#I mean all of my crushes were girls unless you count my childhood crush on Nick Jonas and Justin Bieber

[fairytsuk1]

wrist, thigh, and neck | (s)

my participation for @toji-bunny-girl kinktober!

happy halloween!

pairing: vampire!todoroki shoto x reader

words: 6.2k

summary: it's halloween, and someone's costume is more than cheap fabric bought at spirit halloween. they embody the character completely that you can't tell between fiction or reality. what exactly is shoto todoroki?

warnings: BLOOD KINK, virgin!female reader, sub!reader, frat party, alcohol usage, mentions of death, biting, cunnilingus, protected sex, mild dumbification, slight dub/con at the end but unrelated to sex, explicit language

“You’re telling me that you don’t even think about it? I mean, how?!”

You’re sitting like a child, knees pulled up to your chest, as Mina looks at you incredulously.

“I mean, of course I do! I just don’t know who I’d even do it with, you know?” your teeth worry your lip, tugging the flesh and biting at the skin. 

Mina sighs and grabs your Squishmallow; she’s at a loss for words and desperately wants you to get out of your shell, “well, you can’t be a virgin forever! Okay, wait, what if you told me who you wouldn’t mind doing it with! You know, like if they asked, it’d automatically be a yes!”

He pops into your head because, of course, he does. Shoto Todoroki. You were a college student, for god’s sake. I mean, you were taking biochem! Stuff like that didn’t matter, and you’d hardly ever even spoken to Todoroki enough to imply a romantic attraction.

But everything about him was alluring. It pisses you off that he makes your heart stutter in your chest and press your thighs together all ’cause of those piercing eyes.

He was hot, and maybe you had a crush on him.

“Wait! Don’t tell me, I know! It’s Todoroki, isn’t it?”

“Wha—no! No, why would you think that? I mean, we barely even talk,” the words come out jumbled and frantic; your secret was out to who knows how many people? It wasn’t like that, you swore to Mina, but she’d already crossed her arms and grinned devilishly, “Mina, you can’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not! Of course not, but I knew you felt something for him. I bet he made you think of love, of those strong muscles under his shirt, of his cock—“

“You are seriously so gross!!” 

It felt so taboo, you’d touched yourself, of course, but you’d never even seen a guy’s dick in person unless you counted the shared baths you and Midoriya took as children. 

And Todoroki’s dick… you’d heard stories. He didn’t get around too much, but the girls who were lucky to receive it claimed he was as good as Zeus. You’d never know. There was no way Todoroki might be into you, and false hope always led to disappointment.

“Nothing will probably even happen. I mean… guys don’t want virgin girls.”

“Maybe you should ask him yourself; you know he’s going to the Halloween party hosted by Sero’s frat. And if not Todoroki, I’m still betting on you and Midoriya!”

A flash of disgust makes you grimace. Midoriya was a nice childhood friend, but even just thinking of him romantically makes your stomach flip. Just no. 

“Do you really think I should go? I have an invite.”

“I think you should! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Supposedly, a lot. None of it had even started at the actual party. It began with you eating after your stats class. A familiar voice, Midoriya, calls out to you, and you’re inclined to smile until you see who’s with him. Todoroki, covered head to toe in black and looking sluggish at best, was he sick? Why is he–or better yet, they coming over here?!

“You finished stats already?”

“Oh! Um, yeah! We got let out early, so….”

Midoriya nods in understanding before glancing over at Todoroki, “have you guys met before?” 

You’re quick to nod in response, the urge to ramble wanting to spill out of you is a natural reaction, but a deep baritone voice cuts you off (you have to refrain from whimpering.)

“We have. You’re a biochem major, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am, and you’re doing history, right?”

“Mhm. With a focus on ancient mythology, have you heard of it?”

“I don’t know too much, really! It sounds cool!”

“...Maybe I can teach you sometime.”

Your childhood friend nods eagerly, citing that Todoroki was an expert on ancient myths, “you’d think he’s lived it with the way he talks about it!”

Todoroki shrugs, and you clock that he seems to be done talking, but his eyes are piercing your body and soul. It’s overwhelming, and it’s attractive.

Midoriya checks the time and rubs your shoulder affectionately at his disappointment of having to leave, and Todoroki nods politely until they’re both crossing the grass together. You still feel out of it, like none of this even happened because… what exactly did he mean?”

“‘Maybe I can teach you sometime?!’ He wants to fuck!”

“Oh my god, maybe he’s just being polite. It’s not my expertise, really,” you sigh and sip your iced coffee, “I mean, you don’t think…?”

“He’s gonna teach you how to suck his dick. I’m sure of it!”

Your coffee spills out your mouth, and you roll your eyes, “again! I’ve seen porn; I know what to do, Mina.”

“Then prove it,” and she’s turning herself around with her bright pink hair and holding her hand out, “if you actually get it on with Todoroki on Friday, I’ll do your laundry for the next month.”

A game with no losers, “and if I get cold feet… I get to do yours?”

“Yup! For your sake, I’m actually looking forward to doing your laundry if it means you’re going out of your comfort zone! This is huge for you! I’m excited even; we’ll go to the party together,” a true friend, she shakes your hand and pecks your cheek, “and tell me how big it is when you see it, I need to prove Jirou wrong.”

The two of you giggle like schoolgirls, but the challenge weighs in your mind as you take notes or wash your face. It follows you like a cloud over your head. Was this going to even be possible?

Would Todoroki even want you on Friday night? What if he’s kissing some other girl?

“Just don’t overthink it! I think the cat costume is cute; it’s a Halloween party! I mean, do you think the Alien Queen costume is weird?”

“What?! No, you were made to be an Alien Queen!”

You playfully slap her on the bottom and grin, “I think everyone else is gonna like it too.”

“Says you! The way your hips sway, and the tail? I’ll just keep you to myself; no Todoroki for you!”

Smiling, you take her into your arms and sway in a hug together, “I’m nervous, but I’m gonna do it. I didn’t take those two shots for nothing!”

She gently nods and grips your hands, smiling so sweetly at you that you’re sure you could fall in love with her. Maybe in another universe, “ready to go?”

With a resounding “yup,” the door slams, and you’re shivering in the cold as you make your way to Sero’s frat. Tau Phi Delta is known for its surplus of alcohol, and, well, Todoroki always goes there. Apparently, it’s something due to the lights, and you’re keenly aware once the two of you walk in that there are hardly any lights. 

But you see him in the corner chatting, drink in his hand, and face relaxed. His cape flutters before falling back on his shoulders, and you think you should go and say hi, but then Kaminari appears. By the time you look back again, he’s gone.

“Are you having a good time? You look really pretty!”

Kaminari’s swaying into your arms, and you’re quick to lean him against the wall when you hear the swish of alcohol dropping onto the floor, “really? Thank you! I am having a good time!”

“Yeah, I always thought you were hot but never said anything! I thought you were with Midoriya….”

Your heart twinges, but you’re happy to have seen him and Uraraka disappear off somewhere. Maybe this would finally dispel the rumors! Then, you’re daring to be bold, and the words are tumbling out before you can even think to say anything.

“I’m actually looking for someone else tonight!”

‘Wha? Who?! Me?!”

“No! No, I’m looking for Todoroki. Have you seen him?”

“Todoroki?! What? You can’t date Todoroki! Or, or have sex with him,” he looks around frantically before leaning over, “don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

Kaminari’s soft lips move, but then a hand is on your shoulder. You think of your friend, but suddenly Todoroki seems so much taller and broader that you feel like a newborn fawn under his gaze. Kaminari straightens up, and your instinct makes you feel like a bunny running from a wolf because something isn’t right!

“I have never seen you so drunk, Kaminari,” Todoroki glances down at you before running his thumb over the curve of your shoulder, “I think Sero needs some help with the kegs.”

Kaminari stares dumbly before nodding, “yeah, yeah. I’ll go do that!”

You look back at Todoroki before taking a shaky step back. Why did it feel so cold? Why were his hands so cold?... 

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of vampires?”

His eyes shine a gold ring before he blinks it away. You’re dumbfounded and shaking your head, “I like vampires.”

A relaxed, sexy grin grows on his face as he leans over even more to pronounce the height and size he has over you. He simply breathes you in. You smell so good that he feels his fingers twitch with the urge to grab you and slice open your tender flesh to taste your sweet nectar.

“I’d hope so. You were looking for me?”

You’re not sure what it is. Maybe your pre-gaming had taken you down the wrong path because while something inside you stroked the heat of fear growing, it also stroked the fire of arousal that was swirling within your tummy.

Has Todoroki always looked so enchanting? Had he always had such a yellow glow to his eyes? When you first bumped into him, he looked so dead. The dull, pale skin highlighted the scar that turned his smooth skin into a land of rugged wrinkles and tenderness. Mina’s voice echoes in your head and yells at you to kiss him or take his hand in yours and guide him upstairs.

“Do you wanna dance?”

He seems to mull it over, eyes raking the crowd before settling on you with an eerily calm look, “alright. Let me get another drink first. Do you want one too?”

His hand comes to cup your cheek, and your head tilts too quickly because your shirt is exposing more of the curve of your jaw and the pulse point Todoroki knows is there. You were so soft, so malleable, and you smelled so fucking good. He was drunk on your smell, the way he knew that you were soaking your panties all because he turned you into the submissive girl you are. The girl you’ve always been, the one no one had bothered to show you that you had in you.

He wanted to ruin you and felt the soft tendrils of arousal swirling when you breathily breathed out that you wanted another drink. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine himself pushing the fat mushroom head of his cock into your tight hole and imagining the whispers of “Shoto” echoing around him. 

Then, he’s leaving; if he stood there any longer with your throat bared to him like that… he’s not sure what could happen. You were intoxicating; he had to get out of there. You fiddle with the hem of your skirt, riding off the high that he’d triggered within you. His fingernails felt sharper, and the pressure that kept your head right in his palm made you want to cling to him and never let go.

“Drink some first, it’s too full, and you’ll spill it on the floor.”

You could only nod, taking your lips to the cup and sucking down the strawberry lemonade vodka mix (you were sure it was Kirishima’s idea, and it was a damn good one!) Soft lips encapsulated the cup’s rim, and you swear Todoroki’s eyes glossed over before he blinked back to reality.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” he sighs and pushes a stray hair from your face, “wanna see you work for it. You don’t wanna waste your drink, hm?”

It shouldn’t be sexual; it’s not sexual! But then you imagine yourself under Todoroki as he guides your hair into a ponytail so he can slip into your virgin throat and groan, “you’re so good. You know that; you’re so sweet for letting me fuck your throat.”

Maybe he’d call you precious. Maybe he’d take your lips into a feverish kiss as his canines graze the soft skin of your lip. Perhaps he’d tug it just to hear you whine and whimper because you know there’s no escape. He has you right where he wants you.

“I’ll do it for you,” you smile and finish with a gulp that leaves juice spilling down your chin and dripping onto your cleavage, “see?”

His eyes watch the liquid dribble down your chin and spill onto the softness of your breast; he can feel the tenderness in his gums as the urge to unhinge his jaw and BITE!

“Todoroki?”

“What?...”

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go dance?”

He’s rendered speechless, acutely aware of how his nails drawback; he almost did something unforgivable. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to dance with the hard-on sitting heavily in his dress pants, but every time you turned back to smile at him, he wanted to try for you.

It’s heady in the room blacked out by tarp and strobe lights. The smell of sweat is overwhelming, and Todoroki is thankful he hadn’t drunk too much because this environment makes him want to go into a fucking frenzy.

You make him want to destroy. To condemn the world he lives in because he’s not meant for it, not suited for it.

“I love this song!” you cry, alcohol flushing your face and making your lips pinker, eyes a bit brighter, and steps unstable. 

Todoroki reminds himself to reel in his nerves. You’re not just some girl. After bumping into you various times, he found his heart beating out his base needs for thirst and hunger. He wanted to hear you talk about your major, to hold your hand in his, and to tell you that the rumors were true.

That this wasn’t a costume. That he… he’s not thinking clearly. Everything smells much sweeter, and you’re getting closer to him. He’s getting drunk, getting almost sick because it’s been so long, and you’re right there. Visions of you on top, creaming on his cock and mewling his name juxtaposed with the sight of you panting while he drank and DRANK!

You’re a virgin, too; he’d make it so sweet for you. It’s what you deserve. You’re not innocent, though, and he throws all caution to the wind when you grind up against him. It doesn’t matter if Midoriya gave him a weird look for mentioning that you were cute, not when he’s got a soft body to nestle his body into and feel against his skin.

Someone who can warm him from the inside out and doesn’t need to give him a drink to get drunk. You two stay like that, almost uncaring with how he’s grappling for purchase against your swaying hips and shamelessly bringing you back to rock against his present hardness.

“You make me feel so…” you’re panting as the next 2000s pop song begins to play, and Todoroki gets even closer, “I made a bet with Mina.”

What are you saying?

“Did you? What was it?”

“That…that we were gonna fuck. That, well, that I wanted too,” and you’re spinning in his grasp to wrap your arms around his shoulders. The boy just within your grasp grins.

“You could’ve just asked, darling.”

“Huh?”

Soft lips graze against your ear, “I’d fuck you anytime you want. When Midoriya said that you were his childhood friend, all I thought was fucking you senseless. No offense to him….”

His hand slides lower, and he can feel the panty line beneath your leather skirt. If everyone else wasn’t as occupied with their own men and women, you’re sure someone would’ve taken a picture.

You’re growing weak in the knees. You’d never thought about his full strength until he’s towering over you and bringing you closer as if you’re a feather he’s plucking.

“When I hear I shouldn’t have something, it makes me want it that much more,” and you two look into each other’s eyes.

Were his canines always that prominent? You barely have time to think about it because his lips are on yours, and it feels like euphoria bursting in your chest like fireworks.

It’s juvenile, teeth clashing against each other and gripping bodies like it’s a lifeline. Todoroki’s lips travel from your swollen lips before traveling down your neck, a shudder echoing in your bones as it grazes where your main artery is. You don’t even see how Todoroki’s eyes glisten in gold and how his jaw opens.

You’ll be eaten alive, and you don’t even know it.

“Todoroki!!” 

He’s ripped from your grasp. You don’t know what’s happened, but Midoriya is dragging Todoroki out by the arm, and you’re following.

“Midoriya, stop! What are you doing?!” 

You’re stumbling up the stairs, and everyone’s looking at you with such… you don’t even know, but tears are springing to your eyes before you can comprehend. The door is slammed in front of you, and Midoriya shouts that he’ll be out in a minute. Lip wobbly and eyes fat with tears, you rub your arm to self-soothe. Why would he do that? Is something wrong with you?

