 

“Angel.” He catches your elbow when you pass by him, forcing you to face him. His voice is brittle when he speaks, already expecting your answer to shatter his wounded heart. “Why can’t you be with me?”

“Because I’ve already met my soulmate. And he wasn’t you.”

Tag List:  @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk

[softlyjiminie]

oh kitten! | p.j.m

⇢ pairing(s): park jimin x cat hybrid!reader, mentions of panther hybrid!jeon jungkook x cat hybrid!reader.

⇢ word count: 2.4K

⇢ genre: smut, fluff, hybrid!au.

⇢ summary: no one expected park jimin to come home with a hybrid, let alone a female cat hybrid. innocent as can be, sweeter than sugar, she was the apple of jimin’s eye, but little did they know, how good she could be.

⇢ warning(s): please read! heavy smut, pwp, dom!jiimin, sub!reader, oral sex (female receiving.), fingering, male masturbation, light exhibitionism,  master kink, corruption kink, degredation kink, god kink if you squint,  mentions of pet play, light choking, spanking, cum play, breeding kink, unprotected sex - please wear protection!

⇢ author’s note(s): happy new year friends! it is i, your favourite jimin luvr back with a very special gift for miss @fantasybangtan​, gia hit me with this very wonderful and steamy gift, so in my new years haze I managed to throw this little steamy one-shot together! please enjoy this very smutty fic hehe.

no one expected park jimin to come home with a hybrid, let alone a female cat hybrid. jimin already had plenty of girls wrapped around his finger before her, so why did he need a hybrid? the short answer was that he was lonely, looking for someone to take care of and fill the empty space between work, college and parties. but jimin had seen the look of happiness on yoongi’s face that one time,upon seeing his girlfriend  bring in their excitable german shepard hybrid; taehyung  (of course with the permission of their boss seokjin, some establishments didn’t allow hybrids on the premises.)

namjoon, his old roommate had moved out after getting his own cat hybrid, jungkook. the panther hybrid had many lazy tendencies, sometimes aggressive and possessive which had ultimately led namjoon to leave. in other words, jungkook was lazy and mean as fuck. however, he did have his adorable moments. then there was, hoseok who frequently volunteered in a shelter for hybrids. it had been him, the jubilant man,  who helped jimin to find the right hybrid for his home, but the older male would have never suspected his blue haired ‘bad boy’ friend to go for the most innocent little short hair he’d ever seen. 

oh kitty, if hoseok knew how innocent and good she really was. 

YN’s back was arched, dark fluffy tail wrapped around her thigh as she held her ass up high for jimin to see. with dark eyes, jimin nudged her thighs apart with his own, just so he could get a view of her pretty, creamy little pussy. her ears were flat with submission too, making heat crawl down his spine. “look at you kitten,” jimin cooed lowly, crescent moon eyes heavy with seduction. “all spread out for me, like a good little girl.” 

he hummed in satisfaction, watching her tail twitch and ears flicker to place his movement. YN knew he was right behind her, her modified hybrid DNA meant her keen sense of smell could detect his growing arousal and the denim that prevented it from filling her up. she let out a quiet mix between a whimper and a purr, burying her face into the fresh cotton sheets as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to get jimin’s attention. 

hands on her waist stilled the motion, causing YN to glance back over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. jimin smirked, shuffling down the bed with her ass still firmly in grip. the tattooed man yanked at her hips with bruising force,  bringing her sopping heat closer to his face once his knees hit the floor. nose just inches away from her swollen nub, jimin’s  hot breath fanned over YN’s throbbing core and sent her senses into overdrive. “tell me kitten, what was it that you did so wrong? tell master so he can give you what you need baby.”

his voice dripped with mockery, testing all of her self control. jimin had her trained well, to be a good pet, not only when but if he desired it. he loved to see YN on her knees when he came home from a busy day, mouth open and ready to take his fingers spiralled with tattoos. he loved it. she adored it.

“i t-touched myself,” she mewled after jimin pressed his plush lips against her core in a sloppy kiss. he hummed, as if asking her to continue, causing her fingers to grip the sheets. “because the heat, m-my heat was too much!” 

the tattooed man licked a stripe along the length of her dripping cunt, the overflow of her arousal sweet on his tongue. jimin was addicted, senses overflowing with all of her. “what else sweetheart? elaborate for me.” 

“’called taehyungie ‘n hoseok t-to help with my heat-, oh my god!” she squealed when jimin’s skilled tongue slipped past her entrance, feasting on the heavenly nectar that gathered there. YN was sinful, without even trying, her innocence turning the man on beyond compare. corrupting her, tainting his little angel.  jimin moaned into her core, loving how she desperately cried out his name. letting a inked hand run through his teal tinted locks, jimin lifted himself off of his knees and begun to  sooth her whimpers, smoothing over the curve of her ass. “they said- oh my - they said no so i called kookoo to he-help! jimin!” 

the tattooed man growled into her cunt, possessively at the other hybrid’s name. memories only driving him to push his tongue into her pulsing hole, he smirked against her, drawing patterns on her desperate cunt as she cried out. before adopting YN, jimin knew next to nothing about owning and taking care of a hybrid, let alone about their reproductive cycles. so when his kitten fell into her first heat with him,  jimin panicked and immediately took to calling namjoon for advice. 

jimin remembered his face being bright with a red when his little, sweet, innocent kitty begged him to fill her up with his cum. because, sure, park jimin had been with girls before but this was YN and YN was his precious little baby. jimin had never seen her in such a state before, tears pooling in her beautiful, doe eyes like she was in pain. desperately needing something, someone to take the edge off.

namjoon offered up jungkook to help take care of jimin’s darling kitten and of course, he was sceptical. jungkook wasn’t gentle, he couldn’t take care of a little thing like YN. 

but oh how jimin was wrong. 

never in his life, in his time with YN had he heard her scream such filthy words, begging for jungkook to stuff her full of his load and breed her till his heart content. of course the panther obliged, groaning and barking orders into YN’s ear as their skin slapped against each other. 

and so it became a regular occurrence from then on, jimin making a home on the living room couch as jungkook took her round after round after round. YN’s moans  like a sweet melody filling the void of the apartment, causing jimin’s cock to harden in his sweatpants. he should have felt bad, bad for touching himself to orgasm whilst listening to YN being pounded away. it wasn’t until recently, when jimin had confessed his feelings (and jealousy), that he started helping her through the heats. making his name, jimin , the name that she chanted like a mantra.

“minnie, it hurts,” YN gasped, a slur in her words after he’d neglected her cunt for too long. with a teasing smile, jimin withdrew his face from her heat, replacing his tongue with a finger, slowly pumping it knuckle deep within her red hot walls. jimin grinned cockily in delight, feeling her walls take him in like a glove, pushing her (or rather his) sweater over her ass and up to her chest. 

kissing a trail up her back, jimin smiled against the expanse of her skin, reaching her neck and biting down just hard enough to form a love bite. he wanted YN’s skin to shine with his work, painting blue and purple hues across her skin like the night sky. “i know angel,” he murmured softly, millimetres away from her sensitive cat ears. “i’ll take care of you baby, i’ll fill you up so good, fuck you raw and then feed your tight little pussy my cum, would you like that kitten?” jimin’s voice was raspy in her ear, making YN’s chest heave at the thought of jimin inside her spasming walls. a fresh set of tears watered in the cat hybrid’s eyes as jimin’s finger curled, bringing her closer to the edge. stars formed behind cat-like irises as she teetered over the brink of orgasm, the knot in her stomach desperate to uncoil.

but just as quickly as it came, it stopped. “or would you rather kookoo?”

jimin’s whisper was hot against her kitty ears, causing them to twitch as she almost sobbed into the pillow with a shake of her head, moaning out for something, anything. “what about him, kitten? would you prefer if he fucked you like this? tossed you around and filled you up with his seed? hmm?“ jimin spoke harshly, landing a spank to YN’s ass. “i bet you would, all you can think about is being filled with cock and cum, bet you’d take anyone in that filthy cunt of yours.” 

“no, no, no!” YN cried, grinding her ass back into jimin’s jeans, leaving a wet patch at his crotch once she realised he had moved there. “i-i want you, i want you minnie please! don’t want him, don’t want koo, only you...”

the blue haired boy smirked lightly and sat back on his knees, slowly manoeuvring to unbuckle his belt. the clink of metal clanking on metal made the kitty moan in wonton as her ears swivelled at the sound. “say it again.” Jimin commanded, stripping off the rest of his clothes, the scent of his arousal filling his kitten’s nose. “beg for master, darling.”

“please, please i need you, m-master please- ” she didn’t need to say much before he was swiping the swollen, burning red head of his cock along her soaked slit. jimin shuddered above her, easing his thick cock between her folds as he encased the kitten between his arms. his bare chest moulded perfectly with the slope of her back, her ass resting comfortably at his hip. “hmmm minnie...”

in return, jimin gave an experimental thrust of his hips, whimpering into YN’s hair when she clenched around him. “fuck kitten, alway s’fuckin tight for me.” he moaned, thrusting in again, just to hear her little mewl’s of pleasure. the head of jimin’s cock caught on her wet walls, dragging against them as he repeatedly pushed in and out of her hole, abusing the sensitive area by rolling his hips into her constantly.

jimin lifted himself from her back, hands settling on her hips as he pulled her as back onto his cock, watching her cheeks jiggle with every movement. YN’s face was pressed deep into the pillows as she cried out his name, grinding back onto him like her life depended on it. “m-minnie please...” 

“please what kitten?” jimin panted, kissing up her spine again but never slowing the pace of his hips. “what is it that you want, hm? is my cock not enough for you?, greedy girl. want me to go faster? harder?” 

the blue haired male punctuated his words with swirls of his hips, his bright red tip prodding at her g-spot, eliciting a series of purrs from her kitten lips. he ravished the back of her neck once more, pausing his movements to let her roll back onto him feverishly, her cunt clenching right around him as her orgasm drew near. “h-h minnie, oh!” her purrs grew louder, moans reduced to mumbling his name and sighing once the weight of his body was on top of her again.

jimin’s thrusts became erratic, the force behind them more powerful. YN squeezed around his cock, purring for him and sending the vibrations going straight to his dick. “you gonna cum kitten?” he groaned into her hair, caging her in underneath him as he focused on thrusting deep. thick fingers fumbled to flick at her swollen clit with one hand, the other pressed lightly on her neck, forcing his thumb into her hot, wet mouth. “gonna make a mess of my cock?”

