#I know it’s fast fashion but I can’t afford anything else right now

[tossawary]

Because my brain does NOT stop even when I’m grounded, today my brain told me, “Hey, I figured out how to make a Hobbit Fusion AU work.” And I was like, “Great! We’re working, though.” And my brain was like, “I’ve figured out how to make it a Pre-Canon Canon Divergence AU for Moshang.”

And I was like, “...I’m listening.”

The Hobbit is another one of my Comfort Media and it got brought up when I was asking about that, but I was feeling kind of “eh” about mixing Tolkien mythology with SVSSS. I mean, the mental picture of Dwarf Mobei-Jun is extremely funny and Shang Qinghua would make a great hobbit! But that interpretation felt a little too direct for my AU tastes.

So, hm, now I have another potential Big Bang contender. My love for The Hobbit is very, VERY strong and looking at my current outline, I have to be like, “Yeah, this could be 50,000 words, no problem.”

It’s a very good outline!

-

After saving Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua bailed A.S.A.P. because he honestly thought Mobei-Jun was going to kill him. He psyched himself out of sticking around before Mobei-Jun woke up. Mobei-Jun didn’t get enough information to track Shang Qinghua down.

Shang Qinghua (who isn’t SQH because he isn’t the Peak Lord) decides that he can’t fucking take it anymore and bails from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect too. The System objects, but also falls into line when Airplane shrieks at it. Airplane is going to go become a humble merchant and inventor and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him!

It turns out that Shang Qinghua’s presence or help was actually crucial to stop some Emperor of the Abyss from taking over the Ice Palace and the Northern Desert. Airplane is like, “Oh, yeah, I remember… offhandedly writing something about that happening in the past off-screen?” It was one of those things that he just threw in there because it sounded really cool, and it gave Mobei-Jun another reason to “owe” Shang Qinghua and not kill him immediately, but he never got to elaborate on it because he was too busy writing stallion novel bullshit.

So, borrowing the lore from my “Horns” one-shot, an extremely powerful Emperor of the Abyss escaped the Eternal Abyss. This is some devouring horror being from the depths of the abyss, which ate everything in its vicinity in the abyss itself and crawled into the Demon Realm to eat more things. The Emperor of the Abyss was attracted to Mobei-Jun’s father. They fought. Mobei-Jun’s father should have won, but didn’t, because he was too fucked up (thanks to his own hedonism or something) to fight properly. What an asshole.

Mobei-Jun’s father was killed and devoured by the Emperor of the Abyss, which has made it… exponentially powerful. It’s now… basically a calamity. The desolation that it leaves in its wake across the Northern Desert is unspeakable. Mobei-Jun and his family, their allied clans, and pretty much all demons in the Northern Desert have had to flee.

Mobei-Jun is currently essentially a “guest” of the Sha Clan. He’s homeless. He’s lost the power of his ancestors. He’s a “king” without a kingdom. It’s humiliating. He needs to kill the abyssal creature to retrieve: his title, his ancestors’ power, and his kingdom.

While working for other demon clans to support his family and people, Mobei-Jun crosses paths with Airplane. Airplane has become a relatively successful merchant and inventor, and he calls himself Shang Houhua. He lives a very comfortable life and does his best to ignore anything resembling the plot. He’s pretty successful at ignoring the plot.

Mobei-Jun is never in a good mood these days, but he’s especially pissed off to see that human who abandoned him all those years ago. Airplane tries to argue that Mobei-Jun told him to fuck off, but Mobei-Jun is too angry. Airplane makes lots of offers in an effort to get Mobei-Jun to spare his life, one of which ends up being a claim that he can help Mobei-Jun kill the Emperor of the Abyss and make him a king again. Mobei-Jun pauses, now even more pissed off than before, and Airplane just starts babbling desperately to save his own skin.

Mobei-Jun was already forming a company to take on a Quest for the Northern Desert - in the hopes of slaying the Emperor of the Abyss and retaking his homeland. Part of the issue has been that forming the company is difficult. Mobei-Jun wants people who are loyal to HIM and ONLY to him. He won’t owe anyone else anything or promise them pieces of his homeland.

(Airplane is like, “Bro, I don’t know if you can afford to be so picky, but okay.”)

So Mobei-Jun is like… “I still want to kill you, but fine, you can come on our quest and help us.”

So Airplane ends up on the Quest for the Northern Desert, led by his very angry future murderer the “king without a kingdom” Mobei-Jun, to fight the calamitous Emperor of the Abyss who killed Mobei-Jun’s father. Fuck.

Some details beyond this opening premise:

Airplane and Mobei-Jun fall in love over the course of the quest, obviously. They have their own hijinks like each chapter of The Hobbit (equivalents to the trolls, to Rivendell, to Goblintown, to Beorn, to Mirkwood, and to Laketown, etc.). 

Oh, damn, I just realized that making a pre-fall Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang the Beorn equivalents would be so fucking funny.

The Emperor of the Abyss is a horrifying Smaug equivalent. It can totally talk because Airplane having a conversation with a draconian horror sounds incredible. I would love to have Airplane outwit the Emperor of the Abyss in some fashion.

Mobei-Jun and Airplane somehow manage to successfully kill the Emperor of the Abyss together. Like, together. Probably using some plot device whipped up or some clever plan devised by Airplane on his feet. Mobei-Jun trusts Airplane at a crucial moment and it all works out. Airplane actually gets Mobei-Jun his kingdom back.

I’m tempted to just skip over the Ring and not having a Ring equivalent. BUT if I made this into a longfic instead of a one-shot, I would have a Ring equivalent (if it was a one-shot, I would ditch the Ring equivalent). I think I would make Xin Mo the One Ring equivalent. During the Goblintown equivalent event, Airplane falls either into the Eternal Abyss or into Bing-Ge’s dimension, where he proceeds to successfully take up Xin Mo because he knows the trick and portal himself out of the Eternal Abyss, or he proceeds to outwit Bing-Ge in some fashion and uses the Xin Mo sword to portal himself back to the right dimension.

So then Airplane is stuck with this super powerful sword that he doesn’t want to use again because he KNOWS that it will fuck him up. He KNOWS that it will FUCK HIM UP. So Airplane has to go through the rest of the quest ignoring the temptation of the Xin Mo sword that he is absolutely not supposed to have and can’t possibly let anyone else have.

(Oh, man, imagining the influence of Xin Mo giving Airplane extra horny thoughts about Mobei-Jun on the rest of the quest is very funny. Like, Airplane was already hot for Mobei-Jun, but now it’s worse and he might never have a normal thought ever again.)

Bagginshield Movie Hug when Airplane turns up again, for sure. Mobei-Jun thought he was dead. Mobei-Jun smiles and everything, until he remembers to frown again.

I’m feeling like I don’t want Airplane to use Xin Mo to help defeat the Emperor of the Abyss, but it makes sense if he does. Him not using it doesn’t make much sense. I do like the idea of Airplane dealing the killing blow and Mobei-Jun’s pride being hurt by Airplane being the one to kill it. I also like the idea of Mobei-Jun being a little smitten by Airplane just… loyally handing him his kingdom and restoring the power of his ancestors. I also really like the idea of Airplane just… not having some super powerful plot device up his sleeve on the quest.

Like, instead of Airplane’s Author God knowledge totally setting him up to deal with this thing no problem, Airplane had NO FUCKING PLAN when he set out with Mobei-Jun. He was talking completely out of his ass when he said he knew how to help Mobei-Jun. That this all worked out at all is almost completely due to luck and improvisation.

That feels MUCH more true to both Shang Qinghua and to Bilbo Baggins. Lucky lads of fast-talking, complaining, lying, not knowing what the fuck is really going on, thirsting after kings with tragic backstories, and somehow not dying despite winging it all the time.

Instead of goldsickness, Mobei-Jun is forced to deal with some side-effects of consuming the Emperor of the Abyss to regain the power of his ancestors. (Demon cannibalism rituals. Yeah.) He starts acting really scary and out-of-character and forceful, until Airplane loses his nerve and runs away. Maybe under the influence of the late Emperor of the Abyss, Mobei-Jun actually tries to kill him? I could see Mobei-Jun trying to kill Airplane for the Xin Mo sword which dealt the finishing blow on the Emperor of the Abyss.

(I need a better name for this thing. If I can’t come up with something that actually sounds good, I might just call it “The Calamity”, but that’s giving me BOTW vibes so I don’t like it. Maybe I’d call it “The Desolation” or something? Ehhhh, I don’t really like that either.)

I want to have a Battle of the Five Armies equivalent, if only so Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang can swoop in as benevolent helpers as the Beorn equivalents. Currently, I’m seeing three options. 1) The orc army equivalent are neighboring demon lords who want to strike while the new Mobei-Jun is getting established. 2) The orc army equivalent is Linguang-Jun trying to kill his nephew and take power at the last minute. 3) The orc army equivalent is Bing-Ge here with an army and he’s pissed off and wants his sword back.

On one hand, 1 and 2 would be SO MUCH EASIER to pull off. I could be really lazy about the whole thing. On the other hand, 3 would be much fresher (more surprising and links back to the Xin Mo element), more challenging and the idea of pre-fall Tianlang-Jun facing off with Bing-Ge delights me. Kick his ass, Tianlang-Jun!

(Su Xiyan gets involved? My brain says YES. Kick his ass, Su Xiyan!)

Also, I was sad about there being no Fili and Kili equivalents, because Mobei-Jun has no friends, and I’ll have to make up a company pretty much from scratch. (Sha Hualing is too young and Luo Binghe hasn’t been born yet.) BUT then I was like, “Where’s Linguang-Jun in all this?” And I would absolutely have Linguang-Jun be a part of Mobei-Jun’s Company. Instead of nephews, Mobei-Jun has a sketchy uncle who might be trying to kill him. Keeping Linguang-Jun out of it might be easier, but actually doing some character-building with him sounds fun and challenging, and I’d rather limit the number of OCs if possible.

Mobei-Jun manages to shake off the goldsickness equivalent somehow, probably through “the power of love” (and/or straight-up “dual cultivation” with Airplane?). Moshang makes up while Mobei-Jun is apparently mortally wounded from fighting Bing-Ge and Airplane thinks this is all his fault. But Mobei-Jun doesn’t die! It’s all good!  

It’d be pretty funny if there was a “Returning to the Shire” equivalent where Airplane leaves because he thinks Mobei-Jun hates him now and never wants to see him again. So then Mobei-Jun has to track his man down like, “Get back here and marry me. (Also I am so sorry for trying to kill you. Please forgive me. I hate myself so much for that.)”

And they all live happily ever after!

Holy shit, this wasn’t in Proud Immortal Demon Way.

#svsss hobbit fusion au #tossawary updates #tossawary svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #comfort media fusion aus #fic ideas

[obae-me]

Hi I love your blog and your writing. I don't know if your doing request or not, so if you aren't just ignore me. But could you possibly have a hc where MC breaks a body part and had to be in a cast how would the brothers (+undateables if you have time) would react?

Oh but this is soft tho, I love writing fluff, thank you so much for the request! 💜

Lucifer

MC had been with him when it happened, and it’s something he’ll never forgive himself for. He forgets how fragile humans are and how anything can hurt them. Anything! He had prepared for monsters, demons, curses, spells, poisons, but he never thought he needed to protect them from stairs!

He was walking beside them as they both started to walk home from RAD, talking to them about an upcoming project. It was dark and rainy, and it bothered him none as he started to descend the slick stone steps. He was just about to warn them about their step when they stumbled down the stairs, hands extended to try to catch themselves, hitting each step with an awful sound before resting on even flooring with a groan.

He freaked out so badly, he called MC by five different wrong names before he finally got it right just as he reached their side. They were alive. Great. They were breathing. Fantastic. They...they had their right wrist bent in the wrong direction.

MC was fairly certain he didn’t even breathe or blink at all as he flew them towards the Devildom’s version of a hospital. He kicked the doors open, demanding MC got looked at, ignoring all of MC’s pleas to wait like everyone else. The poor doctor was not prepared for all of Lucifer’s commands and questions.

MC is not allowed to walk, not allowed to go to class, not even allowed to leave their room for a while. He’s so worried something will happen. He doesn’t even want them to sleep without him there first. His brothers are only allowed to come see MC one by one, following a strict schedule he posted outside MC’s door. Anyone found breaking the schedule will be severely punished. 

Is he overreacting severely? Yes. But does MC appreciate his affection? Yes. He’ll hold them close whenever their wrist hurts, petting their head and shushing them if they ever cry. He’ll do all his work for Diavolo in their bedroom, making sure to glance up in frequent intervals and check how they’re doing. He’ll watch over them so intently he’ll end up accidentally falling asleep in the chair by their bed, head resting on his folded arms.

Even after it’s healed, he insists on holding MC’s hand whenever they walk to make sure it won’t happen again. He’ll also pick them up now whenever it rains. He can’t afford anymore unnecessary risks. 

Mammon

He brought MC along on another one of his poor-planned money making schemes. He wanted to show off and impress them, and MC only agreed to go along to try to make sure he didn’t get himself in too much trouble. Try being the key word here. 

It ended up being super sketchy, causing both MC and Mammon to run away from angry demons. Since Mammon is impossibly fast, he held onto MC’s hand to try to keep them together. However, even if MC ended up being an Olympic runner, they still wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his speed. So, they lost their footing and fell hard against the ground. There was a rough popping noise, but Mammon got them right back on their feet. It wasn’t until they finally got home before Mammon realized that not only were they scratched up, but their shoulder...didn’t look right.

He thought maybe he could fix it himself, which was the opposite of what he should’ve done. Now, not only did it look even worse, but MC’s expression of pain caused Mammon to panic like he never had before. He held onto them tight, much too tight, and MC was almost certain he’d end up passing out before they did.

He got a doctor right away, and while they were getting checked, Lucifer and Mammon were fighting worse than they had in a long time. Mammon had hardly fought this much for anything-or anyone-before. The only reason why Lucifer let him off the hook for something this severe is because it’s been too long since he’s seen Mammon so serious.

Mammon won't leave their side, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be near them either, so he’ll spend time pacing by their door for hours before MC tells him to quit. They tell him he doesn’t need to feel so guilty, it was an accident, stupid stuff like this happens to humans all the time. He’ll kneel on the floor by their bed, head against their leg, looking like a scolded puppy. It’s the first time they’ve seen him cry.

It’s not everyday Mammon will do whatever they want. Even if it’s not perfect, even if he messes up, he wants to get MC whatever they want or need.

After they’re fully healed, Mammon will still check their shoulder every day, and Lucifer doesn’t complain when Mammon tones down some of his schemes for the sake of MC’s safety.

Levi

He signed both himself and MC up for this awesome parkour class. He had seen an ad for it and wanted to go, only because he wanted to learn some cool moves that he had seen in an anime. Of course, this was a demon class, so already they had the students doing crazy things like jumping roof to roof and doing flips that would take years for MC to do properly. Unfortunately, they tried it out anyway, not wanting to wimp out of it.

Next thing they knew, they heard Levi scream as one of their legs gave out on them, unable to support their landing. He was by their side, already in tears, shouting incomprehensible words as he called for help on his D.D.D. Not only did one of the brothers have to carry MC home, they had to carry out Levi as well, his brain fried at the sight of their broken leg.

He blames himself hard, having to catch his breath anytime he sees MC in their cast. He had no idea human’s bodies were so brittle, they never seemed so weak in anime. They were always fighting, overcoming impossible feats. He was so lost in the world of fantasy he didn’t know real life was so...frightening. It was a reality check he really needed, he appears to treat MC more authentically now.

He’ll make sure MC is fully entertained while they’re on the mend, it's the least he can do. Most of his setup is now in their room so they can play games with him and watch shows together. He’ll talk their ear off about his favorite plots, and promise to MC that they’d get better and he would protect them, just like his precious characters. 

MC now has little drawings on their cast thanks to him, to liven it up a bit. Covered in chibis and little hearts.

He’s used to not getting much sleep, so he’ll watch MC as they rest, watching their chest rise and fall, making sure he keeps an eye on their leg. They’re not allowed to move it much, so he keeps tabs on how much they toss and turn, sometimes holding MC in his arms while they sleep to make sure they don’t move.

Even when they’re better he is always wary about them leaving the house. He should’ve never broken his rule, home is always safe, and now he can’t relax until he knows MC is safely home.

Satan

He was always afraid of hurting MC due to his wrath, but he never knew that they could so easily be broken. He hadn’t even intended to hurt them, he didn’t! He just...he was angry, he didn’t want them to come into his room, but they insisted, they wouldn’t listen! Now look what he had done to them...

He had slammed the door on them while their finger still lingered in the door-frame, he had no idea...he didn’t know something as simple as shutting a door would hurt them so. They both heard a sharp crack, Satan originally believed it had been part of the door, the wood breaking. Until he heard MC’s shriek of pain. He opened the door back up to see their finger bent backwards where the door had shut on it.

After he had tore the door off its hinges and resolved it to splinters, he ushered MC quickly out of the house to get their finger checked. His other brothers had to quickly come at MC’s request to keep Satan from harming the medical staff when told they had to wait to get checked. It took him far too long to calm down, having to be physically restrained by Lucifer and Mammon until he cooled off. 

MC’s broken finger had been on their dominant hand, so Satan did all the writing for them. MC never asked him to, he did it anyway. He felt like it was the bare minimum of redemption. He made sure to read up more on the skeletal structure humans possessed, and MC is pleased to find that they had never seen Satan be so gentle with them. He softly strokes their hand, has a hard time now raising his voice above a whisper around them, and MC swears he now has painkillers in his pocket at all times for whenever they need it. 

Satan takes after Lucifer in being much too prideful for simple apologies, he’s hardly wrong in the first place, but he said it to them once they drifted off to sleep, head in his lap. He didn’t move from his spot all night.

Healed wounds meant nothing, Satan refused to treat MC any differently from his delicate and precious books.

Asmo

Trust him, he would have never given MC those ridiculously high heeled shoes had he known that humans were so clumsy and fragile. The heel of the shoe was so tall, whoever wore them might as well be walking on the very tips of their toes. They were a new fashion, and since he adored his adorable MC so much, he got them a pair.

The last thing he expected was to have them fall so dramatically after a single step. At first he planned on giving them props for their fall, it was like a movie scene, but then he saw how their ankle looked. Twisted and limp, MC started to hyperventilate.

He had seen some pretty disgusting positions the human body could get into, but this was wrong, it shouldn’t be like that. He had never been so serious or flown so fast before. He didn’t even say a word until they were in bed, getting some medication for the pain. He grasped onto MC’s hand and apologized repeatedly until MC was convinced he had lost his voice.

After they’ve been taken care of, he refuses to let go of them, cuddling them pampering them. He didn’t know just a simple misstep in the wrong shoes and they could just hurt themselves like that! He thought himself a master of the body, but he still had much to learn about humans, it seemed.

He calls himself Nurse Asmo for weeks, not leaving MC’s side, carting them around in a wheelchair even if they insist on using crutches or moving around themselves. He’ll have none of it. He feels responsible and so MC is under his constant care until their body is just as beautiful and whole as he remembers. He’ll want to make sure he takes care of them so well, their body will have no choice but to heal faster.

He’ll not forgive himself for allowing MC’s perfect body to get like that again. He’ll never let MC even look at high heel shoes, he knows plenty of adorable flats that would look great on them.

Beel

He’s always extra careful around MC, he knows they’re fragile, he’s well aware of the difference between strengths. Anytime he’s around them, he does whatever is necessary to make sure they’re safe at all times. Unfortunately, no matter how protective he is, sometimes accidents happen, especially when humans and demons mix.

He and Mammon were fighting over food, special food, limited edition flavor chips, and Mammon had stolen it. He didn’t even eat it, he sold it. It was an insult. They both were in demon form, battling it out, Lucifer trying to stop it, by force it would seem. They were all so consumed in combat, power flinging, furniture flying, they had no idea MC had walked in the room to check on the chaos, only to get caught up in it. A large cabinet headed in their direction, and if they hadn’t stepped back, they might have gotten fully crushed. Unfortunately, their foot ended up being crushed in their place.

Beel felt sick to his stomach, hearing the sound of the bone crack made his insides feel all twisted in a way he and his iron stomach hadn’t felt in centuries. The fighting immediately came to a close, the food they were fighting over seemed worthless to him now, for once he couldn’t care less. He refused to let any of his other brothers touch MC. In fact he almost didn’t want to touch them himself. He had such a hard time holding them, he ended up physically shaking, worried that he’d hurt MC even further. He doesn’t want to let them go, though, he holds onto them for an entire day, acting like MC’s personal shield. 

Beel skips classes, workouts, even his team practices to be with MC. MC is absolutely not allowed to move by themselves, he’s going to carry them wherever they need to go if they must go somewhere. Until they’re fully healed, all the meals are going to be MC’s favorite foods. None of the brothers get a say otherwise, but no one is going to defy Beel over this anyway.

MC never sees him fight with any of his brothers again, not with them around anyway, and if they thought Beel was already super protective, they weren’t ready for their new unofficial bodyguard.

Belphie

Honestly, he was bewildered how MC hadn’t died yet--well, other than that--in the Devildom. Lilith had loved humans, and, he in the past, had loved them too, so he knew how weak they could be. However, MC had just...tripped...on their own feet, falling right onto their own face. He laughed at first, he will admit, he had no idea how hurt MC was. When they stumbled back onto their own feet, their face and chest was covered in blood.

He was frozen for a good few minutes, his mind buzzing, his heart pounding out of his chest. He kept getting flashbacks of that terrible moment in the attic, and it was only until MC grabbed his arm, disoriented and in pain, that he was able to move again. They gasped his name to snap him out of it. They weren’t flinching away from him, they didn’t look afraid of him, in fact they were leaning into him, looking for his comfort. 

He got them home as quick as he could, making sure MC didn’t have any more fumbles on the way. Obviously once they saw the state MC was in, all the other brothers were freaking out as well. Mammon accused Belphie of doing something to them again--it was taking Mammon the longest to forgive him-- which didn’t make Belphie feel better about it. Normally he would’ve just fought Mammon then and there for such an accusation, after all the things his older brother had dragged MC into, but he didn’t have the energy. MC needed to be taken care of now. 

He did feel guilty, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Once the doctor came, he left the room, getting some air. He would wait until after MC was asleep to come check on them and make sure they were okay. He would make sure that MC’s pillow was fluffed, that they were comfortable, and then he’d fall asleep at MC’s feet at the end of their bed. He’d wake up at the slightest movement, checking over their body and face for who knows how many times now. 

While they were deep in a dream, he took a permanent marker and drew little cow spots on their bandage. It was a silly gesture, he was well aware, but even having a small piece of matching patterns made his heart happy. 

He won’t say it but he’s so glad when they’re finally healed. MC notices a sharp increase in his energy levels as he asks them to do plenty of activities together. He hardly ever wants to do something with them besides nap. 

He’ll be prepared to catch MC if they ever trip again. He won’t let them be hurt ever again. Period. 

Diavolo

He wasn’t there when it happened to MC, but Lucifer relayed the information to him as soon as possible. He didn’t freak out, at least, not in the way people would expect. It is rather unlike the Lord of the Devildom, however, to drop all his work, cancel all his meetings, and quickly make his way over to the House of Lamentation.

He excuses MC from classes immediately, making sure staying safe and healthy was their first and only priority. Not just for the sake of the program, but something in him stirred violently at the sight of seeing them pale, in pain, their forearm in a cast. He asked Lucifer for details. 

Upon hearing that it was due to some lesser demon, he laughed, but it was a terrible laugh. He calmly stated that he would handle it, but every member of the household could feel the house rumble. Not even Diavolo could stay completely tranquil, it seemed.

He knew the consequences of having a human in the Devildom, he knew the risks. He knew about the dirt in his kingdom that called themselves demons. He just didn’t realize how it would make him feel . Not only did MC have classes off, he allowed all the brothers to stay home for a while as well to make sure they were well taken care of. He had Lucifer give him daily updates on their progress.

MC is now curious why there are new changes to not only RAD but the House of Lamentation, Purgatory Hall, and even Diavolo’s castle. Simple things like ramps, elevators, railings, anything as a means of injury prevention. None of the demons need to use it, it’s all for MC, but everyone acts like it’s completely normal. All due to Diavolo’s ‘modern design’.