You don’t even know how long you stand there, waiting for whatever this bullshit conversation is to end. Then, the door opens, and Midoriya rushes to hug you, “are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Why would he do that?! I’m fine. You’re the one that ruined…!”

Todoroki clears his throat before you two can ruin your friendship. It’s his fault, and he tilts his head.

“I need to talk to you about something,” his eyes flicker to Midoriya’s before back to yours, “he just needed to remind me of something.”

“I’ll be around,” you’ve never seen your friend look so serious. He pulls out his phone, and you give him one last look before walking into the room.

Your heart beats rabbit fast. There’s something different about how Todoroki presents himself now. He looks so… manly. Tall and broad, and his features are sharper. Even his eyes look predatory, like a wolf.

“You know what Midoriya told me?”

He circles you like an animal, “he said I shouldn’t go for you because you’re too innocent. I don’t believe him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I could smell your dripping cunt ever since we locked eyes,” and he’s bending over with a grin, “I’m saying I don’t care.”

Your noses just barely touch, and there’s a magnetic pull wanting you to be enveloped in him. To burrow into his arms and let him deflower you.

“I know you’re a virgin. I know you want to fuck me. I’m okay with that, but I need you to do something for me.”

You’re nodding, and he motions to your wrist. You feel a bit anxious, yet you’re scooting closer and entranced with the smoothness of his movements. He’s Otherworldly.

All you feel is a pinching pain that makes your toes curl. It makes you squeeze your legs together, and your mouth is dropped in shock because Todoroki is holding your wrist in his mouth, and it’s just red. A hot tongue laves across the puncture mark, and Todoroki downright moans, “you taste so fucking good. The best I’ve had, fuck.”

“Todo—“

“Call me Shoto,” and his head lifts from your wrist, and the blood drips down his chin onto his dress pants, “do you understand now?”

He shifts closer, to the point you’re almost shrinking down to accommodate for his growing presence. Not physically, no, he could dominate you with a mere look.

“You’re… you’re a vampire?”

“And I want you,” he suckles at your wrist once more before leaning back in, “let me taste you, and I’ll fuck you till you faint.”

You shouldn’t let your emotions get ahead of you, but they do. Lips crash into each other, and you think Midoriya is an absolute idiot.

You weren’t innocent. You were desperate to be eaten up. Shoto wanted to make you a victim, and you’re not sure if it’s the ambrosia laced into his tongue, teeth, and lips, but it doesn’t seem so bad for some reason.

“Bite me,” and he’s grinning into the kiss, hands grabbing your sides to bring you on top of him.

It worked out perfectly for the both of you, and you think Shoto might be even more attractive with those flecks of gold in his eyes. Soft, pillowy thighs are seated on top of him, and it’s a treat to see the vampire so flushed with tinged red fangs, “want more.”

Laughing, you hold your wrist above his mouth, and he looks like a dog begging for a bone. 

“I never took you to be so submissive,” you mumble, delicate fingers dipping under his dress shirt to feel skin glazed with sweat that you know holds so much power, “everyone said you were this big, strong, quiet guy, but….”

“Enough. Give me a taste,” he huffs, and you’re quick to move your wrist away, “really? Do you want to play this game?”

Pretending to mull it over, you sigh as your clothed clit rubs against the apparent bulge, desperate to be free from his confines, “I don’t know… shouldn’t someone who wants me so bad be a bit nicer? Maybe even beg?” 

You don’t even know what’s happened, the wind cracks your hair, and you’re swiftly pinned under him with your legs folded up. He’d be breeding you if he was fucking you, sticky balls squished against your ass as he squeezed your neck just to make your eyelids flutter; he wanted you to go dumb.

“I never beg. If I want something, I take it,” and then he’s piercing your soft flesh again and letting the beads of red drip down the curve of your arm, “now, are you going to be good for me now?”

The breaths come out shaky as you nod, “mhm. ‘M sorry.”

Lips dance on the tip of your nose before passing by and pressing themselves against your own lip gloss leaving just a hint of its sticky residue on his lips that he’s eager to lick off, “you’re okay. You just need to listen to me. I’ll make you feel good. It’s what you want, right?”

The tables have turned immensely with the way he grinds his dick into your heat, a whine coming out as you needily beg for him to actually get going. Sitting back on his heels, his grand cape is shed, and you can see how his muscles flex and stretch under the white button-up. His sweat comes through the shirt, bits, and pieces of it sticking to his skin that you can even see a flash of his nipples poking through.

It’s incredible. It’s a sight you’re sure that porn could never even compete with. The hardness in his pants and nimble fingers (with added sharp fingernails) unbutton every button with a quickness that only someone desperate would have. The moonlight through the windows makes you drip in your panties, only breaking contact to reach for your distressed top until a hand pulls your arms away.

“Wait, I want to slowly take you apart,” he says calmly, like he isn’t making your hips buck with every word, ���just let me take care of you, don’t rush.”

A white dress shirt slips off and lands in a crumpled pile at the edge of the bed, and then Shoto is encouraging you to shift up, and he’s taking your shirt off himself. He’s slow, liking the mini strip tease you give him by wiggling and extending your limbs like there’s a camera on you. It’s beautiful, the cleavage that stuffs your bra along with your mildly embarrassed face that looks everywhere but him.

He can’t have that, and a sharp nail traces your mandible before gripping your cheeks in the way that your lips puff out, “I want you to look at me, hm?”

Shoto doesn’t even ask if you can do that if you’re capable because he knows you’ll listen. You’re so weak, a fragile human; there’s no way you wouldn’t listen, knowing he has the power to drain you of your life force. He never would (you’re too cute), but he could, leading you both to lock your eyes as he pulls away your bra.

“You have such pretty tits, all soft and puffy nipples,” he almost gets lost in your chest, fingers tweaking soft skin that makes your back arch, “wanna suck on them.”

Your hands thread into his hair, whining a “yes” as a warm mouth encapsulates your tit, sucking and tongue laving over the sensitive skin. It feels incredible, and it’s not surprising that so many raved about Shoto’s mouth, hands, or cock; he knows what he’s doing. Sharp teeth give the tease of danger as you feel the tip of it drag across your breasts, and while you know you should feel fear… you just feel the slick pooling in your thighs.

He takes a breath, spreading the shine down the middle of your chest, “you’re so weak.”

“What?”

“I said…” he pauses, mulling over his next course of action before he rips your panties clean off with a single finger, “you’re so weak. I could snap you like I snapped those pretty panties, but I won’t.”

You’re rising to your elbows, about to say something, until you feel a hot tongue licking between your thighs, spreading your pussy open like a starving man devouring you.

“Shoto! W-Wait! I wasn’t…!” 

He’s relentless, lips pursing around your clit and sucking. Your warbled moans are shrieky and high, and you know someone is passing by the room with mischievous glances as you cry out his name like you’re in prayer.

Shoto works his tongue through your folds, groaning because you taste so fucking good, and he’s borderline inhaling your scent. He’s high off it. Just like the warmth of your blood, his hands pull you by your ass closer, so he can suck every ounce of liquid gold out of you till you’re creaming on his tongue like the good girl you are. 

Retracting his nails, his eyes are on you as he slides in a long slender finger. Your walls desperately contract around him, and he growls when your hips begin to cant away from him like you want to run away; you can’t.

“Don’t move; look at me.”

“Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad! Please, please, please,” you lock eyes with him and nearly throb at the way the orbs are shining, and your wetness is spread across his face like you threw a water balloon at him. He’s glistening, and it’s all because you get horny over fucking vampires, “lemme cum on your face, want, wanna….”

Suckling your clit and petting your walls, he can only imagine how you’ll feel when he spears you on his cock and makes you shudder because he’s so deep; he wants to be practically in your stomach. Then, you’re tightening dangerously around him, “gonna cum! Gonna, wait, it’s…!”

For a moment, you feel nothing. A euphoric feeling starts low in your tummy till you’re bucking and wailing; Shoto can’t help but admire you in this state (knowing that he was the only one who’s made you squirt before) as you writhe on the bed. You’re nearly brought to tears, hole gushing and leaking, while he just cleans you up as if it’s no big deal. Shoto acts as if he hadn’t just made you see stars on his fingers, and you hardly feel like you can breathe as he works you down.

A hand taps your cheek as your eyes flutter, “still with me? I want a thank you,” and you tilt your head to the side wordlessly. An eye for an eye and the piercing feeling gives you aftershocks as your head soars into the clouds. 

He’s grinding into you, cradling your head and lapping at the blood that’s beginning to nearly stream down onto the soft pillows. A monstrous growl rumbles in his chest because–fuck, he could cum like this. He suckles a minute more before rushing to undo his belt buckle and free himself from the confines of precum-soaked boxers.

“Condom…?”

Laughter comes out of both of you. You were nearly drained of all living thoughts, yet you’re still coherent enough to spread your legs and remind him you don’t want a baby. Shoto feels a warmth in his chest, and a voice in his brain tells him he should take you out on a date sometime.

Maybe later, right now, he just wants to stuff his cock in you and carve your insides to fit him and only him. Virgins were his favorite. You sit up, soft hands taking his cock into your hold, and you gaze at it in a sort of wonder, “it’s, um….”

“Go on,” he sighs, watching your wrists flick slowly before you dribble a glob of spit onto his angry, fat head. It mixes with his precum, and he shudders when your thumb massages the mixture into the slit that was steadily leaking, “fuck….”

It’s incredible knowing you can make someone feel so good with a couple strokes of your hand, but Shoto’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is open to breathe. You can see his fangs stained with red piercing through his gums. Working him up, you try to remember everything you’ve heard and learned by focusing on the tip with a gentle hold; you don’t want to hurt him!

A thought worms its way into your head, and you wonder if taking the tip into your mouth would be so bad. You’d never tried it before, and you have half a mind to cover the tips of your teeth before sucking on the flesh. It’s heavy and warm in your mouth that it’s almost overwhelming. Seeing him jump and groan, strong fingers flexing against the urge to push you farther down and fuck into your throat, is worth it.

“Your mouth is so wet and warm, fuck. I’d love to fuck this throat, but…I wanna feel myself deep in your insides.”

His hands tear you away from his cock, a string of spit connecting you two as he rips a condom wrapper to shreds. Shoto eyes you and the condom before taking your hand, “help me put it on.”

It feels oddly intimate, his hand dwarfing yours as the two of you work to roll it on, small “haahs” puffing out of him every time you brush against the vein that runs up the side of his cock. It’s sticky, and you feel a bit anxious knowing that he was actually about to do it now.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not!”

Eyes that say more than words flick up to you as he positions himself over top of you, cock laying on your clit, and you nearly hiccup when he thrusts between your folds to lube himself up.

“You think vampires can’t tell what you’re feeling? You reek of anxiety and of arousal. This pretty pussy wants me, but this,” a sharp finger taps your temple, “is telling you to run away. Do you know why?”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’m a monster.”

In one fell swoop, he’s bullying his cock into your tight hole and puncturing your wrist simultaneously. You’ve got the voice of an angel, eyes rolling back as your back arches as if you want to lift up from the bed. His hips are flush with yours, and he can hardly refrain from pounding into you with the way your gummy walls are nearly choking his cock; it makes him sputter for breath, and blood trails down your arm from his carelessness.

“So big, Sho…!” eyelashes flutter against your cheek, euphoria sailing through your bones as he rocks back into you with a pap.

“I know, I know. You’re doing so well, squeezing me so fucking tight, and I can barely move. You’re the best, my favorite girl.”

Apparently, your neediness goes far beyond wanting to be fucked, because being his favorite elicits a clench, and he can see the cream building a white ring around his base. He feels like he hasn’t even started yet, and he’s already ruining you.

“No one’s gonna fuck you like I can,” and there’s more slapping as he begins to get lost in the clenching and the squelching, “you were made to be fucked by me. Midoriya was a fucking idiot. I wanted you the moment I saw you.”

“’S a perfect first time. Love the way you fill me; you’re stretching me!” it’s almost pathetic, drool spilling past the side of your lips as he rocks his hips into you with the power only a superhuman could possess, “I like it, love it!!”

Every sin he’s committed, everyone he’s drained… if it all led up to being in your tight pussy he’d do it again and again and again.

“Gonna drain my balls, you’re gonna make me cum so hard. Fuck, lift your legs higher.”

He has to help you, brain addled with the haze of sex and body compensating from the loss of blood that’s steadily dripping onto the sheets. Ankles are placed onto his shoulders, and he’s folding you in half like you’re a toy. You are his own personal fucktoy that he knows he has to keep.

You’re rendered helpless, tears building in your eyes as it feels like he’s working his way into his stomach. In an echo chamber of your soaked pussy, you feel the coils stretching every time the hair just above his base smashes into your clit. You’re sure you’re shining from sweat and slick as he ruins you for anyone in the unforeseeable future.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!”

“I can feel it, god. I can practically hear it. Make a mess on this cock, baby,” he leans impossibly further, and he’s hitting a spot that sends liquid warmth coursing through your body, “cream all over me. Listen to it all; listen to how good I’m making your first time. It’s good, right?”

“So goo’! So so,” you’re almost there, pussy gaping to accommodate Shoto. Your cock-drunk brain almost wishes he wore no condom so he could actually fill you up.

You’re so much better than he imagined. Every time he fisted his cock in the shower or thought of you under him, he’d never expected it to be so fucking fantastic. He’s losing himself, and the same feeling he had under the strobe lights strikes him. He’s not thinking right, and he knows this when he shifts you just a bit to see your head loll to the side and expose his favorite part of your body.

Like a whirlpool, he leans closer and pounds into you harder with an impossibly fast pace that you barely have enough time to announce how you’re “cumming! Can’t, it’s too much! Cu-umming!”

It leaves you breathless, a pinch, and then a burst of pleasure that escalates from pleasure to euphoria to fucking ecstasy. There’s a gush from your pussy, and Shoto’s eyes are glowing gold with how he fucks into you, clasping walls and letting him dump his load into his condom and fill it to the brim. He’s still drinking, and you’re tasty from head to toe. Every part of you is good, and he doesn’t even realize your breath is slowing down to slow puffs as he pulls back his thrusts.

“Shoto… Sho’...” 

You could die, you might die. He only pulls away when there’s black spots in your vision, softening cock slipping out of you as he brings his own wrist to his mouth, dark, nearly black blood oozing out.

“You’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t tired at all like he’d hardly cum within an inch of his life or sucked you within an inch of yours. The dark blood fills your mouth, and you can’t do anything but swallow, the high slowly coming down as he grips your hand.

He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to kill you. There was no choice. You barely register the banging on the door from outside because it’s so absolutely delicious that you can’t stop drinking and DRINKING! It’s euphoric. It’s so good that you don’t realize the black spots are fading away, and blood is spilling past your chin onto your tits when Shoto rips his hand away from you.