“yes! ’m so close,” she slurred, biting into the fabric of the pillow to control herself.

jimin nipped at her ear. “cum for me baby.” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut when she contracted around him one final time, arching her back to rut against him. jimin helped YN ride out her high as she milked his length for all he had, the tightness of her heat becoming too much for him. “where do you want me?”

“c-cum inside me, fill me with your kittens. breed me.” she purred, breathless as she swivelled her hips over his cock, the man above her practically sobbed as he gave a final two thrusts, filling his baby up with his thick hot seed.

jimin felt his arms give out as he collapsed to the side, not daring to crush his precious angel with his body wait. closing his whiskey eyes, jimin stilled to let his breathing calm, only cracking an eye open when YN moved over to give his inked arm appreciative kitten licks. “good? you’re okay, right princess?” he hummed in concern. 

“mhm! thank you jiminie, i think it’s settled for now. could i have some water please?” YN smiles shyly, the dimples in her cheeks returning. jimin chuckled, the switch of her personality reminding him of how innocent she could be and if he wasn’t so tired he knew his cock would have stirred again. with a shake of his blue hair out of his eyes, jimin nodded and sat up, leaning over to grab a bottle of water from the emergency supply under the bed. “thank you!” 

after the first few heats that he’d helped YN with, jimin quickly realised that both she and he would need replenishments if YN were to stay healthy and he were to keep up his stamina to satisfy her. it was a good thing that he could never get enough of her. the inked man watched with tired eyes as YN gulped down the water, trickles falling down the corner of her mouth and dripping onto her bare chest as she swallowed it down easily. 

wonder what else she could swallow like that, jimin thought. a small cough caused him to shift is gaze from his hybrid’s chest and up to her, innocent eyes. “you’re staring, minnie.” YN whined, with a pout on her lips. 

“you’re beautiful, is staring a crime?” he countered, moving to press a kiss where the water lay and followed to trail back up to the corner of her mouth. YN shifted on her knees, gasping quietly at the soft touch. jimin grinned widely against her supple cheek, biting it softly as he sensed another hot rush flooding through her. YN was so responsive to him, and only him. 

it was a privilege that he loved.

“no, but if i didn’t know any better, i would think you were the hybrid in heat...” she gasped, eyes rolling back as jimin moved his hands to cup her breasts. 

“whaddya say baby, another round?” 

“please, master.” she nodded, already moving to straddle jimin’s lap, ready for another round in the sheets. 

oh, what a good kitten she was. 

[sariahsue]

Of Secrets and Snowflakes

What am I doing? What am I doing? What on earth am I doing? The obvious answer—stalking a celebrity in broad daylight—didn't seem to cover the magnitude of her stupidity. Ladybug knew she shouldn't be out here, in the cold, sitting in a barren, snow-glazed tree, staring at her breath and Adrien's front door. She was sure to be caught, and the worst of it was that she couldn't even see his window from here. All of the dangers, with none of the benefits.

It had been twenty-four hours since Chat Noir's accidental identity reveal and Ladybug just wanted to 'check on' her partner. Not talk to him exactly, but just see him. Make sure he was okay. Without him seeing her. But she couldn't really do that from here, so she'd have to loop around to his window.

Not giving herself the chance to change her mind, she unhooked her yoyo and jumped. Each swing closer gave her another ten reasons to turn back. It was too soon. Neither of them were ready. She shouldn't be putting him in danger like this.

But Ladybug was suddenly on his fence, balancing dangerously between making one last leap to his window ledge and retreating. The quiet of his yard made her stop. A breeze skimmed the tops off of snow drifts. Sunlight reflected off the icicles hanging from the roof.

She really should check on him. It hadn't been right to dump him and run like she had yesterday.

She took a breath. It was probably best to leave. Neither of them would be able to act professionally now that his identity was out in the open. If they didn't put up boundaries now, they wouldn't be able to protect Paris. And if they couldn't protect Paris, then Hawk Moth would win. But boundaries could easily become walls, and then they'd drift farther and farther apart and then—

Ladybug heard the wet smack before she felt the cold of the snowball exploding across her cheek.

"HEADSHOT! WOO!" Adrien jumped out from behind a very tall, thin snowman as chunks of snow dripped off Ladybug's cheek.

"Go on, tell me how impressed you are with that throw," he said, pulling off his woolen beanie and flourishing it as he bowed in her direction. "And I'm not even in my suit right now!"

"Shh!" Ladybug hissed, snapping her head around to make sure no one was close enough to listen.

"Who's going to hear me?" Adrien asked, putting his hat back on. The bright red pom pom flopped into his face. "My father?" He waved a mittened glove (again black and red, she was sensing a theme) at the snowman. With its pointed hair and narrow frame, it looked suspiciously familiar. Adrien ducked behind the snowman, raising one of its tree branch arms in a wave.

The snowman was much more a pile of snow if anything, shaped tall and thin into a pointed tip that resembled the twirl of an ice cream cone. It was all angles, even its thin tree branch arms stood from its frigid form and perched above its long carrot nose were a pair of oddly familiar thick-rimmed glasses. Ladybug bit down on her lip to stifle her laughter as she easily recognized the ill-fashioned, candy-cane-striped ascot tied around its neck.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he spoke with an exaggerated deep voice. "'Tis I! Gabriel Snowgreste!"

"Did you steal those glasses it's wearing?" she asked, barely managing to hold back her giggles.

"They're a spare pair," Adrien said. "He won't even notice. I want to show you something." He held up a hand to her, ready to help her down, if she chose.

Ladybug chewed her lip as she hesitated. This was dangerous. The lines between them were already starting to fuzz and disappear, and if she couldn't maintain distance—no, she could. This wasn't any different than the other rare occasions she'd been to his house.

Ignoring his hand, Ladybug jumped down to land beside him. Snow crunched under her feet. "I can't stay for long," she said, looking from her hands, to the icicles hanging from his roof, and then to his lips—ahem, back to her feet. "I'm on patrol and I don't have much time to chat up random civilians."

"Aha, 'patrol.' Gotcha," Adrien said. He took a step closer, and she started to wonder if the pink on his cheeks was only from the frigid air. "Well, thank you, M'Ladybug, for stopping by to see me, someone you've never met before, when you were obviously so busy. Tell me, what's your favorite part of being a superhero? The powers? The fans? Or is it the amazing company you keep?"

She couldn't help a small giggle. Adrien, your Chat is showing. She wasn't fast enough to convincingly cover it with a cough and saw his eyes sparkle and the color on his cheeks deepen, and realized she'd made a mistake already. Professional. Distant.

Dang it.

"Since you're here, want to stay and see what I made?" He took her silence for assent and reached for her hand, leading her across the yard.

Brisk air blew at her back, creeping across the exposed skin of her neck and ears, but Ladybug's brain was overheating. Stay here? With Adrien? Forever? Her steps were halting and uneven. When he turned to see what the matter was, he dropped her wrist immediately.

"Sorry!" he said, putting up his hands. "I didn't mean—I shouldn't have grabbed—s-sorry, I mean, we can hang out if you want? I've got hot chocolate inside. We could talk about—"

Wind whistled through the empty branches above them, carrying snowflakes and another dozen reasons to say yes, that sounded wonderful. Adrien—her partner—was warm and inviting.

"O-or," he continued, looking around the yard for inspiration. "We could watch something? Or I could read something to you? Not that I think you can't read, but …" His voice stuttered and died away under her continued silence. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

It had only been a day, and their sync, their perfect harmony was already ruined, she could tell. How many times had Chat Noir simply looked at her and known what she was thinking? And now he was reading her all wrong.

"I really shouldn't be here," she said. "It's not safe."

"No one's going to see us," Adrien promised, a little desperately. "And we're friends, aren't we? We can hang out, right?"

"Well …" Another gust of wind, and movement caught her eye: the stick arms of Gabriel Snowgreste. Adrien had been out here all alone, ignored by everyone he cared about, and she couldn't have that. Ladybug was a woman of many plans, so from the ashes of 'pretend she had never met Adrien' another one was quickly born. It was called 'pretend everything was under control.' For his sake, and for the sake of the team, she'd set her emotions aside.

"Of course we're friends," she said, before firmly reminding herself, and nothing more. "Lead the way."

In three short skips, Adrien led her around the corner of the mansion, straight toward a mound of snow that went up to his shoulders. "Tada!"

"Oh," Ladybug said. She took in the patches of dead grass peeking out around the edges of the mound, and the shovel leaning against the side. What was it? He'd obviously worked hard, and she didn't want to say the wrong thing. "L-looks impressive?" She swallowed hard, trying to force her stutter down.

"You're admiring the wrong side, LB." He crouched and twisted out of sight. On the correct side of the small dome was a stubby tunnel opening, with a hole just wide enough to crawl through. An igloo. How had he found enough time to build an entire igloo? Shaking her head, she followed him inside.

The interior was small. Even with her height disadvantage, she wouldn't have been able to lie down without her feet sticking out the door, but that only added to the igloo's coziness factor and—she swallowed hard—sense of intimacy. Dim sunlight filtered through the thinner areas of the dome, creating a soft glow. And Adrien smiled sweetly at her as she sat down. She needed to make this quick.

"Thank you," he said, scooting closer to her.

"F-f-for?" There was no reason to stutter. There was no reason to shiver in anticipation as he lined his body up next to hers.

"Coming to see me. It's not a patrol day, so—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I miss you when I don't get to see you."

It was an odd time to realize that igloos had no windows. No one could see them, no one would witness whatever happened next. And she really needed some air, because Adrien was right there, his face illuminating the small space. How many times had Chat Noir—Adrien—told her that he loved her? The heat on her face was going to melt the igloo he worked so hard on.

"Glad I could make you beel fetter—I mean f-feel better!" Ladybug scrambled for the tunnel entrance and for safety. The biting chill brought her clarity. She'd thought she needed more time to adjust to her two favorite boys being one person, but that wasn't the real reason she was running away. She couldn't be trusted around him. Distance and control and careful plans were no match for Adrien Agreste.

"I bet you'd make a good snow angel." Adrien lay in the igloo's entrance, face in his hands and staring at her, freezing her on the spot. "Because you're so angelic."

Ladybug kind of, sort of, maybe, gaped at him for several seconds before hitching her heart back into place and closing her mouth.

"Sorry, was that too much?" he asked.

She managed to squeak out a small, "No!" before she dropped to her knees and kissed his forehead, letting her mouth rest against his skin just a fraction of a second longer than she thought she should. "Maybe next time, Chaton."

And then she bolted.