None of the brothers dare say anything about the Demon Lord’s frequent visits to their home, or to MC’s room. Not even Lucifer had him come over this often.

MC is thankful they never have to see the demon that resulted in their arm breaking again, but they didn’t know where they possibly could've gone. 

Barbatos

It’s safe to assume he knew about this. Except, there were plenty of timelines where something like this had happened, so he didn’t know the details of which unfortunate accident would come about. Whatever the case, he was prepared to assist and serve MC in whatever way he could.

He always thinks he’s seen everything and is well prepared for it, but it still doesn’t prevent him from having his chest hurt and his nerves shudder at seeing MC like this. On the outside, he’ll always appear neutral, so no one knows just how much he’s feeling for this human. He’s so much softer with them than anyone else.

MC doesn’t know how this demon keeps getting into their room without coming through the door, it freaks them out a bit, to be honest. They don’t complain about their room being so pristine you could brush over it with a white glove, though. 

MC thought that maybe, maybe, just once they could get away with getting up and doing things on their own. The brothers kept on fussing over them non-stop, but at one point they got called away to a meeting, leaving MC alone at home.

They got up out of bed, ready to stretch their legs and get some fresh air, trying to get some sort of normalcy back. They did all this not knowing that Barbatos was keeping a close eye on them from the shadows the entire time. 

Whether it was by Diavolo’s orders or Barbatos’ own volition, MC will never know, but they did find their little excursion to the outside quickly brought to a halt by some form of magic that transported them back to their room. Barbatos had them back in bed before MC could even reach the front gates. 

No matter how they tried, they were forced to stay safe, now even unable to get out from their bed. No matter how much they struggled, their own sheets betrayed them. The silent butler only showed up once MC gave up. He strutted over putting a soft but surprisingly stern hand over their shoulder as he went about taking care of them. Any words of protest fell on deaf ears. It was his duty to protect him, and not even MC could stop him. 

Simeon

He had no idea till he noticed that MC hadn’t been to school for a few days now. When he brought it up to the brothers, they explained how MC had staggered back home one night, hand completely busted, and they wouldn’t tell anyone why. For MC’s safety, and just for the brother’s peace of mind, MC was to stay home until further notice.

Simeon’s an angel, so peaceful, anger isn’t something he fully understands, but he felt a burning pain in his chest. Why didn’t anyone tell him immediately? Was he just supposed to figure this out himself? It had been quite a long time since Lucifer had seen Simeon frown so deeply before, eyes cloudy with distress.

Simeon had never missed classes ever. He was always much too early, much too eager to stick to regulations. So when he ended up skipping class, it shocked Luke to his core and caused Diavolo to make a note that an angel had broken the rules to go check on a human. This program was turning up all sorts of surprises.

MC was pleasantly surprised to hear the soft knocks on their door, vastly different than any of the ways the demons announced themselves. Simeon strode in, radiating warmth, carefully grasping their hand in his, and gave it a gentle kiss. The pain MC had felt no longer existed. Simeon explained that it was still best if they heal on their own, but at the very least, they wouldn’t feel pain. He would be there to make it all go away. 

He’s around MC now much more frequently, guarding them, keeping them from harm. From that point on he urges MC to let him know when things happen.

Solomon

He had been teaching MC more about magic. Not only did he think it would be beneficial for his human companion, but it would sate some of his curiosity. He wanted to learn more about MC, about their capabilities, testing to see in what ways their previous angel ancestor had changed them.

He knew they had a hard time driving out their power, so he tried different methods to assist them, methods they could use on their own. Magic rings, chants, wands. Unfortunately, once something worked, all their built up power flooded out of them at once, their temporary wand exploding into shards, and the bones in their hand following suit.

He used some of his magic to heal up what he could, being careful not to go too far or he’d overwhelm MC’s already weakened body. MC couldn't tell what was running through his head as he had them supported and cradled with one of his arms, the other one hovered over their hand. Magical circles and sigils running over their skin as it rushed to heal them. While his face seemed calm, his eyes looked a bit darker, missing the mischievous glint in them. They were tighter, laser focused, serious.

After he did what he could, both of them promised not to mention it to anyone, for fear both of them would never hear the end of it, or worse. While MC walked themselves home, Simeon used magic to keep an eye on them from his room, taking note what happened with him today. His mouth tight, arms folded across his chest, watching as the remnants from MC’s faulty makeshift wand burned rapidly in the fireplace. 

Luke

He has absolutely no idea how humans work or how weak they are. So when he heard MC had a broken bone, he didn’t even fully understand what that meant. Broke...a bone? He knew the word broke didn’t sound pleasant, and when he finally went to go see MC, his little head almost exploded.

Their body broke?? Human’s bodies could break like that?? And they couldn't just have it healed immediately??

He blamed the demons most definitely, but MC had never ever been so entertained when the little angel pointed at each and every one of the brothers--Lucifer included--and chewed them out. Each of them had different expressions. Belphie looked exhausted, Beel looked downtrodden, Asmo didn’t even seem to be paying attention. Satan looked like he was only focusing on not destroying Luke right then and there, Levi looked mortified, Mammon was the only one arguing back, and Lucifer was stunned speechless that a creature barely higher than his waist was giving him a lecture.

Until MC is fully healed, Luke makes sure to bring plenty of freshly baked sweets right to their door, not noticing seven pairs of glowing glares while he lingers in the house of demons.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

[alreadyblondenow]

Mark, this is how we broke up

idol!Mark Lee x reader // SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST (?) Summary: She taught him how to fuck but there’s so much more going on in their relationship. Word Count: 6k Warnings: Sex, Sex, Sex, actual sex and mentions of sex, filthy, mentions of rough sex, mentions of forced sex, emotionally unstable Mark, slightly addicted to sex, Mentions of other idols, mentions of birth control side effects, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex and protected sex, cursing, mature or at least trying to be Note: inspired by the recent breakup that I had. There’s no way that this ‘might’ be true. We all know Mark is a nice boy. If you’re not okay with any of the warning please click away.

“Ohh- Mark! Right there!”

“Right here? Hmm?” Mark puts more pressure on her clit and eventually pinches it to make her sensitive. Her legs closed and she received a juicy smack on her ass, “Why are you closing your legs? Don’t you like what I’m doing, huh?” his mouth is near her ear, every heavy breath, groan or moan from him goes directly to her ear and straight to her pussy.

With all the energy she still have, she praises Mark while he continues to fuck her senseless. Both of his hands are on the side of her head, having a full view of Mark’s ethereal visuals. Blonde sex hair flowing as he moves back and forth, his thin silver necklace dangling on his neck, his face completely contorted as he fucks her good.

Mark leans on her to suck on her boobs putting her completely on edge and is about to have a great orgasm. Mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, her hands raking Mark’s arms as she ask him to “please stop” but Mark will only stop when he wants to. Because of her high pitch moan and sharp exhales, Mark knew she had a great orgasm which feeds his pride more.

Gritting his teeth, he lifted his hips and gave her sharp quick thrusts while she’s still sensitive from her previous orgasms. “Hold on just a bit, I’m almost there” he whispers. He fucks the girl like he’s proving something, catching his own release and making the girl beneath him cry from over stimulation. He groaned a little too loud, but he doesn’t care. It’s his own damn apartment.

Removing his cock inside her throbbing hole, Mark rolls to the side and discarded the condom, throwing it to the trash near his bed. He watches the girl shiver beside him, closing her legs tight to ease the sensitivity. With one touch of Mark’s cold fingers on her shoulder, the girl let out a whine. “Relax, I’m just helping you calm down and cover your body” he said as he covers the girl with his thick blue sheets.

Head resting on the headboard with both of his hands pillowing his head, the room was cold and quiet as Mark lay beside her naked with a soft cock. “I’m a hooker but, you’re something- there’s something to the way you fuck” she started a conversation after calming down. “It’s getting late, I’ll call you a cab” he avoids the subject politely.

After the hooker left, Mark feels lonely again in his big apartment. Thinking about what the hooker told him earlier. It made him have flashbacks he didn’t want to have. He’s lonely enough right now, he can’t afford to think about you. But it’s too late. He’s now swimming to the happy memories he had with you, trying so hard not to think about how he ruined a once in a lifetime relationship and just focused on how your smile gives warmth to his heart.

“I miss you, y/n” he murmurs before he drifts into sleep, hoping to dream about you.

FOUR YEARS AGO

You’re starting your new life in Korea with a job at one of the country’s biggest company, SM Entertainment as part of NCT’s creative team specifically on fashion deparment. The job was stressful and tiring but theres nothing you could not handle, you love what you do. Working for NCT made you love the members like your own brother, all except for one member. Mark Lee.

It all started when you realised that Mark is not a boy anymore but a man who wants to gain experience with mature stuff. You and Mark eye each other during music video and vlog shoots and you both grew fondly, sneakily hold hands under the table during company dinners, texting and calling nonstop when you don’t see each other for weeks.

Mark has always been sweet to you and he’s not ashamed to show you how he feels. One time they used flowers as props for the shoot and Mark secretly put a flower near your stuff with a note, “You did well today.” He bought Starbucks drinks for all the staffs so he could give you your favorite drink freely and without hiding, “Noona, this is for you. Fighting for today.” Whenever other members are flirting with you, he will stop the members from bugging you and tell them, “Noona already has a boyfriend, don’t bother flirting” and it always makes you blush how Mark is so overprotective.

You and Mark became more than friends but less than lovers for almost half a year. And Mark’s constant want to make you feel love pushed him to ask you out officially. Taking you on private dates around Seoul, making time for you and letting the members and his manager know about your relationship.

Since you’re Mark’s first girlfriend, he’s not a perfect boyfriend. At least not yet. He always picks up a fight with you, decides recklessly when it comes to your relationship, and he’s moving so fast. “I’m just saying that if we start living together, we will fight less and we can have more time together” he said as he argues to you on the phone.

You don’t answer him because it’s useless, he will somehow get what he wants because he has the money, and you love him. Mark let out sharp exhale on the phone, “Okay I’m sorry. I’m being childish again. I’ll stop by at your apartment after dance practice. I love you”

He arrived at 11pm in your apartment with his manager. “Take care of him y/n, he has a headache. A bad one. Overworked I guess” his manager said before leaving you and Mark. Your boyfriend kiss you on the lips and greeted you, “Hi” weak and sleepy, Mark hugged you tight.

While watching him eat dinner he tells you everything about his day at work, how he’s preparing for three comebacks these past few months and he needs to finish writing four songs in two weeks. “Good thing I have you by the end of the day, right?” he said after finishing his meal. You hand him some painkillers for his headache, “Yes. Now, come to bed with me. No more working please, Mark. Even the best people in the world rest at night” realising that you’re right, he nods and let you take him to your bedroom.

“What will I do without you” he whispers to you before going to sleep with you.

The thing is, many people don’t know that Mark is actually vulnerable and emotionally unstable. Sometimes he’s not confident with his songs and he needs you to help him write because he only trusts what you say. If you say this phrase is good, or you honestly don’t like the words in this song he will take your word from it. That’s how much he depends on you. And sometimes, it puts you in a hard position because Mark is depending on you all the time is a heavy responsibility.  

It’s like he really can’t get everything done without you or without your opinion. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the other members, it just so happens that your opinion matters above anything else.

Mark may be too sweet and gentle most of the time, but he’s horny for you. Really horny. Whenever you’re alone with him in your apartment he always initiates having sex and you always say no and he respects that. You’re definitely not a virgin anymore and you have way too much experience, but Mark doesn’t. It’s not a problem of course, but you just wan’t to take it slow. Wait for the perfect time to finally have sex.

Mark being the virgin in this relationship and the one who lacks experience, he tries so hard to ruin his innocence before the day you two finally have sex. Watching tons of porn and take notes to some stuff he can do with you, working out more so he can at least look good in bed.

Sure you’ve done other stuff together, from making out wherever and whenever to giving oral to each other in the morning or before you both go to sleep. Back when Mark saw you  half naked in bed for the first time he didn’t know how to touch you, you used to teach him how to properly touch you in the way you like to be touched by your boyfriend. Now, he’s the one surprising you in bed whenever your legs are widely spread for him and his head is in between you eating your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

After dating for nine months, Mark convinced you to live together as your birthday gift to him. “Please, you know how much I want live with you” he pout in front of you while you take his body measurements for a new stage costume. He worked hard last year and he bought himself his first own apartment and he told you he wanted to share it with you. How can you refuse that kind of offer when he’s trying so hard to be a part of your life, forever.

You moved in with Mark and you filled his apartment with happy memories, never ending laughter and giggles because he’s a funny guy. The kitchen became a learning place for him because you teach him how to cook almost everyday and he’s doing great. Peaceful mornings are both your favorite, it makes him feel like a normal person who cooks breakfast for you and waking up with his girlfriend in his arms is something not normal for an idol.

“This place is our safe place, only for us. No fan service for me, no boss for you to please. Just Mark and Y/n.”

Lately work is not giving you a hard time and so does Mark. You two always go home together, spend more time together, and finally had the perfect time to be more intimate. It’s been like this for almost a week already, It’s a Friday night and after having dinner and taking a warm bath before bed, you and Mark found each other in the middle of bed cuddling. Hands intertwined and legs all tangled up.

“What if I tell you, we could finally have sex tonight?” you asked him. Ruffling his damped hair from his hot shower.

“I’d say, ‘tsk. don’t tease me’” he said with a small smile in his face. His breath touches your cheeks because you’re too close with each other.

“No, seriously we can”

He pull away from your embrace, just a little to look at your face if you’re serious. “Scratch that, I’d say ‘what’s gotten into you?’” he dives in for a slow kiss, cupping your face with one hand while the other is still intertwined with yours.

Seeing you unbutton your sleepwear made him realise that you’re serious. He kissed you more and removes his shirt and sweat pants leaving him with only his boxer briefs. You on the other hand is exposed wearing only your white panties.

Feeling excited and a bit nervous, Mark slowly crawled in between your legs and he looks handsome than ever. It’s not your first time but you feel like a virgin again, that untouched seventeen year old. Mark smiled at you before he removes your panties, watching his own hands slide your underwear down.

He came close to you just beside your ear giggling like a little boy, “I’m nervous” he said and proceeds to kiss your neck. It seems like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you can’t blame him for being honest. “I’ll be vocal as possible” he hums in approval and continues to kiss every inch of your body.

He managed to remove his boxer briefs while licking your wet pussy, your eyes are closed and your hands are tugging his soft hair. Moaning his name whenever his tongue hits a good spot, putting more pressure and intensity bringing you to your first orgasm. Mark became really good at giving you oral you thought.

“I think you’re ready” he whispered as he grabs the condom on the drawer beside the bed. While you watch him roll the condom on his cock, your heart skipped a beat when he faced you and hold your legs open. The next thing you know, he’s slamming his dick in your pussy making you shout and jolt your hips beneath him, “Ah! Easy- baby, Im not going anywhere!”

The whole time you were having sex, he was not minding about your pleasure. He was so focused on his own sweet release and he can see that you’re not liking it but you let him continue.

Given that it’s Mark’s first time, the first round didn’t go well. “Do you want me to takeover?” you feel bad about it, but to be honest you wan’t Mark to never forget this night the night he losses his virginity. He hugs you tight while he’s on top of you feeling really ashamed of what he just did.

“There’s no need to feel shy baby. We have all night and a lot of days to have great sex. Come on, I’ll ride you” he’s still not moving and still hugging you tight, caressing your hair and enjoying your warm body beneath him.

“Okay baby, I need to breath. You’re heavy ugh-“ you tricked him and he didn’t have a choice but to pull away. You laughed and switched positions, putting your legs on both sides of his hips wetting his cock with you wet pussy. He felt your pussy raw for the first time and he loves it, holding your hips and as you slowly grind on top of him. “I got you” you leaned forward to give him a peck on on the lips.

His right arm swings to his head, as if he can’t believe what’s happening. Moaning your name so deliciously, “Oh, it feels good” he said with an airy tone. His mouth is open the whole time you were grinding on his cock, stopping himself from cumming too early. You grabbed a new condom on the drawer, and rolled it on his hard cock.

“Now put inside me” you said oh so sexily. With shaking hands, he lines his cock to your cunt and he watched how your pussy swallow his thick cock and let out a soft ‘fuck’ when it fully disappeared. You smile on top of him as you wait for yourself to get used from the stretch before moving. Both of your hands are on his chest as you watch him moan and move his head from side to side while you clench and unclench your pussy.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that” he voiced out, you only let out a small chuckle.

“Try to stop cumming so early and enjoy it, Mark” you finally move your hips, grinding slowly, fucking him like how he deserves to be fucked. Mark’s hands grips on your hips so tightly the whole time you were fucking him slowly, making sure he won’t forget this moment. He’s peeking from his lashes, trying to get a look at you while you fuck him for the first time in his life.

“I’m glad you’re my first fuck” he said, trying to smile at you with hooded eyes, head rolled back to the pillows on his head and looking so fucking hot as he enjoys the pleasure you’re giving right now.

When you’ve had enough of slow fucking him, you tighten you grip on his shoulder and doubled your pace. Making you both moan each other’s name, his cock is finally making you feel good. You feel Mark’s cock twitch inside you and leaned closer to him, kissing him passionately as you bring him to edge.

To your surprise he bit your lower lip when he finally reached his climax with mouth open, eyes closed and brows furrowed. You smiled beneath him as you watch him cum and shiver, his hands still gripping both of your ass cheeks.

As he slowly open his eyes, he gave you a sweet smile and his tight grip became soft touches around your back. You flop on top of him as he caress your hair again. “How’s that for our first time?” you asked him, still weak from his orgasm.

“I still feel bad because I can’t fuck you good though” he said, but he looks happy now. You switched positions again so he could have the honour of pulling out after having a mind blowing orgasm. Slowly pulling out his dick, Mark watched your pussy stretched while he pull out. Kissing it like it’s your lips and apologising for not making you cum using his dick, on your first night having sex.

“Thank you for this. I mean, I should be the one making it special for you. But I failed and like, I really feel bad about it but like, I don’t know. Somehow it went wrong” he pulls the thick sheets to cover your naked bodies and lay beside you. Keeping you close and admiring your beautiful face.

“It’s not like you didn’t tried making me feel good, baby. You made me feel good too, I wouldn’t be wet the entire time if-“ in the middle of your explanation he put a finger on your slit and checked if you’re telling the truth and if you’re still good to go for another round. “you startled me” you said, enjoying the way his fingers move slowly.

“Want to give me a second chance?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head and kissed Mark sloppily. Mark is a fast learner, you didn’t know but the whole time you were fucking him earlier he was observing how you want things. He found out that he should take things slow, entering your tight pussy and looking directly in your eyes this time, “Mark, how did you know I’m in love with your eyes? Ah! fuck!” his hips moves slow and it feels way better than the first and second time.

The third round made Mark a little confident on fucking you, he made you moan his name, grip his shoulder, close your eyes and open your mouth as you ask for more. He was asking you how can he make you feel better even though you’re already batshit losing your mind on how good he feels inside you.

‘How fast do you want me to go? Hmm?’ ‘Baby, can I bite your nipples?’ ‘Clench all you want baby, I won’t cum before you do I promise’ ‘Want me to kiss you here? Okay’

‘What? You want another round after this? Me too’

“I love you” he whispered while thrusting with a steady pace that you specifically asked. Kissing you while he wait for a response. He chuckled and felt proud when he saw you smile and out of words. Finally, he made you cum using his dick, with a little help of his fingers putting on your clit.

Feeling so accomplished before he finally sleep after using all five condoms that he have. He hugged you tight and whispered how in love he is with you but you’re already sleeping. Kissing you good night as you don’t know how happy Mark Lee is.

After that unforgettable night, you and Mark have sex almost everyday and just as you expected he became more confident in bed and even more sexier as each day passes. Sometimes he can be a little bit more filthier and rougher in bed, like that one time when he spits on your pussy, putting back your panties on and fucked you good wearing those ruined panties.

And that one time when he was so tired from practice, he fucked you really rough that night. Skipping foreplay and slamming his hard cock inside your dry pussy, “Mark! I’m not yet ready” you said as you try pushing his body away from you but he said, “I don’t care” in the most sexiest way ever and it turned you on. He apologised later after that night and he never did it again, because he knew it was wrong. But you said you liked it and it was pretty hot.

The members noticed Mark’s glow whenever you two had a great fuck from the night before and they always tease him for not being a baby anymore. His experience with sex made him write more songs about it. About you. Which the managers loved without a doubt and because of that Mark goes home to you every night with a big smile. Tired but happy.

You stopped using condoms when you finally took birth control shots. Having sex without a condom is new to Mark but this time, everything went well. You completely can’t get enough of each other, you passed out that night from too much fucking.

During his back to back to back comebacks and preparations with NCT 127 and SuperM, you both had busy schedules and stressful days because of work. And he comes home tired, sometimes frustrated and mad. You had sex more often because of stress and usually Mark is the one asking for it. Day and night, before you both leave for work and at night before you sleep.

If theres peace, chaos will somehow enter your lives. The side effects of the birth control shots was ten times harder than taking a normal birth control pill and it’s causing the fight in your relationship most of the time. Whenever Mark wants to have sex but you don’t because you don’t feel well due to the side effects, he sometimes make his way to you and convince you eventually. “You won’t move, I promise to do all the work” but the sex itself makes you sick even more.

You wanted to stop taking the birth control shot but Mark insist, telling you that it’s much safer than condoms. The thought of Mark getting you pregnant would brought chaos to the world, both of your careers would be ruined plus neither one of you is ready to be a parent. So you did it for Mark, you continued taking the birth control shot even though you really don’t want to.  

He’s not always like this, he’s only an asshole whenever he’s really really stressed at work which happens thrice a week, and the fight will usually last a week long. This happened during the preparation for Kick It era and Punch era and SM were making you both work like crazy.

Sometimes Mark sleeps at the dorms after yelling at you and picking a fight with you, “I make time so we could spend quality time together but you always make me feel like shit by refusing to make love and spend time with me. I don’t get you anymore!”

And sometimes you force yourself to work overtime just so you could forget the fight and have a breather. “Stay mad all you want, I don’t care I have work to do”

Most of the time it’s always job over the relationship and you notice Mark’s slight addiction on having sex with you. Not that he became a sex addict, no. Maybe he’s just really stress and he depends to you a lot, that’s why.

Even though the red flags were all bright and waving, you just brush it off and still stay with Mark. But one time you tried telling it to him, and he didn’t take it well. Anger clouded his mind, “Just tell me to stop having sex with you and stop accusing me.” It hurts when Mark doesn’t listen to what you feel and seeing him leave for practice without even looking to you straight up makes your heart ache.

When you didn’t come home because of work one night and Mark stayed up late waiting for you, the thought of you not living with him anymore and you leaving him in general scared the shit out of him. He went back to SM building to apologise, only to find you sleeping soundly in a small couch, curled up to an uncomfortable position but you’re tired already.

“Baby” he woke you in the most quiet way possible not wanting your officemates to wake up and see him. Thankfully your sleep was not that deep and you heard Mark’s whispers, “Mark?” you whisper back.

“Come home, please?” you came home with him without hesitation, scared that the other employees might see him if he stayed longer in public with you.

Mark always find a way to talk it out and make amends. He will need you and you will always understand him and everything will be peaceful for a few days or if you get lucky, weeks. But life will always find a way to make you two fight and make up, and do it over and over again. Breaking up was never a solution, Mark knew that all too well. He can’t live without you.

Sex feels good again lately and you haven’t fought for over three weeks already. He’s been incredibly sweet and caring, taking you out on dates and helping you with work whenever he can. Honestly you’ve been pretty worried about him, he’s been having anxiety and worries about his songs lately. Even questioning his own profession, ‘What if being an idol is not for me? Like, what if I have a different calling that’s why I suck at what I do now?” Mark throwing you questions like this makes you love him harder. Pouring every support you can give to him and stretch your patience more for him. His mental health becomes more and more unstable and it went on like this for roughly half a year already.

The past few months were quiet as if peace has taken over your lives again. Mornings became more peaceful and Mark makes love with you instead of just having sex for the sake of stress release. Kick It and Punch were both successful, now you’re both enjoying your long awaited rest eating watermelons in bed. Even though you’re both aware about Mark’s unstable mental state, life can still be sweet and beautiful because of the love you share.