A mild horror fills you when he smiles, mouth coated red and tasting of iron as he brings you to his lips. A horrible pain in your gums washes away when he gropes your waist. What just happened? With a gasp, you’re pulling out and looking up at him. A feeling of dread washes over you as he traces the skin under your eyes, smearing a bright red like a battle scar underneath it. 

He is a monster.

“Did you always have gold eyes?”

And so are you.

#shoto todoroki smut #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #todoroki shoto x you #todoroki shoto smut

[shadoedseptmbr]

20 Questions for fic writers

tagged by @wrathoscribbles Thank you!!! <3

hmm, i am where these things go to die but feel free to tag me if you get the urge to run with it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

115 uh, doesn't seem like that much, really

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

832,340

3. What fandoms do you write for?

well, let's see- Mass Effect, Dragon Age, MCU (caveat, all my Marvel knowledge goes into anything I write. My Hawkeye is an amalgam of the Clint i grew up with, the Clint from Fraction's run of Hawkeye, and what we were given in the MCU with all the...uh, blatantly weird dad vibes thrown out the window. I really like Laura and the kids but i have no idea what to do with Dad!Clint. He is the least Dad-shaped Avenger and i'm including like, Speedball). I haven't written Buffy or the fandom that shall not be named in literally over a decade but i do have a couple stories for each on my AO3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

In Cupid's Little Bag of Trix

Fandoms: Thor, The Avengers (2012), MCU by way of every Marvel 'verse M Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis background Natasha/Steve Summary Darcy might have a little crush. And possibly a kink. Look, it's been a long couple of years.

Shelter

Fandoms: Dragon Age 2 E OCf!Hawke/Sebastian Summary In whom do we seek shelter? Sebastian and Hawke, figuring things out over the course of a story. mind the tags, this one goes dark and sideways but ends happy. Written before extreme tagging was a thing.

apodyopis (SO *thirsty* lol)

Fandoms: Thor The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types M Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis voyeurism but not like...no one is actually having sex Clint's just like that

Summary

Clint likes to watch his girl work. Kind of a sequel to Cupid's Little Bag of Trix but can be read alone

Steal Away Home

Fandoms: Dragon Age 2 Explicit Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Multi Work in Progress Sebastian Vael/Hawke (F) Aeryn is a menace Aeryn is also an assassin Child endangerment Panic attacks fantasy PTSD childhood neglect everyone here has issues

Summary Post-game adventure including the reclaiming of Starkhaven. Sequel to Shelter. This one needs tags updated, too. Several panic attacks, several people with control issues, lots of childhood neglect and out right abuse and endangerment. We used to just assume everyone knew that was par for the course with DA but honestly.

anchor the night

Fandoms: Mass Effect Teen And Up Audiences Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings F/M Summary After the date at Apollo’s. After the bit that would fade to black, too. Mind the tags.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh absolutely, fandom is built on the life blood of comments and i've made some of my dearest friends fangirling over each other's fic. Plus, i've never been particularly overwhelmed by comments so it's never been a particular hardship.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

dolore broke my own heart with that one

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In Cupid's Little Bag of Trix, probably. Clint and Darcy are a barrel of monkeys and they're both so fucking full of zest.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not that I've ever noticed. I'm fortunate enough to just get readers who want to be chill. i had someone once scold me for being mean to Alec Ryder, lol.

9. Do you write smut?

so much smut- less in Mass Effect, which is mildly hilarious given Aedan's penchants, lol.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not unless you count the various branchings of Marvel. I don't really get the appeal.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

again, not as far as I know

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I have! I had the high honor of writing Shep/Shep with my buddy @nightmarestudio606 with The End is Where We Begin

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I sail an armada, lol. I multiship and my favorite varies with what day it is. Right now, Codywan is winning, heh. My favorite to *write* though... Shenko is right up there but Clint/Darcy was so much fun.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

none of my WIPs are abandoned. I don't know if I'll ever finish Steal Away Home the way i want to, though.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Dialogue and characterization, I think. Structurally, I have an excellent grasp of nuance when it comes to word choice in a way that lets me say a lot with not much.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

I'm not particularly focused and it can take a long time for me to finish work. And I tend to write without outline and that can lead to a wandering, meander of a fic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Do it all the time, do my best to make it accurate. I use a smattering of Scots Gaelic for my version of Starkhaven and my source is mostly old books because i like the archaic texture of it. Several of my characters have american south accents and i elide words and use slang and drop g's. '"I am going to the store, mother," she said in her Texas twang' does not read like "Goin' t'the store, ma." and you can't make me believe you don't lose vast amounts of characterization by trying to force it to work. And overly correct dialogue is one of the first reasons i'll drop out of reading fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First written? The Black Stallion (book not movie) First published online? Trixie Belden

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

hard to pick from my favorite children, lol

Cupid's Little Bag of Trix is a (now fairly heavily edited) mess of stream of consciousness that grew a plot from when i was writing quick switch omniscient pov and just expected my readers to figure it out. But i love it. And it remains the biggest boost to my writing ego as ten years after posting, i still get kudos Verge (post Omega DLC) is when i really figured out who Aedan and Kaidan are, together and it manages to wreck me all over again, every time i re-read it.

#sept memes #long post #sept writes

[haveumetbi]

Hello!

I've been using tumblr for a long time, but only recently I've felt confident enough in my english to actually try to join communities and make friends. 

A little introduction... That is actually kinda really long and I’m not gonna subject y’all to it unless you want to, so here’s the tldr:

I’m an acearo, bi, cis girl (🇺🇸 she/her — 🇧🇷 ela/a).

White latina from Brazil.

I’m disabled and neurodivergent

I love sitcoms, comedy is my fav genre of fiction

and cats

and The Sims

and Turma da Mônica

and hairstyling, braids, make up

and Jane Austen

and Taylor Swift

If you like any of it, follow me!! I’ll definetely follow back. If your curious, read bellow.

I’m a 23 year old college student who is majoring in History. I’m kind of a huge nerd, I love subjects like History (duh), Literature, Politics, Philosophy, Psychology, Religion, but also Comedy (i find fascinating to analyze it, even if that kinda defeats the purpose, sue me). I kinda only watch sitcoms, actually, maybe because of how obsessed I am with the genre (more on that later). 

Being Brazilian I may reblog/talk about Brazillian issues/stuff and most definetely will reblog things about Turma da Mônica (brazil’s most beloved comic book series that shaped the childhood’s of at least 3 generations now since the 60s/70s), my longest autistic special interest. Oh, yeah, I’m also neurodivergent, AuDHD and also have persistent depressive disorder (dysthymia gang rise up! or dont, ik its hard and tiresome) and fibromyalgia.

Another special interest I’m unhinged about is The Sims, I use Tumblr mostly bc of it, so I’ll definitely reblog stuff about it, maybe if everythings works out I will even create a side simblr, who knows. I love historic/fantasy gameplay, would be cool to share with people.

Idk if its a SI or just regular cat owner thing, but I’m definitely obsessed with these little guys. Speaking of cat lover, I love Taylor Swift. Like, I’m very casual about most music I consume, but she is the exception, I just... feel SO MUCH with her songs. Idk, idk... She also makes me feel things on a sapphic way, though I’m no g*ylor or hetl*r (rlly dont care about who she dates, just here for the art). But not in a wow I wanna bang this celebrity I have a crush on, cuz I dont wanna bang no one, cuz I’m acearo. Just, dont swing that way (or any way, really /hj cuz i'm actually gray-bi-romantic but its very rare, so i'm usually not swinging at all lmao).

I really like to read, but it has been tough to keep the habit with depression and disabled adult life knocking at my door and kicking my ass... currently I’m finishing reading all Jane Austen’s work (i love her sense of humor and analyses of human psychology) in portuguese, but I plan to eventually read the original stuff in english. I just really love stories and storytelling as an art form, maybe that’s why I love to write. I’m obsessed with fanfictions, actually, been writing since I was 11, never anything in english, but who knows, actually creating and participating in tumblr may be the first step. I mostly write about tv shows I’m obsessed about (though I did write some Turma da Mônica Jovem fanfiction...... thank god I deleted, it was terrible, tho in my defense I was still a preteen) and I mostly watch sitcoms so.... About that...

My favorite sitcom ever is probably How I Met Your Mother (it was literally what i needed when i was going through a really rough patch) and BoJack Horseman (yes, cartoon sitcoms totally count, shut up). I’d say my first sitcom love was The Simpsons, my biodad had a lot of dvds and tapes from the golden seasons and the fondest memories of my childhood were us watching together and laughing like two idiots. My first fandom was iCarly (i was a preteen okay), but I wasnt a big fan of the revival/reboot (yes I was team seddie, no it has nothing to do with it, I gave it a shot, but just didnt vibe with it). I also love The Office, That 70′s Show, Never Have I Ever, Community, Our Flag Means Death, The Sex Lifes of College Girls, One Day at a Time and The Good Place.

I’m pretty sure the only other shows that I got obsessed with that weren’t sitcoms were Once Upon a Time and Lucifer, two shows that were quite humorous with its wacky premises (fairytales in real life???? the devil taking a vacation in LA??? i mean, c’mon!!). I’m loving the Percy Jackson disney adaptation, it was my favorite YA book series and it always bummed me that the movie adaptation was so terrible, I'm glad we finally have a great adaptation and can't wait for more seasons to come!!!

I’m very talkative (you dont say?? 😮 /s) and a total extroverted that really loves to make friends, but my communication difficulties really do shine on long distance conversation... be phone calls, video calls, emails, text messages etc... So, although I’d love if you shoot me a message, bc I love to make friends, I also am not the best texter, so dont expect someone who always immediately answers you right back cuz they are online — please dont take it personal, it has nothing to do with who is messaging me and everything to do with my disability mkay? And yes, I am trying to work this shit out in therapy, but you know... growth aint linear. When shit hits the fan, the first thing that I lose is the ability to answer text messages 😭 idk i just stare at them, they stare at me, i combust and die, the end. 

Dont know how to end this text, so, I’ll just show a pic of my cat, cuz shes everything. Bye!! 

#introductory post #self introduction #introducing myself #new to tumblr #first post #taylor swift fandom #swifties #sitcom #cats #alfafa my princess #fafázinha linda

[rrxnjun]

not a single dandelion ; johnny suh

pairing: johnny suh x fem! reader genre: childhood best friends to lovers ; fluff, a hint of angst, coming of age word count: 5k listen to: dandelions - ruth b. warnings: mentions of alcohol and partying a/n: happy bday vicky, i love you <3 this is my little gift haha @delicatewerewolfsoul

johnny suh has always been your whole entire sun, moon and all of the stars above. wishing for his feelings to finally be reciprocated is no use as you repeat the same ritual every year - not a single dandelion is on your side when you ask the solemn question and blow on the seeds, watching them fly away with your passing youth. years go by, yet, the question is still the same- does johnny suh finally love you back?

i.i THE SUN

Fifteen and in love for the first time, heart hurting and your eyes full of tears; you don’t think you’ll ever stop crying. Frankly speaking, you think your life is ruined just as much as your self-esteem is. The ache in your insides is physically wrenching with your soul, making you feel like you lost a piece of yourself in the flowing wind, when a figure dressed in casual clothes holds your hand to stop your movement, and crouches in front of you. Curiously watching your best friend, you realize he’s tying your shoelaces, precise movements turning the white fabric into a knot.

You haven’t even noticed your shoelace getting undone. Everything around you goes by like a blur– your shoes are the last things you care about when your heart aches so much. You’re only fifteen and you feel like your whole world is ending.

Once he’s done, he taps your ankle just the slightest– take it as a small act of encouragement. He stands up and walks alongside you again, leading you to somewhere and nowhere at all. Perhaps the heated streets are meant to distract you from your heartbreak. You don’t think it’s working quite well.

“Will you beat him up for me?” you ask, sniffling a laugh when he shakes his head in disbelief and hugs you around the shoulders.

“I mean… I wasn’t really planning on doing that, but if you really want me to, I guess I could make an exception…” he says, a joking manner filling up his voice as he stares at the crown of your head from above, ruffling your hair, “he’ll catch those hands for ever messing with my amazing best friend.”

“He deserves his ass kicked. I waited for an hour, Johnny. An hour,” you sniffle, shaking your head. Getting stood up on your date– your first date, to be exact, is nothing a girl wants to go through when she’s fifteen and so, so in love. “He said he’d call. But he never did and then- then he-”

“I know, I know,” he cuts you off, not wanting you to cry harder, because just the hint of you choking on your words is a big, fat red exclamation mark.

Johnny didn’t want to be unnecessarily annoying and ramble about how he told you so, because realistically speaking, he was the first and only one that kept telling you just how much of an asshole your newest crush is. He’s been trying to change your mind about the accepted date invitation to the last minute; but the noisy jab stays locked in his mouth, unspoken, as he hears another one of your sniffles, sighing.

“You were right,” you mumble. Here we go, then, he thinks- it’s good to know you finally acknowledge his good eye for people. He always wants what’s the best for you, right? You should’ve just trusted his opinion.

“Well,” he starts, the urge to rub it in your face instantly gone when he sees your glossy eyes staring at him from under his chin, “at least you tried. It’s okay, because you never really know unless you don’t try. Who knows, I could have been wrong and he could have been a really good guy for you. But still, you can learn from this, and that’s important.”

You hum in agreement, feeling his hand rubbing the crown of your head- efficiently messing up your hair in the process– which is something you hate with burning passion, but won’t mention right now. You watch him as he quickly strides off into the distance and makes you wait at the corner of the street. People passing you by make the whole wait even more embarrassing, as you’re sure you have mascara running down your cheeks and you look like you just went through the worst break-up of your life, but the presence of your best friend is once again your comfort as his tall figure shields you from the crowd and nudges an ice cream cone into your hand a few minutes later.

Feeling electricity run through your veins at the contact, meeting Johnny’s eyes and smiling; the world suddenly feels more cheerful than before. You’re not sure if it’s the ice cream on your tongue or the encouraging smile of your best friend in front of you, but you decide you want a boy like Johnny in your life.

A boy that would wipe away your tears and cheer you up when you need it the most. A boy that would go meet you immediately when you call him– no excuses and broken promises.

What you don’t realize at that very moment, though, is that if you want a boy exactly like Johnny, the only option is… Johnny. Because no one could quite beat him.

i.ii maybe it's the way you play your game

Sitting in a field of yellow, the dandelions around you almost blind you with their glowing rey. The sun shining down on you feels hot on your skin, falling to your body with heated kisses to your shoulders. You don’t even notice the sweat forming on your forehead, not even the shade under the big maple tree not serving you any help; you’re too busy typing away on your phone to realize that your best friend is peering at your screen over your shoulder.