Ignoring the voice that said to stay, to see where this path led, Ladybug finally achieved her distance. She didn't turn around until her feet landed on the hard sidewalk, and they were separated by the mansion's iron fence. Adrien was still visible through the bars, crouching behind the igloo to watch what she should do, expression obscured by his creation.

Even when she was trying to protect him, she hurt him.

He wasn't just Chat Noir anymore. And not just Adrien. He was her … he was so many things to her that she wasn't even sure what to call him. He was her partner. Her best friend. The person she always wanted to run to …

And was now running away from to protect.

***

That night, darkness fell on an uncertain Ladybug. Shadows stretched beneath her dangling feet as it started to snow lightly. Marinette had known all day that she needed to apologize, that much had been obvious. She'd even prepared a thermos of hot cocoa for a peace offering.

But now what? How could she go on without hurting or endangering Adrien further? The cleanest way to keep him and the city safe was to tell him they needed to only see each other during akuma attacks, to maintain the dynamic that had always worked so well. Would either of them be able to stand that?

The only clear answer was that running away from him had solved nothing. She sighed, scooped up the thermos, and pushed off to find him. She would think of something. She had to.

Ladybug was greeted with the dark, empty windows of Adrien's room. It was too early for him to be in bed, but too late for him to be at a photoshoot. If she knew Chat Noir, and if Chat Noir was Adrien, then she was sure he'd be out and about somewhere. As she raced to all his favorite hangout spots, doubt started to set in. This was another sign of their weakening bond. He had read her wrong before, and now she couldn't anticipate where he would go.

A few minutes later and getting desperate, she swung back toward his house, hoping that maybe he'd already gone home. In between street lamps, hundreds of string lights covered buildings and fences and trees. Icy puddles and piles of snow seemed to blur together as she pushed herself faster. She arced over the park and spotted a lone figure on a bench staring up the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue. Lights hung off her stone counterpart like necklaces and scarves. The person on the bench looked like marshmallow in a puffy white coat that was several sizes too big. But she recognized the red pom pom.

Landing silently next to him, she asked, "Hey, on the prowl?"

Adrien sat up a little straighter at the sound of her voice. "Ladybug! You're here! I mean, you don't have to stay if you don't want to." He slid to make room for her on the bench, ever hopeful.

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you?" She took the offered seat and uncapped the thermos for him.

"I'm guessing you were dying to see me and have been calling my name for hours."

"You haven't been here out for hours, have you?" she asked in alarm.

"No, no," he assured her. "I was just—never mind." He took a sip of the thermos to avoid her questioning look.

They passed thermos back and forth several times before Ladybug said, "Sorry for freaking out at you earlier. I'm here because I want to spend time with you, but …" The words caught in her throat. What should have followed was, but we can't right now. She couldn't say it. She was here because she wanted to be with him. Another sip hid her struggle, as she tried to buy herself time, so he wouldn't have to see her confusion, to delay the words that would hurt him.

The wind blew, and she shivered, though she resisted the urge to lean into him for warmth.

He noticed her shudder anyway. "Maybe this isn't the best time for this conversation," he said.

Ladybug pressed her fingers into the side of the thermos, trying to draw in its heat. "I'm fine." Her teeth chattered. "Not cold." They needed to have this conversation. She needed to get a hold of herself for his sake, though she wasn't sure if she meant her shivers or her emotions.

As lightly as another breeze, Adrien's arm snaked around her shoulder, bringing with it half of the coat. She tried to protest, but he just leaned over to grab the thermos from her and pulled her deeper into his side in the process. "Sorry, but you're freezing. Don't try to hide it," was the only apology he gave.

Now she'd done it. Given him the wrong impression. He thought she was stopping because of the weather and not because she was choking on her words. He'd misread the situation again. They were out of sync. All of her efforts to fix it had failed. What was she supposed to do now?

"You probably think we shouldn't be sitting out here like this," he said. "I get it."

Ladybug frowned. Did he really? Could he tell how badly they were messed up?

"It's been pretty crazy for me. I can't imagine what it's been like for you. You're always the one with the plan, and there's no way to plan our way out of this. It'll just take some time."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Maybe … she started to hope. Maybe he did get it.

"But I trust you, Ladybug. And I'm glad we're in it together," he said. "Right?"

"Always," she said. They couldn't turn back to where they had been. And they couldn't stop their partnership from developing. But as she laid her head on his shoulder and stared up at the sparkling lights illuminating their statues, she thought maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing after all.

For now, she had a new plan …

Trust her partner.

***

Author's note: This was written for the Miraculous Writer Zine: Once Upon a Season. Together, we raised $2,385 for the Organization of Transformative Works. The zine is no longer on sale, so all the authors have been given permission to post their works!

[coepiteamare]

nine thousand, seven hundred nineteen kilometers

pairing: yoongi x female!oc  genre: mild angst, it’s not fluff but it’s not angst, thieves oc & yoongi  warnings: mild angst, oc and yoongi are thieves (think ocean’s 8/11-13, pickpockets in this drabble), lapslock word count: 1.4k

summary: you find love somewhere in between los angeles and new york and lose your heart in between paris and tokyo. (alt. maybe he’s the compulsion you can’t seem to shake, the ache that doesn’t fade even nine thousand, seven hundred and nineteen kilometers away)

paris is much quieter than the places you’re used to, but it’s not a bad thing.

you like having coffees in cafes, settling in nooks, and drinking in the scenery spread outside the window. there’s a slight soreness in your arms from the aerial act last night that you remedy with macarons and the cafe cat that comes to sit in your lap, nuzzling its nose in your turtleneck. but the itch in your fingertips refuses to subside: a dull craving that refuses to be muffled no matter how many hobbies you pick up, how many characters you adapt and abandon, how many miles you put between yourself and los angeles. 

maybe you should move to amsterdam, you think as you thank the cafe owner. you contemplate luxembourg as you give the cat one last pet and leave behind a half eaten croissant. dubai is also pretty, you tell yourself as you bump into a youngman in a peacoat. hand into his pocket. you fall over, gripping on to his sleeve, as he reaches out to stabilize you. his prada wallet in your bag. you flash him a shy smile that could make the eiffel tower crumble. his watch on your wrist. you giggle an apology--i’m so sorry, i was distracted, i should have been paying more attention--and vanish into the crowd in a haze of vanilla and rose with his gucci tie clip in the pocket of your trench coat.

old habits die hard. 

maybe it’s not a habit you’re trying to get rid of, something whispers in the back of your head, or maybe you’re not trying at all. shut up, you whisper back.

you close the door quickly when you enter your flat, letting the fall chill know it’s an unwelcome guest before it can settle in. 

the apartment you live in is small, a little out of the way from central paris, but you like the trimmings on the cabinets and the colours of the wall. it feels lived in, less sterile than white walls, and it feels like what a home should feel like. there’s scratches on the countertop and smudges of the lives of tenants before you, and, really, you could do a lot better with the money from tokyo, but it was the first place that didn’t hiss at your insecurities in the sound of his voice. all the other ones you had seen had reminded you of him--walls painted with his laughter, banisters lined with the snap of his gloves, floors tiled in his stupid, ostentatious spending habits--and you had almost given up on paris, almost decided to live in the cheap motel with shitty coffee and questionable door locks because the first hotel you checked into had him written all over it (as did the next one and the next one and the next) until you found this apartment, cozy and in need of upkeep. i’m yours, it seemed to say; better yet, it said nothing at all. yours (whatever that meant). 

“you should get better locks,” his voice rings, and you drop your purse, items clattering to the floor. 

he looks just as you remember him: soft, wispy bangs against pale skin, dark eyes taking in more information than you could ever know, jaw and mouth sharp like he’d bite if you made the wrong move. the way the sun gently brushes him with a soft golden glow makes you wonder if he’s somehow conned the sun into working for him. (he’s always had a flair for dramatics, even if he claims there’s no room for theatrics in his plans.) you wrench your gaze away from him, your ribcage suddenly two sizes too tight for the thudding contraption it holds inside.

“have you ever thought locks were meant to keep people out, yoongi? that maybe people have locks to try and keep whatever’s inside them safe?” you pick up the items off the floor, carefully placing them back into your purse, trying to keep your voice steadier than your hands. 

“i have a proposition for you,” he says, without missing a beat, like nothing happened in tokyo. 

“would you have sought me out if you didn’t?” you mutter under your breath. you don’t like the bitterness that spreads through your mouth, the hurt that lingers like a bad aftertaste. “i’m retired,” you lean against the wall. you wonder if the scuff marks on the floor have been there a while. you try to look everywhere but him, but your training kicks in and you’re hypersensitive to everything he does: the way his shoulders are loose but his eyes are constantly moving, the way he still holds the tea cup like he did the first time he took you to a cafe 3 minutes after he met you, the way his left hand is still, unnatural, like he wants to drum them against the table or pick a lock, have something to do. 

he hums and sips the tea in front of him. “i would have been a little quicker with the wallet,” your head turns to him in shock, “but other than that, it was a pretty solid job.” of course he was watching. there was nothing yoongi missed, from the stutter in your heartbeat to the thrum of your fingers against the wall. he drops his smile and his gaze bores into yours, but you feel the smug satisfaction smothering you like his cologne that still permeates your dreams, six months later and six thousand miles away.  

“awareness of surroundings has gotten sloppy though.”

“fuck you.” 

his shoulders shake as he laughs, breath catching with every inhale. it takes him a minute to collect himself, but the smile doesn’t fall. “the crew misses you.”

“more like you couldn’t find another acrobat,” you scoff. everything about this is painfully familiar: the sharp rapport, the sparks, him. it’s too easy to settle back into habit, even if you’ve been burnt before. it feels like diving back under the covers, body aching to crawl back to what it knows. the words slide out of your mouth before you have a chance to think about them, bitter and acrid. “were you even trying?” 

“were you even trying? it’s like you wanted to get caught” he had scoffed, mouth acidic even at your tear stained face. “this isn’t a fucking performance you get to put on night after night. there is no safety net waiting to catch you. that-” he gestures at the wind, at the depository miles away from you, “whatever that was almost cost us this job.”

“i’ve missed you.” he smiles, and just like that, you hear the faint click, his words cracking the pin code on your ribcage and unlocking the heart you’ve tried so desperately to cage. you should have known better: there’s never been a lock yoongi couldn’t pick, a safe he couldn’t find his way into. nothing has been able to keep him out: not the gallery treasury in newport beach with its earthquake proof alarm system, not the cartier vault in new york city with its impressive randomized laser grid, and certainly not the flimsy, fickle alarm system of your heartbeat. 