“I’d trade any moment for peaceful times like this with you” he said, “our second year anniversary is coming” he scrunched his nose in front of you while munching. “I have the best gift for you and you won’t guess it this time” he speaks proud and you smirk at him, feeling excited about it. “I don’t want anything in this world. Just never leave me” he added.

Rest days are always your favorite because you two can stay in bed the whole day, watch Netflix, sing in the shower together for almost two hours, dates around Seoul, shopping together, have lazy sex, have filthy sex. In other words, no calls from work or idol schedules for Mark.

“Are you trying to get me pregnant?” you giggle as you brush Mark’s hair away from his face. Feeling his soft skin against yours, touching his muscles while you come down from your high.

“Maybe” kiss, “what if I am?” kiss, “I miss having fun like this in bed with you” kiss. Mark is siting in bed with you on top of him, sitting on his lap. His head in resting on the head board, arms around your body. He has a full view of your boobs and your glowing face.

“You know I like seeing you cum on top of me” you hum in approval, “three more rounds? What do you say?” he waits for your answer, not forcing you this time. Making sure he won’t do what he did from the past that made you hate him and cry in bed. Mark almost lost you that night.

Of course you want three more rounds in bed with Mark. “That’s my girl” he licks the valley between your boobs, hugging you close as you use his cock inside you for your own sweet release. Arms around his neck, you push him closer to your chest as he bites your nipples and eventually sucking them. “Mark, that feels good” you moan to make sure he won’t stop doing what he’s doing.

“C-close, Mark I’m close”

He lowers your body as he takes over on thrusting in you on top of his lap. Gripping and tugging anything you could find in bed as he fucks you senseless making your boobs bounce in front of him, lust taking over him fully. “Fuuuck!” you screamed and quickly hugged him to stop, he got the message. Hands caressing your bare back as you shiver on top of Mark’s lap, legs weak as you flop back down to the mattress making Mark giggle and draw small circles on your nipple as he lays beside you. After two more rounds, you begged him for one more round and ride him good as a thank you for making you feel good the whole night.  

“My stylist said I should go for a striking pink for SuperM comeback, I don’t know if that will suit me… Will it? Do you think I should go for it?” again with his dependancy to you.  

Mark is at a hair salon with Taeyong getting their hair done and ready for SuperM comeback happening in less than a week. Hearing that he will have a striking pink hair made you stop what you’re doing and imagine what he would look like. “Are you sure this is not about loving watermelons?” He giggled through the phone, “No.”

When he came home with a striking pink hair, you laughed at him but deep inside he looks handsome. “Well, you look yummy” you kissed him and smelled his hair. He picked you up bridal style and ran to your shared bedroom and tickled you until you cry tears of joy.

Tomorrow is your second anniversary and you can’t spend it together because he’s busy with SuperM promotions. Mark is a simple man who likes simplicity and nothing too fancy in life so looking for a really good anniversary gift is challenge. But you can’t give up. You decided to buy him a new guitar, similar with the one has but somewhat better and different. Inside the guitar there’s a written simple message that he can read whenever he’s doubting again.

It’s already five in the morning and Mark will leave in fifteen minutes. When you open your eyes, you see a cute Mark Lee kissing you until you wake up. He smells clean, his fingertips are cold against your skin, “Happy anniversary. This is one out of two for my anniversary gift” he slips a silver ring on your left ring finger which perfectly fits.

“It’s a promise ring if you’re wondering. I promise to be a better boyfriend. And I saw your gift by the way. I love it. I can’t wait to use it and sing to you after promotions. Just hang in there okay? I love you”

You went got up and it’s surprisingly cold, still sleepy and tired from last night, you saw a bouquet of flowers on top of the coffee table and a paper that contains Girls Generation’s members signature. Complete and framed. It made you happy and laugh because he used his idol card again just to make you smile over the silliest things.

The SuperM promotions was longer than expected but Mark is having a great time with his Hyungs. While Mark is away you’re work keeps on piling up because the company transferred you from NCT to Red Velvet, which you enjoyed because now you’re making costumes for girls.

You and Mark focused on work and it didn’t made you feel angry in fact, you think that Mark being away can make you focus better at work. You realised that you’re better off away from each other. As days and weeks go by, you think about moving out of Mark’s apartment. But he wouldn’t let you do it so you think of another plan.

Mark has been calling you for days already and you only answer just for the sake of telling him that you’re fine. From there on Mark sensed something wrong and the feeling doesn’t sit well on him. Being far from you makes him overthink stuff and imagine things that has the worst case scenario. Like you, getting tired of him because he’s emotionally unstable.

It’s almost midnight and you were just finishing work when Mark came out of nowhere and surprised you. “Surprise! I’m home! Oh, I’ve missed you so much” he said and showered your cheeks with kisses his hug getting tighter and tighter.

You irritatedly pushed him away.

“Okay- that’s new” he let out a sigh, “What did I do now?”

You crossed your arms and lean on the wall, you don’t know how to say it but you’ve made up your mind. You’re going to leave him. “I’m breaking up with you” He stopped listening after you said it.

“It’s funny how I saw this coming but still I had faith with you! I had faith with you that you will not chose to leave me, but fuck-“ he punched the wall, completely hurting his hand you wanted to come to him so bad and made him stop hurting himself but you can’t. To be honest his ears rang, he was light headed and he feel like throwing up. Tiredness and breakup in the middle of the night is not a good mixture.

“Don’t get me wrong please, I don’t hate you. I want to fix this baby, I tried thinking about about solutions and guess what we already tried everything and were still a mess. It bothers me. Knowing that we all have these problems all along and ignoring it over and over again- it’s bothering me baby. We can’t fix it, we can’t fix us”

Admitting that fighting for the relationship made you tired, is a hard pill to swallow. And it hurts because choosing to love yourself this time will hurt him. His emotional dependancy, the sex, and now you don’t know if you want the same things in life anymore.

You wanted to choose yourself this time and do what’s best for you. Because in the past two years, you’ve doing everything what’s best for Mark and Mark only because that’s how you love him. And leaving him is how you can love yourself.

“A week” he blurted out while you were in the moment of pouring out all your concerns. “A week off baby, let’s give each other some space” he kissed your forehead and left you. After what happened he figured, for sure you don’t want to sleep on the same bed with him.  

The space that Mark asked for just made him missed you, it made him realised how he’s been taking your patience for granted and how he’s using every part of your being for his own good. He wanted to fix that. He wanted to fix it so badly.

Looking back over the years, he remembered how you didn’t want to live together but he made you because it’s his birthday wish. ‘Mark how can you ask something like that?’ he told himself, hating himself more.

He remembered how you didn’t want to take birth control shots anymore because you’re having side effects already. And instead of being concerned he got mad at you. Mark told the story to Johnny and he just gave him a ’Tsk. I’m very disappointed’

While forcing himself to write lyrics with Taeyong on a Monday night, he kept on telling Taeyong that he needs your opinion first about the first words that he wrote already. Mark got an earful from Taeyong, ‘you shouldn’t depend on her always! You don��t how heavy it might be for her! Tsk. Do you think she knows anything about what we do here? She has her own profession! She studied years and years for it, how can you do this to her?’ of course Taeyong is always right.

On Wednesday night, you broke up officially with Mark.

“I think we should continue living separately from now on, Mark” you removed the promise ring that he gave you and put it in front of him. He was quiet the whole time, but he understands, blaming himself of course. He understands that now it’s all about you.

“They say if you love someone and they need you don’t leave them, and we hear those words in dramas. But Mark, this isn’t fantasy this is reality that’s really heavy for me. We ignored all the red flags and I think it’s time to let go now”

During your move out, he didn’t showed up and helped you. It’s okay, you thought. You hurt him and he needs time to heal. Clearing your stuff felt like freedom and you thought it was cruel. Cruel for Mark. You feel bad because breaking up really made you feel better.

Looking at the pictures around the apartment, made you feel sad, yes. But leaving it behind and putting them down one by one made you feel free. And again you think it’s cruel because Mark don’t feel the same way, he clearly wanted push through the relationship and you clearly don’t want that.

All the more reason to break up. You don’t want the same things anymore.

Because you did great with NCT and Red Velvet, another great opportunity knocked on your door. A job in Paris. You considered not taking it because of Mark, then you remember that you two have broken up.

He came to your apartment a week after the break up, begging you to come back in his life. “I heard you left SM, baby is it because of me?” you gave him a glass of water and sat beside him, it’s been a week but he already looked like shit. Dark under eyes and no happiness in his eyes.

“Listen to me,” you reached for his hand, “It’s not because of you. I’m finally choosing me. I’m doing what’s best for me and my career. It has nothing to do with you Mark”

He went on and on again about coming back to his life, telling you promises that you know he can keep, but you don’t want to be part of it anymore. “I Promise, I will someday be okay emotionally, I want you to be beside me when that happens. I think breaking up isn’t the solution baby, do you remember how great we are together? We can fix this, we can try and then if it doesn’t work i’ll leave. I’ll never bother you again”

“How can you say breaking up is not the right thing to do now? Mark I’ve honestly never been more peaceful these past few days”

Mark didn’t need to hear other things. What you said made him realised that he used up every chance he could make up with you. He left without saying a word, keeping the pain to himself the whole drive back to the dorms. “Dude, it’s going to be okay. Were here.” Johnny, Hyuck, Taeyong and Jaehyun all listened to him cry at the car not talking to anyone of them.

PRESENT DAY. FOUR YEARS AFTER

Mark still loves you.

................................................. Masterlist

inspired by the recent breakup that I had, please don’t steal my feelings huhu. Enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #nct smut #mark lee smut #nct mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #nct mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee angst #nct mark lee angst #nct angst #mark lee x reader #idol au #breakup au #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios

[spices-and-cherries]

SFW alphabet for James Bond

As usual, I hope you guys enjoy this one! I have to say that I was more than a bit nervous about writing for James Bond just because of how hardcore the character is. He’s so different than either Benoit or Joe Bang that it’s a bit intimidating. So thank you to everyone who liked the last little headcanon I did for him!

Warnings: mentions of sexual activities and violence

---

A= Affectionate (How affectionate are they?)

Due to his job, he really does try to be as affectionate as possible to make up for the lost time. He always has an arm around you or is following you around like some lost puppy. It’s cute at first, but then he starts getting in your way just to be a pest. 

B= Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

It probably started like any other of James’ flings with the ever iconic ‘Bond Girls’, but there was something about you that clicked differently. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, or how you handled things or your constant back-and-forth banter. If you ask James when he fell in love, he wouldn’t know - perhaps when he first set eyes on you?

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He enjoys it from time to time, but he’d rather spend that time doing more rigorous activities if you catch my drift. That being said, he’s more willing to cuddle after an especially harrowing mission.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’d like to eventually. He moves from place to place so much that it’s like he can’t afford to slow down. 

While his cleaning is sub-par, his cooking is very good. Luckily, he’s tall enough that he can help you out when it’s time to dust or to grab things off of the upper shelves.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

You’d wake up and he’d just be gone. No note, no nothing. You’d probably figure that he was in a rush for a mission, but after a while, it didn’t seem like that anymore. You’ll eventually put two and two together.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s married to his job, so thoughts of domesticity are more like post-retirement plans than anything else. If he were to propose, it would be absolutely out of the blue and completely unplanned on his part. 

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Super gentle and understanding. He’s always very careful as so not to hurt you on accident. While you may not see it, others can tell from the look on James’ face when he’s around you that he would do anything just to see your smile. 

He can also be pretty sensitive when it comes to emotions - it comes with his training. He’s figured out the signs and tells and know just what to do to make you feel better. 

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He won’t admit it, but he likes back hugs a lot. Regular hugs are fine, but back hugs? Ethereal. It feels nice to be a receiver, even if it’s as simple as a hug. 

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He won’t say it for a long time. He understands the risks his job has, and while at this point he’s too far gone with you, he unconsciously sees the L-word as a promise that he can’t necessarily keep. 

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Maybe not so much jealous as he is possessive. He finds that someone is getting too close for comfort, he’ll butt into the conversation with some witty remark that will likely embarrass them. Then, James will keep you at his side for the rest of the evening, refusing to let you out of his sight. 

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sometimes they’re slow and sensual and other times, hungry. Either way, things are going to escalate pretty quickly. The first time you gave him a kiss on the cheek he almost took you right then and there. In all honesty, he’s too horny for casual kisses of affection.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn’t have much interest in kids and they often find him intimidating. But if one daring one asks for a piggy-back ride the whole lot will be climbing all over him within seconds. He likes to joke that he feels more tired after being around kids than his missions combined. 

M= Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

On the rare occasions that you have heart-to-heart talks, he’ll be somewhat more open about himself. He has so many walls up that he doesn’t even know that half of them exist. It’ll probably be after his retirement that he reveals everything (and even then, baby steps).

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you, he has all the patience in the world (unless you’re being a tease, in which case, watch out). 

Q= Quizzes (Who much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His memory is impeccable in every way. He’ll know things about you that you may not even know of yourself. In your opinion one of the sweetest things he’s ever done was buy a couch that you said you liked months ago and personally carried it to your flat. 

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Every single time he returns to you after a mission and sees the look of relief, love, and happiness on your face. 

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Super protective and would rather be killed than to see you stub your toe twice on the same corner. Literally say goodbye to that coffee table, because it won’t be there the next day. He won’t let anything or anyone hurt you - if he can help it - and he will take every precaution to keep you out of enemy sight. 

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

At first, while they were glamourous, you weren’t getting the feeling that the time you spent together was actually a date. Turns out, when it comes to serious relationships, James has little experience to go off of. It will take him a while to start to understand that going on a date doesn’t always have to be full of diamonds and champagne. 

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His abysmal communication skills. He’ll just leave and you won’t know if it was to the grocery store or on a mission. You cannot count the amount of times you had leftovers due to him just disappearing. You did bring it up with him at one point, though, and he has tried to be better about it.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

Because of his years on the job, he’s grown to have a certain amount of appreciation for the finer things in life when he has a choice. Why settle for less when he can easily buy the suits he wants to? That aside, he thinks you’re amazing no matter what you wear. If it’s for a fancy dinner party, James will have some fun picking the perfect ensemble for the evening if you’ll let him.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

When he’s on the job, he can’t always afford to think about himself, but when his life is in serious danger, your face always flashes before him. On the rare occasions that he can take a breather, your missing presence becomes much more apparent. 

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If and when he can, James will bring back little souvenirs from the places he went during his mission. You now have an interesting assortment of little carved figures, shot glasses, and local candies (to name a few). He tries to get something different or unique every time. Once, someone broke the souvenir James had on him during a chase and sincerely regretted it moments after.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wants someone who can hold their own. He enjoys be able to protect you, but he would be more comfortable knowing that you can fight. James isn’t a big fan of blind followers or yes-men. Think for yourself and be yourself (and have an eye for fashion if you can).

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

He’s a light sleeper - another thing that comes with the job - and that doesn’t change when he’s around you. In fact, it just might be worse because he won’t know what will happen now that he’s with you. Of course, it’s not all that bad because it gives him the opportunity to memorize your features or gather evidence of your snoring. 

I have a couple more things planned for James Bond during the upcoming weekend and some more content for Joe Bang next week! Please feel free to send requests or comment! It’ll make my whole week! :)

- Simpy

#james bond x reader #james bond #x reader #sfw headcanons #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #daniel craig #agent 007 #movie character #casino royale #quantum of solace #spectre #skyfall #established relationship #fluff

[caker-baker]

Hi!! I hope your having a wonderful day or night! I was wondering if you could do another part to the speedster and telepath? No worries if you can’t!

Tracking a hero who theoretically ran faster than a bullet was proving difficult, especially when there was no longer a customized mental hold on said hero.

The villain didn’t give up, though, and they wouldn’t now, but their attention was being pulled away.

Normally, the villain would have put aside any crimes to find their hero, but this was also a matter of pride. Their intel told of some new villain, someone in their city, their terf.

They were ready, their mind warded to the brim if the other villain happened to be a telepath, and most other defenses didn’t stand against the villain’s mental strength.

Except super speed, apparently. They thought bitterly.

The villain wasn’t proud of their little tantrum a few months ago, but it gave them some perspective - how much they need the hero.

They had a contingency plan now, albeit a somewhat weak one. The villain had never been outsmarted like that before, even if it wasn’t so much about outsmarting, and more of the villain’s cuff going faulty.

Then the hero phasing through the cuff.

And predicting the villain’s moves.

And managing to avoid the villain’s mental grasp.

Maybe the hero was a tad more quick than the villain gave them credit for, quick in more ways than one.

With rolled up sleeves and an outfit they didn’t mind dirtying, the villain entered the supposed base of operations for this other villain, some run-of-the-mill dilapidated factory building, just outside the city.

It was a well educated guess, their intel could be wrong, but it looked too calm, something similar to when the villain just started.

“Hello.” The villain drawled in a mocking tone. “Surely you knew I was coming, wherever you are.”

The darkness wasn’t an issue, the villain could just extend a mental reach, what was an issue was the lack of thought to take hold of. There was just nothing.

“Hm.” The villain was resigned, and already back to focusing on the hero.

That’s when it hit them, this - this nothing felt a lot like something else.

“Hero?” The villain asked.

The answer was clear when the villain was knocked onto their back by a seemingly invisible force.

“Of course. You made it away from me once with knowledge of my telepathy, so why wouldn’t they send you back?” The villain stood and dusted themselves off. “Was the intel wrong as well? No new villains I need to take care of?”

All the questions were rhetorical, they both knew that, just like they both knew they were only building up to the inevitable.

The hero stopped. “You’ve...you’ve been quiet.”

Immediately the villain knew something was wrong, but they could play around this for as long as necessary.

“Yes, my plans have been otherwise put on hold until a certain pet finds it’s way back home.”

The two began a slow circle around each other.

“Why,” the hero staggered to the side, the villain raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just freeze me then?”

“Something’s different about you.” The villain acknowledged, almost sing-song “Since you’ve so kindly locked me out of that pretty head, I’ll have to figure it out the old fashioned way.”

With that, the hero zipped around, the villain very narrowly dodging their attacks. Once or twice, the hero would stumble again, slowing them down.

After another trip, the villain figured out the hero’s pattern: left to right, side to side. Knowing that, it was easy for the villain to shoot out their hand and snag the hero back by their collar.

They figured if the hero could phase through objects touching them, phasing through the villain would be no problem, hence grabbing the hero’s collar. The hero could always, however, phase through their own uniform, but the villain doubted they would want to be shirtless.

“Are you really so,” the hero stopped and panted, as strange as that was. “So hurt?” The words were supposed to be mocking, but the hero’s tiredness made it less so.

“Hurt? No, pet. This is all a matter of pride.” The villain didn’t hesitate, not wanting to give the hero a chance to run.

With their free hand, the villain placed their fingers on the hero’s temple, and plunged.

The villain could still vaguely sense what was happening in the outside world, but the hero’s mind was much more occupying.

It was chaotic.

The villain could feel any and all of the hero’s piece of mind torn to shreds, not gone, but broken. Then there were the surface level thoughts: Stop it. Get out of my head. You aren’t supposed to know how.

The villain went deeper.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Memories began to bubble up, memories the hero very much wanted to stay hidden.

“It’ll be ok,” a whitecoat promised. “It’s just so they can’t control you.”

The villain felt the hero’s pain as something sharp and quick took them over, felt the hero’s mind synch up with something not their own, felt barriers upon barriers, layers of pressure too heavy for one head.

Almost as if someone dragged them out, the villain was forced out of the now angry teared hero’s mind.

“Hero,” the villain spoke low and soft. “I want to help you, but I need you copoorate”

“No. No.” The hero tried to pull away, but the villain held fast.

“They tried to make your mind as fast as the rest of you, so fast I couldn’t touch it.” The villain snapped. “They did it poorly. It will kill you unless I find a way to undo that. Let me find a way to undo that.”

The hero wasn’t as frantic anymore, but their face was still red and tired, the occasional tear slipping down their cheek.

“I’m not going back with you, I don’t want to be under anyone’s control.”

The villain buckled after a swift kick to their shins, the hero released from their grasp.

“You-” they growled. “Stay still.”

“Screw you.” The hero said from somewhere in the building, too fast for the villain to tell.

“Was I really that bad to you?” Asked the villain, eyes searching frantically for a stumbling hero. “It doesn’t have to be compulsion, pet, it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be, just come back with me, let me fix whatever happened.” Contingency plan be damned.

The hero tripped over their own feet, tired and sweating.

“How often do you tire like that?” The villain asked, slowly walking to the hero. “You know it’s not normal, I know it’s not normal, so why pretend it is?”

This time around, the hero was predicatable, and before they could move, the villain tackled, pinning the hero on the ground.

With one hand on the hero’s head, the villain mustered all the command they could.

“Sleep.”

And the hero did, suddenly out like a light.

Truth be told, it probably wouldn’t take that much to put the hero to sleep, they were already exhausted.

“I promise, pet, I’m not trying to hurt you.” The villain whispered, before taking the plunge again.

They didn’t know if it would hurt the hero, going through their unconscious mind. This was something they had only done twice, both times were out of necessity, somewhat like this now.

There was the whitecoat again, whispering soothing words to the hero as something took root in the base of their neck.

Go back. The others urged the hero. You know how to finally beat villain.

The villain felt the hero’s humming head, the heaviness sinking in deeper. Wide eyed, the villain left the hero’s mind to flip them onto their stomach.

It was hardly noticeable at first, but the villain was good with gadgets, good at knowing what to look for.

The chip at the base of the hero’s neck was killing them slowly as it worked. Rewriting a prefrontal cortex through the spinal cord was horribly stupid, and something even the villain couldn’t do.

The villain needed total silence and a cleanlier place of work if they were going to detach the chip from the hero’s spine. And that’s just what they would get.

.

Every so often while working on the hero, the villain seriously questioned who the good guys were.

They didn’t delude themselves into thinking they were a good person, the villain knew they weren’t, but they wouldn’t try and rewrite someone on a mental level like this.

What the villain did was gentle, what the other heroes did was sloppy. The villain just urged the hero to stay, they didn’t try and force them to change completely.

It wasn’t right to do that to a fellow hero.

When the hero woke up, they would be angry, angry at the villain for taking them back, angry they had lost, but hopefully themselves again, that’s what mattered.

The villain watched the hero intently, wondering what their anger could afford them, and considering the fluttering eyelids, the villain would soon find out.

“Please don’t move too fast, pet. As hard as that is for you.”

The hero didn’t heed any warnings, a hand flying up to the base of their neck, legs already planted on the ground.

“Just hear me out!” The villain had raised their voice over the hero clattering throughout the small room.

The hero continued to zip about, almost to the door, but the villain was standing in front of it.

Now they were face to face.

“While I have no doubt in your abilities and think you could match your frequency with mine easily, I also don’t believe phasing through me and the door is a risk you want to take.”

The room was otherwise unhelpful to the hero, no windows, and there was no telling they would come through somewhere safe if they tried a wall.

“Surely you don’t expect me to be civil.” The hero spat.

“Well, I was hoping you would take into consideration that I saved your life.” The villain knew they were guilt tripping the hero, but they really needed to hero to comply, which they did.

Now sitting, the hero didn’t bother to look the villain in the eyes.

“Your hero friends,” The villain began, sitting opposite the hero. “Sent you to fight someone viewed as a psychopath, armed only with experimental technology and super speed.”

“Are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A psychopath.” The hero explained. “I never asked in the time we were together.”

“No.” The villain said slowly. “And that isn’t the point. You don’t want to get to the point, because then you would be forced to admit your hero friends are bad people.”

“Don’t read my-”

“I didn’t. I don’t need to anyway, you have confirmed my suspicions.”

“No!” The hero protested. “You’re just twisting around the situation!”

The villain tilted their head up. “Am I?”

At that, the hero stayed silent.

“I’m not going to make you stay, pet.” The villain said, much to the shock of them both. “I just have a favor to ask.”

The hero’s eyes narrowed. “And that would be?”

“Stay away from your hero friends, just a couple of days.”

There was silence, and for a second, the villain was worried the hero wouldn’t agree, but their thoughts told a different story.