“Who are you texting? I think I just saw a heart emoji,” he says, quirking up a questioning eyebrow at you as you sit a little further away from him, locking your phone so he doesn’t see. You throw a subtle glare at him for not giving you privacy, but wipe that frown away from your face as soon as you meet his eyes.

“No one,” you dote, peeping like a scared mouse. Something inside of you lights up like a fuel when you think your best friend might just be jealous of the one you’re sending yellow hearts to in your whatsapp chat. The ray of sunshine on your skin feels even hotter as your skin burns up with the thought of the message he almost read on your phone screen– not that you care about Mark from your Biology class that much, he’s just your friend you met through a shared project, after all.

“Because I don’t wanna see you texting that asshole from before,” he says, clicking his tongue, “you better not be wasting time on idiots, or else I’ll really whip out the good old ‘told you so’ when I drag you home crying the next time,” the tone of his voice is almost scolding, looking after you like any good friend would while instantly blowing down the happy bubble you had around your brain when you thought it’s going somewhere where it’s, obviously, not.

Johnny Suh could never be jealous of a boy you’re texting– he just wants to see you smile.

“It was just Mark anyway,” you say, sighing, “so you don’t have to worry,” you complete, tone of voice almost defeated, as if you were missing out on something you so dearly desired.

“Say hi to him from me,” he grins, “he should tag along some time. You two seem close.”

Johnny Suh could never be jealous. Not of Mark anyway– that boy is too kindhearted to ever break your heart. The two of them are in the same classes and you hang out with him every time Johnny doesn’t have time. Maybe you should have chosen a different name to see his reaction…

“Hmm,” you nod, “maybe one day.”

He puts his head on your shoulder, gazing off into the distance. “Do you still want me to kick the ass of that guy that broke your heart all those weeks ago?” he asks, voice soft and playful.

The irony of your feelings settling for someone else– someone so close to you he doesn’t even notice it in the first place, makes you chuckle. It’s kind of funny how those feelings you had for Yoon Jonghan from your English class are now so carefully thrown onto another person– you almost forgot how he stood you up for another girl last month. You’re only 15 and foolish. You’ll have time to regret it later.

“I’m over it already, don’t worry,” you mutter, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Hmm,” he hums, picking a single yellow dandelion from the grass to his right, twirling it between his fingers and offering it to you. Your eyes meet as he smiles when you take the flower into your hand and play with it the same way he did a few seconds ago. “Good. You should only settle for a guy that treats you just as right as I do, okay?”

With a weird feeling in your stomach, you only nod, scoffing. “Of course.”

ii.i THE MOON

Looking at the moon shining down on you, you sit at the front porch of your house only a few hours before the midnight. The lonely luna reminds you of the dandelion calmly resting in your hand; its head now white, as if it has grown old and it was its time to leave. A legend says that if you blow on a white dandelion head and all of the seeds scatter away, then you are well loved by the one that your heart desires. If some of the seeds still cling to the stalk, then your loved one has reservations about the feelings that you feel. You always found this legend at least a little romantic, yet, you never had the courage to try it out yourself. The fear of disappointment is bigger than the thrill.

Sighing, shaking your head and looking down at the flower in your hand, you decide to blow on it for the first time in your life– but something inside of you already knows that it’s gonna say exactly the opposite of what you want anyway. Taking a shaky breath in, you close your eyes and blow on the sad flower in the dark, silently repeating four words in your head that somehow remind you of a curse like a broken mantra; please love me back, please love me back, please love me back…

You almost don’t open your eyes in fear of what you’re going to see. You do it anyway, alone and feeling almost nostalgic, looking at the head of the dandelion being almost empty– but still carrying a few lost seeds. They laugh you in the face, making fun of you and your feelings for your best friend. You realize it’s perhaps a little silly, but it feels as if your heart was being taken out of your chest, as if all the years you’ve spent together were all a funny lie.

Johnny Suh could never love you back– and you can’t blame him. He’s seen you at your worst, after all. He saw you when you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone at your freshman prom, the heel of your shoe breaking as you fell face first to the ground in the spacious auditorium. He saw you crying so much that snot was running down your nose when your childhood cat ran away, he saw you when you were anxious so much to the point you’d bitten your nails to blood, hissing at the pain when he tried to hold your hand to calm you down.

There’s no way he could have loved you after all of that. He’s smart. He wouldn’t put himself through that much trouble.

The few, lonely seeds sitting at the white head of the dandelion remind you of the loneliness you feel inside. Johnny isn’t sitting by your side like he always used to be during those sad nights, talking your feelings out and making sure you fall asleep soundly after he leaves. He’s not there to hold you tight when you complain about your mother and cry about missed assignments anymore.

You’re eighteen and you feel like your whole world is ending.

Johnny doesn’t love you back– and it’s no surprise, really. And how could you ever think he would? Silly you. Wishing on a dandelion while he’s on a date with another girl.

ii.ii I've never dreamed of nobody like you

Laying in your bed, nose stuffed and the medicine left on your bedside table. This is how Johnny finds you after the whole day, making sure you are okay. College is a difficult time, and while you had your mum to take care of you when you were sick while you lived back home, your college dorms are just too far away for her to know if you have a fever or if you need warm soup.

That’s when Johnny comes in– being the human personification of your guardian angel, or so it seems.

Your best friend was always one of the caring ones. While he made sure to laugh at your weirdly sounding sneezes the whole day and fakely gagged when he had to throw out your wet tissues to your trash can at the other side of the small room, you knew he did it all with love. And maybe a little bit of salt– and you don’t blame him, the snot-covered tissues really aren’t the best thing to touch after two long Business lectures, but that’s what he gets for caring so much.

“Thanks, Johnny,” you mumble, staring at him with glossy eyes. You’re too tired to try to hide the lovesick gaze filling your orbs, but he is too oblivious to notice it anyway. You’ve noticed that after long years of yearning, and while everyone else around you knew that you were pretty much in love with your best friend, he himself, although he claimed to be smart, never figured it out.

“Anything for you,” he says matter-of-factly, putting on his warmest jacket and going over to your bed to flick your forehead, prepared to leave and get some sleep. It’s late, after all, and he can’t sleep over in your dorm room. “You’re like my sister, after all.”

A low snicker leaves your mouth at that, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly.”

You watch the man leave your room, completely unaware of how much his words affected your poor, small heart. You’re twenty now. It’s been years.

Maybe you should finally move on.

ii.iii I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

Not a single dandelion is able to make him love you back. No matter how much you blow on it and wish to find the seeds flying away with the wind, leaving you with an empty stem in your hands, they just keep on sticking to the very top, the white head reminding you of the moon you watch on dark evenings like these, when everything seems so okay, but so messed up at the same time.

“What do you wanna listen to?” he asks you, playing with the radio of his car with one hand and driving with the other, but still paying attention to the road.

“Anything. I don’t care,” you mumble, watching the scenery behind the windows change in the dark. The lampposts blur your vision as you pass them by and let reality take you away into another world. It’s been a long, stressful week at college and while you only wanted to sleep, Johnny took it upon himself to take you out somewhere to destress first.

The speakers suddenly play your favorite song, a hint of a smile creeping up your cheeks when you realize Johnny purposely played a tune so dear to your heart, even though he made sure to tease you how you only listen to underground artists to seem cool in front of the campus kids when you showed him your new favorite song the other day.

Driving through a tunnel, there’s a hint of orange sitting on his cheeks that almost makes you want to reach over and take his face into your hands, examining the features you know by heart by now. How could you not– you dream of them almost every night. Sometimes, you wish you wouldn’t wake up. You like it better there, with him.

“Is it far?” you ask, snapping back to reality. “I’m bored,” you say, hearing him snicker.

“I even put your favorite music on! Stop being a baby and just trust the process,” he says, rolling his eyes at you and playfully slapping your thigh, making you laugh.

His touch on your skin remains.

The car finally gets to its final destination. A starry hill away from the city invites you to its silence, the chaos and the stress long forgotten as you stare at all the faceless homes under you. Getting out of the car and sitting on the trunk, you feel your best friend’s presence appearing when he takes his place next to you and leans on his own car. It’s beaten-up and old– it’s second hand, so no wonder, but it’s enough for him. He’s a broke college student, there’s only so much he can afford with the money he gets from his work at the nearby café. You would even say the car suits him. You always thought Johnny had kind of an old soul.

Or perhaps, he was always just the more mature one between the two of you.

“Is this where you take all your dates nowadays?” you joke, looking at him in the moonlight. The white glow on his skin makes his features stand out, his eyes gleam with broken galaxies in them. You could stare at him for hours and you wouldn’t ever get bored.

You don’t think he ever looked more beautiful.

A smirk appears on his face, almost mocking you for your noisy question. You don’t think he knows the real reason behind it, though– he’s unaware of your hidden jealousy and bitterness that coats your heart any time you see a girl from your campus tag his account on her Instagram story late at night, when you study for your exams in your dorm room.

He shakes his head, playfully nudging you with his hip.

“Only the best ones.”

iii.i THE STARS

You feel fingers drumming against the skin of your naked calf, the casual rhythm almost lullying you to sleep. A quiet hum escapes Johnny’s mouth as he carries you home on his back, your hands snuggly wrapped around his neck. Your heels are in your grasp and you are pretty sure you feel your purse bumping you into your asscheeks as it’s carelessly thrown over your neck and out of the way.

“Parties aren’t good for you, honey. Maybe you shouldn’t go again,” he mumbles when he halts in his steps and secures you on his back, hostling you higher. His steady steps show that you’re not as heavy as you sometimes think you are– or maybe he’s just strong. Who knows… (judging by the time he spends at the gym, you think it must be the second option. Oh well…)

“But I like to party,” you mumble, pouting. Another sigh escapes the man’s lips as he shakes his head in disbelief, his soft hair tickling your cheek when you settle your head into the crook of his neck from behind.

“But you’re bad at handling alcohol, sweetie. One day, you’ll puke on that guy’s white cashmere carpet in the living room and he’ll have you pay for it. And do you want that? Hm?” he asks, the scolding tone ever so present in his voice. It reminds you of the time when he talked to you about dating bad guys and getting lied to by rude girls in middle school. It’s like looking out for you, but acting just a little bit like your dad by making you look out for yourself so it doesn’t happen again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not cashmere, Johnny…” you doze off, making him huff under you.

“Well, who cares. I bet it’s expensive. And you’re broke,” he emphasizes, making a breathy chuckle leave your mouth. If you really think about it, he’s right. He always is…

“Okay, fine… I won’t- I won’t drink again,” you hiccup, yawning, “but it’s nice to get piggy back rides home from you from time to time,” you grin, a teasing tone seeping through your words.

“If you really wanted me to carry you around, you could have just asked,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “you don’t have to ruin your liver for that, honey.”

“Don’t call me honey,” you pout. Johnny is big on nicknames. If it’s anything close to being a little cringey, he absolutely adores to call you that. You’ve learned to get used to sugarbum, sweetie-pie and sexy pants over time, but that’s when you’re sober. When you’re under the influence of alcohol, you can’t quite control your emotions that well.

“Why?” he asks with the same amount of pout in his voice, making you giggle.

“Because- oh look at that!” you gasp in the middle of your sentence, making your companion jump up a little when you shriek into his ear.

“What?”

“There!” you point your finger into the distance, the area under the lamppost illuminating the short grass. Your heels dangle from your hand when Johnny brings your arm lower so you don’t poke out his eye with your shoe.

You can almost hear the confusion in his voice. “What is there?”

“The dandelion!” you yell out, so excited it’s almost concerning. “Pick it for me?” you pout.

And Johnny does just that– he crouches a little with an over-exaggerated sigh, of course, and picks up the lonely white dandelion under the lamp. Once he brings it to your hand and finds you twirling it around in your grasp, he only scoffs as he puts you down– much to your dismay, because you’re bare-foot and drunk, to take out the keys from your purse and unlocks the front door of your apartment complex.

You haven’t even noticed you were home.

When the door is open, he wastes no time in holding you by your hand and walking you inside. The ride up the elevator passes by like a dream when he drops you off in front of your flat, brushing your hair back with his fingers.

“Drink some water and sleep on your side, okay?” he orders, seeing you nod. It’s not the first time you’ve been drunk– and while you can’t quite walk straight, Johnny knows you can take care of yourself well once you’re home safe and sound.

“Good night sweetie,” he smiles. He’s almost back in the elevator, ready to go back down, when you reach for his hand and stop him.

“Hm?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

You open your mouth and bring the dandelion in front of your lips, blowing on it. Johnny watches you with a soft look in his eyes, your own eyes closed shut as you repeat the same four words in your brain since you were fifteen. Opening your eyes, you squint to see the dandelion almost empty.

Still, there’s a single white seed sitting soundly on top of your dandelion, making your wish unfulfilled.

“Sleep well,” he smiles, reaching over and planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

Watching him leave, you sigh. It’s okay. You’ll try again next time.

iii.ii and I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

It’s been ages since you were back in the town where you grew up in. The flowers around you smell like your childhood and make you smile when you feel the familiar caress of the sun on your shoulders. You just graduated, deciding to spend a few months back at home before you look for a job somewhere else. It’s not that you hate your hometown– you just like the idea of a big city where you could get lost in much better.

The field of dandelions reminds you of Johnny. Even now, he’s sitting next to you. Never once did you lose him in the journey of growing up. He’s always been by your side.

Maybe that’s what’s so hard about letting you move on. Once you think you finally have the courage to let your feelings go, you look at him and feel the same comfort you always have.

That’s the thing– loving Johnny is easy. However tragic it may sound, you never once regretted it. Your heart chose him when you were 15 and you never once scolded it for settling on your best friend. If you could have a re-do, you’d do everything just the same so you could end up with him here, like this. You’re okay with the idea of just loving him, no strings attached, no hard feelings, no heartbreak and no regrets.

His eyes are gently closed in the sunlight, the maple tree over the two of you shielding him just the slightest. You think he’s taking a nap. A smile creeps onto your cheeks as you watch his frown slowly go away, the curve of his lips reminding you of a curious cat. His eyelashes kiss his cheekbones. You think he feels you staring at him– he shifts just a little, finding a better spot in the grass. Sighing, you turn to look around.

You’re both adults now. But your lives are just as intertwined as the roots of the tree above you.

Finding a lost dandelion only a few meters to your left, you can’t hold yourself back. Picking the flower, you twirl it in between your fingers. It reminds you of your youth. Somewhere along the way, it became your favorite flower– it’s always been your closest companion, after all.