“how did you find me?” your voice is too soft, muddled under memories buried six feet under.

“have you ever seen me fail to get what i want?” he makes his way to you and doesn’t stop until you’re pressed against the wall, the tips of his shoes against yours. sandalwood tickles your throat as you take a breath. his nose brushes against yours, pink lips mere centimeters away. 

“i meant what i said, your awareness of your surroundings needs work.” his breath fogs your clarity. “besides, if they wanted to keep things safe, maybe they should try a bit harder. i’m just here to prove that all things can be found.” he taps a finger against your nose lightly, mouth stretching into a smile before he makes his way towards the door with his hands in his pocket. he doesn’t turn back to look at you. “you know how to find me.”

you stand there, dazed, until the faint tap, tap, tap of the rain against your windowpane breaks the fog, sun submerged in velvet darkness. 

maybe he’s just as potent as a habit, just as hard to kill. 

you find a plane ticket to los angeles in your backpocket, a burner phone in your coat pocket. your safe door is wide open, contents untouched, with a post it note on top. 

it’s like you’re not even trying. p.s. did you miss me?

A/N:  a BIG thank you to hana @taestybae​ for reading this and telling me she loved it. i absolutely adore you. 

i’m going to work to expand on the universe (hopefully) and introduce the rest of the crew because words cannot describe how much i love this universe and these characters. 

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Guardian Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse of kidnapping. Again, details of murder/crime scenes, curse words.

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! So, again, I find myself having to cut this in half. I originally planned on the team getting to you at this point in the story but I got a little carried away. I’ve been thinking about this series so much that it’s ridiculous. Low-key wish I’d been able to direct a CM episode like this. The things I could do with a camera... solely focused on Matthew for a 45 minute episode. Heh. Anyways, remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and basically do the job of producing serotonin for me like my brain is supposed to do naturally. Thank you so much for sticking around and I’ll be sure to get the next part out to you ASAP!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three ]

It was hours later before Spencer felt the incessant buzzing of his phone against his thigh.

Immediately annoyed and already tired of the day, he didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID before sending it straight to voicemail. Blindly, he rummaged around in the bottom of his satchel for his keys. Spots danced across the back of his left eyelid as he tried to rub the exhaustion away.

Everything about today had been awful. From finding out the girl of his dreams, who he had only known for three weeks, mind you, could be a serial killer to the fact that, without you, nothing made any sense in this case. Even if you weren’t the unsub, you were an integral piece to finding out who was.

After you had left the office earlier this afternoon, Spencer had made it his mission to investigate every other person connected to you. He’d even gone so far as to track down your father to the other side of the globe, having somehow made his way to Europe in order to stay out of you and your mother’s lives.

Try as he might, every possible lead led to a brick wall spray painted to say, ‘She’s the killer.’ Having spent most of the day trying to convince himself that you were the unsub, he was tired of fighting his instincts for fear of compromising himself. Something wasn’t right in this investigation and he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

When his phone started to buzz again as he pushed the key into the key hole, he couldn’t help the sudden surge of anger that seemed to take over his body. Hastily yanking one hand from the door, he reaches into his pocket and presses the answering button.

“Hello, this is Dr. Reid.” His tone is harsh and mechanically echoes back into his ear. Whoever is on the other side of the line is quiet for one second, then two. For five seconds no one responds and Spencer has the time to balance the phone between his cheek and his shoulder so that he could go about removing his bag and shuffling into his car.

“You really thought it was her, didn’t you, Dr. Reid?” Although the natural pitch of the voice suggests a woman, or maybe even a young boy, there is an underlying tone that suggests that it’s a man. Spencer is frozen in place, his bag sitting in the passenger seat of his car, one hand on the inside of the door and the other on the steering wheel.

Slowly, he reaches up to relieve his shoulder from the duty of holding his phone, his long fingers curling around the device. His eyes squinted, the way they usually did when he was thinking. With his other hand, nervously, he reaches up to push away a curl that has escaped from behind his ear.

“Who is this?” He regrets the question the moment it falls from his lips. Someone who has gone the painstaking lengths that this man has gone through to keep himself out of the investigation would not simply reveal his identity when no one even had a suspicion of him.

“Wrong question, Doctor. Try again.” Swallowing past the lump that has started to form in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action, Spencer stretches back across the driver seat of his car to grab his bag. The leather strap digs into the palm of his hand and he drags it toward him, feeling like he was stuck on rewind as he goes about undoing everything he’d just done.

“What do you want?” The click of the door lock is the only sound for three seconds before the man responds again, a sadistic excitement escalating the pitch of his voice.

“Out of life? From a specific restaurant? Be specific in your questioning, Doctor.” He laughs a little breathlessly. In the moments where he doesn’t talk, Spencer strains to hear anything that could help him, but he can’t even hear the guy breathe let alone identify background noise.

“What is your purpose in calling me?” Getting back into the building is a hassle while on the phone, but he manages it nonetheless. There would be no sleeping tonight after a call like this. The elevator button glows a pale yellow as Spencer stabs it with one of his long fingers. For now they are steady, his hands that is, but the full effect of what is happening and what it means hasn’t actually hit him full force yet.

“To inform you of two things; the first being that you are wrong. I killed all those people and I killed them because of you.” The breath in his throat hitches. All of his worst dreams and nightmares have come crawling out of the woodworking and across his skin like thousands of tiny spiders.

“The second being that I’ll be hanging out with our mutual friend for a while, so you may not see her for a little bit.” There is a creaking of a door before he hears you. Your voice is already hoarse from screaming and the sound of restraints clacking against a concrete flooring puts the picture of you in a dungeon deep into his head.

“Spencer?! Spencer his name i-” The sound of a hand making contact with skin makes Spencer’ blood boil with rage.

Curling into the corner of the elevator, hunching his shoulders into himself and covering an ear with the palm of his opposite hand, Spencer speaks slowly and deliberately into the speaker.

“Do not touch her.” The man on the line chuckles, reaching out to run a finger along the edge of your jawline. You snatch your head away, your slapped cheek already turning pink, and push back against the wall.

“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that. Happy hunting.” The doors of the elevator open as soon as the line goes dead. Everything in Spencer kicks into overdrive, his mind flying so fast that he could barely manage to keep up with it himself.

Hotch, ready to leave for the day, stands in the opening. The tired look in eyes only grows when he sees the young profiler standing in his way, his face drained of blood and his phone still desperately clutched to his ear.

“What’s happened?”

Not so far away, the door to the empty, concrete basement shuts you in by yourself. Around your ankle is a handcuff attached to a car chain that is anchored to the floor. If you crawl to it, dragging your injured leg behind you, you can see the shoddy soldering done to create this makeshift dungeon.

In the corner is a mattress with a thin cotton blanket probably from dollar general or somewhere equally as cheap. A lamp sits beside it, the wooden bottom nailed into the floor to keep you from using it as a weapon. The only other thing is a wooden chair that is planced just below a high rectangle window. A couple of desperate shakes against the leg confirms that it is also nailed to the floor.

With nothing of use, save maybe the blanket, you go about taking a collection of your injuries.

The top of your head is leaking a steady stream of blood that drips down the side of your face and sticks your hair to your cheek. The sight of so much blood coming from your head is alarming at first, but just as quickly as you started to panic, you remember that head wounds can bleed quite a lot. No matter how small.

On the opposite side as your head injury is a deep cut on your cheekbone. It has stopped bleeding, dry blood clogged around the torn skin and flaking along your cheek when you run your finger over it.

Your thigh is a different issue all together, the knife wound throbbing with pain no matter how you shift or apply pressure. You’ve coated your hands in gloves made of your own blood trying to staunch the bleeding, hissing and whimpering the whole time.

All three injuries had happened in a matter of minutes, starting with the knife to your thigh.

You drove for an hour and a half toward nowhere in particular, only pulling off the road when the gun jammed into your neck and Harvey snapped at you from the back.

“Turn right on the dirt road.” The tiny car bumped and bounced around the dirt and gravel, driving straight for another fifteen minutes. You were surrounded by nothing but trees and hills and although you’d been familiar with the area where you’d pulled off the road, you weren’t sure where you were.

When the gun jammed back into your neck and Harvey screamed for you to stop, you slammed so hard on the brakes that he rocked forward and hit his head on the back of the passenger seat. The crunch of his breaking nose was sickening to your ears, but the bite of the seat belt digging into your collarbone and neck was enough to keep you from vomiting.

“You bitch!” He cried, the hand not holding a gun to your neck flew up to catch the blood that fell from his nose. Despite his attempts, a drop or two still managed to fall to the floor and soak into the fabric. His DNA would be on this car, you could only hope that he was in some sort of system. Even now, after everything you’d been through today, you still trusted the team of FBI Agents to find you before it was too late.

The safety on the gun made a clicking noise, your entire body freezing in place as you looked at everything around you. You were in a big dirt field, trees surrounding a patch of land that may have once been the grounds for a home. Now, only your car, a red SUV, and red soil were the only things there to see.

Harvey moved around in the back seat, you could see him in your rear view mirror as he pulled tissues from his pocket and shoved them into his broken nose. When he was finished he pulled out a pocket knife. His eyes were two beady slits of black as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“We’re going to get out of this car, and get into that car right over there. I’ll get in the driver’s seat, and you get in the trunk. Understood?” Sweat slicked your hair to your temples as you shook your head, your grip on the steering wheel so tight that your fingertips had started to tingle.

“You aren’t a good shot, Harvey. The moment we get out of this car, I’ll run.” The knife in his hand popped to attention at your words, gleaming in the sunlight. Somehow, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon and you had already been through hell.

“You won’t be able to.” He said, his hand shooting forward and sinking into your leg. Through the shock of it all, you’d barely felt it even after he pulled the bloody knife back and flipped it shut. You gaped at the wound, watching as the blood seeped out, soaked into your pants, and smeared onto the leather covering of your seat.

The back door opened, the car still alive and thrumming underneath you as he hurried over to your side of the car. You didn’t think, you just acted, throwing the car out of park and letting the adrenaline pumping through your veins mask the pain it caused you to slam on the gas.

Maybe you would have made it, drove out of here and been able to make it to a hospital before you bled out in your own car, but it had been raining nearly nonstop for three weeks and your car was not made to go fast in mud. Your tires spun long enough for Harvey to throw your door open and slam the butt of his gun into your head, causing your face to slam into the steering wheel and render you unconscious.