“That’s all?”

“Scout’s honor.” The villain held up a hand in a mock pledge.

It was difficult for the hero to stifle a laugh. “For some reason, I can’t imagine you as a happy camper.”

“Ah,” the villain grinned. “Well, a budding telepath rooming with more loud children, you know how these things go.”

The hero stood again. “Will you be unlocking the door?”

“If I must.”

Then the villain was alone. “Goodbye, pet.” They whispered.

It was unfortunate the hero didn’t seem too angry at the other heroes, it would have made going after their reckless friends easier. Still, they didn’t need the hero’s approval, they would be doing it one way or another.

The new mental track was still in place, so the villain knew if the hero went back on their word to see those apparent friends.

Yes, it would all be a choice this time around, but the options would grow slim.

.

A note: I hope you are having a wonderful day or night too.

#hero #heroine #heroes #villain #villains #villainess #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #requested #part three #I’m sorry #I had no clue where this was going #I still don’t #thank you for requesting though

[devilsodas]

night hawks ii

words: 2.6k

pairing: Hayakawa Aki x reader

Also on: ao3

a/n: hope everyone is staying safe and warm! hell (i.e: Texas) has frozen over and this is the first time I’ve had any internet for the past three days, so any mistakes I'll just edit out later! + spoilers for chapter 25 and light mentions of alcohol and canon typical gore

part i | part iii

Her hand rummages through a discarded jacket and pulls out a cigarette, studying it before slotting the stick between her teeth in a fashion you’re all too familiar with. Her smile glints like a branded knife.

“I’ll be sure to finish my business before then. In the meantime--wanna take a puff ?”

ii. peacefall

You don’t think you’ve seen a sunrise so breathtaking. Or at least, you don’t remember seeing one.

Even in your hungover state-- eyelids heavy and bleary in its alcoholic daze--you can still appreciate the warm hues of pink, purple, and blue that glow across your face. Almost sweeter to view up upon the terrace than the sugary syrup you lick off your bottom lip. You rarely have the opportunity to drink at Himeno’s, schedules always too conflicting, and you intend on indulging in every moment while you still have a chance.

Speaking about the eyepatch-clad women, Himeno lazes about across from you, eating her share of fluffy pancakes and speaking about a topic you’re listening to half committedly.

You can’t help but think she appears more reserved than usual, words fluttering through her mouth a mile a second, yet all of it superficial. Just filling the silent morning with noise. At the end of the day, you didn’t really mind though; content with the warm morning shine and your pancakes drowned in strawberry syrup. If she wanted to interrogate you on what your least favorite vegetable was (which were eggplants, those things are horrid) then so be it. Why ruin such a good morning over small details like that?

“Hey, do you like Aki?”

You choke.

A laugh rips through her, the smile resting on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks at you the same way a wolf watches its prey before it pounces, gaze sweeping for weakness, opportunities to strike. But her body language is picture perfect nonchalance, with her legs crossed on the seat and her head resting in her palm.

You blink, embarrassed, waiting for the punchline of whatever unfunny joke she’s dropping on you. And Himeno stays quiet, the only part of her moving is the left eye that watches intently.

You shrug. “I-I mean, I guess-”

She tilts her head. “So you don’t like Aki?”

“No! I mean-Yes!” Heat warms you from the top of your head all the way down your neck. What's this all about? She’s probing you about your affections the same way one would interrogate about the ethics of cannibalism. “ Of course I like him, he’s a friend.”

A long, drawn out sigh leaves her nose. The sickly sweet smile still stained on her lips. “Okay, how about this? Do you like-like Aki? Do you love him?”

You open your mouth, feelings you didn’t know how to phrase on the tip of your tongue, and close it. Busy your hands with the napkin laying in front of you and keep your eyes trained on the horizon; anything to distract you from the question posed before you because in all honesty--you’ve never humored these thoughts before.

Do you love Aki?

He’s a familiar face, someone who always happened to be around--you could hardly remember a time where there wasn’t a Hayakawa Aki in your life. He’d ask if you liked to tag along for lunch with him and Himeno. If he didn’t get the chance? He calls you later that evening. When you’re sick he drops by with medicine and homemade soup. He even walked you home once when you forgot the way to your apartment, and though he complained most of the time, he still made sure you remembered the way and even offered to walk you again the next day.

And when an assignment went awry and you landed in the hospital, he was there when you awoke, shaky hands and tracks of tears you pretended not to notice.

Dependable, familiar, attentive Aki was a close friend who resided even closer to your heart; always feeling lighter after you spoke to him.You couldn’t fathom a world where you didn’t know him, where he didn’t exist.

But does that mean you love him?

The thought makes your heart drop to your stomach, because any pursuit of passion in your profession is just a pipedream. As long as anyone carried that godforsaken badge in their pocket, they became a beacon for self damnation. That’s why devil hunters always dropped like flies, too fast for you to learn their names or bother remembering it. You can’t afford to care too deeply, to hold anyone close to you but yourself.

But you do. And in a world where you face the most grotesque phantoms of reality, are you at fault for attaching to someone who makes it enjoyable? Even for just a moment?

You’re way too hungover for this.

“Hmm, well I like Aki. He’s pretty easy on the eyes, dontcha’ think?”

You raise a questioning brow and meet her gaze, and it's as if she sees right through you. Feeling exposed you busy yourself with the leftover food on your plate. The pancakes are cold and soggy and taste like chalk on your tongue.

“He’s really kind too, y’know? Super selfless.”

“Yeah..”

“And he’s pretty serious..I’ve never met anyone so hung up on that damn gun like Aki is..”

You give a hum.

“Yep. That’s what makes him as good as dead.” Himeno says languidly, the same tone of voice you’d use to talk about the weather and you almost miss it.

Startled, you laugh, it comes out as a forced breath of air. “What’d you mean? Don’t believe in your own buddy’s abilities?”

She looks to the horizon. The sun is creeping along the clouds now, almost in view, but still tucked away. Himeno stares at it with somber eyes, the playful, almost sinister smile wiped clean from her face. A shadow of who she was a moment ago.

“It’s because I believe in him so much..,” She mutters, voice thick, pauses. “Aki is..he’s cool and serious and kind--he’s the type of guy who’d help old ladies on the street, but-”

She looks at you, earnest, “ If you saw him somewhere, you would never think he was a devil hunter because he doesn’t look like--doesn’t act like..”

She points a finger to her chest, then to yours.

Aki isn’t like Himeno. He isn’t like you, either.

Because Aki is normal.

And you, with your spotty memory, are not.

There’s nothing in you that objects to the suggestion, but it doesn’t stop you from resenting Himeno just a little for saying it. For the food in your stomach to feel like stones weighing you down.

You lost your appetite.

“I hope you didn’t get me drunk last night just to tell me how normal Aki is.” Your voice came with more bite than you’d like, but you don’t take it back. Himeno accepts the venom and throws it away, chuckling in response.

“I want him to leave public safety--switch to the private sector or change jobs completely--I don’t care.” She says, “But he can’t stay here.”

“Okay? Why’re you telling me?”

She gives you a look, eye glittering with mischief and a devilish grin on her lips. People say that contracts can only come to fruition between a devil and a human, but if they felt the clutch of Himeno’s perspicacious eye, they’d know bindings between mortals are the most consuming of them all.

“Well..he’d never listen to me.”She drawled, “But if I had someone to give a second opinion..”

And leers up at you.

You scowl, but before you can get a word out Himeno reaches across the table and grips your hands in hers.

“Listen, he’s the first buddy I’ve ever had that hasn’t kicked the bucket in the first six months, you can’t just waste a life like that.” Her voice wavers,your chest pulls at the sound.

“I care about him.” She says.

“And if he’s such a friend that you like,then you must care about him too, no?”

You fix your gaze to the intertwined hands and Himeno gives them a warm squeeze, a summer smile. Your cheeks flush.

You can’t remember the last time someone held your hand.

You’ve been in public safety as far back as you can remember, for a good chunk of your life you’ve been wearing the same uniform everyday, but you barely know any of your co-workers. There were familiar faces you could halfway recognize in the fourth division, and you’re sure you’ve probably had a good conversation with a couple of them, but a harsh assignment would come around and you’d..well..forget.

Maybe people took that as you being apathetic. To be budding friends one day and give them the cold shoulder the next. Or maybe they thought it to be a fruitless endeavor. Why be friends with someone you could never reap the benefits of a close connection from?And as your memory left, so did everyone else.

Then you met Aki.

When you think of your first meeting, you can’t remember much except for the fact you gave him a bloody nose that you never apologized for. But even after that, he spoke to you the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And then before you knew, you’d go out to lunch with him and Himeno. Help out with groceries, he’d come to your apartment and help you relearn whatever kitchen appliance you forgot how to use.

That’s what makes him as good as dead

You can hardly remember days where Aki wasn’t around, and you’ve never doubted his abilities enough to consider he never would be, but Himeno wasn’t wrong.

Aki is cool and serious. Dependable and selfless. A kind guy you’d see on the street.

A normal guy.

That’s what makes him as good as dead.

And no matter how strong you are, normal never survives in a fight against the irrational fears of others.

The thought alone leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Because a world without Aki wasn’t a world you wanted to relearn.

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not asking him first, you bring it up.”

Himeno gives you a grin, spreading as smooth as margarine across her face and you almost hate how infectious it is. Your mouth twitches.

“But y’know,” You say belatedly,“ caring for others is a pretty typical thing. With the way things are going, we’ll be six feet under before we can help anyone else.”

Her hand rummages through a discarded jacket and pulls out a cigarette, studying it before slotting the stick between her teeth in a fashion you’re all too familiar with. Her smile glints like a branded knife.

“I’ll be sure to finish my business before then. In the meantime--wanna take a puff ?”

“Hell no.”

A year and one bullet wound later, Special Division Four shrinks to five members.

You don’t know the movie you’re watching.

Eyes glazed and unfocused, you stared at the television screen as a mess of muddy and muted blues and blacks gave way to a blooming primrose red. The delicate color bleeds into every corner of the screen until it seeps its way into the apartment, consuming all four of you in an eye straining scarlet that makes your eyes burn. You blink and ah,

It’s blood.

The crimson sucks the technicolor vibrance of everything around it, the wailing women on screen appearing more lifeless than her wound suggested. A pair of hands came into view, haphazardly pressing makeshift gauze on her abdomen. It was shrapnel, and if you weren’t so out of it, you might have looked away in disgust from where it protruded.

Instead, you ogled the television, taking in every pixel until it’s seared into your mind. Your own messily wrapped abdomen throbs at the scene and you move to thumb at it, to rip the gash open wide once again in hopes of keeping the memory of why it’s there.

Because there's a familiar tug in your gut, a ringing in your ear, that tells you that this wound will join a litany of scars that you have but don’t remember why. And it terrifies you.

Because Himeno is dead, and the ghost that always haunts the graves of her colleagues will not be buried herself.

There wasn’t a body left to bury.

Aki stops your hand before it can make contact with your shirt, and changes the channel.

You probably shouldn’t have been watching it anyways, but Denji picked it. And, from what you gathered, the kid has only seen one movie in his life. It felt wrong to say no.

(Then again, him and Power are off snoozing together on the edge of the couch, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you shut it off, not that Aki cared.)

Your side still hurts. You squeeze his hand.

It’s warm.

“I heard Madoka quit.” He murmurs.

You blink, a pair of glasses and a faded scar comes to mind, and nod, a little dazed and foggy-eyed.

“The new girl, what's her name? Kobento?”

“Kobeni.” Aki interrupts.

“She told me she’s gonna resign soon.”

The studs in his ear shimmer in the perwinkle halo of the room, catching your eye. A children show is playing now, one of the characters is moving away. They all huddle together, teary eyed, and cry.

Aki changes the channel.

“Do you think it’s the right choice?” You look at him, but he keeps his gaze on the tv, “quitting, I mean.”

Your side hurts. You squeeze his hand. His right eye’s a little foggy.

(Distantly you wonder if it’s due to the Future Devil. Did it show him what you’d do if he didn’t catch your hand? Or was it all Aki’s intuition?)

“It’s better for them to quit now while they're ahead then find out later.” He answers.

It’s a chick-flick. The heroine’s reuniting with someone she met before, they embrace in the rain.

You change the channel.

“Why? Are you considering quitting?” In the corner of your eye, his earring flashes and moves, he turned his gaze to you.

The back of your mind thrums like a war drum and your mouth feels thick and gummy. Your gut lurches, urgent. There’s something you wanted to say to him, something he needed to know, but you draw a blank.

You turn your head, Aki is still turned to you. The tv screen gleams a bright white and your breath hitches. He looks awful; paler than you remember and two, crescent moon bruises under his eyes. He’s still waiting for a response.

He looks glassy, almost transparent and you wonder if you should say anything at all. Terrified to say the wrong thing because there’s a weight behind his gaze when he looks at you and you might just crumple under it; might just say the wrong thing and he’ll break.

‘That damn gun’

Oh. Right.

You reach out to cradle his cheek with your free hand and he leans into your palm, (was it the future devil or aki’s intuition) gently swiping your thumb on the lavender skin that resided there.

It’s still warm. You hope he gets some sleep after tomorrow.

“I gave up too much to stop now, I have to at least meet the devil waiting at the end of this. We have to meet the devil waiting at the end of this”

‘That damn gun’

The words felt muddy on your tongue. Was that the wrong thing to say?

Aki sobers up and nods. You give him a (summer) smile.

Denji and Power startle themselves awake and you jump, moving your hand. He clears his throat and rest his palm where your hand used to be, thumb absentmindedly sweeping under his eye and your cheeks feel hot.

You must’ve circled back on the channels, because it’s showing the first movie. The women lays in a hospital room now, abdomen smothered in gauze and dressing, but she still bleeds through. Shocking the white surroundings in a hot pink.

Your side throbs, Aki squeezes your hand.

#aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #writings #csm #chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #x reader #I put a lot of repetition in this #and at this point I can't tell if its stylistic or just plain annoying #anyways I live in the us's armpit but for some reason im able to build a snowman outside?? #crazy #also #to the ppl who sent me messeages #im not ignoring I just dont have a strong enough connection to reply lol

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧

𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫!𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k+ words

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, slightly suggestive, subtle mutual pining (?)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re locked out of your apartment, and your sweet neighbour Mingi just wants to help you out. how long can you go until you realize he likes you too?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: silk ties make an appearance heh, mingi sees reader’s bra :0 (through a shirt, nonetheless), shy mingi in general, some good ol’ teasing

masterlist

Puddles pitter-pattered under your feet as you took brisk steps on the sidewalk. With your right hand, you held your bag above your head to shield your head from the rain; your left hand was busy wiping drops off of your face. Just a few minutes ago you were calmly walking home from the restaurant you worked at, with your eyelids drooping and feet sore, but heavy clouds interrupted your walk with torrents of rain. Cold rainwater was now soaking through your socks, squelching with every step you took, and your teeth had started knocking together in a chatter. You couldn’t afford to get sick now of all times, you thought, so you rushed to get to your apartment and punched in the building’s entry code as fast as possible with your numb fingers. You made your way to the elevator and ruffled through your bag looking for your keys, struggling to find them. 

Just as the elevator dinged to signal its arrival, a man came through the building entrance; he was tall, dressed in a long coat, and he sported contrastingly cute glasses over his sharp eyes. It was your neighbour, Mingi. He smiled upon seeing your face, and you couldn’t deny that his eyes-turned-half-moons lifted your spirits ever so slightly. As you were lost in your thoughts, so was Mingi. He felt his heart jump upon crossing paths with you and admired your face as you remained distracted. Hell, he would’ve moved out of the damned apartment building a long time ago if you hadn’t been the one thing keeping him anchored there.

“Hi there,” he greeted as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you responded distractedly, continuing to search for your keys. 

As both of you entered the elevator, you were embarrassingly aware of the wet squeak of your converse against the tiled floor. Mingi pressed the button for the 3rd floor while you dug through your bag, still oblivious of his curious gaze on you. Frustration laced your expression, and it became clear to you that you had no idea where you’d put your keys. You thought back to the moment when you were closing up the restaurant you worked at, raking your memory for the location of your keys. The elevator arrived at your floor, and Mingi sent you a subtly concerned glance before exiting and muttering “G'night.”

You briefly lingered in the elevator when it hit you: I left them at the front desk of the restaurant. How could I leave with the restaurant keys and not with my own?

Stepping out of the lift, you wandered to your apartment door, lost in your thoughts. It’s too late at night to call my landlord for the spare key. I can’t go back to the restaurant either— there’s too much rain. It crossed your mind to call your best friend, but he lived a whole city away. You were so preoccupied trying to figure out your situation that you hadn’t noticed Mingi standing in front of his open door, deep in thought. At this point, he had caught on to the fact that you didn’t have your house keys. He watched you listlessly stare at your door and wondered if he could help.

“Hey, uh, you good over there?” he asked gingerly.

“Not really. I don’t have my keys. I– well– I left them at work.”

Mingi contemplated offering his couch for the night. No, no, that’s creepy. Or is it? I don’t want to seem weird.

“Do you… need a place to crash for the night? I have a decently sized couch, and I could fish out some clean clothes for you if you’d like." You curiously tilted your head, wondering why he was being so kind. This didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi, but he misinterpreted it and thought you were suspicious of him. "Oh, don’t get me wrong! I just figured you could use my hand– well, not my hand, I mean a hand– but my help, you know?” Mingi babbled.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, I’d gladly crash on your couch.”

Mingi’s shoulders visibly relaxed as you accepted his request. He nodded at his door, beckoning for you to come in. You followed his instructions to leave your shoes by the door and your bag and jacket by the couch. Mingi headed down a short hallway into what seemed to be his bedroom; you stood awkwardly in his living room, silently inspecting his apartment. It was fairly well decorated: an ivy green sectional couch sat in front of a cheap television. In front of the couch stood a glass coffee table littered with magazines and used mugs, in the corner stood a pretty industrial-style lamp, and you spotted about seven miniature succulents on the windowsills of three tall windows. Although the plants seemed to be dying, you commended Mingi for somewhat trying to maintain them. You heard his footsteps from the hall again and turned around to see what he had come back with. He held a thick blanket in one hand, and a pillow in the other.

“I hope this is warm enough; it’s the softest blanket I have.”

“Thank you, really, it should be more than enough,” you smiled at his earnestness.

He looked at you apologetically when he noticed your teeth chattering; you hadn’t noticed just how wet and cold your clothes were. Your body shivered and your arms wrapped around your front. You were unaware that the white shirt you wore did little to disguise what was beneath it, and didn’t catch Mingi swallow (hard) and avert his eyes. He dropped the pillow and blanket on the couch and turned towards you, hesitant to say his next words.

“If you want, you can take a shower to warm up; you could borrow some of my clothes since yours are pretty soaked,” he scratched his head and avoided your gaze, “If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

As you took a quick look at your clothes you realized what he meant. Oh shit. What a day for a white shirt, huh? You felt heat crawl up your neck and cheeks out if embarrassment upon understanding that he had probably noticed your bra through your clothing. With anyone else, you wouldn’t have thought too much of it, but something about the idea of taking a shower and wearing his clothes all but made your heart leap out of your chest. Strangely enough, you weren’t uncomfortable in the least. An abrupt burst of confidence overtook you.

“Showering here and wearing your clothes… that’s more of a fourth date thing, don’t you think?” You teased, unable to resist the temptation to. 

For a moment, Mingi was caught off-guard at your sudden change of attitude, until he finally processed your words. He laughed out loud at your cheeky comment and flashed you his signature eye-smile. You found it cute that he cackled with his head thrown back, mouth wide open. Your fingertips tingled, and the sound of his laugh set of a warm buzz throughout your body. 

“A shower would be nice, though. Thank you,” you added.

He uttered a short “no problem” before nudging his glasses back up his nose. Now, of all times, your stomach gurgled in protest of being empty; you hadn’t eaten since this morning. The amused smile fell off of your face, now replaced with a frown and wide eyes. Mingi chortled upon hearing the sudden noise, finding it oddly endearing how embarrassed your expression had become. Cute.

“I’ll make us something to eat while you’re getting washed up. You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

“Peanuts,” you tell him.

“Noted.”

He paced toward his kitchen– well, it was more of a kitchenette –and opened up the fridge, only to find a carton of milk and leftover pizza. He internally rolled his eyes at himself. You can’t even cook, dumbass, no wonder it’s so empty. He opted to check in one of the cabinets. From where you stood, you could see that it was filled with a variety of instant ramen and a lonely can of peaches. You struggled to hold in the laugh that bubbled out of your chest while Mingi was slightly embarrassed, but he grinned regardless.

“Do you know how to cook anything besides instant noodles?” you giggled, stepping towards him.

“Totally,” he feigned confidence.

“What?”

“Uh… microwave popcorn.”

This time you didn’t even try to tone down your laugh, laughing as if he had told you the funniest joke in the world. He looked down at you and observed the way you held your tummy as you laughed, spotting a faint snort in your chuckle. He just stood and watched you, ignoring his rapid heartbeat and the familiar butterflies in his tummy. The same butterflies he got every time you crossed paths in the elevator, or the times he happened to see you leave your apartment when he did. When you finally caught your breath, you spoke again.

“You know what? Instant ramen sounds good,” you beamed.

“Coming right up. As for your change of clothes, you’ll find some shirts and sweats in the drawers in my bedroom. First door on the right.” He filled a pot with water and opened several packs of ramen as he spoke.

Mingi’s bedroom was simpler than you thought it would be. In the far corner by an old-looking window sat his bed on a simple bed frame; the mattress was large for one person and just enough for two. There was no wardrobe to be seen except a long rack full of various clothes. The man sure knows how to dress. Mingi cared a lot about his fashion, after all. You spotted a black dresser and assumed they were the drawers he mentioned earlier. You checked the bottom drawer first and picked out a pair of black sweatpants, then moved on to the middle one. As you slid open the wooden drawer, it revealed a couple of stacks of socks, shirts, and underwear. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you spotted pairs of grey underwear alongside a pair of banana-patterned boxers. You assumed Mingi had forgotten to warn you, and you smiled shyly before laughing at the pair of yellow undergarments. You dug through the shirts beside them anyway, only to find tank tops and t-shirts. Doesn’t he own any sweatshirts?

You continued rummaging through the bag as your fingers brushed against something uncharacteristically soft. Thoughtlessly, you pulled the object out.

Oh my god.

Your fingers were wrapped around two pairs of black and white silk ties, each delicate in your hands. You stuffed them back where you found them and closed the drawer with a bang, huffing a big breath.

“Everything alright, y/n?” You heard Mingi call from the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine!”

“Alright, ramen’s ready in fifteen!”

You snatched a blue hoodie from the top drawer and hurried to the bathroom. You tried to focus on the hot water flowing down the curve of your spine, but curiosity plagued you as you wondered about the silk ties. Your attention drifted to thoughts of whether he may be interested in going out one day, or if he had already given his heart to someone else. You scolded yourself for being too nosy. He’s just being nice, y/n. Don’t get any ideas.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the warmth that flooded your chest every time you saw his face or met him in the hallway. An exasperated sigh escaped your lips; you were too tired to be thinking of something so trivial. 

You stretched your arm out of the shower, but your hand was met with an empty towel rack. Oh shit, you had forgotten to ask for a towel. Luckily, the vapour floating through the bathroom kept you warm, but it wouldn’t be long before it dissipated.

Mingi was busy watching the noodles boil, his mind distracted with sound of your laugh. Your giggle remained imprinted in his brain like a song playing on repeat. Mingi sighed; he was in too deep. Subconscious joy painted a fond smile on his lips; he realized he probably looked quite ridiculous grinning at a pot of boiling noodles. Out of the blue, he heard you calling his name from the shower. He wasn’t sure why, but he instantly panicked upon hearing your distressed tone. Is she okay? Did she slip? Is there a spider on the wall or something? (He’d never admit it, but Mingi hoped it wasn’t the latter because he’s scared of spiders too.)

“Everything alright?” he asked from outside the bathroom door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just forgot a towel,” you admitted.