The smiling yellow dandelion was with you on sunny days of summer. The white, puffy dandelions were always with you in late summer, scattered all around the fields and parks at your college campus. You could perhaps say that the flower is quite celestial– the yellow head representing the sun, the white one the moon, and the seeds scattering in the wind are the stars lonely sitting in the darkness of the night.

You could call Johnny everything and that. Your sun, moon, and all the stars above. He’s your everything. Maybe you’re just a little cliche.

It’s alright. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

Opening your mouth and closing your eyes shut, you try for the last time. You tell yourself that you’re old enough now to stop dreaming– old enough to stop wishing on a hopeless flower in the dandelion field. A weak spark of hope lights itself up in your insides when you blow on it, but it dies a few seconds later, when a frown finds its way back onto your face after you open your eyes and find the white seeds all sitting on the stem, peaceful as ever.

“Why do you rely on that flower so much anyway?” Johnny suddenly asks from beside you, startling you.

Shrugging, you reply. “I don’t know. It’s just something that stayed with me from childhood. If the seeds all fly away, the one I love loves me back. And if they don’t…” you trail off, feeling a little silly.

“Hmm,” he hums, sitting up beside you and glancing at your face. You suddenly feel shy, already knowing what he’ll ask next.

“And who is it that you love?”

“Well…” you chuckle, averting his gaze. You feel your cheeks heating up from shyness, chewing on your bottom lip. You could lie to him and say just whoever. Or you could perhaps say you don’t love anyone– that’s why the seeds always stay on top of the stem, laughing in your face. Or you could… you could just tell him the truth. And own up to it, after all those years.

“You,” you peep, glancing at him from under your eyelashes. Your whole posture is stern, frozen in its place despite the warmness of the sun shining down on your face. Waiting for him to reject you, you grow weak, almost letting the flower fall onto the ground, when your best friend catches it and grins.

Opening his mouth and blowing on it as hard as he can, you watch all the seeds scatter away like shooting stars. Johnny then shrugs, throwing the empty stem to the grass next to him.

“Well, the flower confirmed it, so I have to trust you now…” he teases, making you roll your eyes and playfully nudge him with your foot.

“Oh, shut up-”

“And since it’s stubborn and doesn’t want you to know when you try it, you’ll just have to trust me when I tell you that I love you back,” he shrugs, the nonchalance of him almost making his confession fly over your head.

“Johnny-”

“What? Not what you wanted to hear?” he asks, his grin only widening. “Well, if you don’t trust me, I’m ready to find even a hundred of those stupid dandelions and you better blow hard enough to make the seeds fly away, okay?” he says, standing up from his position and gazing into the dandelion field, eyes scattering to find some to bring to you.

“Johnny…” you grin and shake your head in disbelief, tugging him down by his hand and smiling at his face.

And when you watch him observe you so lovingly, the glint in his eye just as playful as when you were both fifteen, you realize one thing– he always had you, and you always had him.

Not a single dandelion could make your love go away.

#nct #nct 127 #nct college au #johnny suh #johnny #johnny fluff #johnny angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #johnny x reader #nct friends to lovers #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh angst #johnny suh x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst

[hansolmates]

shiver | 01 (m)

banner done by the wonderful @dnrequests​

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment: touching over the clothes, mc is hornee, *pulls out cards against humanity* “a gentle caress of the inner thigh”, panty kissin, mc is a big ol’ pushover and hopeful for jkk:(( w/c; 1.9k a/n; it’s here! aaaaaa!!! i’ve been really eally realllyyyyyy nervous to post this. even though this is just a drabble series  let me know how you feel about it! enjoy [shiver masterpost]

“Oh, you’re so dead.” 

Jeon Jungkook isn’t thaaaat buff, he's more of a skinny kind of muscular. You don’t understand the hype, why everyone croons over Jungkook’s strength and physique. However, how else could you explain Jungkook being able to climb the currently dilapidated fire escape to the top floor of the chapel. The ladder is rusted beyond repair and is definitely a fire hazard rather than a fire escape. Yet he barely breaks a sweat doing it, and he wipes the minor sheen off his brow with the back of his hand. There’s some soot and whatever nasty residue from the fire escape that gets on his face, a black streak marring his already annoying face. He’s currently wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic “hello.” It makes you sneer, your two consciousness (inappropriate and appropriate) warring against each other to determine whether you still find this man attractive or not. 

Convincing yourself that Jungkook is ugly is the worst quick-fix idea you’ve ever had. 

The words of your Aunties, the family friends in the church, echo in your ears. Jungkook’s bad. They’d say over and over. It would cause you to snort and giggle, unable to imagine what sort of things he’s done to warrant such a cliché label. Yet some of the girls your age, girls that have gone off to college agree with sultry looks and longing eyes that yes, Jungkook’s bad. So bad, it’s good. 

You haven’t a clue what he’s actually done to earn such a hushed title, his parents are lip-tight about his doings, unless it’s his achievements in the architecture graduate program. You hear things, though. Things that make you shamefully green with envy, envious of sin. 

As soon as he finds proper footing in the storage room, he goes to the closet, immediately finding his backup clothes. They’re plain white button-downs, awkward long shirts with no shape or definition to them. They belong to the church, and no one ever uses them because they’re stiff and itchy. Yet Jungkook wears them like it’s tailored, and you have to look away when he quickly knots the bottom half of the shirt, fashioning it into a tasteful double knot in order to cinch his lean waist.

“Pretty sure it was just you that saw me,” Jungkook says dismissively, “so it’s fine.” 

This bristles you the wrong way, and you put down the catering covers you were supposed to return to the storage room. You smooth out your Sunday dress, this shade of Boring Beige looking particularly pale in the morning sun. “How do you know I won’t tell?” you turn your nose up. 

“Because I know,” he doesn’t even look at you, focusing on rolling the sleeves of his shirt. You weaken when you see the black shadowing across his forearm. That’s new, then again you haven’t seen him since last Christmas.   

“Know what?” 

“That you have a crush on me,” Jungkook says into the air like it’s common knowledge, adjusting the leather jacket on top of his outfit so the white-startched collar pops on top, “I mean, it’s hard for anyone not to know. You’ve been into me since youth group, Bunny.”  

You hold your breath, counting to ten as you close the door behind you. A vision of you playing “Duck Duck Goose” as a five year old plays in your head, where you’d pick a bushy, big-eyed Jeon Jungkook each time, hopping over to him to pat his fluffy head so he’d chase you around. 

It’s old news, your puppy love for Jungkook. How could you not like him? He's clever and sweet with his mother and always told the best stories in youth group meetings.  Everyone thought your affections were so sweet, and while that attention weaned over time, your feelings have only increased the more self-aware you’ve become. 

With a mind as open and honest is yours, it’s hard to ignore how well Jungkook has grown. What has also grown is your curiosities since the two of you have moved onto university. Jungkook goes to the university uptown, a far drive which only forces him attend masses during the holidays. You attended the local community college, wrapping up a bachelors in some vague major that you’re not attached to. You’re currently looking around for some graduate schools, but unfortunately you’ve been so wrapped up doing duties for Pastor Nina that you haven’t been able to look around properly. 

Jungkook’s probably living a fun life, with the way he’s grown rough and loose, you resent him. 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s right in front of you, trapping you between his body and the door.  

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bunny,” you furrow your brows, nearly growing cross-eyed when he leans in. “I think your crush is cute.” 

You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Sure, he considered everyone a friend when you two were in youth group, but that was youth group. Premeditated, parents forcing other children to do the same things with each other for years upon years in the hope they’ll practice together forever and ever. Jungkook did not want that, evident from the way he dipped his duties as soon as he got into university. 

You hate how easy he dips back into it though, calling you Bunny and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Bunny, because you’d hop around to him whenever he was in sight. Bunny, because Jungkook had been fondly compared to the wide-eyed, diamond-toothed creature. It was cute when you were five. Now, it’s just discomfiting. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bite, “and I don’t like you anymore.” 

“Sure you don’t,” he rolls his eyes, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand rests on the curve of your waist, fingers slotting themselves between the pleats of your skirt. “That’s why you’re not moving away when I’m about to put my hand under your skirt. Because you don’t like me.” 

You press yourself further into the door, your skin hot and vibrating. So warm, you feel like you could melt through the door and escape from Jungkook’s gaze. Sure, the young ladies in the congregation talk. Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about Jungkook being seedy, a result of being repressed after years and years of stiff routines and expectations thrust upon him. You could care less about Jungkook’s sexual appetite, until this appetite has reached you. 

“Mm, you’re pretty,” Jungkook’s eyes roam your form, the daisy white blouse doing nothing to barricade Jungkook’s sudden interest in you, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” 

“I’ve touched myself like this,” you hiss in defense, and it’s more out of anger than in pleasure. You don’t need a man to comfort you, but Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in mirth at the new information. 

“That’s really sexy,” Jungkook slips down, roams his fingers down to your ankles and plays with the silver buckles of your Mary Janes. You shiver when his hands trail up up up to your knees, the swell of your thighs, and catch right under the elastic seam that holds your secrets together, “but I’ll have you know, it’s different when you have someone hold your pleasure in their hands.” 

You’re in the storage room of your church, fifteen minutes before the Christmas mass, with Jeon Jungkook’s head between your legs. Your skirt is long, and Jungkook doesn’t bother to ride it up your waist. 

It feels more forbidden that way, Jungkook hiding under the fabric of your skirt to get to your honeyed center, sneaking his way in with rough hands and soft touches.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, pressing your full spine against the wooden door, “we shouldn’t. N-not like this.”

What is wrong with you? Is it sheer curiosity? Do you just want to know what it finally, finally feels like? You should be pushing him away. There’s red lights flashing back and forth in your brain like sirens. Yet, do you really want to turn away the attention you’ve been aching for years? 

You imagined your first time to be relatively special. The bare minimum, a bed, a talk, and a partner you’re mutually committed to. None of those things are met. Now you understand why all the young women in church whisper about sex like this. It’s a spur of the moment, it’s an unbridled pleasure you don’t want to stop, no matter how forbidden and sinful the act is.  

“How else then?” you feel his deep voice straight through your panties, his lips whispering between the pink cotton like he’s sinking liquid heat into your skin. “I can’t sink my fingers into your sweet cunt during the candle lighting. Or when we open presents with the family after. That would be inappropriate.” 

Your replies come out in breaths, puffs of air that conceal the moans you so badly want to let out as Jungkook pokes and rubs at you. He does nothing beyond the cotton fabric, only slides two fingers up and down your slit as he gathers the arousal between his digits. 

“So wet already, that’s so sexy,” he’s kissing your core, and you sigh fretfully at the pleasure that feels so close yet so far away. 

“P-please, Jungkook…” 

“Please what?” Jungkook teases, fingers slipping back and forth between the elastic of your underwear, “please stop? Please touch me? Please fuck me?” 

The church bell answers that, and Jungkook’s nose knocks right into your bud at the sudden intrusion. You yelp at the jarring stimulation, pulling him from under your skirts as the loud noise echoes in the room. Both of you wince at the pain, the moment interjected. 

“You first,” Jungkook casually opens the door for you, as if he didn’t have you ten seconds away from begging him to make you come. 

You don’t even look at him as you dash away, not bothering to take the elevator in favor of running off the heat. Two minutes before the procession. The church is packed to the brim, only the back seats left. Your family probably gave up on waiting for you up in the front. As you sit down in the corner, you’re momentarily distracted by the beauty of a decorated church on Christmas. Even though you’re part of the decorating committee and commanded most of the design, seeing the stained glass lit up with fairy lights and the poinsettia plants blooming burgundy on the altar, you’re impressed. 

“There’s a draft here, you must be cold.” Jungkook talks to you so politely, a perfect picture of a gentleman as he drapes his leather jacket over your lap. He speaks as if it’s a pleasant surprise, a childhood friend he hasn’t seen in nearly a year. 

You can’t tell him to move when people are watching and Jungkook is seconds from interrupting the procession, so you reluctantly scoot over so he can sit next to you. His scent overwhelms you even more now that you’ll have to sit next to him for a whole hour, lavender and vanilla overtaking your pew. 

The jacket is heavy and heady on your lap, and you force yourself to stare straight ahead. Jungkook cannot weaken you like this, not anymore. 

Thirty minutes later, his fingers are hovering at the start of the homily, caressing your thighs under the jacket with his big hands. A draft? Please. You clamp your thighs together, knocking your knees and hoping they’d lock together for the rest of the mass. Jungkook’s a master key, easily parting his way as if your muscles are pure jelly. You turn your head sharply, glaring at him with all the fire in the world. 

“Careful,” Jungkook mouths, eyes flickering to the symbol atop the podium, “he’s watching.” 

His fingers finally brush the damp blush cotton of your panties, and you shudder. 

#ficswithluv #btsguild #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook angst #bts angst #kpop fic #hansolmates

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It���s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic

[blackenedwhite97]

Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.

#polyerasermic #eraserhead #erasermic #erasermic x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #present mic x aizawa #eraserhead x reader x present mic #eraserhead x reader #reader insert #bnha #mha #myhero #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha fanfiction #y/n x mha #y/n x bnha

[sapphirelass]

Deal? - Remus LupinxDaughter!Reader

Hi! :)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3) 

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

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

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

I swear, my next story won’t be about Umbridge XD

Word count: ≈ 2300

Warnings: Umbridge, angst, slight swearing

Enjoy!

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

“I do not wish to criticise the ways of the school, however you have been exposed to some rather irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention” the toadlike professor threw a dark glance at a sandy haired student and smirked evilly, “extremely dangerous half breeds”.

The student in question raised her hand angrily, and glared at Professor Umbridge. “Yes?” the teacher smiled sweetly, “miss… Lupin, am I correct?”

“Yes, (Y/N)!” she began, “but that’s besides the point. Look, I know what you’re doing, but Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had, and I’d be more than happy to bet everything I own on that being quite a common opinion in this classroom!”

Most of her fellow classmates nodded furiously, and the young girl turned her head towards her professor, who immediately cleared her throat and declared: “Well, I’m afraid simply being a beloved teacher doesn’t really matter, dear.  Werewolves are still extremely dangerous creatures. They are beasts that are undeserving of respect and that should not be allowed to be part of our fine wizard community. They are uncontrollable, and highly likely to injure or possibly kill young witches and wizards, including their own children.”

She flashed a cruel, yet pleased, smirk as (Y/N) furiously stood up, despite Hermione desperately trying to force her down.

“You have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!?” she whispered angrily, her nails digging into her palms as her fists clenched. “You have probably never even met one of these so called ‘half breeds’, have you? No, you were most likely just told some bizarre stories containing more lies and made up facts than truths, and decided to put that worthless ‘knowledge’ - if you can even call it that - to use by spreading rumors and destroying the lives of innocent people.”