By the time you came back to yourself, Harvey had been carrying you down the steps and into a basement or cellar of some kind. You had no idea where you were or how long you had been out, only that your entire body was sore and cold.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good. I wanted to apologize about earlier, you just made me a little angry. But we’re better now. I even took those bloody clothes off you. I’ve got your room made up for you and if you’re good, I might let you talk to a friend of ours.” His tone is cheerful, his dark eyes complimenting the dark bags underneath them.

Harvey had been in several of your classes when you went to Georgetown, a friendly face amongst all the older kids who used to sneer at you when you tried to do anything. You wouldn’t actually say you were friends, just two people who were kind to each other. Later, once you parted ways after graduation, he became the personal assistant of your agent. He told you he was just trying to make ends meet while he was going back to school for his masters. It was such a surprise to see you again!

Then last month he quit after the death of his mother, thanking your agent for the experience and moving back to whatever town it was he used to lived in that you never bothered to ask about. Agents have multiple clients, yours was no exception, so you thought nothing of the change in personal assistants based solely on the fact that you barely noticed. Her life didn’t revolve around you and yours didn’t revolve around her.

But now, locked in a basement wearing nothing but your underwear and a tank top, blood soaking through a bandage around your thigh, with the really cute man you’d based a character on believing that you were a serial killer, you wish you’d noticed him more.

...

Garcia was the one to suggest looking at the security footage of the parking lot. She’d been clacking away on her tablet and trying to not seem disappointed about being dragged back to the BAU so quickly, when someone asked where you would have gone from here.

“What if he took her from here?” Everyone had looked at her with varying degrees of peculiar looks. Someone being kidnapped from the parking lot of a building full of FBI Agents? It would be comical if kidnappings weren’t a serious issue. Ironic. That’s the word Penelope was looking for. It was ironic.

“I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at the security footage but her lawyer walked her to her car, it was broad daylight. What are the-” Prentiss’ mouth snaps shut and her lips purse just a little when Penelope brings up the video on the big screen.

Just thirty minutes before you walk outside, a small and stocky figure jimmies open your back door and slides in. He must slide to the passenger side of the backseat because he disappears from view. While he isn’t dressed in an extremely unusual manner, the hat and the black hoodie he is wearing help to hide his identity from the camera hanging over him.

Fast forward thirty minutes and all eyes trained to you as you drop your keys and bend to pick them up. Guilt hits every single member on the team, Spencer probably more than the rest, when they watch your head drop into your hands once you’re in the confines of your car.

An arm extends across the backseat, coming into view of the camera as the unsub presses a gun into your neck. In a matter of fourty-five seconds, you start the car and pull out of the parking spot.

“So we can rule out Jeremy.” Spencer says plainly, shuffling the papers in front of him as he thinks. Across the table Hotch nods his head in agreement. Jeremy was tall, maybe an inch shorter than Spencer, and he while he had an athletic build it was more lean muscle than the wide and stocky build the unsub had.

Penelope is quick to gather her things and head for her office, already planning on trying to follow your path through traffic cameras. It would be a grueling process, but it was the least she could do after digging through your life to, unintentionally, frame you for eight murders you didn’t commit.

“We interviewed everyone she has a connection to, in state or not. She’s an extremely low-risk victim, her circles don’t run that big.” Morgan has his own tablet pulled into his lap and he tilts his chair this way and that. A coin weaves in and out of his fingers and his forehead wrinkles as he goes over the list in his mind.

“Then we’ve already talked to our unsub, we just have to figure out which one it was.”

The first names to go are those out of state; your mother, your father, your best friend, and a handful of people you were connected to through the publishing firm. While the remaining names are few in numbers, it still puts Spencer on edge. They didn’t have the kind of time to be wasting energy of persons of interest, they needed one name identifying their unsub.

Nevertheless, the names are split amongst the group of profilers who work tirelessly through the night. The sun soon rises and glares through the window of the BAU conference room, putting Spencer Reid right into it’s spotlight.

There are bags under his eyes, eyes that take longer to open every time he blinks. He’s read the same paragraph eight different times, his cheek perched against the heel of his palm and his elbow propped on the tabletop. When he pushes back from the table, taking the file with him as he tries to walk away the exhaustion, it isn’t for the first time that night.

All he can think about is that final look you gave him as you walked out the door. It was a look of complete and utter betrayal, like you’d been trying to convince yourself that he was somehow oblivious in your being accused of the murders and seeing him there had been a punch of truth in the gut. He’d gone forward when you stumbled, reflexively reaching out to steady you on your feet before his mind could process the action.

Spencer has been doing that since he met you, trying to protect you like he was a giant ball of bubble wrap around you. He’d done it that day in the bookstore, throwing all precautions to the wind when he held the back of your head to keep you from hitting that bookshelf. He’s done it several times at a coffee shop you both enjoy visiting on his days off, physically maneuvering your body when he realizes that your current trajectory will cause you to ram your hip into a table corner.

One time, he’d been walking with you across the street when a man on a bicycle had come flying out of nowhere. You’d been just a step in front of him, your head tilted over your shoulder and your hands flying around with animation as you told him a story. Truly, he wasn’t sure how he knew to reach out and grab your shoulders, you have a way of telling stories that makes the entire world fall away. Yet, as if he was Spider-Man or something, every cell in his body suddenly cried out and he didn’t hesitate in pulling you back.

The force Spencer used to pull your body into his chest had sent you both tumbling to the sidewalk behind you.

“Are you okay?” You’d said, turning so that you were hovering over him with the sun framing you like a halo around your head. Surely you could feel the rapid escalation of his heartbeat with the way you tenderly place one of your small hands over his chest.

In the end he had to pull you to the side of the busy street to put a band-aid on your elbow where it had hit the concrete. It had been in the bottom of your bag and it had Scooby-Doo on it.

Despite his eidetic memory, some moments always manage to fade a little more than others. Some moments stick out more, like when you had reached out to smooth a stray curl away from his face. Your fingers were featherlight against his temple, your head tilted just a little to the side, and a soft smile stretched your lips.

“You’re my guardian angel.”

Some guardian angel he was, accusing you of murder on eight accounts and then letting you be kidnapped by someone who had no qualms about slapping you. God only knows what else he was comfortable with.

“I’ve got a lead!” Garcia burst into the room, her chest heaving as she sent videos and pictures to the screen for everyone to see. Spencer couldn’t see her face as she bent over her tablet, punching in information and instructions, but he nearly peppered it with kisses when she started to explain what they were all seeing.

“I managed to track (Y/N) to a little town about and hour and a half away when she, probably on purpose, ran a red light just in front of a gas station.” The video of your car creeping through a four-way traffic light until it turned red and captured you on camera was time stamped for yesterday afternoon around four o’clock.

“If you look closely, she turns onto a dirt road just a few seconds later,” Sure enough, every eye in the room watches as your car disappears behind a cluster of trees across from the BP on the left side of the video. “Satellite pictures show that little dirt road leads to one house that burned down a year ago.”

Mouths open, cogs turns, but Penelope Garcia once again proves her intelligence when she merely waves one hand in their direction and uses the other hand to pull up several documents and articles.

“Don’t sweat it. There’s no connection at all. Belonged to a Martin and Elisa Lewis back in the fifties before it was abandoned in the seventies. It was a local haunt where teenagers went to smoke, get drunk, have parties, and do the crazy and reckless things teenagers love to do. One of these reckless things led to a fire and burned the place down. But what’s important is what leaves this place fourty-eight minutes and twenty seconds after (Y/N)’s car enters.”

The video jumps forward in time, resuming as a red SUV pulls off the road and comes back for the stoplight. They can’t manage to get a license plate, the car being recently purchased by the unsub and the paper temporary being stuck to the inside of a tinted window, and they don’t manage to get a good image of the unsub driving. It feels, for a quarter of a second, as if there is no lead at all, until Spencer jumps to his feet.

“We need to see if her car is still there.”

The hour and a half drive takes fifty minutes with their lights on, mud kicking up beneath their tires as they pull into the empty lot. Your car sits abandoned in the middle, your back tires sunk into a pile of mud. The mass collection of blood on your driver’s seat makes Spencer nauseas. Rossi gives him a reassuring pat on the back.

It does nothing for Spencer’s nerves. He is truly the worst guardian angel ever.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Never meant to be

The first attack was made. So here's my thing @glassartpeasants

Watching (Y/n) has become one of the reasons that kept him on the line... that kept him sane.

His whole word was dark and numb, the only reason he had discovered to see what it meant to be alive was them. They, without even a single word, has reached him how it was to felt alive, to felt like a damn human.

Always he tried to court them by gifts, yet they weren't really interested. Sure, such an angel wasn't suppose to felt attached to such a sin that it was greed... he should have thought about that. That was the problem.

No man alive dared to step one foot closer to you... or else he would teach them a lesson.

You. Belonged. To him. Ever since he layed his eyes on you. You were his.

..it's just you that didn't know it yet.

Such a simple task. His love for you was evident... yet, someone was trying to take you away from him.

Chrono didn't loved you enough, didn't loved you like the way he did.... although he wasn't a foul, he knew how you acted around him.

He tried. God, how much he tried to put into his head that it wasn't anything serious, that it was just his childhood friend making sure you were safe for him...

Yet... he wasn't delusional. He wasn't a foul.

The moment it came to his ears that you and him had grew found of eachother, his world seemed to fall apart. The colors from his vision drew out... he felt completely betrayed, hurt, anger... He destroyed ever part of his office, rearranged his room to put soundproof on the walls just so he could scream and shout all the profanities, curses towards his friend to had let that happen.

It was years since he hadn't felt like this... oh how he wished to just torture Kurono. For stealing the only reason of his living like that... and so out of the blue.

Yet he couldn't... He couldn't bare to see your face if you discovered the truth behind his friend's death, he couldn't bare to just see your beautiful and angelic face painted with sadness...

So he didn't do anything. He could just pray to God that this relationship didn't last long, despite on how selfish was the wish... he even dared to beg for whoever was up above....

But since when someone listened to him? Not his biological parents, not Pops... nobody.

He almost punched Kurono when the man himself had the audacity to comment on the work that you two decided to marry on the civil since that... you were carrying his child.

He felt completely defeated, disgusted... but he was forced to see the child of the woman he loved with his best friend, 'why?' you must wonder?

Because you asked. She asked him to meet her son with Hari.

He could never deny her...

He didn't stayed long. Looking at that baby, that disgusting baby hurted him. Destroyed him.... broke him...

How could a man tolerate something like this on his life?

After a few months, he decided to burry himself into the yakusa. He blamed you and Kurono; if he hadn't fell for you, he wouldn't be feeling this numb... this empty.

He couldn't remember how it happened... but he did remember it was on a rainy day.