“O-oh,” his face flushed as he sped over to the closet where he kept clean towels. He opened the bathroom door enough to fit his torso through and bashfully looked away– he knew you were behind the shower curtain, but he was having an emotional overload just from knowing you were even in his shower. It was best he looked away before having another issue to take care of. You dried off quickly, no longer being able to stand the angry rumble of your stomach. Mingi’s clothes were large, so they just barely clung to you– you were quite worried that they may slip off –but they would do for now.

You walked out towards the living room with your wet clothes in hand and laid them over your bag to dry. Mingi, as he set the pot of hot ramen on his small dining table, tilted his head to see you. Oh, wow. He knew his clothes would look big on you, but at this point, you weren’t wearing the clothes– the clothes were wearing you. He chuckled before he could stop himself. It was clear to you why he was laughing, or rather, who he was laughing at.

“Hey!” you put your fists on your hips, trying not to giggle. You knew how ridiculous you looked.

“What?” he looked at you, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you purposefully pouted and whined, hoping to fluster him.

“Who says I’m laughing at you?”

“You think I look silly.”

“No, I think you look cute. Now let’s eat.”

Cute? Your playful demeanour ebbed away as you processed the compliment. Mingi looked you straight in the eyes, knowing what he was doing to you. He leaned back in his chair, putting his toned thighs in full view. “C'mon, take a seat.” He shifted his thighs emphatically.

You nearly choked at his words; your mind went places it shouldn’t. Mingi grinned in satisfaction upon seeing your cheeks burn red, and gestured towards the seat in front of him.

“The noodles are gonna get cold…” he teased.

You were shy all over again, feeling embarrassed for assuming he meant for you to sit in his lap. A little wishful thinking never hurt. You skittered over to the chair across from him and went straight for the noodles.

For nearly an hour, you both ate and drank as you talked about work, friends, everything in between. Your conversation never fizzled out, and you learned that Mingi was a lot softer than he seemed. The pot was now empty, except for some stray noodles, and both your stomachs were fit to burst. Post-dinner fatigue started settling in; your body begged for you to rest after ingesting so much food. Mingi put away the dishes, earning a “thank you” from you in return. He suggested you watch a movie, unless you wanted to head to bed already.

“No, no, I’m fine. A movie sounds good,” you assured him.

“Any specific genre?”

“Nope.”

Mingi settled to watch a movie called Ponyo with you, claiming it to be the “best fucking movie on earth.” You sat crisscrossed on the couch, next to Mingi who settled his feet on the edge of the coffee table and spread his arms over the top of the couch. You grabbed the blanket he gave you earlier and wrapped yourself in it, nuzzling your cheek into the soft fabric. Not even half an hour into the movie, you eyelids drooped tiredly, your head falling forward every now and then. Mingi spotted your head nodding forwards out of the corner of his eye, but stayed quiet anyway. A couple of minutes later, he felt your weight against his arm, only to find that you’d fallen asleep. He observed your sleeping form tenderly and noted that you were a soft snorer. Before you could lose your balance and fall forwards, he turned you with one hand and cradled your head with the other, settling your head in his lap. He brushed the hair off your face, unconsciously patting your head in soothingly slow motions. Mingi’s own eyelids started to feel heavy as well, his hand moving in increasingly slow movements. 

He could only think of one thing before he fell asleep as he stared at your face snuggled in his lap, and his lips moved on their own accord before he could control himself.

“I really, really like you, you know that?” he whispered lovingly. His hand stopped its movements on your hair when he noticed the corners of your lips lift in an affectionate grin. (Mingi never noticed, but you’d woken up as soon as you head hit his thigh.) You nuzzled closer into him and wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling warm as ever. Well, I know now. 

#kdiner #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez #ateez mingi #mingi #song mingi #mingi x reader #song mini fanfic #ateez timestamp #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #kpop #ateez imagines #mingi fluff #atiny #ateez song mingi #ateez smut

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Asking You To Quit Your Job [Request]

Seokjin:

Jin was quite old fashioned when it came to this, you'd been married for four months now and he'd been debating bringing up the topic since then but he knew that now was the right moment. You were in a good mood and you'd prepared dinner for him to come home to. It had been your week off and it felt good to have you at home all to himself.

"Don't you think this week has been amazing?" You took a sip of your wine and nodded as an answer to Jin's question,

"Coming home to you every night was so nice, I bet the time off was great too." You hummed,

"Yeah, it's a shame I have to go back. I was just starting to get into this new show." You laughed, and Jin took it as a sign.

"Then don't go back."

"Jin I have to go back, it's my job," He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly and chewed on the steak that you had made for dinner that night.

"Quit, I don't mind being able to provide for us. I pay most of the bills anyway," You stared at him dumbfounded that he would even think like that.

"I do, I pay everything, your money is just extra that we don't really need." You put your knife and fork down and stared at him as he continued to talk about it.

"Jin...I love you but did you want me to quit and become a full-time stay at home wife?" He shook his head,

"No...I just meant..."

"Do you want me to rely on you for money, to come to you when I need new clothes, new shoes or I want to go out?" He shook his head finally starting to see why you wanted to keep your job,

"I like earning my own money Jin, I would never want to just take things from you. It would feel morally wrong. Relying on other people...It's not something that I do Jin," He placed his hand over yours on the table and he sighed,

"I never thought of it that way," You smiled sweetly and he looked down at the table not knowing what to do or say now.

"It was a lovely thought though baby, maybe next time I have a week off you can take one too, we can go somewhere together and just spend time together?" He agreed and you both began to think of places where you wanted to go.

Yoongi:

All you ever did was complain about your job which is why Yoongi had suggested what he had in the first place,

"Quit? You think I can just quit without having something else to fall back on?" You groaned sitting up in the bed and looking at Yoongi. It was one of those mornings when he'd just come home and you were just getting up for work.

"You're always complaining about your boss being an arsehole, I don't see a problem with it...Just quit." You shook your head at him,

"I can't just quit Yoongi I need something to have behind me, another job-"

"Another job?" He sat up and stared at you when he told you to quit he meant just quit working. He wanted you to stay at home and be happy that you didn't want to work for everything you had in your life. He was more than willing to pay for everything you and he owned.

"Yes...What did you think?"

"Well, I just thought that- I don't know, that maybe you would quit and not work again?" You laughed softly thinking it was some kind of a joke but then you saw the serious look on his face and you realised it wasn't a joke.

"Not work again? Yoongi how would I afford to live?" You laughed nervously but he took your hands in his,

"I would take care of everything, I earn more than enough for both of us." He was talking on and on about it so much that you knew he'd clearly been thinking about it for some time but you were still hung up on how he expected you to do nothing all day?

"What am I supposed to do while you're at work? Wait around until you come back?" He shook his head,

"No, you can do all of that reading you've been wanting to do, find a new hobby? A new skill. You can do anything you want,"

"I want to work Yoongi," You smiled at him, it was nice of him to think of you like this though. To think of providing for you both but it wasn't something you could ever do,

"I wouldn't be able to do that to you Yoongi.  It would feel wrong." He sighed, he knew you were right. It would feel like he was paying you to stick around,

"And if anyone ever found out, god the media would have a field day painting me as the bad guy." He laid back down and pulled you down to lay on his chest,

"I still don't like you working for that company, we'll find you somewhere else together and then you don't have to deal with your boss." You smiled and looked at the time,

"Speaking of which, if I'm late again he'll actually kill me." You kissed him before disappearing into the bathroom to have a shower and get ready for the day ahead of you.

Hoseok:

"I couldn't get the time off, but I'll come and see you on my next weekend off." Hoseok groaned as you told him, he'd been planning on taking you on tour with him and the boys but your boss wouldn't let you take any time off.

"I hate that job of yours, you should just quit." It had come out as a joke but the more that Hoseok thought about it the better idea it seemed to be,

"Yeah! You should just quit, I can look after you, you won't have to work for that stupid boss of yours ever again." He then began talking so fast that you could barely understand a word he was trying to say to you,

"Hobi?" You tried to interrupt but he began pacing around the bedroom and you were only catching onto some of the words he was saying. Something about quitting and then always being with him, no matter what tour they went on you could always be there for him. You stood still in front of him and he smiled down at you, giving you a kiss on the lips.

"I'm a genius,"

"You sure are babe but what are you so genius about?" He sighed and sat you down on the bed,

"You should just quit, that way I can take you all around the world with us on tour, we can go sightseeing together, do tourist things that couples do when they go to new places." You nodded along as he repeated everything he had been saying but in a slower way so you could understand him this time.

"That would be brilliant Hobi but I love my job, I don't want to quit it and run around the world with you." He looked at you and you knew you'd upset him.

"Of course I'd love to go with you Hobi but not all of the time. I have a life, I have friends and family here, and what would I do when you're practising all day on tour and then when we're home and you're at the studio," His mind hadn't thought about that, he'd only thought about all of the good things that would come along with you quitting your job.

"I'll still come and see you but I don't want to rely on you for money Hobi. I have my own job for a reason," He nodded and leant his forehead against yours, this would be his final night home until he left for their world tour.

"I'll see you in a month and until I get there we can call, skype and text." You promised him,

"It'll be like when we were dating," He chuckled at the memories and nodded with you, he knew you were right but he hated leaving you behind when he went away but he also adored his job.

"Pack. Before I get told off by Jin for distracting you and making you leave things behind again." You laughed and Hoseok began packing his things up, sneaking one of your shirts in there to cuddle at night.

Namjoon:

This whole fight had started out as something small but now it was a huge fight between you and Namjoon that had been going on for the last week. You'd stop at night and pick right back up when you both came home to one another the next time, fueled with more facts and insults for one another.

"What about when we start a family?! You're just going to take off right after giving birth to our son or daughter?!" You stared at Namjoon as he brought that up,

"It's different..." You whispered trying to think of how in any way that it would be different but you knew deep down that it wasn't. Namjoon had told you he wanted you to quit your job and that he didn't want you working at the office you worked for anymore. He could provide more than enough for you and him three times over if he really wanted to. He made enough money to do practically anything he wanted but he didn't seem to understand why you were so upset with him wanting you to quit.

"How is it different Y/n? You'll have a son or daughter and then leave them at home alone?" You shook your head,

"No Namjoon, of course not. But I want to work, I can't just sit around the house all day and be bored! What about if I want to go out shopping? I'm not going to use your money." He stared at you,a little shocked that you were exploding out about everything.  The whole fight you had been calm about it but you were starting to lose it.

"I don't want to rely on you for money Namjoon. Do you know how terrible I felt when I lost my job back when we first started dating? I stay up all night every night hunting for this job, applying for countless jobs because I didn't want to rely on you..." Namjoon had no idea that you'd done any of this, that you felt that way about taking money from him. He'd always seen the money as something you shared, you were married and living together, the money was joint between you.

"It's your money Namjoon, I don't want to take it." You whispered to him, he walked over to you and knelt in front of you.

"I didn't know you felt that way." You sighed and looked at him, you knew it was something you should have told him before but you never wanted to rely on anybody for anything. It was just the way you were brought up,

"I should have said something before but Namjoon I don't want to quit." He nodded and kissed you lovingly,

"Then you don't have to, I should have thought before I started mentioning it. I'm sorry." This was going to end up in one of those apology circles where you and Namjoon when back and forth saying sorry until you finally fell asleep so you just kissed him to shut you both up.

Jimn:

You crashed through the door and into Namjoon's studio where Namjoon, Jimin and Kai were sitting.

"I brought your coffee, you weren't in the TXT studio so I figured you'd be with Joon." Jimin watched you handing Kai his coffee before leaving through the door and he frowned racing out after you.

"Baby, what are you doing?" He questioned, you stared at him and then over his shoulder.

"Jimin I can't talk, I'm late for a meeting with PD," You tried to go around him but he grabbed onto your wrist to stop you from moving away from him.

"Since when were you on coffee runs for TXT and going into meetings with PD again?" He stared at you wanting answers but giving him answers meant admitting that you'd been demoted from your other job and given an intern role but with low payment.

"You can't lie to me," You sighed knowing he was right,

"I got demoted, they found out about me and you being together so they demoted me. Jimin I'm lucky I'm not fired so can I go please?" His grip was still on your wrist and you heard PD calling your name,

"If I don't get to that meeting I won't even have this job Jimin." He shook his head,

"Then quit, I don't want you to work here if you're going to be a coffee maid, I can provide for us...I can pay for our bills and we can-"

"Are you asking me to quit my job and let you pay for everything?" He nodded not seeing a problem with it, his dad paid for everything his mum had.

"Jimin I can't just quit it's my job..."

"You got demoted-"

"And I can earn a promotion again as I did before...Do you think I would just quit and rely on you?" You were slightly offended that he would think you would just quit and use him for money,

"No, but I have the money I don't see the big deal." You stared at him and you knew he really didn't see the issue with it.

"It's not about money Jimin, I don't want to rely on you for anything...I can't explain this properly right now but I would never use you for your money for anything." The way you worded it cleared everything up 'Use him for his money.'

"I didn't- I don't want you to rely on..." The more he tried to explain it the more he realised what it had sounded like and he kissed you,

"I'll cook dinner tonight, work hard baby." You smiled and ran to catch up to bang PD.

Taehyung:

You were busy because you worked for another kpop idol, usually, it was just running around for coffee but just lately they'd been wanting more and more from you so you were getting home later and later. When you walked through the front door that night you hadn't expected to see Taehyung sitting on the sofa waiting for you to come in,

"Baby, it's late. You should be in bed." You whispered going up behind him and rubbing his shoulders, he smiled at the feeling. He'd missed you all week and now you were finally here he never wanted you to leave again.

"I haven't seen you all week, I missed you." He grumbled so you sat down next to him on the sofa and laid your head down on his lap.

"I know, I'm sorry. The guy I work for he wants me to start getting into the business properly." His hands were playing with your hair as you yawned.

"I've been thinking about it a lot..." You hummed as a sign for him to continue talking and he sighed.

"What if you quit..." You sat up as the words came from his mouth, you'd never talked about something like this before.

"Why would I quit?" You questioned turning so you were sitting face to face with him on the sofa, he looked nervously down at his hands before looking back at your face.

"Well I mean you don't need to work, I can afford to look after us and more." You felt your heartbreak as he spoke about this,

"Tae I don't-"

"I can afford the house, I can afford our bills and then I still have loads left to pay for whatever else we may want." You shook your head quickly getting off of the sofa so you could try and process what he was saying to you, it was 2 in the morning and he was telling you all of this now.

"Tae, no...No I don't want you to pay for everything." He continued to talk about how he wouldn't mind and how he could afford to do it but it was only making you feel worse as a person.

"Tae! Do you remember when we first started dating? How I didn't want you to pay for my meal? Do you remember that?" Of course, he did, it was one of the many reasons that he'd started to fall for you. You didn't want him for his money, you wanted him for him.

"Yes but this is different, this would be me providing for my girlfriend, my future..."

"Tae, I don't want to rely on you for money. What about when I want to go out? I'm not going to start asking you for money, or relying on you when I need money or new clothes." He wasn't understanding and you knew why he wasn't, this was his first serious relationship and he didn't see the big deal with it. It was just money to him,

"I can't take your money Tae." He could see how upset you were getting so he nodded his head,

"Fine, okay. Don't quit okay? I just...I want to see you more." He whispered and you got back onto the sofa next to him and laid your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Tae...I'll try and get some time off, find something else with fewer hours. I don't like being away from you either." He sighed wrapping his arm around you and drawing your body closer to his so he could hold you as long as he could.

"I have the weekend off though." You whispered closing your eyes,

"Me too." He whispered back to you, kissing your head and letting you sleep next to him.

Jungkook:

You were sitting on the sofa with Jungkook and Jimin watching one of those old black and white TV shows where the wife ran around for the man. Made sure dinner was on the table by a certain time and ran everything perfectly while the husband worked all day every day.

"Don't you think that's nice?" Jimin and you turned to look at Jungkook who was sitting in the middle of you and holding the popcorn.

"Do we think what is nice?" You questioned, taking a handful of popcorn and putting it into your mouth. You and Jungkook had been together for three years and you'd just moved in together, tonight was the first night you'd invited one of the guys over.

"Having someone waiting for you at home, having dinner ready for you the moment you step through the door." You snorted back and laugh and shook your head,

"Oh yes, and the poodle skirt she's wearing is just define. Maybe if she's lucky he'll give her an allowance and let her go to the shop," You were only half-joking at this point. You and Jungkook had gotten into a fight earlier that night about you leaving your job but it wasn't something that you wanted to do, you wanted to keep working. You loved working and you loved your job but Jungkook didn't, it kept you away from him just as much as his job kept you away from him.

"You know that's not what I meant, I just meant it's nice to have that kind of life. Someone to come home to." You rolled your eyes and Jimin could sense something big was coming so he made an excuse to leave the apartment.

"Is that how you want our life to be? You want me to run around after you like some kind of housewife? Have dinner on the table for when you get in?" He shook his head as he followed you into the kitchen,

"No, I just- It's not a completely awful thought...Coming home to you." You stared at him as you leant back against the kitchen countertop.

"You want to come home to me in a poodle skirt with dinner ready on time? Run around like a slave?" You continued ranting on about how disgusting it was for women back then and how they had no rights, had literally nothing but their husbands and he realised what he'd said,

"No. No, look-" He took your hands and walked you over to the kitchen table sitting down with you as he held your hands in his so that he could talk this through properly.

"I just meant I thought it would be nice to come home to you all of the time, there are nights when I don't come home or you don't come home because we're so busy...I don't want you to run around like a housewife but being able to see you every night would be nice." You realised you'd probably overreacted about everything but it was just how you felt,

"I can't give up my job Kook." You whispered to him,

"I can maybe go down to part-time but I can't quit if I quit I'll go insane with nothing to do." He nodded in agreement with you and you leaned across to kiss him,

"Though you in a poodle skirt does sound cute," You pushed his chest playfully and he chuckled at you and then shook his head.

"I'll talk to my boss Kook," You promised him and he kissed you again running his hands up your side and smiling as he felt you move the chair closer to him

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @lyoongx​ @fan-ati--c​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y.n #bts #bts reaction #bts reactions #seokjin #jin #seokjin x reader #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga #jhope #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok #namjoon x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #park jimin #jimin #jimin x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

Midnight Terrors

Kung Jin is awoken by someone sneaking past his bedroom. Fearing an enemy attack, he gives chase, but finds out the intruder's identity and motives are completely unexpected.

Kung Jin jolted awake upon hearing the sounds of hurried footsteps outside his room.

They weren't loud at all - in fact, if the Shaolin monk wasn't so well-seasoned by the numerous sneak attacks he and his fellow Special Forces teammates had been subjected to in their visits to Outworld, he might've just missed them entirely. Whoever was out there knew how to move quietly, regardless of the evident panic in their uneven stride.

Someone with such skill sneaking around the temple in the middle of the night couldn't possibly mean anything good.

Kung Jin sprung out of bed, snatching his staff and wasting no time in darting out of the room. He was relatively unprotected, sporting only the plain tank top and shorts he usually slept in, but he couldn't afford to slow down and let the intruder escape; whoever was out there was fast, and there was no telling of what they might do if left unchecked... That is, if they hadn't already finished whatever job they were sent to do.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the dark thoughts forming in his mind, the Shaolin warrior continued to run through the moonlit corridor, the feeling of the cold marble tiles beneath his feet dispelling whatever traces of sleepiness still lingered within him. He could hear muted noises right ahead - they resembled voices, but they sounded distorted and out of sync; they had an almost sinister, yet desperate feel to them, and Jin had the disturbing feeling they were somehow familiar.

Slowing down as to avoid detection, the monk tracked the strange sounds to a huge, slightly open wooden door on one side of the hallway. He recognized it as one of the many meditation rooms in the temple - he himself visited it quite often, being the one closest to his own room and in relative isolation from everyone else in the temple. It was the perfect place to lock yourself in if you didn't want to be seen... or caught. Tightening his hold on his staff and channeling his energy until he felt the familiar heat of fire forming inside the metal dragon's maw, Kung Jin drew a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside, ready to confront whoever - or whatever - was on the other side.

What he saw caught him completely off guard, and whatever hostility he had felt died down in a split second.

A man was down on his knees in the middle of the room, pose askew as if he had carelessly - or perhaps, despairingly - thrown himself into the floor; his long, graying hair was a mess, free from the braid it was usually styled in, and his frame shook everytime he attempted to breathe, making it apparent he was struggling to do so. His warped, echoing voice recited a choked prayer, the ominous sound doing little to mask the sheer fright dripping from every word, and the faint glow cast by the pulsating yellow veins stretching throughout his ashen skin revealed trails of blood leaking from nail-shaped wounds in his arms. Kung Jin let out a light, anxious gasp, lowering his staff and staring at the figure in front of him.

"Lao?" He asked softly, failing to stop his voice from trembling at the end. The revenant flinched at the mention of his name and curled further into himself, his voice growing more desperate and desynchronized as he struggled to continue his plea - a chant used to purify one's spirit, Jin noted. The young Shaolin moved to his uncle's side, kneeling next to him to try and get his attention. "Easy there, old man," he murmured, moving his hands in a placating gesture, "It's me, Jin. It's okay."

Kung Lao turned to face the other warrior, blazing eyes wild with dread despite his nephew's reassurance. Whatever words he was trying to say died in his cracked lips as he frantically gasped for air, and Jin, recognizing the older man's struggle, placed a firm hand in his back in an attempt to ground him.

"Breathe with me," Kung Jin instructed, inhaling slowly and exaggerating his motions so they'd be easier to follow. It took a few attempts, but Lao understood soon enough and began following his rhythm, eventually managing to calm down enough to shoot him a grateful look. Jin nodded.

"You did great," he said with a soft smile.

Kung Lao shook his head, looking away. "I'm sorry. I... lost it," he whispered, bitterness lacing his words. The younger Shaolin frowned.

"What are you talking about?" He inquired. Lao drew in a sharp breath, refusing to look back at his nephew.

"I had a nightmare." The revenant stopped for a moment, running a hand down his face. Jin noticed traces of dry blood trickling down his blackened nails and into his palm. "I was beating your team up, really badly. I tried to stop myself, but the more I struggled, the worse it got, and then I..." he shut his eyes tightly. "I killed you, one by one. Cassandra, Jacqueline, Takeda... And you. I ended your lives with my bare hands, and I was laughing, and it felt so real, and I... I panicked. By the elder gods, I was terrified. I thought... I thought I had actually hurt someone."

For a moment, Lao looked down at his hands, studying the dried trails of crimson running down his fingers. He then huffed, his face twisting into a disgusted snarl.

"That doesn't change anything, though. I did hurt people - committed unthinkable atrocities. It doesn't matter how hard I try to hide it..." He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his fists tightly, long nails digging into his skin with enough force to draw fresh blood. "I'm still a monster. Am, and always will be."

The sinister, out of sync echo of the revenant's voice only amplified the vitriolic self-loathing present in his words, and Kung Jin's chest ached at how familiar the whole situation was.

"Is that all you think you are?" he asked quietly, tawny eyes locking with his uncle's fiery ones. Kung Lao was taken aback by the sheer hurt written all over his nephew's face. "You do realize it wasn't your fault... right? You were under Quan Chi's control. You couldn't-"

"I enjoyed it!" Kung Lao growled, interrupting the other warrior. "I tried to stop it, but it felt good. No matter how hard I fought, how much I tried to resist, it felt good, and I couldn't control it. I-"

"It wasn't you," Jin cut him off, a solemn edge to his voice. "It was never you."

The revenant let out a trembling exhale, a pained expression taking ahold of his face. He closed his eyes and curled into himself. "I should've tried harder. I... should've been stronger."

Kung Jin didn't think twice before wrapping his arms around Kung Lao's frame, pulling him into a hug. The older Shaolin was unsure of how to react at first, stunned by the sudden contact - he couldn't remember the last time he had been embraced like this, and the unexpected display of affection seemed almost alien to him. It took a while, but he eventually returned the gesture, allowing himself to give into it completely. Jin sniffled.

Despite Lao's unnaturally cold form, it almost reminded him of the last time they bid each other farewell all those years ago. Before the world came crashing down for both of them.

"No, Lao." The younger warrior said, finally breaking the silence. He felt like a child, clinging desperately to his uncle as if the older man would somehow disappear if he let go. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was." He broke away from the embrace to look at the other warrior in the eye. "Anyone else would've succumbed to the darkness, but you? You made a conscious effort to come back once you broke free. You fought to get your life back, and you did, and you're so, so strong for it."