Umbridge looked frantic, and was about to speak up, but (Y/N) got there first. “I despise people who look down on others. People who claim to be better than everyone else. People like you. You certainly don’t deserve respect!”

She took a deep breath, and was about to continue when Umbridge’s shrill voice forced her to stay quiet. “That’s quite enough! Detention, miss Lupin. The rest of the week, five fifteen, don’t be late”.

***

A few hours later, (Y/N) made her way back to Umbridge’s office. She knew her friends had wanted to talk to her, but she had done her absolute best to avoid them all afternoon. She simply didn’t feel like explaining to them why she had done what she did. She’d gladly do it again though. Her father was the kindest, wisest, most incredible person she had ever met. He had done everything in his power to give her a good childhood, and no one had the right to insult him. She’d defend him to her last breath if that’s what it would come down to.

She knocked on the door carefully, and pushed it open when she heard a shrill, terrifying voice sing a sweet “come in”.

“Oh, miss Lupin, almost late I see!” she said arrogantly. (Y/N) didn’t have time to answer before her teacher continued. “Sit down.”

***

The detentions went on for another four days before Umbridge told her she didn’t have to come back the following evening, but that she better hold her tongue unless she longed for more. (Y/N) tried to keep that in mind, but still lost her cool a few more times before the end of the semester. However, the Christmas holidays were approaching, and though her red, swollen hand caused her to worry slightly, the idea of seeing her dad and godfather caused her enough joy to tip her mood over to “mainly happy”.

She stepped off the train with her friends, and immediately spotted her father on the platform.

“Dad!!” she shouted, and threw her scratched arms around his constantly scarred torso. “Merlin, I’ve missed you so much”. She buried her head in his shoulder, simply enjoying the feeling of love and safety that he somehow instantly gave off.

“Hello, darling!” he said gently, returning the bone-crushing hug. “I missed you too, believe me…”

(Y/N) wanted to stay like that forever, but eventually let go as she intended to at least try to keep her… problems… hidden. She had never really been able to keep secrets from her dad, and therefore didn’t want to do anything he would consider “out of the ordinary”. If she did, he’d figure it out, or persuade her to tell him everything within minutes, and she knew he’d feel guilty if he realized what she had done for him. She understood perfectly well that the scars on her hand were deep enough to be visible for the rest of her life, and that nothing she would say could convince Remus Lupin that it was not his fault. She was left with one option: He could not, under any circumstances, know. Ever.

They carried her trunk together, and walked a few feet behind the rest of the gang.

“So?”, her father inquired, “How are things? You all doing okay?”

“I suppose”, she answered, “Our new DADA teacher is quite a daft prick though.”

“(Y/N/N)!”, he muttered sternly, casually trying to hide a smile, “Are you sure that’s the right word? Sounds rather rough, doesn’t it?”

The witch shrugged. “No, I think it fits rather nicely. It’s almost as if she’s trying her very best to prevent us from learning anything helpful…”

“That’s… well, that doesn’t sound very promising, does it?”

“No, hence the slightly offensive description… But enough about her, how are you? Had any company while I was gone?”

The older wizard smiled, easily noticing the tone of his daughter’s voice switch into a far more joyful, energetic one - One he knew and loved!

“Oh yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time at headquarters, and Sirius essentially isn’t allowed anywhere else, so we’ve done a lot of catching up. There is, believe it or not, a lot to talk about after 12 years without seeing each other, so it’s been very nice.” He turned to her, smiled even broader and added a quick “But I’ve still missed you.”, before quickening his pace to catch up with the others.

***

Later that night, (Y/N), Remus, Harry and Sirius were sat in the living room of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius were playing catch with an old snitch they had found in the house, lazily throwing it back and forth. (Y/N) lay on a sofa, a thick leather bound book tightly clutched in her hands and her head resting on her fathers lap. He was deeply invested in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and father and daughter were simply enjoying a nice, calm evening.

All of a sudden, Sirius grabbed the snitch, sat up straight and reached out towards his godson.

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

The dark haired boy pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down and mumbled a quiet “nothing”.

“Sure, let me see then”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry abo…”

Harry didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Sirius had risen from his seat and forcefully grabbed his left hand. The slightly faded “I must not tell lies” was still readable, and Harry winced as the look on his godfather’s face went from composed to furious in a matter of seconds.

“Who?”

“Sirius, I…”

“WHO?!”

By this time, both Remus and (Y/N) had put their books down, and were carefully observing the “argument”.

“It’s our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge. She’s quite generous when it comes to giving detentions. But mine’s really not that bad now. It barely hurts anymore…”

“That’s totally barbaric!? Moony, we have to…”

“Harry”, Remus interrupted his old friend with a worried look on his face, “What do you mean by ‘quite generous’?”

His heart practically skipped a beat when he felt his daughter shift uncomfortably, however it was Harry who answered.

“‘m quite sure half the Gryffindors have been to her office at least once by now. Even when you’re not really doing anything wrong, she’ll make up a ‘reasonable’ excuse…”

As Harry spoke, (Y/N) had unconsciously been pulling the sleeves of her jumper closer to her fingertips. Remus obviously noticed and made eye contact with Harry, nodding discreetly towards his daughter as if to ask if she too had… well… yeah? Harry closed his eyes, knowing full well how his friend wanted to hide her scars from her dad. It had taken hours of convincing before she had even let him, Ron and Hermione see, and he understood why she didn’t want Lupin to know. He did, however, not like the idea of lying to his former professor, and nodded slightly.

Remus closed his eyes looking simultaneously sad and angered, sat up straight and muttered “(Y/N/N)?”

The young witch took a deep breath and was about to move away from her dad, but he was faster and quickly grabbed her hand. He was very gentle, but she flinched anyways, as her last detention had taken place only a week prior.

“(Y/N/N)”, he repeated, “show me”

“Dad”, she mumbled quietly, “‘tis fine, don’t worry”

“(Y/N)!” His voice sounded far sterner now, “I’m serious. C’mere”

“No, I don’t want…”

“It’s not a question of whether or not you want to, Love”, Sirius explained before his friend could think of a response. “Show your dad.”

“But…”

“(Y/N/N)”, Harry mumbled, “Just… just do it”

“No! I can handle it! Stop making it sound like I’m too weak to do so!”

She felt a tear escape her eye, and stood up to leave the room when Remus waved his wand and locked the door.

Taking yet another deep breath, his daughter turned around, made her way across the room, pulled her left sleeve up and slammed her scarred hand down on the table for the other three to see.

“There! You happy now?!”

A flood of tears were streaming down her face, as her dad, godfather and best friend leant closer and read seven deep-red, awful, heart wrenching words:

***

I must not defend filthy half breeds

***

Remus put his head in his hands and stood up, while Sirius moved closer to his goddaughter and pulled her into a tight hug. Harry joined the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

“why? Why (Y/N/N)?”, her father whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I… I couldn’t…She… sorry…”

The usually calm, collected girl was completely lost for words. Shaking. She had no clue what to say, all she knew was that she had to let her dad know that she was sorry. Sorry for making him feel guilty. Sorry for causing him so much pain. Sorry for not being strong enough.

She walked over to him and noticed heavy, wet tears on his face too. Carefully she wrapped her arms around him, and together they sank down onto the cold floor. They sat there for what felt like hours before Remus finally spoke up, repeating his previous question.

“Why, darling?”

She met his sad gaze and collected her thoughts before quietly whispering “She keeps saying horrible things - pure lies - and she’s enjoying it. She’s throwing insults my way every chance she gets. If I don’t stand up and fight, everyone will think she’s right, and she’s not. Nothing will ever change unless someone works for it, and as soon as that someone backs down, they’ve lost. I’m not having that.”

He looks back at her, his eyes full of pride. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You mean besides being the most phenomenal dad imaginable?”

He chuckled softly, ruffled her (Y/H/L) hair and held his hand out. (Y/N) slowly placed her hand on her father’s and shifted her gaze towards the floor as he examined the neatly written letters. With a worried expression on his face, he grabbed his wand and moved it back and forth over the scars while quietly muttering a few carefully chosen words. The pain immediately became more endurable, and after putting his wand away the older wizard grabbed his daughter’s shoulders gently, and looked at her in a sad, yet determined way.

“(Y/N/N), as honourable as your intentions are, please don’t do this for me. I’m not going to tell you to back down, but if you’re going to keep it up, don’t let it…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting injured because of me. I’m not wo…”

“Yes, you are! Stop saying that! I’ll be a bit more selective, if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare tell me not to fight for you. You are my dad, my only family, and there is not a single person on this planet less deserving of disrespect, insults and hate. Dad, you’re amazing, and I’m not letting her fool people into thinking you’re not.”

After a moment of silence, a quiet, “I still don’t like it…”, escaped his lips.

“I know.” She sighed, “That’s why I originally didn’t plan on telling you.”

(Y/N) was fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting her fathers warm gaze, when she suddenly sat up and said, “Let’s make a deal? I promise to choose my fights more wisely, and in return, you won’t blame yourself for the consequences of said choices? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Her father sighed, but reluctantly answered, “Fine, as long as you promise me one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t hide scars or pain from me ever again, no matter whether it’s physical or mental, okay? You’ll let me know, and let me help, always!”

She held her right hand out, her dad shook it and they shared a smile. This time, a true, pure one that actually reached their identically green eyes.

“Deal!”

~ L

Part 2 Oh, darling...

Masterlist

#remus lupin x daughter reader #hp imagine #remus lupin x daughter #Harry Potter #remus lupin #sirius black #order of the phoenix #imagine #remus lupin imagine #story #hp one shot #HP #harry #harry potter x friend #sirius black x goddaughter #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #harry potter x reader

[feministmetalgreymon]

@thejustmaiden

So your going to call me a liar. What I told you was my own lived experience. I had to explain to children that I was an adult. And the children would refuse to believe me. But it wasn’t even just kids sometimes even adults would assume I was a kid. I’ve had deal with police assuming a was child skipping school. And I’m not the only adult woman that has had to deal with this shit. Are you going to call this woman a liar as well

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/appear-young-for-my-age-problems_n_5ec57fcdc5b60da1b4545fd2

Fantasizing about who a fictional child will grow up and marry. Is not sexualizing a child. People have this thing called an imagination. Which enables them to see alternatives too what is shown in cannon. It’s why people can make a white character Black. Or a straight character gay. Or a child character an adult. If your bothered that some people might want to imagine who a child character might marry when they grow up. Too bad that’s your problem.

Your argument is basically. You don’t like trope therefore trope bad. What a shit argument. It’s normal for people to fantasize about things they do not want to do in real life. 60% of women fantasize about being raped. Do you think that means that 60% of women want to be raped. Sessrin appeals to people that like to fantasize about marrying their childhood crush. Doesn’t mean their going to go out and fuck their high school teacher. 

Inuyasha is a anime were dogs transform into humans and fuck people. You can accept a story about a girl fucking a dog and having a half human half dog hybrid baby. But a girl growing up and marrying the man she had a crush on when she was a child. Is what disgusts you. You do realize bestiality isn’t okay in real life. Right.?

There is no magical essence that makes a man a child’s father. A father is a man that raises and provides for a child as their primary caretaker . Sesshomaru did none of that. Being occasionally nice to a child does not count. Finding a child a new home also doesn’t count. Unless your going to argue adoption agencies are also parents as well.

You completely ignored my entire argument. Sesshomaru had nothing but free time on his hands. He had no job. No responsibilities. And tons of wealth. Parents hire baby sitters and nannies out of necessity. They don’t just drop their child off with a random adult for no reason. Naraku was dead and Sesshomaru is canonically the most powerful youkai in the world. So danger wasn’t a concern either. He left her with Kaede because he didn’t want to raise her. There is no other explanation. Even if he lacked parenting skills. Rather than just leave her with Kaede to do all the work he could have co parented Rin with Kaede. He didn’t raise her because he didn’t want to.

Now your just making shit up. Rin was between 17 and 18 when she married Sesshomaru. This is confirmed in the first episode of Yashahime. I even wrote an entire post debunking this lie https://feministmetalgreymon.tumblr.com/post/649705552808722432/proof-that-antis-are-lying-about-rins-age.

Inuyasha’s story ends in the year 2000. Yashahime takes place in Reiwa era. According to the Japanese calendar Reiwa era begins in 2019. In other words Rin couldn’t be any younger than 18 when she had children. If you need to lie in order to make your point. Well that’s pathetic.

Thanks for proving you don’t know what grooming is. Here is the definition of grooming according to child protection experts.

Grooming is when a person manipulates a child into trusting them so they can abuse them. Age alone doesn’t determine whether a relationship is grooming or not. A child can groom another child for example. Sesshomaru has never raped or abused Rin in any form. So it’s a lie to claim he groomed her.

You sure do love twisting the meaning of words to suit your argument. Hogosha doesn’t mean parent. It’s just another word for protector. Here is the definition of Hogosha according to the Japanese dictionary.

https://www.wordsense.eu/hogosha/

Thanks for proving yourself wrong 😎

#yashahime #sesshomaru #inuyasha #sessrin #pro sessrin

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Dandelion

Rating: G Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 1589

Prompt: Hi! I really like your writing 🥺! Thank you for your hard work❤️❤️! If you don't mind can I request a headcanon about Victor when MC is hospitalized because she is fainted due to her overwork, and when she gain her consciousness she try to leave the hospital because she is worried about the important filming at her office, but Victor chase her and make her back to hospital's bed? I will really happy if you grant my request 🥰🥰

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! I ended up writing this in my usual 2nd person perspective but the experiences are of the MC in the game. If that bothers anyone, oops, you can re-imagine this to be written in 3rd person perspective.

Something like fuzz encroaches at the edges of your vision and your head feels like it's filled with cotton. None of these are good signs and, to be honest, you know you're at your limit after working 60 hours for the past three days.

You're able to get away with this—as well as the enormous pile of energy drinks on your desk—only because Anna is away on a business trip for another project, meaning no one else in the company dares to make you take a break. Oh, there are people who make gentle suggestions to rest but none of them can budge your determination to perfect this important contract you had accepted. Last minute changes had been added to the outline and so, to ensure everything is still on schedule, you have to pull this insane work schedule.

But you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to finish looking through the last 20 pages of this document in front of you.

You rub your forehead to stave off the building tension in your head and reach out with your other hand for a drink. However, your hand only bumps into empty cans around you and you grimace as you realize you have to make another run to the nearby convenience store to buy more drinks.

When you stand up to do just that, extreme vertigo assaults you and your last thought before your vision goes black is 'Oh... this isn't good.'