Never think "things can't get worse then already was".... because they can. Life doesn't give you lemons after all, it punchs you in the face and kicks you into unconscious until they're satisfied.

He was running after Mimic went to him, speaking that something went wrong in a mission and as he ran on the rain he found the sign of his childhood friend... his lifeless body with a bullet craved into his forehead and blood slidding down his forehead along with the drops of the water that fell from the sky.

"Chrono..!" He couldn't bring someone back to life... his quirk was powerful but not one of that kind... he lost his childhood friend... the boy who grew up with him... the one he even dared to consider as a brother.

He suddenly widened his eyes in horror and ran towards the trail of blood that certainly wasn't of Chrono... leading to his dear (Y/n).. eyes closed and completely beaten up...

"No no NO NO-!" He went to the ground, not mindfull of his mysophobia as he got your body on his arms and checked for pulse... it was so hard to find it by the way his hands trembled, but he found it "You're breathing..." he sighed in relief and went to use his quirk before he felt you bruised and bloody hand resting on his naked wrist.

"N-no... don't..." you coughed up as he almost lost his mind.

"YOU'RE GOING TO DIE YOU IDIOT!" He shouted, grabbing onto your shoulders as your vision slowly started to fade "(Y/N) DONT CLOSE YOUR EYES! DONT YOU FUCKING DARE TO CLOSE YOUR EYES-!"

"P-please... i-I-" you extended your hand towards Chrono, the action making ylhis heart break as he stared at you "H-Hari... put me... next t-to... to him..."

"LISTEN TO ME!" He shouted desperately as tears gathered on his golden eyes as hives started to appear "YOU CAN'T JUST DIE DAMMIT! DONT LEAVE THIS WORLD-!...don't l-leave me-!" He cried as you managed to open your eyes just to speak your finals words... the ones he so desperately wished you hadn't...

"P-Please... K-Kai... take-take... take care of my... daughter..." he widened his eyes at that... out of everything you could have asked...

"I can't.. ask me anything but this-"

"Please..."

Were your last words as your head fell on his hand... he tried to use his quirk. He tried despite knowing you wouldn't want to... yet he couldn't. He failed... he failed on everything...

He failed on protecting the one he loved the most.

.

.

Years passed by... and the loss tormented him... every single day. It was there a reminder after all.

With those (E/c) eyes and white hair.. strands shaped on little arrows.

.

.

"You sure?" The girl muttered up to her guardian as he only sighed and mentioned to the chair once again. She went and crawled to the chair on the dark room.

"The world will be cured this way then?" The girl mused as the masked man put the hand cuffs on her wrists as she looked up to those emotionless golden eyes "With my quirk everything will be normal again, right? Uncle?"

He shivered in disgust and anger at the title... bit when he looked at those (E/c) and how much this girl reminded him of you... he manage to control himself and let out a sigh.

"Exactly. With my plan and this method I created, the hero sickness will dissapear... once and for all."

The girl opened a smile amd nodded.

"Okay! It's what my mom would like! Right?" She asked with hopefully eyes as he stared back at her with grief as he nodded.

"You remind me way too much of her... maybe that's why you dont see the problem on helping me... with your blood and Eri's... I will create the perfect product." He looked at the bullets and stared at Aiko.

"I do?"

He felt a burn in his eyes, one he hadn't felt on years even...

"Yeah." He snatched one of his gloves out of his hands "You do."

[hysteriium]

Ledger!Joker x JP!Joker headcanons 👀 ??

(Edit isn’t mine, made by Anarchy Graphics! They have really cool edits you should check them out!)

(A/n): 👀 HEY THERE DEAR ANON! Your wish is my command ;)) sorry I kinda added some smut hope that’s okie! HEHEH also @pennyship​ and I are writing a massive fucking one-shot about the duo! We’re thinking of turning this into a series if anyone’s interested?

Pairing: JP! Joker x reader x Heath!Joker

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM themes, swearing.

////

Together

Okay first things first, they will have a hard time ‘sharing’ you. They’re both really assertive characters and their personalities would for sure clash. 

They’re very competitive. 

What’s probably even weirder is how they resolve their arguments. If you expect them to sit down and shake it out b o i you’re dead wrong.

Honestly, if you catch them in the middle of doing some stupid shit, don’t be surprised.

More often than not, you feel like the mediator between them. You kind of keep them balanced – stop them from going overboard, though admittedly, it’s rare when they reach such a point. 

Their unspoken contest keeps them on their toes and that’s just how they like it.  

They also really appreciate how you spare them the psychoanalysis – they get enough of it when they’re thrown into Arkham and treated like odd spectacles. 

They’re really possessive/protective. If someone even so much as thinks of threatening you, or, even more idiotic, makes it known they ARE, best believe they’re bringing out the big guns. They’ll rain hellfire upon them. This is perhaps the only time where the dynamic duo can work together. 

NSFW

A lot of the times they take their frustration out in other activities. If something doesn’t go as ‘planned,’ you’re gonna have a hard time walking tomorrow.  

(Coming back to their ‘rivalry’), they’ll leave hickeys on your neck – VISIBLE ONES MIGHT I ADD – just so the other can see. This often leads to more hickeys from the other. 

Threesomes. Sorry, not sorry. (Will go into detail in an upcoming fic hehe). 

Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker

This. Man. Is. Touch-starved. 

You heard me, folks. He loves touching you. This isn’t exclusive to sex either, honestly, he’s happy with even the smallest displays of affection. 

He’s also much kinder than Heath’s Joker AND WHAT I MEAN BY THAT is that he’s more open with his affections (see Heath’s section for deetz). 

Loves loves loves your smile and your laugh! Every time he snatches a laugh roused by one of his puns or jokes, he’s ecstatic! “You should laugh more,” “you have a pretty smile.” His compliments aren’t always worded the greatest, but you know he means well, his sincerity shining through. 

Coupled with the soft smile which almost always follows your joy, it’s enough on its own to convey his thoughts. 

The man is incredibly playful and is a relentless flirt. He doesn’t CARE who’s around, he will make it known what nasty things he’s thinking about AND what nasty things he wants to do to you. If it wasn’t for your own protests which are occasionally worn down, he’d take you in front of others. He literally does not care.

Example: when you least expect it, you’ll feel a firm slap against your ass, or sometimes less overt, a grab. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is. 

To reiterate, he absolutely has no shame. 

Arthur is big on aftercare. He’ll make sure you know how much he loves you. He gets really attached, and his actions communicate this more than his words. Aftercare manifests itself in many forms: cuddling, bubble baths, making sure he hasn’t harmed you in any way, offering sweets.

Nicknames

“Angel.”

“Darling.”

“Doll.” (Heath’s Joker also uses this). 

“Sugar.” He often uses this when he’s mad, for example, “okay, listen, sugar.”

“Sweetheart.”

NSFW

Depending on how Arthur’s feeling, funky time can either be really rough or, if he’s feeling a lil extra sentimental, very you-oriented. 

He’s a passionate man and seeing how his touch leads to your unravelling is truly one of the highlights for him. 

Above all, Arthur’s favourite thing is hearing the way his name spills from your lips – feeling the way you cling onto him as he plunges into you. Your expression of euphoria’s something that’s etched into his brain, like fine glass.   

An added bonus for him is thinking about how antsy your loud moans make Heath’s Joker. 

Gunplay → Arthur’s slender fingers indent your thighs as he spreads them apart, a sudden metallic chill brushing up against the flesh. Prodding at your entrance with the barrel and slowly pushing in, his slow teasing thrusts morph into a steady pace when you’re practically pleading him to let you cum. 

Orgasm Denial → Arthur, being the mischievous boi he is, will damn well make sure he drags everything out. He loves to hear you beg, every time you do it fills him with swirling bursts of pride. 

Body worship → sort of ties in with orgasm denial. Arthur will take his sweet ass time caressing your skin, planting kisses against your stomach – against your hips. Honestly anywhere he has access to he will make it known how much he appreciates your body. This can sometimes appear during sex – he’ll slow his pace and utter sweet whispers of praise against you, rendering you even more of a flustered mess.

Hair pulling → works both ways. This would mainly be exhibited during oral than anything else. If he’s going down on you and your trembling fingers jerk his green curls, the vibrations of his moans would tip you over the edge. 

He’s more flexible than Heath’s Joker, meaning if you want to top, he’ll let you do so, though he still maintains a cocky air. Giving you one of his killer smirks, his eyebrows flicking in amusement, he’ll relinquish his hold on your hips and recline back into the couch. The way he leans back and places his hands behind his head screams ‘go ahead,’ ‘impress me.’ You always do.

Heath Ledger’s Joker

Will do shit just to spite Arthur; this isn’t because he has a personal vendetta against him, it’s just because of the person he is (a little shit).

Takes a bit longer to open up than Arthur, emotionally. He’s very closed off and is used to his little bubble. It takes patience but eventually you’ll get there.

Acts like the biggest hardass → he likes to portray there’s nothing more to his image other than the ‘agent of chaos,’ but you come to realise this is definitely not the case. 

In the dead of night, when he returns from whatever havoc he’s stirred, he crawls into your bed and pulls you against him, arms embracing you loosely.

This is when he’s at his most affectionate. His exhaustion most likely adds to those falling walls. 

Most of the time he thinks you’re asleep when this occurs but, spoiler, you’re not; the gentle upturn of your lips the only indication of such. You don’t think you’d ever give the fact away either, fearful of him receding back into his shell to the point where affection is null. Either way, you’re happy with him.

By the morning, he’s gone, already making plans (or executing them).

He seldom shows you his actual face, behind all the makeup. In all honesty, you don’t know the reasoning behind this, and you don’t think you ever will. While he’s blunt, he’s just as secretive; there’s always something going on in the back of his mind. 

Perhaps it’s insecurity, discomfort, or, more simply, the ‘persona’ of ‘Joker’ is just what resonates with him. The man underneath is someone he no longer identifies with. The man he’s become – who he’s worked so hard to manifest – is his true self. 

NSFW

Okay but he’s a very sexual guy, not even gonna lie.

ALSO HAS NO EMBARRASSMENT. When it comes to sex, this man’s just as open about it as Arthur. 

Hair pulling kink → this goes without saying. Unlike Arthur, this kink is one-sided, and he most definitely is the one doing the pulling. Those large hands will lose themselves within your strands and if you’re giving him head, he’s most likely going to guide you by said strands. 