Kung Lao opened his mouth to protest, but Jin shot him a warning look and raised a finger to silence him before he could say anything. "Don't blame yourself for things you had no control over. What matters is that you're here, now, and you're being true to yourself despite everything. You're not a monster. You..." The young Shaolin looked away for a moment, carefully considering his next words, and when he looked back at his uncle, it was with a fond smile on his face. "You're a hero."

Lao stared at his nephew as he processed his words. The other man's genuine expression filled his chest with an overwhelming feeling of warmth, and he forced himself to rub his eyes with the back of his hand in an attempt to hide the moisture building in them. "Just a hero?" he asked, shooting Jin a knowing look. The archer rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

"Fine," he huffed dramatically. "My hero."

Kung Lao chuckled. "I thought I was just another thing in your way."

Jin snorted and shoved him jokingly. "The only thing you're in the way of is my sleep schedule. C'mon, I need rest, and so do you." He punched his uncle's shoulder softly and gestured for him to stand up. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Wait," Lao said , stopping Jin dead in his tracks. "I can't go out like this."

"Didn't stop you from waking me up," the younger warrior shot back, causing his uncle to pout. "Plus, I doubt your spirit can settle down when you're hurt and covered in blood." He shot the other man a devious look when he groaned. "Tough luck, gramps."

Kung Lao sighed dramatically before standing up. "You sure have a way with words."

Kung Jin shrugged as he picked up his staff and followed suit. "It's a Kung thing."

The two men approached the wooden door, and Jin was about to hold it open when Lao spoke up out of the blue. "Jin?"

"Hm?"

"... Thank you."

The archer looked back at his uncle, and they locked eyes. Gratitude was written all over the revenant's expression, and, despite his inhuman features, Kung Jin could see the soft smile on his face was genuine. He grinned back.

"You're such a softie. C'mon, old men first."

#yes kung lao only appears human when he's Chill and yes he also has trauma. dont @ me it isnt my fault nrs left all this up in the air #Kung Jin #Kung Lao #hat fics

[deithe]

the bones (2,847 words) (1/1)

(an introspective on jason grace. kind of?)

read here on ao3 or read below the cut!

jason falls in love with the human equivalent of a forest fire

(his mother fell in love with the sky itself)

jason grace grew up being told that his destiny was very, very simple.

his first and most important mission, handed down to him from lady juno and mother lupa, was that jason was destined to save rome. that his destiny lay with new rome and camp jupiter, a new romulus to lead the pack to greatness. he would spill so much blood in new rome’s name that the little tiber would overflow and the gods would crown him with a golden laurel made from monster ichor.

he would be everything everyone else needed.

a spear for the senate, a shield for new rome, a standard to replace the one that had been lost, a sword for the gods to wield, and another pack member for lupa. he would be the perfect soldier, a demigod fashioned by two god-mothers for the simple act of being a weapon.

his second duty was that jason was to be nothing like his father.

his father, evil, unpredictable, selfish and cruel, was to be jason’s antithesis. lady juno stressed this, as did the senate, as did his praetors (though praetor saville jason eventually killed in battle, so jason doesn’t take her words to heart anymore). jason was never, ever to be like his father. all sons of jupiter before him were either driven insane or were killed, and jason’s great destiny could not afford for him to do either of those things.

‘hubris’ lady juno once told him, while going through his latin lessons in the damp cold of the den (or wolf house, as she called it), ‘is the thing that kills sons of jupiter’.

so jason was to never be prideful, but at the same time, never to believe he was inferior. he was to be subservient but never meek, he was to be a capable fighter but never violent. he was to be kind but not a pushover. open but not flirtatious.

he was to be perfect. he could not afford anything else.

then he, in the span of a few months, murdered his prateor after finding out she was a traitor, watched his friend be assaulted by a family legacy of prophetic visions which turned him into a paranoid asshole, watched his other friend assume a leadership role, one which he tried to refuse, and fought an army, killed a titan and toppled kronos’ black throne.

he also became praetor and then was promptly kidnapped by lady juno, leaving said other friend with all the responsibility.

then any and all plans the gods had for him were ruined by a daughter of aphrodite with eyes like the earth and a son of hephaestus with a smile like war.

how could jason be the perfect soldier when his loyalties no longer lay with new rome? he loved his home, he loved his siblings-in-arms, he loved the legion-

he loved leo and piper more than the breath in his lungs, than the sky and earth and more than his destiny. he loved them enough to try and find whatever scraps of himself he had. to create something they could love too.

(heracles killed himself after accidentally killing his family. love killed him in the end)

and so, jason failed in his first mission. he could no longer put new rome above them, above camp half-blood.

jason doesn’t think becoming his father is an option for him, however. his father is prideful and arrogant and his father's likeness, he will eventually learn, belongs only to his prodigal sister.

and so, jason grace finds his last name, a family he never knew, friends he could die for and an empty cabin that seemed less lonely with leo or piper in it.

then they went on a quest, leo built a ship and they all set sail to stop gaia from rising.

then jason lost leo, then jason lost everything, then jason lost himself and then lost piper-

and, in the middle of winter, leo valdez came crashing down on a metal dragon with eyes like a nuclear explosion and teeth made for tearing meat from bone, or tearing jason’s heart from his chest.

and then jason found himself again in the space between the junction between leo valdez's fourth and fifth ribs.

leo valdez is a lot of things. he’s a son of hephaestus and a complete asshole. he’s the first child of hephaestus to be born with the ability to create and control fire in over 400 years. he’s a 5’4ft guy who wears platformed boots to make himself seem taller. he’s so powerful that he obliterated gaia. he’s a genius. he thinks spraying axe bodyspray on himself is the same as a shower. he overworks himself even when he doesn’t have to. he can fight gods and go toe-to-toe with any big three kid and hold his own. he likes to survive on a diet of mango monster energy and takis. he's obnoxious. he's thoughtful. he makes mean-spirited jokes at other people's expense. he's the best person jason's ever met

he’s-

currently late for their date.

It’s not that jason minds, per se, but leo has a nasty habit of getting so completely lost in his work that he can plan a date for the next day, and jason won’t see him for at least three days. it’s one of the downsides of being the trophy boyfriend of a genius.

jason sighs and rocks back on his heels, eyes darting up to the grey, overcast sky. he can almost hear leo in his head, asking if he could pretty please make it less goddamn cold? and his pout when jason refuses to change the weather for him.

it's not that jason won't. it's just that he can't. it makes aeolus snappy.

sometimes he still does it. manipulates the air currents just enough to warm the air around them and leo smiles, a real one, small and soft. like it wasn't meant to be seen. a secret thing, just for jason.

jason doesn't see leo smile like that often.

it's mid-february in new york and jason is kicking around central park in the grey mid-day light. it's quiet, this part of the park, with barely anyone passing jason as he leans against a tree, wet dew dripping into his unstyled hair. it's cold, but not cold enough for a freeze or snow. just the right amount of cold to turn your hands numb and purple from cold

which. if you've never seen leo 'was raised in texas and has fire powers' valdez in new york snow, jason fully believes you've never lived.

he spends another 30 minutes splitting his time from staring into space and wandering around the meeting spot they've arranged. it's peaceful here. jason can even hear some birds twittering and chirping in the trees above. the cold even stops bothering him. jason likes being alone sometimes.

it reminds him of the lupercal and lupa. long days and nights in the loneliness of the redwood forest. just him and the wolves and the stars.

though now jason has sturdy boots and a wool jacket, so not exactly the same.

he's in the middle of trying to coax a timid sparrow onto the hand, crouched on the balls of his feet when he feels a presence beside him. he goes stiff when he realises and then, like all the tension has been zapped out of him, goes relaxed again.

"that," leo whispers, also crouched beside jason, "is one fat fucking bird"

jason represses a grin, "don't say that. he's probably barely eaten all winter," and leo snorts, moving closer to jason so their shoulders brush. the bird regards leo with some caution but his black, beady eyes seem to acknowledge that jason would keep him safe.

"he looks better fed than me, jace. do you care more about this bird than your own poor boyfriend?" leo says, faux-sadness in his voice, "how cruel, jason grace. how cruel".

jason turns in time to see leo shake his head, black curls wild around his face as they shudder like leaves in the wind. his eyes are dark brown, watching the bird watch leo. a staring contest.

leo says his name like no one else does. like it's a name. like it's good. like it's something familiar and warm. he does not say 'jason' and imagine a great hero or a wolf-boy with no past. he does not say 'grace' like a joke, like grasp for power, like it carries too much weight for his tongue to bare.

he says it like it belongs to jason. he says it like it's important. not too fast, but not too slow.

leo turns his head to find jason staring at him.

"jason" he calls, lips quirking up at the edge, pulling out the 'o' like toffee, "i know i'm pretty irresistible but please, keep your longing stares for the bedroom"

jason shoves up against leo's shoulder, blush bursting across his already red-cold face.

he pushes just slightly too hard and leo goes spilling across the wet grass, yelping in surprise.

"jason!" he yells, looking up at jason half shocked and half in amusement. "what the fuck, dude!"

jason can't help himself.

leo is wearing jason's hoodie, the black one mrs.blofis picked out for jason which leo claimed as his own even before they started dating. his new denim, fur-lined jacket (from the hide of the nemean lion they killed last year) is just slightly too big and he's wearing black jeans. he looks like the college freshman he is. he looks mortal.

he looks human. he has leaves in his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, teeth showing through the toothy smile he's giving and-

it's uncanny, sometimes, how well they can pass for normal. you almost can't tell leo's died and come back to life. you almost can't tell he's more powerful than any living mortal.

almost.

jason falls on top of leo in the wet grass, which causes leo to yelp, again, and knee jason in the stomach.

jason groans "dude, what the hades was that for?" and he rolls of leo, onto the wet grass beside him, arms protectively covering his bruised stomach.

"you fell directly on top of me, you big lug," and leo sits up, picking a leaf out of his curls absentmindedly, "if you haven't noticed, you're like a bean-pole with muscle mass. that shit hurts!"

jason pouts up at leo, who manages to look both unimpressed and fond. he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to jason, who accepts and leo hauls him into a sitting position in front of him

"hi, leo" jason says finally, "you're late"

"i'm not late, loser, you're just a nerd and get places earlier than normal people. its super weird," leo tells him, matter-of-factly, scooting closer to him as they sit on the ground. "you should really get it checked. might be terminal nerdiness. the glasses are just the first sign"

jason raises an eyebrow, curviving over said glasses. "i didn't know it could be terminal. oh well, guess i'll just wither away and die from being punctual. what an injust life i lead. how the sorrows never end"

leo pouts, eyes sparking with enough warmth to keep out the cold for decades to come, "don't be so down about it, I hear being a nerd has perks,"

jason moves closer, so his knees are half-pulled up to his chest and he's balancing his weight on his hand. leo fits perfectly in the bracket of his arms.

"oh? do tell?" he asks, and leo is close enough that jason can see the faint freckles on his cheeks. they're fading from how far away leo has been from the sun, but jason loves them anyways.

"yup," leo says, popping the p and smiling like the cat who got the cream. "do you know that all nerds get super hot and funny and sexy boyfriends? as compensation for being such nerds, of course"

jason pulls back his head a bit, just as leo laces his arms around his shoulders, "really?" and his voice is soft, but the smile won't disappear from his lips, "wow, didn't know that. guess I'm lucky that you're such a huge nerd or-"

leo kisses him like coming home. and in a way it is.

jason has known many homes. he's known the small apartment with his mother that smelt like spilt wine and smoke and mold. he's known the lupercal and the redwood forests around it. he's known the barracks at camp jupiter and the feeling of purpose in his chest. he's known cabin 1 and cabin 9 and bunker 9 and on the back of festus and on the argo. he's known the feeling of reyna laughing as he tells her wild stories and of the fifth cohort raising him on their shields. he's known lying in leo's private room with piper and leo, listening to low music and feeling safe with just them.

but the one person who jason has felt like home since they met was leo. his high ground through the tsunami. his parachute during a plane crash. the one point of home. like the north-star.

jason smiles into the kiss, his free hand tangling itself in the rough fabric of leo's dark blue denim jacket. it's soft and chaste, more a press of warm lips than anything. it's comforting. it's familiar. it's everything he wants.

leo pulls back a bit, just far enough to speak but still close enough that his breath brushes up against jason's cold face. "hi," he says, brushing his nose against his, "missed you, bro".

jason snorts, "i missed you too, leo, how's MIT treating you?"

"like i'm it's bitch is how it's treating me," leo tells him, slumping slightly into jason, forehead against jason's. "can we not talk about college? i think if we talk about college I might start crying and then our date will be ruined"

jason pulls back a bit to look at leo. he does look more tired than usual, eye-bags darker and lips bitten from nervousness. he frowns, using his free hand to cup his face. "are you okay? we can just go back to your dorm if you're too tired-"

"ugh, no way" leo groans, "fuck that. i just wanna spend time with you, okay? i wanna be mushy and all that gay shit. i want bad food and to kiss you again and again and do more than kissing-"

jason rolls his eyes.

"-and then go back to mrs.blofis apartment and watch really bad movies you like for some reason and then i'll go to sleep beside you and it'll be gay and shit"

"gay and shit?"

"gay and shit, you better believe it grace. but first-"

and leo untangles himself from jason and stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees leaving jason frowning on the floor.

he offers out his hand, brown skin calloused from work, long, thin fingers curled slightly as the palm faced upwards.

"c'mon, super, treat your louis lane to some greasy new york food before he decides batman has better pay"

jason is so, so lucky he got leo valdez. that the fates decides to make sure that his destiny crosses leo's. that he convinced leo valdez to let down his walls, to stay, that jason wouldn't leave him like the others, or hurt him or betray him.

that jason was in it for as long as leo wanted him to be. that jason only wanted leo to say his name, wanted to give it to leo because leo's the only one who's mouth jason trusts with it. that jason wanted to give leo his past. wanted to show him and tell him where he got each scar.

he trusts leo with this. he trusts leo's hands to not burn it all to ash. because he knows that if leo wanted to, he could. he could burn jason alive with a thought. turn him to ash and glass with a flick of his hand.

jason has fallen in love with a nuclear bomb, with a supernova of a boy and jason doesn't care if it kills him, because he has spent so long pretending to be what everyone else needed, that now he was going to be who he wanted to be. even if it got him killed. even if it burned him alive.

jason grace has fallen in love with the human version of a forest fire. he should be afraid of it, of leo. he is not. he never will be.

beryl grace fell in love with the sky itself. wanted all the stars in heaven and didn't care what happened to her. as long as she knew she had the stars attention. as long as she knew the sky loved her back.

as long as he knew the fire loved him back.

he takes his hand.

#my writing #jason grace #fanfic #hoo #toa has no power over me i do as i please #leo valdez #valgrace

[willowcreekrun]

kit/santi + waiting all day to tell them any kind of good news that you got because you're most excited for their reaction and encouragement than anyone else's, no matter how hard it is keeping it from others throughout the whole day 💐💐💐

When the point standings update for the A-rated jumper finals, Kit snoozes the notification on her phone and goes to work.

It’s only when the horses are turned out and the stalls mucked that she pauses to eat a quick morning snack and see what margin she missed by this year; She and Babs always do well in the circuit, but never well enough to beat out the kids whose parents can afford to import warmbloods and put them in full board and training at places like Mannor Hall.

With all this in mind, it’s no wonder she chokes on her granola bar when she reads the word ‘QUALIFIED’ in big, beautiful, impossible-to-miss lettering. Qualified!

Now she doesn’t know what to do with herself - she’s been fidgeting all day.

“What’s gotten into you?” Victoria snaps when Kit misses the buckle on Knight’s throat latch for the third time in a row. “At this rate I’ll be late for my lesson!”

“Sorry,” Kit mumbles. Her hands are still twitchy, but the buckle finally latches - not too loose and not too tight.

Victoria huffs imperiously before snatching the reins from her and stomping off to the arena for her jump lesson. The big liver chestnut lumbers after her, and Kit watches them go bouncing on the balls of her feet. It takes a moment to come back to herself and move on to the next horse that needs to be tacked, the next bridle that needs to be cleaned, the next stall that needs to be swept in.

She just can’t stop thinking about it. She’s qualified.

There’s still plenty to sort out, like whether she can afford the entry fees, and how much it will cost to trailer out to the venue, and a million other obstacles like that, but for now she’s just excited. Everything in her wants to shout the news from the rooftops!

But - but - she wants to tell Santiago first.

She can’t even really say why, just that it feels important. Feels right.

…It’s a long day of waiting for a girl who hates secrets.

She almost mentions it to her brothers when they call in the middle of the afternoon asking for her Netflix password (they’ve been kicked off the Kelley parents’ account for breaking yet another vase while roughhousing). The words start to form in her mouth before she snatches them back, stuttering and then silencing herself.

“What’s that about?” Nick teases.

“I’ll tell you later.”

She says it too fast and can feel their sneaky glances through the phone, but manages to hang up without giving anything more away.

Then, after work, she starts to tell the cashier ringing up her groceries - ten cans of ravioli that were on sale and a tub of strawberry ice cream.

“Sorry,” she apologizes when she cuts off halfway through a sentence.

They flash her a puzzled smile but don’t press the issue. Just a, “Have a nice night now, Sugar,” before sending her on her way.

When she finally makes it to Santiago’s place she’s buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Is it weird of her to have waited to tell him first? Will he be as happy as she is? What if she’s being too much? Should she have called ahead? She’s definitely being too—

“Hey, Kit,” Santiago says with a puzzled smile as he opens the door.

“I brought dinner,” she says, lifting the double-bagged cans of ravioli like they explain her sudden presence at his doorstep.

In true Santiago fashion, he waits patiently through the warming of the ravioli and the setting of the table and the ramblings about Kit’s day until they’re finally sat opposite one another at his modest kitchen table.

“Sooo, I didn’t come here just to feed you shitty ravioli from a can,” Kit admits, fidgeting with her spoon.

“Really?” The fake surprise in Santiago’s voice is entirely kind, but she still scrunches her nose at him.

“Asshole. I’ve been waiting to tell you all day!”

“Waiting to tell me…?”

“Babs and I qualified! We finally qualified for jumper finals!”

The smile that lights up her face while she shares the news is nothing compared to the one he gives her while hearing it.

“Congratulations, Kit! How do you feel?”

“Like a million bucks! That’s why dinner’s on me.”

His smile softens to a look of fond exasperation. “If I knew we were celebrating I would’ve made you something a little nicer than Chef Boyardee.”

“You’re such a snob,” she says. “This shit was on sale - be grateful!”

“Thank you for dinner,” he says to appease her. The look in his eyes is terribly fond and makes her wiggle in her seat, unable to sit still and trying hard not to meet his gaze. “And thank you for telling me. You should be so proud of yourself and all the hard work you’ve put into competing this season.”

Kit stutters out something close to a “thank you” and pointedly ignores the pleased flush spreading across her face at his words.

It’s… nice.

She thinks telling him first was the right decision. When he reaches across the table to place an encouraging hand on hers, she knows it.

#asks #kit x santi #kit kelley #santiago vargas #THEM 💘💘💘💘💘💘

[babbushka]

First Glimpse, Last Looks

007!Reader x Bond Villain!Kylo Ren

3.7k ; N S F W (casual sex/one night stand with a stranger, praise kink, mirror sex), teasing and playful banter, shameless flirtation, hidden identity

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

You smile at your reflection in the hotel mirror, all dolled up for a night downstairs. 

You look good, damn good, if you do say so yourself. Your thigh holster is well concealed by the evening gown, the knife in the back of your heel looks like a pretty decorative element no one would suspect. And no one should suspect it, there’s not supposed to be any trouble tonight.

Well, you think as you apply lipstick in your favorite shade, aside from one man, the man you were sent here to study.

His name is Kylo Ren, a moniker if you’ve ever heard one. One of the most dangerous criminals in the entire world, and certainly one of the richest. It’s no wonder that you’re to find him here, at one of the world’s most famous casinos. It seems that the best only liked to be with the best, not that you minded. As far as missions went, you were glad to be whisked off to exotic places and put up in the nicest hotel rooms.

You leave said nice hotel room now, saying goodbye to the panorama views and big soft bed for the time being. Surveillance is the name of the game for the evening, and you’re given free reign from M to enjoy yourself. You’ve got to blend in after all, have to be unsuspecting. That shouldn’t be too hard, you think as you make your way down to the casino, your heels clicking pleasantly on the polished marble flooring, your dress accentuating your body beautifully.

The casino is a high end place, there’s a live band playing smooth jazz up on a little stage, and everyone around you is dressed to the nines, which you’re pleased to see. Pleased because at least it means this criminal has good taste, refined taste. But then again, how could a renowned jewelry designer not be dripping in luxury?

You walk around the casino, blinking away the cigarette and cigar smoke which wafts up from the tables as rich men entertain pretty women with games of craps. You can’t help but smile at the winners and feel poorly for the poor suckers who lose, but that’s the way the money rolls, isn’t it. And what money too – bets starting at ten thousand dollars and only ever climbing, you’re impressed.

You’ve got a good chunk of chips yourself, provided so that you might infiltrate the place a little better, but you’re not in the mood to make a spectacle of yourself, not tonight anyway. Mr. Ren’s reservation was supposedly lasting through the weekend, and as it’s only Friday night, you’re sure that you’ll be here for a little while.

Speaking of Mr. Ren, you begin subtly trying to pick him out from the crowd. You know he’s a big spender, a high roller, he’s always got to have attention on him, eyes on him. Unusual, for someone under suspicion of smuggling gold across foreign soil, but then again, not at all. You’d been given the brief on what he looks like, but unfortunately there are no photographs of him – they all seem to magically disappear from any and all databases. All you know is that he’s hulking, tall and wide and has a twisted mangled facial deformity – shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, you smile to yourself.

You make a little show of weaving through all the people, down towards a beautiful bar in art deco style. It’s the perfect vantage point for all the tables, and you strike up a cigarette to pass the time.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” The bartender asks as he wipes down an impeccably clean glass.

“No thank you, I’m meeting someone here.” You say easily, and the bartender smiles in understanding.

“If you change your mind, just give me a nod.” He says, going on his way, off to deal with another customer.  

You flick your ash in the crystal dish nearby on the bar counter and simply watch, enjoying the spectacle of it all – when you can’t help but hear the gentle applause coming from one of the cards tables. It seems that someone has just won a game of baccarat, which you find impressive, for the game is notoriously high stakes and oh how the dealers hate to lose.

You cast your gaze over to the gentleman who is quietly yet absolutely pleased as he pulls all the chips over to his pile, as if the money means nothing to him. You’re sure it probably doesn’t, if he’s playing and betting baccarat to begin with.

But what strikes you more than anything else, is how handsome the gentleman is. He’s got glossy black hair and proud shoulders, wrapped in a deliciously tailored tuxedo. You’re pretty sure that’s a rolex on his wrist, and while all that is well and good, you’re drawn to the irregularity of his facial features. His nose seems to be a bit too large for his face, but it’s in an endearing way, a way that you can see yourself playfully touching with the tip of your finger before asking for a kiss.

What a dangerous thought.

Even more dangerous, is that he’s looking right at you, giving you a smile. There are worse men to find you attractive, you think, as you turn away from him and give your neck a little stretch, flick your ash, knowing that he’ll take the hint and come over. M did say to have fun, didn’t she?

You feel his presence before anything else, the way he smells so wonderfully of a spiced cologne – not too much, just the right amount to get you interested. He’s warm, radiates a warmth that’s got you wondering how good it must feel to be tucked up against him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you all alone.” His voice is deep, a rich baritone that you feel down in your bones as you seductively look over your shoulder, cigarette delicately held between your fingers.

“You couldn’t? Seems like everyone else could.” You raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. It’s more of a half smirk than anything else, but you’re hung up on his dimples, on how he’s got the most darling beauty marks all across his face, a little constellation of freckles.

“Pity for them.” He leans up against the bar top, and you turn towards him, an invitation. He takes it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“You can buy me two.” You reply, and he smiles wider at that, at the way you’re allowing him in. He’s so handsome, you think that if this Kylo Ren won’t show up tonight, at least you can still make the effort to look nice worthwhile.