#

You wake up to an extremely white ceiling.

It's pure white.

It's so white that, for a second, you morbidly wonder if you really overdid it this time. But then the rest of your senses make themselves known and you smell the antiseptic scent of a hospital, you feel the crisp sheets below your hands, and you think you hear someone breathing.

You turn your head to the side and your gaze collides into eyes the color of steel. It's Li Zeyan, and with an incredible scowl no less.

"You're awake."

You struggle to sit up and swing your legs to the side of the bed, but he places a large hand on your thigh immediately, obstructing your movement and pressing you down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Li Zeyan's voice is clipped. Uh oh, someone isn't happy.

"I have to get back to the company."

He gives you an incredulous look. "Do you realize what state you're in?"

His words make you notice you're in a hospital gown and there is an IV drip attached to you. You wince slightly at the sight of the needle in the back of your hand but another thought soon takes over your mind.

"Wait, how long have I been here? Did I miss the deadline?" Your voice rises in desperation and there's a suffocating weight on your chest when you think about how all your earlier work might amount to nothing.

"Idiot, how are you still thinking about work? You truly don't understand your condition. You hadn't had any proper sleep or food and the amount of energy drinks you were drinking was dangerous. Even though you're still young, if you continue like that you could do irreparable damage to your body. You—" He cuts himself off and his eyes widen. "Are you... crying?"

You reflexively reach up to touch your cheek and your fingertips come back wet. You blink and Li Zeyan's figure goes blurry as more tears well up in your eyes.

"Sorry, it's just a physical reaction. Don't mind me. You can keep lecturing. I'm listening," you choke out through a tight throat. Frustration, embarrassment, and mortification strangles you.

You roughly wipe at the tears, wanting them to stop right now before you see the exasperation in Li Zeyan's eyes. Intellectually, you know he's right and you don't want it to look like you're crying to get him to go easy on you. There have been many times where you feel childish and inadequate compared to him and so you don't need to come off even more as a baby throwing a tantrum.

But the tears just won't stop. Your shoulders shake with the effort you use to suppress your sobs.

A hand holding a tissue box appears in your lap.

"Cry it out."

You shake your head like a rattle drum.

"... What haven't I seen?" Li Zeyan's voice is low and even, and it's when he places a hand on your head that your last resistance crumbles.

You hunch over, automatically trying to stifle your gasps, but you end up crying your eyes out anyway.

You cry, and cry, and cry. You cry about the pressure of the deadline. You cry about the fear of not being able to make it. You cry about the anxiety and worry over whether you're doing enough or whether you're good enough. You cry at how hard it is to be be a successful adult.

The entire time you can feel the soft pressure of Li Zeyan stroking your hair.

Eventually, you calm down enough to start pulling wads of tissue out of the box to wipe your eyes and blow your nose as the last of your tears trickle to a stop. All your emotions feel raw and sensitive, but you have to admit you feel a lot better.

Li Zeyan takes your dirty tissues before you can say anything and tosses them into the wastebasket below the bed. Then he levels an unreadable gaze on you and, just as you're about to squirm and open your mouth, he speaks first.

"Why are you working so hard?"

"Huh?"

"No one pushes themselves like this unless there's something very important they're trying to achieve. So, what is it for you?"

"... You're going to think I'm dumb."

He stares at you flatly and you can see that he's clearly thinking it's a bit too late for that.

You look down at the hospital sheets and pick at a loose thread. "I want to catch up to you."

"Idiot." He actually scoffs out loud but continues before you can decide how to react to that, leaning back in his chair. "Do you know why I created Huarui?"

You blink, caught off guard. You know it isn't a family business and that he started the company when he was in his final years of university. But did he ever say why he created it? Because he could? Li Zeyan standing at the top of the world seems as natural as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, so you never questioned it.

He sees your confusion and explains, "I was looking for the girl who saved me when I was a child. I searched for her for 11 years."

Your childhood memories are still vague but you do remember the more recent memory of the film set where you and Li Zeyan had been tricked and how you jumped in front of Li Zeyan to shield him. You can almost feel the ache and burn of the lightning strike again if you think hard enough.

Li Zeyan continues to look at you, his eyes calm without any ripples. "I built Huarui and made it rise to the top because I thought that, if I stood in the highest place I could think of, then she would have an easier time finding me. Of course, the position itself also allowed me to increase the extent of my search for her."

"In the end, I did find you."

A wry smile flashes across his face, so quick you doubt your eyes. "Yes, you found me first, and so my choice wasn't the wrong one."

You know he's trying to tell you something but, try as you might, you can't figure out how the current conversation connects back to the previous one. As the silence grows, you see exasperation appear in Li Zeyan's eyes before he sighs lightly.

"Now, after all these years and efforts, do you think I would walk away? You only need to reach out and I'm right here, waiting for you."

His words crash into you, bringing with them a sudden epiphany and new perspective. You reach out without a thought, as if to touch him and make sure he really is there, but then you realize how silly that looks. Before your hand can drop though, he covers the remaining distance and grabs your hand, wrapping your entire hand within his and entwining your fingers together. The familiar warmth and steady strength makes your eyes sting again and you drop your gaze to your interlinked hands, not wanting him to see you cry again.

You finally realize you've been mistaken all this time. You were being crushed by your own expectations and desires to stand beside him. In your head, you imagined him to be walking ahead of you, his back growing smaller and smaller. But that isn't true at all. Yes, he stands in front of you, but he isn't moving. Instead, his body is turned to yours and he's holding a hand out towards you, waiting for you to take a step. If you fall, he will catch you. If you take a firm step and grasp his hand, he will take another step forward and wait for you there.

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were low and solemn.

"Mm."

Against all odds, you both found each other again and so there is no way either of you will leave the other.

#love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc

[joucearchived]

The Hell in Your Eyes - 1

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things. 

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild mentions of violence, mild blood

Word Count: 3122

Next Chapter 

Loki doesn’t meet her until two weeks after moving into his new prison.

In fact, he’s slightly confused as to how this mortal has escaped his notice — not that she is even remotely worthy of his scrutiny, but he distinctly remembered conducting a mental count of the tower’s inhabitants, one she is obviously missing from. Loki was quite confident he knew of every single person’s existence within his prison walls, yet here he is, staring at a mortal whom he’s never laid eyes upon, and it unnerves him. 

Loki is not scared of anything, but he prefers to be aware of his enemies. 

His gaze is wary as he stares down the unfamiliar face, memorizing the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyebrows are slightly raised, and her eyes, which are meeting his own with a mix of surprise, defiance, and a tint of fear. He grins. 

Ah, never quite without the fear.

But then her attention moves past him and focuses on his brother — typical — and Loki’s grin falls. Thor is standing besides Loki, just recently interrupted from his enthusiastic explanation of what a ‘smoothie’ is. He now sports a ridiculously wide grin and surges forward towards the unknown woman. His shoulder rams into Loki’s, pushing him out of the way in his haste to greet her. 

Loki decides he despises her. 

“Angel!” comes Thor’s booming shout, his voice altogether too happy, too enthusiastic, too loud . He sweeps the woman — Angel — into a warm embrace. Loki snorts derisively, noting the girl’s chipped nails, painted a crude shade of black, the oversized, undignified shirt she sports, and the atrocious mop of hair sitting atop her head. He is utterly unimpressed. 

“Ow Thor, you’re crushing my ribs.” 

Her voice is bothersome, altogether too scratchy and too rough and too hoarse. She sounds like she just woke up. Every word she says grates upon his nerves, fueling his dislike. Loki wishes she would drink some water, if only to soothe his growing irritation. 

His brother releases her, and she takes a couple of steps back, smoothing down her hair. Her fingers are entangled in the ends, and she pulls on them with the impatience of a child. Still grinning at Thor, she continues. 

“What are you doing up so early?” she inquires. “I know for a fact you don’t have to train in the mornings to maintain your stupid godly body.” 

As Thor’s booming laughter once again echoes throughout the room, Loki cannot help but roll his eyes. Pathetic . Just another airheaded girl infatuated with his oh-so-righteous golden brother. At this point, Loki doesn’t even feel disappointment. This is to be expected, after all. Thor is the one who is a hero. Thor is part of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Thor helped save humanity — against Loki no less. Thor never tried to subjugate New York, nevermind that Loki’s mind hadn’t been his own, that his body was hastily reconstructed, that —

“Good morning to you too my lady! I was just here with Loki, teaching him how to make smoothies. With — what do you call this? Ah, a blendifier.” 

Thor’s voice is softer than Loki is used to, and in this moment he decides that he hates his brother’s voice much more than he hates this useless mortal’s. He drowns out the rest of their conversation, idly wondering if he can slip away while his brother is distracted. Perhaps he could get back to his reading; Midgard’s literature is undoubtedly inferior to Asgard’s but also infinitely more engaging than concocting whatever a ‘smoothie’ is supposed to be. 

His train of thought is interrupted by Thor calling out his name. 

“Oh, but you haven’t met!” Thor turns towards Loki — seemingly just remembering that Loki is in the room — and motions towards the girl. 

“Loki, this is [Y/n], and my lady, this is Loki, my brother, the one I’ve told you about.”

Loki wonders what Thor has told her about him. Surely, if his previous activities on Midgard haven't spoken clearly enough, whatever narration of their childhood tainted with Thor’s tongue should have sufficiently warned her of himself. 

But the mortal woman surprises him. She sticks out her hand and offers him a handshake. Hesitantly, he takes her hand and shakes once, firmly, then quickly releases her. Her hands are warm and soft — much unlike his. He wonders if they too can become as calloused as his own. Perhaps if she was forced to endure what he had. He doubts she has ever even felt a flicker of pain. No, pain hardens. She cannot have felt pain because pain is relentless and beautiful and pain is cruel and glorious and because with pain either you embrace it or you break and she is too soft to have felt pain. 

Loki doesn’t like soft things. 

“Hey Loki. I’m [Y/n] but everyone just calls me Angel. Or Angie if you prefer. It’s nice to finally meet you. ” Her voice doesn’t waver, but Loki can detect the underlying unease present. He doesn't, however, detect a lie. How interesting. 

“Pleasure,” he deadpans, lip curing into a sneer. Thor frowns, his brother quickly moving between them, shielding her from Loki. Loki scoffs. As if he could do anything to her. Loki could not so much as breathe without permission. Here, Loki was at the complete mercy of his brother, the pitiful Avengers, and now this drowsy looking, disheveled Midgardian. 

Loki almost laughs. Oh how far he’s fallen. 

Thankfully, his interaction with the girl — Angel — seems to be over. She turns away from him, once again addressing his brother. 

“Just remember when using the blender — not blendifier — to be careful. Make sure your hand is nowhere near the blades when you turn it on, and clean it with a sponge. Or just rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher. You know how the dishwasher works, yeah?” Her eyes are filled with sincerity and adoration and Loki hates it. For a brief moment, he entertains the thought of shoving Thor’s head into the blender. He doubts it would fit. 

His brother beams at her. “Do not worry my lady. I know how to use the blendifier. Even if the blades were to attack my fingers, I assure you my Asgardian strength would protect me.” Loki is fairly sure the blades could take out a sizable chunk of Thor’s hands. The temptation to test out his theory rises again, and he stomps it down. 

Thor is just as boastful as ever, never ignoring a chance to show off in front of others. Thor hasn’t changed a bit. Thor is still the completed, whole reflection of himself while Loki is just broken fragments. It isn’t fair. Oh but when has life — the cursed thing — ever been fair to Loki? His irritation grows and his hands clench, his fingernails digging into his palms. Pain. Pain is comforting to Loki. Loki knows pain and he likes it.

“Sure, sure. I know your stupid godly genes will protect you or whatever, but just be careful. I’m pretty sure you still bleed, and blood smoothies really aren’t all that appetizing.” She looks at Loki then, her eyes glinting mischievously, and winks. “Unless, of course, you volunteer to clean up as well, because I sure as hell know we don’t want to scrub your bloodstains off these counters.”

Loki isn’t quite sure how to react, but his fists loosen. 

She’s soft and weak and mortal but she’s also snarky and sarcastic. And Angel is the first person to use ‘we’ and include Loki in a long time. He decides he hates it. He doesn’t wish to be included with these Midgardians under any context. He doesn’t need their pity, their false sympathy. In fact, Loki prefers the venomous looks of the other Avengers much more than whatever trick this woman is spinning. His fingernails once again dig into his palms and he feels the familiar trickle of blood sprouting from his palms. 

Angel looks away and turns back to Thor, who offers her a bit of the ‘smoothie’ he has been attempting to make for the past hour. She giggles, a sickly sweet sound that makes Loki’s stomach churn, and pats Thor’s arm.

The blood running from Loki’s fingers drips onto Stark’s expensive, pristine floor. 

“Thor, the last time you made smoothies they worked more as laxatives. I’ll pass.” She grins again, and Loki wants nothing more than to wipe that expression off her face. He wonders how she’ll look without the seemingly ever present light on her face. Perhaps her eyes will resemble the dull marbles that stare at Loki every time he looks into a mirror. Her gaze falls upon Loki again, but she refrains from addressing him. 

With that, Angel turns and saunters away, her sock covered feet softly padding across the floor. Her socks are mismatched and worn and frayed at the edges. 

______________________________

The woman is right. Thor’s smoothie is nothing short of poison and Loki tells him as much. 

“This is absolutely atrocious.”

Thor’s eyebrows connect in a comical frown as he takes a sip. His lips pucker and he forces himself to swallow. “I completely disagree, brother! This is just what the Midgardians drink. It’s a part of their culture, something you should get to know well.”

Thor hasn’t changed a bit. He is as stubborn as he ever was. Thor would rather drink the entirety of the brown mush he has made than admit to Loki he was wrong. He wonders how Thor would react to Angel’s criticism. 

Thor pats Loki on the back as he motions towards the mess he has made out of the kitchen. Loki knows Thor cannot feel the scar tissue hidden underneath Loki’s clothes, the raised edges and criss-crossed lines. He knows this because he hides it. He doesn’t need anyone, much less Thor, to know of the scars his body carries, and he doubts his brother would care. But Loki wishes Thor wouldn’t use so much force. He disguises a wince under a scowl and steps away. 

“Brother, would you mind tidying up? I have a training appointment with the Captain, and I would rather not be late.”

Loki doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. Thor is already walking away from Loki, his steps heavy and confident, so unlike Angel’s. Thor is leaving Loki to clean up his mess, another mess Loki had no part in making, and Loki is once again responsible. For he knows, he doesn’t have a choice. If any of the tower’s inhabitants were to come down and see Loki in the midst of this disaster, he knows they will blame him. Not that it particularly makes a difference, but Loki would prefer less hostility than needed.