Glove kink → he’ll set you on his lap, your back against his chest as his hands hold your wriggling thighs. With your breath hitching in anticipation, one of his gloved hands will slip down your inner thigh, rubbing slow circles against your clit. He tries his best to be patient but lets be honest, he has a really short fuse when it comes to sex; he’ll be dipping one – two – and if he’s feeling particularly torturous – three fingers inside of you before you know it, curling his fingers.

Praise kink → not particularly what you’d expect. He’s also very big into humiliation and mockery, so this kind of ties in with the two. For example, if you do something he’s pleased with, he’ll throw around teasing/sarcastic nicknames like there’s no tomorrow:

“Bunny.”

“Buttercup.” 

“Button.”

“Doll.”  

“Good girl.”

“Princess.” 

“Pumpkin.” 

“Sweetheart.”

Loves your brattiness, literally lives for it. He’s always been drawn to a bit of fire – it keeps things interesting. 

Has a thing for emotions – for your expressions, both micro and macro. The main three: fear, pain, pleasure. 

He’s very erratic. So, when he is praising you, he may tug at your hair the next, choke you or, if he deems necessary, spank you. 

Your squeaks of pain get him off – the motherfucker’s sadistic.

Goes through topdrop, and you’d most certain go through subdrop. He’s so used to control and regaining it when lost, in both an everyday context and a sexual one. So, once those feelings develop into something more (which you’ll have trouble differentiating, or sometimes picking up on at all), he’ll become more reserved, no longer displaying his usual vigour until this issue is sorted. (More details in a future drabble/fic). 

[ktheist]

princess’ tyrant | m

warnings: extremely (on my part) mature content. dubious consent. yandere.

[23:34]

“it is fate’s will to have you marry the tyrant prince!” your father, the king’s voice booms across the room like a thunder without a storm.

“but you promised me!” 

the look on vernon, the first advisor’s face is patronizing. even when he stands quietly still, he still manages to make you feel like a child. too lacking in both manner and knowledge of politics. perhaps, he’s thinking all those lessons had gone out of the window. perhaps, he’s wondering if you were even listening to him this whole time to have brought upon the king’s wrath so.

yet, in the gruesome face of the decider of your fate, you still scream, “you promised you wouldn’t sell me off like my elder sisters!”

“i said no such thing.” unlike a second ago, your father’s voice is unnervingly calm but there is a threat in the way he says those words.

“on mother’s death bed-” you manage to force out even though your whole body trembles in fear, “-before she died you-”

“enough!” the thunder comes striking back full force.

clamorous are the footsteps of the knights he ordered to escort you back to your room. the closer they get the more hesitant they become. of course, one would not know whether to grab the princess by the shoulders and drag her like a prisoner or surround her until she gives in and walks back to her room on her own accord.

“don’t touch me.” as you are your father’s daughter, that same unnervingly calm tone sends the knights freezing in their spot.

with one last opposing glare, you whirl on your heels, leaving the shock-stricken knights to scamper after you only to hear your father retract his order and murmur an indiscreet, “perhaps i shouldn’t have coddled her so much.”

perhaps, he shouldn’t have. you mentally agreed. he shouldn’t have spent those years playing pretend and making you think that if there was one person who would understand, it would be him.

that the prince fate so-called chose was more devil than tyrant. his charming smile and composed air had all been a facade.

“that took awhile,” a voice laments once the doors to your room shut behind you.

somewhere on your bed, a shadow shifts, its head turning to look at you, “i was afraid his majesty would go against the workings of fate.”

to have the other half of your soul be of the same status and ranking - what joy it would bring.

if only it had not been jimin, the tyrannic prince of the wocrye.

“please leave, i’m tired,” you curtly request, feet carrying you to your vanity out of the sheer repulse of having to look at his shadow.

“ah, but you and i are already wedded,” how can such a cruel man be blessed with a voice of an angel?

“there hasn’t been a ceremony yet, until then please refrain myself from entering my room,” you begin pulling out the ornaments out of your hair. usually, your maid would be the one preparing you for bed but the circumstances are different one walked in on jimin trapping you underneath him on your bed.

the hair pin that jimin had pulled out of your hair then almost pierced her eyes.

“the priest gave us his blessing and the official documents had been sorted,” he reminded. that fretful day had only been last week. 

on the day of your birthday, the crown prince of wocrye, having been invited to strengthen political relations, had approached you with a disinterested glaze in his eyes. it was clear that he was going to introduce himself to you and disappear for the rest of the night if the unfamiliar sensation of sparks hadn’t made you yelp and drop the wine glass.

“you feel it too, don’t you?” his grip around your wrist had caused you to wince - it was then that he’d released you from his grasp but only for a short while.

the day after, you’d woken up to your father announcing what was supposed to be a joyful news of the princess and the prince’s souls becoming one.

you can’t deny the ugly truth.

somewhere in the palace, the documents engraving your name and jimin’s next to each other are kept. its location possibly only known by your father at the moment.

“even still...” is the only meek response you can conjure up. the new butterfly hairpin gifted by jimin glittering from the moonlight.

“don’t think,” the hand on your shoulders are foreign. they don’t feel at all like the loving touch of your father’s, “just give in to me- i’ll make you forget all those painful memories.”

it’s the implication that you’re suffering that causes you to shoot up, chair screeching, “these memories are painful because they’re being tainted by you!”

the face he makes is too apparent. his brows knit together and his naturally pouted lips pull together into a wounded nature. it doesn’t help that a loose robe hangs over his shoulders, the sash undone, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

no. it’s fate’s twisted work - you tell yourself when your heart begin to rush and a familiar heat spreads under your dress.

“don’t just look, princess ___,” his breath is hot on the shell of your ear, “every part of me is yours - you can touch me all you want.”

a yelp escapes your mouth when the thin fabric of your glove grazes against his length, guided by his hand.

“h-how rude!” you glare, thighs hitting the edge of the vanity and trapping you between the furniture and the naked prince.

a light chuckle pours out of his mouth when your hand slips away and begin to clasp in front of your chest. he leaves them alone. in return, his mouth latches onto your collarbone, the necklace you’ve been wearing trapped against your skin and the wretched prince’s tongue. that’s the only explanation for the moan that tumbles out of your mouth.

“if you make that sound,” another yelp bounces off the walls as you find yourself losing balance and gripping onto the man’s rippled shoulders when he swoops you up in his arms, “i don’t think i can stop myself.”

the smile that curls on his lips are treacherously handsome and you find yourself staring at how he manages to make them seem wicked yet kissable. before you know it, your body is lightly bouncing off the bed after he unceremoniously drops you.

“y-you vile human!” you hiss, hand shooting up to push the tiara back to the center of your head when it moved from your fall. it’s done more out of habit than pride.

jimin only laughs and yet even that sound is filled with affection as he crawls over you.

“that i am,” he hums, lips sporting traces of red from your lipstick after he pecked you on your lips.

“i’ll tell you this one last time. leave now.” you glare but don’t stop the hand that snakes behind your dress to pull down your zip.

it could have been because you’ve bathed together before in a tub. or perhaps because it’s dark and there’s barely any light besides the moon rays. or perhaps that dazed look of endless devotion as your dress slides down your chest and pools around your waist - you still have your undergown on but even then, if you stepped onto the battlefield wearing nothing but the thin underdress, the wretched prince would simply stop, throw away his sword, walk to you and get on his knees like an enchanted man.

“well?” the click of your tongue is what summons those eyes to yours, “aren’t you going to take it off?”

[seeds-and-sins]

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 2)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought's operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn't have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Carly, Allen, and the doctor end up going to the Vought lab. What follows are some unexpected events, avert your eyes.

    Stillwell was calmly going through leftover paperwork for the day, considering that perhaps she should head home soon, but she wasn’t tired enough quite yet. She removed her readers, the stillness and silence of her office engulfed her, gave her a place to think. She wondered if Homelander was watching her this very moment, fantasizing about her, her breasts, her body, or maybe she was lost to him. Ever since Danvers came around, it had been hard for him to focus on anything else but that stupid girl. Maybe Stillwell needed to resort to other methods, maybe the girl needed to go for good.

Boom!

   Homelander stormed into the office, the door falling off a hinge and going crooked. Stillwell jumped from her seat, words of shock and annoyance threatening to leave her lips. Homelander calmly walked over to the remote that was sitting soundly on the arm rest of the couch and he flicked the TV on. The news showed a familiar building, burning down to the ground, as firefighters were on the scene hosing it down. The credits read on the bottom, 'Vought lab fire, twenty-three dead'. Homelander turned to Stillwell, jaw tight as he waited for her to explain. Stillwell shook her head and gestured to the TV for an explanation.

"Did you do this?" 

"I was going to ask you the same question." Homelander's grip nearly crushed the remote as he increased the volume on the TV, the news reporter flashed onto the screen.

"Among the twenty three found dead. One did survive and is in critical condition at the NYC hospital. Carly Danvers hosts a radio show called 'Not so Super Superheroes'. She has no family, but her supporters have asked the police to do a thorough investigation into potential reasons why she was being held at the Vought facility-"

"That little bitch." Stillwell growled, Homelander's glare intensified. Madelyn felt her heart skip, wondering the lengths that Homelander would go for this Carly Danvers girl. She realized she needed to work her magic again, get Homelander on her side. Madelyn stepped up closer to Homelander. He crossed his arms, finally crushing the remote in his grasp, pieces of it falling to the floor. "I knew nothing about this, baby. I truly didn't. You know how much Danvers hates our operation here, she would do anything to get back at us..." Her fingers crawled their way up Homelander's bicep and his expression clenched as it dawned on him what Madelyn was hinting at. "Maybe even burn down a Vought facility."

"She wouldn't do that." Homelander shot out between clenched teeth, hating how much the girl had had an effect on him. A pathetic human flesh bag was what she was, but the way she made him feel... While at times Stillwell cowered behind her desk, Danvers was headstrong and determined. She never allowed Homelander to get in her way, no matter how powerful he was.

"And how would you know?" Homelander didn't want to seem soft for the girl, but Carly Danvers had a heart unlike anyone he had met. Really, she did, she really cared about people and she wanted to make a difference in the world. It was one characteristic, among many, that made her so amusing to him. Especially when she talked so highly of him, when he knew the monster he was.

Well, he also knew that this game of theirs wouldn't last long. She was part of the opposition, eventually she would intervene in his plans and he couldn't let that stand, no matter how much he liked her.

"I will take care of it." Was all Homelander stated in reply, it was a stern, stoic tone that made Madelyn shiver the slightest bit. He then turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Madelyn to stand there with this wicked glimmer on her lips.