“What do you like?” The charming man asks, signaling for the bartender to come back over.

“I’m not picky, as long as it’s in a martini glass.” You wink, and the man chuckles.

“Two vesper martinis please.” He asks of the bartender, who immediately sets to work.

“Shaken, not stirred.” You say, giving the bartender a kind smile when they nod in acknowledgement.

“I love a woman who’s particular.” The man doesn’t sit down next to you, instead he’s got one long leg crossed over the other as he leans against the counter, striking up a cigarette of his own. There’s something awfully delicious about the way it looks between his plush lips, and you’re drawn to them, to the way he flicks the match and lights it with ease.

“Really? That’s quite a modern attitude.” You tease. It’s 1964 after all, too many men are busy hating their wives, living out some white picket dream that you never had any time for.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very modern man.” He smirks with a wink of his own, and you have to look down and away, lest you start getting too obvious too fast. You’re obvious of course, but you want to seem a little aloof, want to keep him interested.

“I believe congratulations are in order, I saw you win back there.” You say, fiddling with the little napkin that the bartender lays out before you while the drinks are nearly finished.

“Oh that? It was nothing, the game’s easy, it’s all just odds and good luck, like anything else.” He shrugs, and you smirk right back at him, he’s good at this.

“Do you think you have good luck?” You ask, as the bartender places the martini glasses in front of you.

“I think I’m about to find out.” The man picks up one glass and hands it to you, takes the second one all for himself, and it’s your turn to let out a pleased little laugh, happy for the opportunity to flirt.

“Very smooth, Mr. Modern.” You concede, “Very smooth.”

“Well, I like to do some things the old-fashioned way.” The man is particularly chuffed that he’s managed to impress you – and he should, you didn’t get impressed by many men. He licks his lips and holds up his drink, preparing a toast. “You’re stunning.”

“I know.” You say, and he laughs at that, making you duck your head once again before winking, “You’re quite the looker yourself. To good luck?”

“To good luck.” He clinks his glass gently against yours, and the two of you take a sip.

The martini is pleasant in your mouth, although you have no real plans to drink enough that you might become impaired in any sense of the word. You spare a glance around the room once again for Kylo Ren, for the big hulking criminal you’re supposed to be there for, and you can’t help but let out a disappointed sigh. You knew there was an off chance he wouldn’t be at the casino tonight, possibly off at a business dinner or something along those lines, but still.

“You know, I was supposed to meet someone here, but it would seem as though they haven’t shown up.” You tell this man who’s very very gently skimming his knuckles against the back of your arm. You’re happy to see no sign of a wedding ring, and no tan-line for one either.

“How anyone could leave a woman like you out to dry is beyond me.” He says, and for a minute, you can’t help but believe that this is something more than just a flirtation for a one-night stand, that perhaps you two could really get to know each other.

“And just what kind of woman do you think I am?” You ask playfully, already having made up your mind to sleep with him. Attachments were not something afforded in your line of work, you know this, but at least bodily pleasure was available where you could take it.

“I don’t know, but I would sure love to find out, if you’d let me.” The man chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, a nervous habit that you find quite endearing, before asking softly, “I’ve got a suite at the hotel just across the way, spectacular views, even better food. Would you care to accompany me for any or all of it?”

“I’m starving.” You reply, and a hopeful smile lights up his face.

 The moment the door to the hotel room closes behind you, you’re kissing. He’s so skilled, so good at it, you can’t help but gasp under his touch. His palms are warm and they span across your back with ease, already working at undoing your dress zipper. You suddenly remember your gun that’s strapped to your thigh, and you pull away from him for a minute, looking at his handsomely disheveled state in the low light of his suite.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask outright, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Shit, no, I don’t – I must confess this isn’t something I do often. Or at all.” He’s nervous, and you can’t help but feel warm towards him, affection as you card through his locks. They’re every bit as silken as they look, and you kiss him again.

“That’s quite alright, call down for some.” You say.

He eagerly goes over to the phone, and while he’s distracted you take the opportunity to slip the small gun into your clutch purse, the perfect size for such a thing. He’s not gone for long, and you’re pleased to hear that when he asks for the condoms, he requests the largest size they carry.

“They’ll be up soon, but in the meantime, is it alright if I kiss you? You know, I’m a right sucker for lipstick prints.” The man blushes beautifully when he returns. Your hands immediately work on getting him out of his tuxedo, and he helps you out of your dress, admires the way your lingerie hugs your body.

“You’re much gentler than I thought you’d be, with hands so big as these.” You say as he carefully carefully carefully unhooks your bra, hands cradling your breasts.

“If you like it rough, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He gives you an experimental pinch, and you huff out a laugh, slinking your arms around his neck.

“Kiss me first and we’ll see where the night takes us.” You say as you stand up on your tip toes now that your heels are kicked off, pressing your lips against his.

It’s not long before someone is knocking at the door with the condoms, and then it’s as if the gates have been opened. The man scoops you up into your arms and you laugh all the way over to the bed, where he plops you down sweetly, climbs over you and rolls the rubber onto his hard cock.

The largest size looks like it just barely fits him, and your mouth waters as he kisses you, hands caressing your body, peeling away your stockings, the garter. He doesn’t suspect anything, he only kisses the inside of your thigh, and your hands grasp at the silken sheets in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you from between your legs and you nod, one hand grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him back up your body, wanting that cock in you.

“Please, I just know you can make me feel good.” You nod again and again, until he’s positioning himself right at your entrance and thrusting slowly so that your pussy can accommodate and stretch to his girth.

He groans out softly in your ear and thrusts a little further in, again and again until he’s sinking all the way into your cunt, cock huge and filling you up better than anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Ah – yes!” You sigh out happily as he kisses at your neck where his face is shoved against your throat, “Oh yes, that’s it.”

There’s a mirror on the ceiling, and you moan at the way his body moves above you as he begins to build up a proper rhythm, a steady pace that has your legs winding around his hips. 

You wish you knew his name so you’d know what to call out, but names were dangerous, and so was sentiment, and it was easier this way, easier to just have great sex and move on, leave him always thinking about you and your pussy.

You roll him over onto his back, the both of you grinning as you straddle his lap. Your hands brace themselves on his huge chest, muscular but not in that dehydrated body builder kind of way, and you bounce on his cock, give him a good ride.

“Oh god – god damn.” He breathes out, his hands coming to grope up at your breasts, sliding across your stomach and bruising your hips.

“Your cock feels so fucking good.” You admit, because it does, and that does wonders to his ego, “Fuck! Oh – oh yes, yes yes yes!”

He bends his knees to plant his feet on the mattress and he bucks his hips up into you, thick cock so hard and long, so wide, you can feel the way it nudges against your cervix, can feel the way it teases your gspot with every thrust. You’re drunk off the feel of it, your head falls back and your jaw drops open, just from the sheer fullness of it all.

“Ah – ah come on, come on faster, I can – ohhhh shit – I can take it.” You lick your lips as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he listens, follows directions beautifully, does as he’s told and you can’t help but drop, “Good boy, oh you’re so good.”

The praise seems to do something for him, and suddenly you’re being fucked in earnest, riding him and getting as good as you give him. Your pussy drools and drips all over his cock, you can feel the white hot bubble of pleasure as it rises up from your cunt into your stomach, up up up your spine in a way that’s got you moaning loud, moaning so loud that you almost want this man to cover your mouth about it.

You stay like that for quite some time, he’s content to let you make the moves, content to let you be on top, in charge, and you appreciate that. Mr. Modern indeed, you think – or you would think, if you had any room in your head to think at all, gasping and groaning out a litany of please please please more more more yes yes yes!

He comes with a grunt, and a long groan, and your hand moves down to your clit to quickly rub one out before his cock grows soft inside you, but you find that he’s quick to beat you to it, eager to fuck you through his orgasm and make sure you get off too. You’re grateful, especially as the rough pad of his thumb swirls your slick over your clit and makes pleasure spark behind your eyes, trembling atop him as you come hard.

You gasp and pant and he kisses at the corner of your mouth, licks across your teeth and suckles on your lower lip, and you get off of his lap, collapsing on your back next to him. You both look up at the mirror and groan, laugh a little with how much of a mess you’ve made – bruises and lipstick and scratches from nails littering your bodies.

You watch him turn to you in the reflection of the mirror, and you turn to face him too, his peaceful serene, blissed out post-orgasm glow making him look radiant. He’s quiet though, and this is always the uncomfortable part, isn’t it? The walk of shame where you part ways, never to see one another again.

“Shall I…I can go. If you’d prefer.” You whisper, although for the first time in your entire career, you don’t want to.

“No, no stay with me, let’s have that dinner we talked about.” He surprises you, gathering you up in his arms and tucking you against his chest. He rubs sweetly at your back, and you let yourself be held as he convinces you further with, “They’ll bring it right to us.”

“You enjoyed yourself that much, hm?” You tease, and he laughs, making your own ego preen as he nods.

“I like your company, I’d love it if you perhaps delighted me in spending the weekend together.” The man licks his lips and tilts your chin up to meet him, “If your friend won’t mind.”

“My friend?” You frown for a second, confused.

“The person you were meeting.” He reminds you and you blink, grinning and shrugging to play it off. Damn, you think, his cock really was something special, to make you forget why you were even here.

“Oh right, well I think they’ll be okay with it, I just hope they show up at some point this weekend. Otherwise this trip will have been for nothing.” You mutter, but then, then you look up at him and let yourself feel wanted, “Or maybe, maybe it won’t.”

The man smiles at you, a great big pleased smile, and you somehow get the feeling that like you, he understands what it’s like, to be lonely at the top.

 After hours of conversation and room service, champagne and strawberries, a delicious set of entrees and desserts, you find yourself content to spend the night in this man’s bed. Your suite will be there tomorrow after all, and you can’t help but fall asleep smiling, thinking that perhaps tomorrow night, you can take this man back to yours and return the hospitality.

But when you wake up in the morning, it is to an empty bed, no sign of the man. The mattress is cool next to you, he must have left during the night. The sun peeks through the curtains and illuminates the silver of a room service cart, he was at least kind enough to order you breakfast.

Smiling, you get up and walk naked over to the cart, where a little hand written note is resting atop one of the cloches. You pick it up and unfold it – and immediately feel like you’ve just been run over with a truck, when the words hit your brain:

 My deepest apologies for disappearing on you like this, but when duty calls, one must answer as I’m sure you know.

We’ll meet again, 007.

Yours truly,

Kylo Ren.

 You stand there, shocked and in disbelief – both at how he knew who you were, and how wrong you had been in your idea of him. He wasn’t some hulking terrifying thing, he didn’t have any major deformities or disfigurement – although, now that you think about it, perhaps he did have something of a scar on his eyebrow and cheek, but you passed it off as a trick of the light.

“I’ll be damned.” You say, sighing and sitting back down on the mattress, flicking the card against your palm with an incredulous smile. “Kylo Ren.”

Of all the people, you think as you dig into the eggs benedict and waffles that would pain you if they went to waste, you just had to go and pick him to fuck, didn’t you? You chuckle and sigh, knowing that this was the start of a very strange, frustrating, and beautiful relationship. What that relationship was, you weren’t sure, but one thing was for certain – M was going to have a fucking field day.  

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

Tagging pals!  @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware  @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan@flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog @schopenhauerdeathsquad @nekonaomitard @feminine-machinegun  @contesa-lui-alucard

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #james bond au #bond au #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren fanfiction #my writing #summer wine #flashing gif

[aquietwritingcorner]

Flufftober 2021, Day 1: Winning a Teddy for the Other Word Count: 1606 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Captain Buccaneer Warning: Summary: Olivier and Buccaneer don’t take kindly to soldiers who bully civilians, even when they’re not on duty. Notes: Take this as you will. It could be romantic. It could be friendship. Even I’m not sure. That part is up to interpretation! AO3 || ff.net

_________________________

Winning a Teddy for the Other

“Festivals are the best!”

Olivier glanced over at her captain with a raised eyebrow and amused quirk of her lips as they walked along the festival lane, not in their military uniforms, but rather in civilian clothes. A meeting in North City that required both of their expertise had brought them down from Fort Briggs. Buccaneer, knowing that it would be the same time as the Winter Festival, had insisted on taking some civilian clothing to go out and enjoy it. Olivier had been to this festival a couple of times in her tenure at Briggs, and so had decided to join him. He had packed a warm sweater, trousers and a thick coat for the winter festival, and she had carried along a long woolen skirt, warm top and thick coat and fashionable hat for it. She had looked forward to going, pulling her hair back in a braid to enjoy the festival.

She just hadn’t realized that Buccaneer would be like a kid in a candy shop.

“You certainly seem to be making the best of it,” she said, amused at him.

He grinned down at her. “We don’t get things like this at Briggs very often! Besides, look at all the different people! Kids and families,” he glanced at a group of giggling girls that walked by them, enjoying themselves, “the pretty girls all dressed up.” He looked back at her. “You can’t tell me that you’re not enjoying yourself at least a bit, General.”

“No, no you’re right. I am enjoying myself. The food here is much better for one,” she said, reaching into the bag of warm sugared nuts she had bought. She had already sampled the food of several different booths, enjoying the verity of flavors. There wasn’t much verity of food at Briggs, and sometimes she missed that, especially having grown up with so much of it at her fingertips.

Buccaneer grinned again and looked around. “Hey, look—its one of those booths where you can win a prize if you shoot the most targets.”

Olivier glanced in the direction he was indicating. “It is,” she said. Her eyes narrowed, though, as she saw who was at the stall. “Aren’t those Colonel Dentis’s men?”

Buccaneer stopped and looked at the men. “Yeah,” he said, his voice serious. “Yeah, I think it is.”

They both watched for a moment as the men in question harassed the others who lost to them. Even though the words couldn’t be heard, it was clear to see that they were taunting the other players when they lost, even the children. It was equally clear that the booth owner would have preferred that they leave. They stayed, though, seemingly enjoying what they were doing. Olivier didn’t like it. Soldiers should be helping the civilian population, not making children upset.

“I don’t like that,” Buccaneer said.

She watched as a young boy, clearly upset, went back to his father. The father talked to the boy for a moment, then went over to the soldiers. He was clearly angry himself, but controlled, and Olivier could respect that. They watched as he crossed over to the soldiers, trying to talk to them. It was clear to see from the posturing that things weren’t going to go well, as the soldiers started to square off against the father.

Olivier’s hand tightened on the sword she still wore. She wasn’t going to stand for this! Before Olivier could go over there herself, though, Buccaneer moved, making his way over. Curious as to what he was going to do, she followed, staying close enough to hear, but far enough away not to draw attention to herself.

“—cause your son can’t beat us. It’s a game. If he can’t handle loosing then he shouldn’t play!” one of the soldiers said.

“He’s ten. You ridiculed him. And you’ve been here all night. Give someone else a chance.” The dad replied, keeping is voice even.

“Yeah? Tell you what—you beat one of us, and we’ll move on. But I bet you can’t do that—we’re part of the sniper corps.” The soldier was smug, looking down on the father.

“I’ll take you on,” Buccaneer interrupted the argument, and all of the men looked up at him.

“What?” one of the soldiers said.

Buccaneer was already reaching for a gun and settling on a stool. “I said I’d take you on. But when I beat you, you have to move on.”

The soldiers bristled at that, and Olivier couldn’t help the quirk that reached her lips. He had baited them with the “when” not “if” and they had responded.

The others glanced at each other. “Fine,” one of them said. “But there’s no way you’ll beat us.”

Buccaneer shot them an unsettling grin. “Let’s find out.”

Olivier could see that it worked, the men shifting a bit, but they made their way to the stools and picked up their own guns.  Olivier leaned on a pole, watching, eating her sugared nuts. She wasn’t worried. She was confident how this would end.

Few people knew it, but Cromward Buccaneer was as good a shot as an average sniper, if not a bit better. His bulk though, didn’t lend itself to sniping very well, and so his typical position was more of a physical one. But Olivier knew well that he kept his skills sharp. She smirked and watched the show.

The game started. The men all started shooting. Targets came by and shots rang out. Targets went down, one after another, some almost as fast as they went up. It was clear from the frustrated look on the faces of Colonel Dentis’s men that most of the shots weren’t coming from them. Within a few minutes, all of the targets were down, and the game was over.

“Ah, guns down,” the owner of the booth said, just a little nervously. “The most targets were taken down by the new gentleman. He is the winner.”

“No way!” of the others said, throwing down his gun. “I call foul!” He pointed at the booth owner. “You’re lying!”

“It was fair and square,” Buccaneer said, slowly standing up. “I bet you.” He grinned. “All of you.”

The leader of the pack puffed up, posturing. “There’s no way you could beat us. No one can. We’re the best here.”

Olivier stepped forward then. “He can if he’s a Briggsman,” she said, her voice harsh.

“What—” one of them started, and then took note of the sword on her side, and the look she was giving him. He paled. “General Armstrong—” he dropped into a salute. “Sir!”

The other two with him followed suit, but she didn’t return the salute, forcing them to keep it up. “Briggsmen are required to meet the highest of standards. We can’t afford to consider back up. Everyone of my men is an excellent shot. Only the most elite are better than them. And you clearly aren’t the most elite.”

She walked up to them, handing her bag of nuts to Buccaneer, who took it without complaint.

“Attention, men!” They dropped their salutes to stand at attention. “You’re Colonel Dentis’s men, are you not?” she demanded.

“Yes, sir!” the leader said.

“And part of the sniper corps?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And you spend your time harassing children at a carnival game?” she growled out. “You call my Briggsmen monkeys and insult them, but you have manners no better than a common thug!”

It wasn’t really a question and the men knew it.

“Rank and name, soldiers!”

“Major Willis Madlyn!”

“First Lieutenant Evan Jeremies!”

“Captain Wes Oistvue!”

“Know this—your commanding officer will know of your disgraceful behavior here. Now get out!”

The men saluted and then practically scrambled over themselves to leave. Olivier snorted. “They have no scruples.” She glanced at Buccaneer. “If you had lost, you’d have walked back to the fort.”

He grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t lose.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

The booth owner interrupted them. He was approaching them, a teddy bear in his hands. “Thank you. And here. It’s your prize for winning.” He handed the bear over to Buccaneer with a grateful smile. “Even if you don’t want it, maybe your girl or someone.”

Buccaneer looked at it, and then over at the father and the kid, who had been watching. He turned towards them, kneeling down and offering it out to the kid. “Hey—why don’t you take it? I don’t have a reason to keep it.”

The boy, though, shook his head, grinning widely. “No thanks, Mister! I wanna win one myself, like you did! That was so cool!”

Buccaneer blinked at the boy, then smiled. “Yeah? I bet you can!”

The boy enthusiastically agreed, and the father nodded his thanks. The exchange over, Olivier and Buccaneer turned to walk away and enjoy the rest of the festival. Olivier took her sugared nuts back as the two walked.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asked him after a moment, nodding at the bear.

Buccaneer looked at it, and then thrust it into her arms. “You keep it,” he said.

She took the bear, startled. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Buccaneer said. “The man did say to give it to a girl. Besides, you already have a bunch of bears at your command. What’s one more?”

Olivier rolled her eyes at him but tucked the bear under her arm as they enjoyed the rest of the festival.

But if he ever saw that bear sitting on a shelf in her quarters at Briggs, well, he never said anything about it. And neither did she.

#flufftober2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #Olivier Mira Armstrong #captain buccaneer #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

[hargrove-mayfields]

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 5/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Robin gets to the phone first.

Steve was too busy wallowing in his bed to get up and answer, though he figures it might be worth seeing who it is that’s calling. None of the kids call him anymore, but he always considers, even if it’s for just a moment, that it could be an emergency. He’ll know whenever he decides to get up, or if Robin even decides to pick it up.

Its ring echoes shrill and loud in the apartment, the tone making him want to wrap himself in a blanket and never come out, so he slides out of his bed, calling down the stairs in search of a solution to end the noise, “You gonna get that Rob?”

For a moment, he wonders if she’ll even respond. It’s barely been a couple of hours since he made her cry, but she calls back, “Are you expecting a call?”

Relieved to know she at least still tolerates him, Steve answers, “Nope.”

“Then no.” Comes her simple response, and the phone ringing promptly dies out, “Guess it didn’t matter anyways.”

But almost immediately, it starts up again, somehow sounding more sharp than before. Steve tells her just to get it so the ringing will stop, coming down the steps to see for himself who it is calling.

He watches Robin pull the receiver from its base, in the place of a greeting going straight for, “What do you want?”

Steve takes note of the fact that her mood isn’t entirely better yet, though he’s definitely glad she’s taking those feelings out on the telephone and not on him, but, despite her abrasiveness, she still receives no response.

It looks like she’s going to hang up before she hears something, her features closing off as she focuses on whatever comes through the other end, “Hello? I can’t hear you. Who is this?”

There’s a whining static loud enough for even Steve to hear from the other side of the room, getting louder, and then a pop that makes the lights flicker and the phone die out, making Robin shriek and drop it, shaking out her hand.

“Son of a bitch shocked me.” She mumbles, picking up the dead receiver and showing Steve the two burnt ends.

In the moment though, something he’ll perhaps feel bad for another time, Steve isn’t worried about his friend. He isn’t rushing to see what happened and check if she got burnt, he instead just freezes up, filtering through the overwhelming questions filling his head to ask, “Did you hear who it was?”

“No, it just sounded like it was all distorted.”

Her answer is nonchalant, but it makes Steve feel weak and panicky, sitting down at the table as pale as a ghost.

That’s obviously not a normal reaction, and Robin asks, tone more afraid than concerned, which he thinks that’s appropriate for what just happened, “What’s going on Steve?”

Grimly, he explains, “Mrs Byers’ phone did that twice before, blowing up after a call just like that.”

“Okay, well maybe there’s just a storm coming and it’s just a coincidence that happened to her too?” She tries to reason, but Steve already knows, he's felt this dread before. “No, Robs. It happened because Will called her from the Upside Down.”

“But then that means-“ Robin starts, working through the implications, Steve finishing the statement for her, “Someone is trapped over there.”

“Holy shit, but the gate, hasn’t it been closed for a year and a half now?“

“Unless someone else opened it, yeah.”

Stiffly she nods, asking hesitantly, be it because of her questions or the disagreement between them earlier, “Well what do we do?”

A reflection of his lack for anything but pessimistic doomsdaying anymore, Steve worries, “What can we do, Robin? I’ve only ever fought the things that end up in our world, and you’ve never even seen half of the monsters that come from over there. We’re too overpowered here.”

More rational than her friend, Robin suggests, “I think we should get a hold of Eleven. You said she's the one that really understands any of this other dimension stuff. She can help.”

But Steve shakes his head, “Her powers are gone. She might know what to do, but I don’t think she’ll be able to do anything.”

“So you just want to leave whoever it is over there?”

“No, fuck no. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what should we do?”