"Authorities will wait until Danvers comes to so that they can investigate the causes of the fire further and perhaps foulplay. It appears a protest has broken out at the scene of the fire. We tune into one of Carly Danvers strongest supporters at the scene."

"Danvers was murdered because she knew too-"

   When Homelander arrived at the hospital, he was welcomed with open arms, guided to exactly where Carly was. He greeted the investigators with a ‘you are the real heroes’, everybody always loved that, and then proceeded into her individual room. Hovering over her was a doctor in scrubs, taking notes on a clipboard, measuring her vitals, a melodic beeping sound echoed through the quiet of the room. Homelander closed the door behind him, alerting his presence to the doctor. The doctor turned to face him, a bright anxious smile flew onto his once neutral expression.

As he moved aside he revealed to Homelander the person of none other than Carly Danver. What surprised Homelander the most out of everything before him was the fact that she was absolutely intact. She was the survivor of a horrible fire, and yet, she looked as beautiful and as glorious as she had been that morning. A breathing tube shoved into her nose, sensors attached to her chest, and her hair fanned around her head as though she was an angel. She was doning oversized patient garb, her hands laid out over the blanket that had been pulled up to her stomach. 

"H-Homelander? I can't believe you're here..." The doctor sputtered, Homelander stepped further out, hands pinned behind his back as he cautiously approached Carly's bedside. He stopped at the foot of the bed, overlooking her with his x-ray vision, no broken bones, no abnormalities, she was absolutely fine. Homelander ignored the doctor as he asked questions about getting his autograph, or how he flew, or basic fan questions that annoyed Homelander more than anything. But, he was too wrapped up in the fact that Carly Danvers was perfectly fine to so much as acknowledge that nuisance. "Oh, uh, yeah," The doctor checked himself at Homelander’s undying gaze over Carly, and nodded his head. "You wouldn't believe it. We couldn't even poke her with a needle. She's got to be a superhero like you." Homelander's eyebrows furrowed, without a word, he held his hand out towards the doctor. 

   The doctor hesitantly handed him the clipboard, and Homelander nodded his head towards the door, for him to leave. The doctor wasn't going to question Homelander so he left as requested, closing the door on his way out. His eyes flitted from the words on the papers, the reports, the wonders, and back to Carly, who was laying there in all her magnificence, innocent to anything that was happening at the moment.

Eyelids hot to the touch.

Needle bent as it penetrated skin.

Blood pressure cuff popped as it expanded around bicep of patient.

Patient in state that would expect caretakers to proceed with caution.

   Homelander couldn't help the knowing grin as he processed the scribbled analysis, he moved around the bed and slowly plopped himself down next to Carly's coma ridden body. He reached a hand out towards her, a gloved hand that traced over her cheek with delicate precision.

"Oh Carly, Carly, always getting into trouble."

"And this is it, the room where the real magic happens." Doctor Miles Porter slammed the double doors open with a renewed energy, not even while guiding Allen and Carly down the hallway did he have such rigor. In fact, at the very start, he was sluggishly dragging himself along and carrying himself with haste. Carly wrote it off as the emotional connection he had to his trade, a scientist inside a lab, where he practically lived.

  The main lab was giant, much bigger in comparison to the hallways that snaked and cornered around the building, bordering offices where superior employees of Vought worked daily. It was not much different in that the overall theme still reminded Carly of a hospital. As Allen filmed behind her with his iPhone, she cracked a few jokes about the likeness. Alongside the walls of the lab stood tall shelves that had boxes, both cardboard and glass alike. The Doctor gestured to them excitedly, moving about the room with a natural grace, weaving between the island counters where beakers and expensive scientific equipment rested. "This is where Compound V is made." Carly crossed her arms and shrugged, since they had arrived at the lab a sense of unease have came over her. Usually not one to shy away from trespassing, or being mischievous, she had been cautious, alert, and uncomfortable as soon as she entered the building.

"Hol-Holy shit, Carls. I don't know about this." Allen stammered out, she faced him. He had gone into one of the boxes that were on the shelves, he removed a plastic bag that was filled with a blue liquid. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded in acknowledgement. She faced the doctor again, eyes keened on him as she followed through the counters. He was pulling objects from their places, mixing liquids together, fiddling with unmarked micro plates.

"You think that's a good idea, doc?" She shoved her hands into her pockets, restraining the impulse to touch anything. "We already have to worry about the security cameras."

"Screw the security cameras, what about the guards?" Allen nervously clutched his hand over his thigh, hunched over, steadying his breathes. Hand still raised, continuously filming the whole ordeal. 

"There are no guards." Miles plainly stated, he exhaled with a sigh of content, and then started shoving the closed containers into his pockets. 

"Ey, look, we came here because you said you had proof. All I see is a bunch of blue stuff." 

"Hahaha, but you don't see what I see, my child." He rushed over to one of the boxes, removing a package of the mysterious gel like substance. He held it out to her, eyes crazed, grin plastered tightly to his cheeks, only adding to her unease. "It's genetic transformation, evolution fueled by humanity's lust and greed." He scurried over to one of the workbenches, back now turned to her as he arranged something on the counter. "The ability to create life." He spun on his heels, a syringe now in hand, drawn back with the blue compound V inside. Carly cocked her head at him, concern drawn on her features and she shook her head. 

"Maybe we should go."

"No, no, let me explain how it works." He placed the opened syringe on a table, tilted his head at her awkwardly. "There are several different types of Compound V, depending on the quality, of course." Carly continued to circumspect the lab space, taking in as much as she could. Her first thought was Homelander, how she had always lauded him for being a true hero. At the end of the day, he was still indestructible and strong as ever, but something changed at the thought that none of that was really his own. "The dosage, also can determine how strong the heroes abilities will be. Homelander's powers were much more focused, but he also received high quality doses at higher intakes, as an infant."

"What?" She turned to face him, eyes wide. "A-As a baby??"

"Yes. That is how Vought creates heroes, they give doses to children at young ages, wait until they grow and voila."

"But, that's-that's-" She was speechless, how could anybody do such a thing? Be so evil? For money? The ethical implications of this whole project far surpassed what she ever was investigating on her show.

"As children their bodies can easily adjust to the compound you see, but adults have to take smaller doses. It can result in death if not taken properly, especially if all at once. Its easier for a child to take to than an adult, in other words." He snorted, as if it was some sort of joke, she couldn't help but glare at him.

"How could anybody do something like this? It's horrible."

"Carly..." Allen's shaky voice met her ears like a roaring calm, a calm before the storm. He was shaking, visibly so, his hand lowering his phone as he stared into her eyes. "This isn't about us anymore." Carly could feel tears stinging at her eyes. That if the doctor was right, everything she ever knew would be a lie. She grew up on heroes, thinking that they were real, thinking that they were good. She still thought they were, that perhaps some heroes still did do good, but not all of them. That's why she made the show, to hold them accountable for their actions, and yet here she stood. She was being told that heroes were always a lie, that none of them were good. "We are about to give into this conspiracy..." Allen turned his gaze to Miles as he shot out that word. "And admit that heroes aren't real, that they were created by lies and corruption, by capitalism? What about everybody who believes in them? Who trusts them? What about Homelander? And Queen Maeve? Good people?" She dropped her head, chin to her chest as she considered his words. 

"Allen," She straightened herself, no longer needing to force the tears away, the shock, she glanced back into Allen's eyes and took a breath. That confidence in her, that determination, that spark. "We can't run away from the truth. We can't continue to hide under Vought's lies. Even if we want them to be true." She then stepped forward, nodding to the doctor, leaving Allen to stand there in his loneliness. "Tell me more, doc." 

"Parents sell their infants out at birth, to our-Vought, I mean." He cleared his throat, licked his hips, picking up the syringe again. "We inject doses into the children at a specific location, away from prying eyes."

"Here?"

"Perhaps. I was never allowed into those particular sections of the facility." Carly hadn't realize that she had now made her way closer to the doctor. Fingers tenderly tracing the surface of the metal counteracts as she went. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, allowing herself a moment to think, to accept the information given to her. 

"If you can show that to us," Her eyelids fluttered open, baby blues, crystal clear in the docs direction."We will have all the evidence we need."

"Absolutely." He grinned, and then the double doors swung open again, revealing two guards, clad in black protective gear. With their guns aimed upwards towards the three of them.

"Hands up! Now! Allen and Carly's hands shot up high in surrender, but the doctor stood stock still. 

"I forgot to tell you one thing, Carly!"

"Shut up, you stupid fuck!" Shouted one of the guards, closing in towards Allen with handcuffs dangling in the opposite hand. 

"Put the syringe down, now!" Went the other.

"I perfected the compound." And it all happened so fast. The doctor was rushing towards Carly with the needle outright, shots fired, penetrating his chest just as the syringe pierced Carly's chest. She fell backward under his weight, blood spattered out onto her jacket and shirt as she hit the ground. 

"Carly!"

"Shut up!" Allen was hit upside the head by one of the guards, where Allen collapsed to the ground in a shrill of pain, the other guard held his radio up. 

"We are going to need some more guys down in lab zero." Carly's skin tingled, her vision blurred as she glanced down at the doctor's face. His body draped over her own from the fall, an empty syringe sticking from her chest. As the life left his sour face, his lips quirked into a smile, last breath shakily snuffed out. She didn't know how to explain what she was feeling, but it didn't feel good. The doctor's words from before sinking into her mind, that these might be her final moments as the compound coursed through her. 

 The guard had now made his way to her, he yanked the needle from her, tossing it to the side. There was yelling and orders, and Allen was crying at one point, but it was all fuzzy over the piercing ring in her eardrums. When she wasn't responding in time, the guard dragged the doctor's dead body off of her and twisted her body over to slam her face against the cold white marble floor. She didn't feel it. All that she felt was the tingling, and the splintering pain of an extremely horrible headache coming on. Everything felt like it was in slow motion now, while her eyes frantically viewed what she could from her place on the floor. Across from her she could see Allen, blood pouring from his nose and as she focused on the red, she could pick up its copper smell. Allen shouted, the butt of a rifle hit down onto Carly's jaw, but nothing. Black fragments flung out before her eyes, Allen's own eyes widened at the movement and then she was being flipped back over onto her back. 

   She couldn't even move her limbs, they felt like dead weight, limp. She closed her eyes, the sound of her own breath coming too, the voices still shrouded in that harsh ringing. When she opened them she saw red, the images around her, covered in a bright hue of crimson. Then screaming finally passed the barrier of a consistent tone that thundered into her senses. Burning, something rancid, down to the core, floating into her nostrils and they stung. Red was all over and then as she finally had control over her body... darkness.