“I don’t know..” Steve frowns, thinking hard before he answers determinedly, “But whoever it is, they reached out to us. We have to help them.”

~~~~

The phone doesn’t work.

What is Billy supposed to do? He’s tried everything, and with his last resort at reaching out a dud, he’s not sure what else he even can do.

So, in true Billy Hargrove fashion, he lashes out, cursing and unnecessarily yanking the phone jack out of the wall, the plastic handheld skidding across the kitchen tile into the corner, “Goddamnit!”

The noise may have been a mistake though, because, despite how sure he was the dogs wouldn’t find this place, he hears a chitter, and the click of claws on hardwood floors. The damn thing is in the house, and his machete is by the door.

A recurring theme with these hell beasts, is that there’s never enough time to run, but unless he wants to use decorative mugs or a cookie jar to fight it, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to try.

He makes two mistakes as he runs, the first being that he hesitates, not wanting to leave Steve. Even if he couldn’t find him he had gotten so damn close, but a snarl from the dog puts things into perspective, and, with a heavy feeling of remorse in his chest, he leaves through the backdoor as quietly as he can, bolting down the rotting back steps.

His second mistake is looking over his shoulder. Just as his boots touch brittle grass, he decides just to glance back and see how much space is between him and the hellhound, but the second he sees it, he just freezes up.

Because it’s fucking big, for one thing. It has to force itself through the door frame, meaning it’s wider than he is. It has a lot more teeth than the others. It’s skin is pale and it’s limbs much longer. Something tells him the others he’s seen are immature, and this one is close to its final form, whatever that may be. Either way, he’s decidedly not fucking around with that.

The daunting unfamiliarity of this part of Hawkins, intimidating as it is, isn’t Billy’s main concern right now. He just bolts like a coward, hoping against hope that there’ll be anything along his path he won’t have to corner himself to get that can be used as a weapon, basically his only other option for surviving this that this amped up dog will get bored of him fast.

But, and really, he knew this was the case, he just hadn’t wanted to admit he was prey yet, it easily charges him, going up on its back legs to knock him off his balance. It misses at first, so he thankfully doesn’t get pushed to the ground, but his reflexes, especially when blurred by emotion, are no match to a monster of this size, and before he can even process its next move, it clamps its teeth on his arm.

Now, he’s been here for a while. He’s had scratches and cuts and welts from their tails, but he’d always been quick enough, smart enough, prepared enough to not get bit. Which he really wishes was still something he could still attest to, because it fucking hurts. Razor sharp teeth from too many mouths tear into the muscle, a stinging pain all the way from the point of impact in his wrist up to his shoulder.

It’s his fault, all this stuff with Steve was getting to his head, feeling his presence and hearing his voice again for the first time in god knows how long only to be unable to reach him. It was doing things to his judgement.

But this is still bad. Really fucking bad.

As soon as it lets go, he knows it’s going to latch onto him again, so he does what he does best in a situation where he’s hurt and scared and alone. He cries, for one thing, but he also fights. But where he’d normally just use his fists and his ego to prove his strength, this world is built differently. Even with a pocket knife to stand up for himself that’s not enough to survive, but he’s still going to make it count. If at the end of this he goes down, it won’t be without a fight.

A fight to just get back to the way things were. To prove to himself he could do this and survive. For once in his fucking life, just to overcome hardship and move the hell forward, no cycles of hatred and pain, love and respect drawing him back. Nobody else in control of his body. Nobody else holding him back from being happy.

He just wants to survive this.

There’s blood on his jacket sleeve, but Billy refuses to look at how bad the wound truly is yet. There quite frankly isn’t enough oxygen down here to afford a panic, but from the pain and the blood alone, he knows it’s not going to be good for him.

The fighting isn’t going too well either, with only one arm not weighed down by injury and a knife the size of his palm his last standing lines of defense, it’s mostly him dodging the creature and flailing his limbs to either stop an incoming bite or confuse it, both of them too confident in its ability to tear him to shreds to advance further than that.

But it gets bored of fucking around with him, and it rises to its back legs again, and Billy knows he’s fucked, squeezing his eyes shut and blocking his face, but the attack never comes. There’s a huge crack of lightning in the ever looming storm above, and a chorus of eerie chittering from more dogs at varying degrees of closeness to where they are, and it draws the attention of the big one away.

While the monster is distracted, he uses that opportunity to his advantage, takes charge of his circumstances to give himself a fighting chance. That strategy never worked for him before, only ever got him into deeper shit, but he can’t exactly just stand here and be monster bait either so, though it breaks his heart to put that distance between him and Steve, Billy chooses to run.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #steve x billy #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej! #tw injury #more tags on ao3 #shortest chapter by far #just filler but the one coming tomorrow is big!

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 11 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Basically all the shit in the readers history that hasn’t been mentioned up until this point. (Anxiety, mentions of abuse, stalking, arranged marriage) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure about this?" 

You take in a heavy sigh as you adjust the tan trench coat around you. You nod, holding back bitter tears. 

"This is for the best, Arthur. I can't marry him. If I stay as a Grant any longer than I have to, he'll kill me. Or use you as leverage to make me change my mind. I can't let him do that." You insist, your (h/c) hair flowing in the wind outside the Atlantic City Airport. 

Your brother looks up at you with tear-stained cheeks. Being only 6 years younger than you made him 14. But he was wiser than he should be. He shouldn't have to lose his sister like this. But it was for the best. That was what you kept telling yourself. 

"B-but… what about Mom? A-and Dad?" He asked worriedly, his hands picking at the expensive leather jacket that you had passed down to him once he had turned ten. "Don't you want to at least say goodbye to them?" 

You grit your teeth as a few choice words threaten to surface. Thankfully, you swallow them. He didn't know. You made sure he didn't know. All he ever knew was that Mom and Dad were always 'busy'. He didn't need to know anything else. 

"No, Artie. I don't want to say goodbye to them. They're busy. I don't want to interrupt their meeting. It's just you and me right now." You explain as calmly as you can, giving him the most genuine smile you've ever given someone. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He immediately reciprocates it, squeezing you as tight as he could.  

"I'm gonna miss you sis." He whimpers into your shoulder. For a kid his age, he was pretty tall. You softly let out a chuckle. He would be taller than you in a few years. 

"I'm gonna miss you too, little man. If things calm down, I'll reach out. I'll call you. Promise." You say, holding out your pinky. Arthur sniffles and wipes his tears with his sleeve. He then extends his hand and intertwines his pinky with yours. 

"You better not forget me." He insists, letting out a soft chuckle. You laugh softly back, cupping his cheek motherly and wiping away the fresh tears. 

"That's impossible, and you know it." You tease, gently pressing a finger to his nose. "Be good. Do what you're told. And follow your dreams, okay? No matter what Mom or Dad say is your destiny, make your own." You beg, squeezing your brother's hand for the last time. 

"I will. I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too bud."  

○●♡●○ 

"Your what?" Spencer asks in disbelief, his weathered hands never leaving yours. His naturally focused eyes were now confused and frantic, trying to make sense of the words you just uttered to him. 

"M-my… my stalker. The part of my past I...I didn't want to get you into. I didn't want to put you in danger." You repeat a little quieter. Most of you wanted to curl up in a ball and die. At least then Peter would stop. 

"You had" Spencer stopped himself, letting in a small gasp of disbelief. "--have, a stalker, and you didn't think this was important?" He asks, his voice raising a notch. You flinch and try to pull your hands back on instinct. 

Spencer widened his eyes and immediately calmed his voice, taking your hands back into his. "I-i'm sorry, (Y/N). But please… why didn't you tell me?" He asked gentler this time. You let out a nervous breath and close your eyes, attempting to open the file in your brain you so desperately wanted to erase. 

"It… it might be better if I just tell you everything. I-if you'll listen to my sappy life story…" you insist, squeezing his hands for comfort. His touch was keeping you grounded for now. At least you had him. 

"O-of course, (Y/N). B-but you don't have to. I-I mean… if this is going to hurt you then I don't want you to feel like you have to-" Spencer began to ramble, his hazel eyes weighed with worry. Just like Arthur's. 

You stop him with a squeeze of your hands and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you think. 

"7 years ago, I-I turned 18. My parents are very old fashioned. And they believed that since I was already going back to college and trying to be my own woman since I graduated with my doctorate in psychology that year, that they would arrange me a marriage." The words tasted foul in your mouth, almost making you want to spit them out. Spencer still listened, though he did look at you with a look of concern. 

"His name is Peter Calvin. The real-estate broker and investor. At 22 he was vastly rich. And he had everything he wanted. Except a loving wife who doted on him hand and foot. He's a narcissistic bastard who believes he deserves everything he wants. So as you expect, when I turned the proposal down instead of listening to my parents, he was livid. It began with letters. Like this one." You explain, gesturing towards the almost identical envelope next to you. "He would send me gifts, trinkets that I always threw away. No matter how many times my parents arranged for us to meet and try to get along, I always pushed him away. So then after three months, he escalated. He began to call my phone 27 times a day. Blew up my phone with texts. Filled up my email box with 10 or more a day. After that didn't work he began to threaten me. All the while he sent me letters. He would… detail our future together. He even detailed how I would bear him a son first. That we'd name him Oliver. Then I'd bear him a daughter. Name her after his mother." You felt your chest beginning to ache and your heart to pound as fast as a locomotive. 

All the while Spencer listened on in the horror of the past you had gone through. This stalker of yours was easily just like many of the unsubs they'd apprehended. Spencer had never had a personal connection with them till now. His eyes were opening to a different side of things. But he stayed quiet, wanting to let you finish your story before he made any attempt to say his piece. 

"Eventually he resorted to threatening my brother. Said that he'd kill him and my family if I didn't say yes. So… I said yes." You bit your lip, looking down as tears and a sob came tumbling through you. Spencer pulled you closer to him, embracing you in his arms to allow you to cry. You clung to his cardigan, not caring as much about replacing it this time. 

After a few minutes of ugly sobbing, you sniffled and pulled back, wanting to finish the rest of the story. "A-after a year o-of engagement and physical abuse from him I couldn't take it anymore." You let out a half sob, your voice breaking like glass. "S-so I stole a bunch of his money with his credit card and bought myself a ticket down here to Virginia. Gabriel lived down here, and I called him. He offered me a place to stay as long as I went to school and got the education I deserved. So I came here, changed my last name, number and even my social security number. Never looked back." You insist, squeezing Spencer’s forearms where your hands had fallen after he had held you to let you cry. 

You let out a long sigh, the tears drying up and tired hiccups were all that remained. "After a while, Gabriel qualified to go into training for the bareau. And I found out I was too. So we both applied. The rest doesn't matter. Just… know this is all sealed stuff. You're the first person other than Gabriel and my other roommate, Iris, to know. I put myself in witness protection to get away from this man. And now…" you trail, unable to finish your own statement. 

"(Y/N)..." Spencer spoke, barely a whisper. He didn't know what to say. You just shared with him yet again something no one else on the team knew about you. You trusted him with this. 

"I-I know… an FBI agent afraid of some real estate guy. How unique." You laugh bitterly, slowly pulling your knees closer to your chest. 

"Actually, I think you were actually brave for making the right decision for everyone, not just yourself." Spencer expressed, still looking at you in shock. The probability of what was in that letter couldn't be good. If they touched it, their DNA would be on it. This was evidence. If they could only find his and you're DNA on it, they could say that you both forged the note to frame Peter. And Spencer wouldn't allow that. 

His blood felt hotter than melted iron and his face felt stiff. His jaw locked in place as anger began to fuel him. He had heard this man's name before, when your mother said it to you. If only he had known the impact just saying it had on you. He was angry at Calvin. But also at himself for not deducing that something like this was happening. 

"(Y/N)... you kept everyone else safe at the cost of your own comfort. This-This isn't right. He should be in jail for ever touching you like that!" He exclaims, being careful not to raise his voice. 

"Yeah, except his lawyer is the best. His lawyer was able to convince the judge to revoke three protection orders I had filed against him. If I even tried to prosecute him, I'd just get thrown in jail instead. I… I'm just gonna have to change everything again. I'll change my w-whole name this time. Change my hair, move again. I don't think I'll even be able to afford one let alone lease one…" you began to ramble, panic quickly rising into your voice. 

It was Spencer's turn to silence you with a squeeze to the arms. You look him in the eyes, tears beginning to start another cycle. He reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, wiping away the stranded tears. You stared into his eyes, gazing up into hazel hues. 

"Hey… I'm not gonna let you lose everything you've worked so hard for. You are not gonna let him dictate your life. We're gonna bring this to Hotch, okay? Then for now, you'll live with me." 

You snap your gaze back towards his eyes after they drifted. Was he serious?! 

"Y-you can't be serious, Spence. You shouldn't have to-" 

Spencer placed a gentle thumb over your lips and shushed you. "I want to. You need to find a place to stay for now until we get him in custody. So... I'd say my place is safest."

You sniffled a little more, swallowing a lump of gathered excuses in your tightening throat. "A-are you sure about this, Spencer? You don't have two bedrooms, sure I can sleep on the couch…" you began to ponder. "But I'm messy sometimes. Annoying most of the time. And I am most definitely not the most pleasant person to be around in the mornings." 

Spencer chuckled and pressed a kiss to the creases in-between your eyebrows. You blush like a cherry as you stop in your tracks and stare up at him in shock. "You were pleasant to be around when you stayed over last time. Even if you end up a grouch who doesn't like socializing before 8, I still want to help you with this. You're… You're my friend." 

At this, you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. You knew deep inside that you really shouldn't be letting him help you. He could get killed, or even kidnapped because of his involvement. But right now, some help was better than no help at all.

"Thank you…" you whisper, squeezing your arms around his neck. Spencer hugs you tightly close to him, slightly burying his head in your shoulder.

"Anything, (Y/N)." 

○●♡●○ 

Hours later, the two of you sat in front of the letter, staring at it and pondering whether or not you should open it. Spencer had grabbed a paper towel and moved it to the coffee table. 

You had already called Gabriel and let him know of the situation. He said he called a few of his buddies from his job to watch over the apartment building for the night. 

You were now leaning against the tall doctor who was hunched over next to you, equally pondering the same question as you. But probably better than you. 

You were exhausted and tired of all the fear and panic. Your eyes were still puffy and you found yourself sniffling every few minutes. 

Spencer seemed to notice this however once he moved his gaze from the letter to you. "The handwriting, although made to be elegant, is bold and erratic. He wrote this in a hurry." He attempted, looking back up at you for approval. You took in a heavy breath and nodded, sucking in your bottom lip as you sigh it out. 

New approach, Spencer thought. 

"(Y/N/N)... I-I think you should get to bed. Try to sleep. We think our best when we're well rested, even in situations like this." He suggests, placing one of his broad hands on your back. 

You feel like crumbling underneath his touch from all of the stress. "I don't think I can even try to sleep…" you whimper, leaning closer to him for comfort. "Not alone…" 

Spencer frowned down at you. He rubbed your shoulder as he'd seen Morgan do to Garcia. You were hurting. And he didn't know how to fix it. And he was a damn profiler. A doctor. Where was all his knowledge now? 

"W-well… what if I came in and laid with you. Would that help?" He asked, turning to look at you. 

You thought the suggestion over. Having Spencer Reid in your bed would have normally made you blush like crazy, and made you insist that life was kidding you. But this was different. And as much as you loved Gabriel, he wasn't the type to stay and comfort someone. He cared, sure, but he didn't know how to truly sit and listen to your problems. He was usually the one who offered you a safe place to cry. And wouldn't judge you for it. Spencer, you knew was different. 

"Yeah… yeah I think I'd like that…" you reply, biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer smiled at you warmly, sprouting a couple butterflies. 

Spencer then stood up and helped you to your feet. His arm wrapped around your middle as he guided you back towards the bedrooms. 

"Now your going to have to direct me to which one is which." He comments, looking ahead at the three doors at the end of the hallway. "I think I'd rather not walk into someone else's room and see something I'm not meant to see." He teases, smirking at you. You let out a small chuckle and smile gently, getting Spencer to squeeze you closer. 

"It's good to see you smile." He says. Although it got darker the further into the hallway you both ventured, you could still clearly see the love in his eyes as he looked at you. 

"It's the door on the right." You instruct, gesturing to the door to your bedroom. The room you would soon be abandoning. 

Spencer took out the edge of his shirt from underneath his cardigan and used it to open the door, making you stifle a giggle. Spencer then helped you inside, easing you into your bed. He turned around and closed the door, leaving you to get comfortable in bed. 

When he turned around he was met with you curled up in a coocoon made of your comforter. He couldn't help but chuckle as he came over and sat next to you. "I don't suppose you'll be sprouting any wings any time soon, will you?" He teases, scooting closer to you. You huff, some of the blanket falling off your shoulders. 

"Shut up, Genius." You tease back, smiling at him as you do. 

"No, I don't believe I will. Especially since I just got you to smile." He reveals with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, as if it were a game changing thing. You roll your eyes and nudge him, yawning softly. 

"Yeah? Well I think you're gonna get me to fall asleep with jokes like that." You playfully retorted. He laughed and hugged you closer. 

"Then my job will be easier than I thought." He teased back. You shake your head and lean it against his shoulder hesitantly. You feel him tense up for a moment, almost too long of a moment. But just as you were going to lift your head up, he loosened up, letting you completely rest your head on his shoulder. 

"I...is this okay?" You ask softly, taking in a hard breath. 

"Yeah, definitely. You just get the rest you need. I'll be here." He promised. It was then you finally decided to let your guard down and begin to sleep. 

You feel his warmth radiating from him, lulling you to sleep along with his gentle touch. He had found a way to hold you through the blankets, and you didn't mind. His thumb caressed your arm as you felt yourself drifting off, easing your fears even more than they already had been.  

You had every right to be scared. To be utterly terrified. And you still were. But he made it easier. You began to second guess your own decision not to tell him how you felt. He was here with you when you knew that not that many people would do this for you. Hardly anyone on the team. Garcia and Prentiss might be good for a good cry and pep talk, but that wouldn't have eased you any more than just talking about what your plan of action was with Spencer. Morgan would probably hold you if you asked. But the bedroom was a no-go. JJ was a mother, so she would probably just offer you something to eat to get your mind off of it all. Hotch and Rossi were different people, but you didn't peg them to be cuddlers like this. Spencer was out of his comfort zone with you. And he made no attempt to make it known that he was uncomfortable with it. 

You didn't know where you wanted to go from here, other than heading to the BAU tomorrow and asking Hotch for help. But for now, you needed to relax.  

So instead, you eased your breathing and began to focus on the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the gentle kiss to the forehead that you felt just as you drifted away.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x you #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader fanfic #spencer #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds family

[mysewingadventures]

Historical Accuracy of Costumes in Period TV Shows - Anne With An E

I was very surprised at how well my historical accuracy post about The Aeronauts did, so I decided to write about another one! This time I’ll be talking about the fashion in Anne with an E, but I’ll be mainly focusing on the kids’ clothing because kids’ period fashion is something that’s very rarely talked about and we know very little about.

First of all, if you haven’t seen Anne with an E, please do, it’s an amazing adaptation of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables novels which I adored reading as a kid, but unfortunately I barely remember anything from the books so watching the show was kinda cool going into it without knowing what exactly was going to happen. But anyways, enough about the show, let’s get to the fashion. A little disclaimer: some of the fashion choices made by the department are very closely tied to the plot so I might be spoiling a little bit, but I won’t be talking about any big spoilers or plot points!

So, the story takes place from 1896 (season 1) to 1899 (season 2), so we’re in the late Victorian time period.

First up, we have this dress that Anne wears at the beginning of season 1. It’s obviously way too small, very simple and plain.

It was very typical for girls to wear aprons as an outer layer so they wouldn’t get their dresses dirty, we can see that all throughout the show with all characters. But here we have something that looks odd to someone who might not know the story and Anne’s upbringing. She’s an orphaned girl, this is the only dress she has and has had for years, hence why she grew out of it. It’s plain, simple, she’s a poor girl who goes from one family to another and has to work to earn her stay. In her surroundings, nobody would have given her a new dress, or even an older but fashionable one. I’m assuming she got it at some point just because she didn’t have anything to wear and "as long as it would do the job, it was good enough."

Now, let’s fast forward a little bit until Marilla decides to finally make Anne a new dress. She mentions having some fabric laying around, so she uses that to sew the new garment.

It’s still very plain and not fashionable for the time, but it’s a garment that fits her, which was Marilla’s top (and arguably only) priority at the time. Marilla is one of a kind, she’s the direct opposite of pretty much everyone else in Avonlea. I won’t get too deep into her characterization, but Anne’s fashion reflects Marilla’s mindset that I just have to mention how she’s a woman who lives in a classist society without really becoming a part of it. She’s old fashioned at first, sure, but her priorities are different from all the other families. While everyone else cares about how they present themselves to others and how they are viewed and their reputation, Marilla stays true to herself and doesn’t change for anyone. They’re not poor, meaning they could afford pretty clothing if they wanted to but to Marilla, this is clearly a waste of money and she values other things more in life. Okay, sorry about this little ramble about her but it’s important to know to understand why Anne doesn’t have the most fashionable dresses aside from the Cuthberts being “poorer” (despite still being middle class).

When Marilla announced she wanted to make a dress for Anne, Anne immediately requested puff sleeves, which is understandable considering they were very fashionable in 1896. Anne has never had puff sleeves before and all of her friends probably did, so it’s just natural for her to want her new dress to have them.

So, puff sleeves... Enter Matthew who has a soft spot for his daughter and doesn’t share the same strict world views as Marilla. He goes out to Charlottetown to get a dress custom made for Anne, which has... *drum roll* puff sleeves!

It’s this beautiful blue dress which Anne falls in love with and wears on every special occasion. With the lace and the frills it almost feels a little too much for a child, as girls’ dresses were usually similar to adults’ but less decorated and more simple. Anne does stand out a little when she wears it to school, but the dress was clearly not made for everyday wear, she was just too excited about it not to wear it.

Here’s a cast photo (I couldn’t find any other ones where you can properly see other girls’ dresses without the aprons) and you can see that they’re generally less embellished than adults’ clothing of that time and just a little frilly.

Unless I am missing something, this was the only puff sleeve dress that Anne owns up to the end of the show, and that is because puff sleeves suddenly aren’t as fashionable anymore in the following years. The dresses still have a wider sleeve at the top but nothing that comes close to a puff sleeve.

Let’s move on with my favorite Anne dress.

I love this dress so much because it’s quite simple but still has that elegance of the Victorian era. So maybe I’m biased but I’d say it’s absolutely accurate! I’ve definitely not been thinking about making a replica and wearing it just for the heck of it. It definitely seems child-appropriate and more like an everyday dress than the previous one.

I’d also love to talk about Diana’s dresses for a moment as she is the richest girl in town (I believe? It could be Josie I’m not sure) but her dresses are always on point and beautiful and just a prime example of rich girls’ dresses of that era. Here’s one of her and her sister Minnie May wearing the same white Sunday dress.

You had to be rich to give your kids white dresses with not even an apron. Sure, you wouldn’t wear an apron on a Sunday dress, but you had to be either rich enough so your kids were used to having the best manners and wouldn’t get dirty or you had to be able to afford to get a white dress dirty. The Barry’s are both of those things.

There are many more dresses that were shown in the show but if I mentioned all of them, I’d still be writing tomorrow! Maybe I’ll make a part 2 someday. However, I couldn’t finish this post without mentioning the iconic... Just see for yourself.

And... I have contemplated for a long time whether I should say this or not as all I’ve ever seen about this dress was pure adoration but from a personal point of view, I... don’t like it. I’m sorry. And that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not historically accurate, it’s just not my favorite personally. But I’ll get into the historical accuracy.

I had to rewatch almost the entire episode to see the dress in its full length, and after searching through a lot of fashion plates I have only found one that resembles it kind of.

But I’m still not 100% satisfied. The bodice almost feels a little outdated? If I had to guess I’d say this dress was more 1889 than 99. The skirt is historically accurate, though, as well as the sleeves. The blouse is laying a little too flat for 1899 and so is the bodice, it would have been more pigeon-breasted, just like the dresses you can see in this previous scene.

Granted, not all dresses in this scene have that silhouette and not all dresses in 1899 had that silhouette, but it just looks a little wrong with that particular style. A reason for that could be the fact that Marilla made it and maybe she just wasn’t completely up to date with the latest fashion trends and/or recycled an older dress, which is both something I could totally see her do. But then again, it could totally be something worn in 1899 and no one would bat an eyelash. Just because something isn’t common doesn’t mean it’s wrong! Actually, the more I look at it the more it looks right.

This brings me to another point I wanted to mention, which is the length of the kids’ skirts.

This is a photo I found in which they are approximately 14/15 years old.

According to a guideline I found from 1900 that I can’t include because of the 10 photos per post limitation but will link here, the hemline for that age should fall right above the uppper edge of the boot. The length we see them wear is appropriate for 4-8 year olds!

But that’s really the only thing I have to criticize. There’s not a lot of info we have on kids’ clothing so it’s hard to make a general statement but these are the things I noticed while watching the show and afterwards while doing research.

PS. The hats are all very cool and accurate! So many hats! After the lack of bonnets in some other movies seeing hats in a period film just make me happy 😊

#anne with an e #anne #awae #fashion #historical fashion #fashion history #victorian fashion #victorian #im gonna be ripped apart for saying her blue dress isnt accurate arent i #i am genuinely scared to post it lol but here it goes #let’s say the blue dress is POTENTIALLY accurate okay I’m just very confused because I haven’t seen anything like it #yeah that’s better