With a wave of his hand, his seidr sweeps across the room, erasing any evidence of Thor’s ill-fated attempt at creating something. Loki does a once-over of the room, ensuring everything is returned to its original position, and as he moves to return to his quarters, a flash of red catches his eye. 

Ah. His blood on the floor. The blood of a god — frost giant — cannot be as easily removed as the stains left behind in the blender. 

Looking around, Loki grasps a sponge and, after again ensuring no one can see him, bends down to begin scrubbing his own blood off the floor. Loki doesn’t like blood. It’s too red and too warm and he knows its rusted smell will follow him throughout the day. He especially despises his own blood. It stains.

In the midst of his undignified scrubbing, Loki detects footsteps. He moves to stand up — quickly, but he is too late. Angel walks back into the kitchen, this time with her hair slightly more tamed and in a ponytail. She looks to have changed from her sleepwear to loungewear, sporting the ridiculously comfortable pants Loki has learned are called sweatpants and a shorter, cropped top. Her socks are still mismatched. 

She looks at Loki, and with a start he realizes he is still on the ground. Loki Laufeyson is on his knees before a mortal, in the midst of wiping away his own blood from the floor. 

Damn.

His throat tightens as he feels his anger rising, pulsating throughout his entire body. He scorches her with a glare, daring her to comment on his situation. He swears, Norns be damned, he will kill her. Regardless of the consequences, he will kill her if she says anything. Loki doesn’t care if he is condemned to spend another century on Midgard as penance, he will silence her. He opens his mouth, about to make his threat clear, but she speaks first. 

“Well. I told Thor he would bleed. Did the big idiot leave you to clean up his mess?” She tilts her head at Loki, and he hates the way she is still looking down at him, hates the way one of her hands are on her hips, hates the way he can see a sliver of skin peeking out from between her clothes.  “I specifically told him we wouldn’t clean up his blood.”

Loki bites down his retort. Angel doesn’t sound mocking, but rather sympathetic. He doesn’t need sympathy from a mortal. He finally rises and approaches her, looming over her smaller frame. “Get out,” he says, voice halfway between a whisper and a rasp. “There is no ‘we’ with you and I, and you will do well to remember that.” 

Angel holds his glare for a second, but then turns away, and Loki waits for her to flee. Instead, she grabs the soap sitting next to the sink and holds it out to Loki. “Alright then, Your Highness. Have fun.”

Loki’s hand reaches towards the soap and his fingers brush hers. Her fingers are soft, just like her hands, and Loki wonders if her soul is as fragile as her physical body. Loki hates soft things. 

With that, Angel leaves the kitchen a second time, and Loki is left to wipe his own blood off the floor, alone. 

______________________________

He can’t get her out of his head. 

The woman who was so damnably soft occupies Loki’s thoughts and he hates it. He hates how he can perfectly recall the color of her eyes, her scent, the way her skin felt against his own. He hates how she saw him kneeling on the floor. 

Loki is sitting on his bed, just after rejecting Thor’s persistent invitations to go down to dinner. Thor insists it’s ‘bonding time,’ that ‘all are welcome,’ and ‘everyone would love to see him there!’ Loki isn’t an idiot. He knows what the others say about him. They don’t realize that Loki can hear their hostile whispers from across the room — and even if they did, Loki doubts they would stop. 

His mind wanders back to the girl. Would she join in on their gossip? Do they trust her? Who is she? 

Thor had seemed familiar and friendly with Angel, but Loki knew nothing of her. He could detect no magical presence surrounding her, and she did not look as toned or threatening as the Widow. From all he could gather, she had no place here. Yet, she was obviously a welcome occupant of the tower. Loki was intrigued, and he felt a begrudging curiosity surrounding her grow. 

What was her history? Why wasn’t she here when he arrived? 

Loki is distracted from his thoughts by his stomach, which alerts him of its discomfort. Loki has not eaten anything since the half sip of Thor’s smoothie, and hunger has begun to fester within himself. But Loki cannot get food yet. No, he must wait until dinner is over until he can go downstairs and snoop through the refrigerator for anything suitable. He has learned that this made everyone more comfortable. The Avengers could pretend he did not live with them, and Loki could avoid the hateful and tense environment that accompanied him wherever he went. Really, the hunger he feels is insignificant. He has dealt with much more, and he knows from experience he can go many moons without sustenance.  

It’s past midnight when Loki finally ventures downstairs. He enters the kitchen without a sound and doesn’t bother turning on the lights. Loki had no need for light — he much preferred the darkness anyway. He walks towards the refrigerator, hoping that perhaps he could find some of the takeout left over from last week’s movie night. Ah, but Stark had thrown out the takeout yesterday. Loki just hoped that he could find something fresh then — but not too fresh, in case the others still desired it. 

But as Loki opens the refrigerator door, he is surprised. On the top shelf, placed on the left edge, is a plate covered carefully with plastic wrap, a bright green sticky note plastered on top. He isn’t unfamiliar with the practice: reserving leftover dishes as one’s own. He found it childish, really, but he never took anything that was claimed — no unnecessary hostility was needed, and he was familiar with the screaming matches that often took place when claimed items disappeared. What he is unfamiliar with is the name on the sticky note. 

Loki , it says, with a crudely drawn illustration of what is unmistakably his horns, followed by a smiley face. 

Loki looks around, waiting for whoever had placed this cruel joke to pop out of the darkness and laugh at him, but there is no movement. Eyes narrowed, he scrutinizes the note. It’s not a script he recognizes, and he deduces it must belong to the woman — to Angel. 

Carefully, he takes the plate and uncovers it, the smell of the food wafting through the air. Loki recognizes the scent as the dish the Captain made earlier that day. His mouth waters, unwillingly, and Loki cannot recall the last time he consumed food so freshly prepared. His fingers toy with the edges of the plate, debating whether or not to permit himself this pleasure. 

He decides that yes, since the woman had clearly set aside food for him, it would be an insult to ignore it. Not that Loki particularly minded insulting his roommates, but again — the less hostility, the better. And if it ends up as part of an elaborate trap, well then Loki can say that he expected it. 

He takes the food back to his quarters, and Loki truly enjoys a meal for the first time since he was still a Prince of Asgard. 

He hates that he enjoys it.

He hates soft things.

And most of all, he hates Angel.

______________________________

Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold. 

 - Victoria Erickson

______________________________

Next Chapter

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki series #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic

[theeslytherinslut]

12 Grimmauld Place (3/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Remus Lupin x readers brother 

Word Count: 2,072

Warnings: angst, language

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 

It was the only room you’d seen thus far that didn’t have peeling layers of dark-colored paints, ranging from deep emeralds to smoky greys and jet blacks. Instead, it was painted likely the lightest shade of grey Sirius could convince his mother to agree to, but looking around, that was probably the only thing she would’ve approved of in this room. 

Laughing to yourself quietly, you had a stark, strangely sad realization: this was still a teenager's room. Scantily clad Muggle women postered the walls draped across expensive-looking cars, Gryffindor apparel was strewn everywhere possible, what looked to be a Quidditch banner hung from the ceiling, and various Honeydukes wrappings littered the floor. A large, expensive, very elaborately made chair stood in the corner of the room, buried underneath layers of dark clothing. 

“Sorry, probably should’ve cleaned up...wasn’t exactly expecting company though, not that you’re a bother! Merlin, it’s lovely to have someone so love--so...it’s nice to have someone else here.” Sirius finished, as red as the scarlet robes hanging from his canopy bed as he stuttered his way through his explanation. 

“This is...this is incredible,” you said, moving through the room to find a picture of Sirius and James with their arms thrown across each other's shoulders, laughing jovially as Remus shook his finger at them in the distance. Chuckling to yourself, you continued to look at the handful of old pictures that littered his dresser. 

Another picture nearby showed Sirius sneaking up on James as he very clearly flirted with Lily, her face lighting up with laughter as James jumped up in fright. 

“He was always so easy when Lily was around...” Sirius trailed off, smiling sadly at the photos before you. Looking to the other corner of the mirror, you saw three more photos shoved into the cracks. 

The first was a picture of the group of them lounged around the Great Lake; you’d guessed Peter was behind the camera because only the four of them smiled up at you. James’ head lay in Lily’s lap, hers rested on Sirius’ shoulder, who waved up cheerily at you. As Lily sat up to meet James halfway for a quick kiss, Sirius stretched out his arm and pulled in a sheepish looking Remus, ruffling the top of his head affectionately. You smiled at the sight of your brother with his friends. The happiness that radiated from this picture was intoxicating, you never wanted to look away. 

The next was of them in what must’ve been the Gryffindor common room. Being a Slytherin, you’d never seen the inside of anyone else’s common rooms. Large, comfy furniture was placed strategically around the room, drapings of what you’d assumed to be scarlet and gold draped the walls, an inviting fire dominated the center of the room. 

This picture was another of the group of them, but this time a frightened-looking James and a smirking Sirius were evidently getting scolded fiercely by Lily. You laughed upon seeing Remus standing behind Lily in a sort of gesture of good faith but seemingly offered no words to his insolent friends. 

“Hexed a fourth year Slytherin,” he explained, you turned to glare playfully at him, and he smiled, “The git tried to stick gum in my hair! I think there might’ve been an incident with myself and a girlfriend of his, though...Anyway, James caught him just before and...well, he was with Madam Pomfrey for a few days, I think. Lily gave us a right good telling off for that one, came close to Minnie’s scoldings,” Sirius sighed wistfully, likely reliving the day in his head.  

“Wait...” you trailed off upon seeing the last. 

The third picture was in the Great Hall; though many people were in the picture, the center focus seemed to be a group of Slytherin girls standing in the entryway. There, in the center of the photograph, laughing heartily, was you. Your Y/H/C hair was seemingly shining underneath what was likely a very sunny day, your teeth gleaming as you laughed at something someone had said. 

“Is that..?” you turned around, looking to find him sheepishly smirking at his feet. 

“Yes, I believe it is,” he said. A smile was on his face, but he was scrutinizing yours. “I think I nicked it off Remus at some point.”  

“Why?” you shook your head. Surely Sirius Black hadn’t been fawning over you as well? Surely you hadn’t wasted all these years apart because neither one of you had the bollocks. “You could’ve had anybody...” 

“Well, I could--and did,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not proud of my whorish boyhood--though it only seems fair having given my recent dating history, funnily enough, a dementor's kiss is not a hot thing.” he broke off when you let out a rip of laughter. “But all that is behind me. I can still hear James suggesting I settle down with a nice girl instead of working my way through the female half of our year. Remus gave up on that idea long ago, I think.”

His smile turned sad at the mention of his friend, and your eyes fell back to the picture of the two of them being scolded by Lily. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said honestly. “The last half of your life...it must’ve been awful. Losing your best mate, your brother essentially, and then being blamed and imprisoned in fucking Azkaban for a decade for it.” 

Sirius didn’t answer, merely looked darkly at the floor. You took your cue to steer the conversation in another direction. Tightening your towel around you, you cleared your throat. 

“So, this nice girl James wanted you to find, any luck thus far? Do I know her?” you asked, lightening the mood. 

“What do you think? This decrepit house isn’t exactly overflowing with options. Unless you count portraits of past, insane, family members, then I’m swimming!” he laughed, skirting around an answer.

“Nothing like a little pureblood incest,” you laughed in return. A draft of cold air blanketed the room, and you shivered. “So, er, I didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag on my way out; you don’t by chance have any clothes you wouldn’t mind me using, do you?” 

“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s absolutely freezing in this drafty old house.” Sirius commented, gesturing to your goosebump covered arms. He turned and clapped his hands, flying to his closet. 

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of my old school clothes in here...Seems dear old Mum had at least half a heart. This stuff might fit you a tad better,” he murmured, running his hands along the swinging clothes in his old closet. After a moment, he let out a barking laugh. “Here!” 

He threw you a maroon hoodie, and you gave him a look, knowing he was teasing you about the housing. Opening the balled up fabric, you smiled despite yourself seeing the front. It was a Gryffindor Quidditch sweatshirt. You grinned giddily as you turned it around and saw Sirius’ last name splayed across the back, complete with his number. What you wouldn’t have given to wear this years ago...

“Did you need pants, too?” Sirius asked, an odd look on his face as you smiled down at his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, no. That’s okay. This looks like it should cover everything--I’m a hot sleeper.” you explained sheepishly.

Turning, you padded softly over to the adjoining bathroom and clicked the door shut. 

What a turn of events. Standing in Sirius Black’s bathroom, you took stock of the night. 

You’d been attacked and almost killed by Fenrir Greyback, only just managing to escape what would have been a horrid death--or worse. After being mended by Madam Pomfrey, Sirius Black was to continue nursing you back to health. Sirius Black, your greatest childhood crush, and the way your heart hammered in your chest even now told you it might not be all the way extinguished. Never once did you think you’d see where he lived, let alone be undressing in his bedroom. 

And his bedroom...what a time capsule it was. It made you feel like you were in school again, hoping to catch him in the hallways between classes, always peering through the stacks of books as he and James teased Remus during his studies. And further, it seemed all that time you hadn’t been the only one watching. Sirius Black had been watching you almost as much as you had him in your school years. Evident in that hidden in his bedroom was a photo of you, a photo you didn’t know he snuck. A photo surrounded by the greatest hits of his school years, surrounded by those he considered family. 

Trying not to let it all go to your head, you groaned when you slipped the sweatshirt over your head. Though the pain in your body wanted to bring you back to reality, the full, uninhibited scent of Sirius sent you reeling once more. A sickly sweet, smoky scent was the most noticeable. Tobacco, maybe? Suddenly, the image of a young Sirius lounged beneath a tree on the skirts of the Great Lake was brought to mind, smoke rolling from his mouth as he brought his hand down from his lips. Of course, another inherently muggle form of rebellion, a double whammy to his family. 

Something woodsy lingered underneath, as if the hoodie had been swaying in the breeze of some forgotten forest for the last twelve years instead of shut up in this abandoned house. Head swimming, you gingerly stepped out into the bedroom before you got lost in your thoughts. 

“So, er, about the bed situa...” Sirius said, trailing off as he turned around to see you leaning against his doorway, sweatshirt draped to the tops of your thighs.

“Sorry, shit, I can put something else on if you want...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I mean, we’ve known each other all this time--sort of, anyway. I must be like a sister to you...this is probably super weird. I’ll just fetch a pair of pants,” you nervously rambled. Sirius’ face had not changed since he saw you, and you were beginning to feel incredibly anxious about it all. 

“No, no. Seriously, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius said, his old playful smile playing on his lips. Rolling your eyes, you damned the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“Here, I found you these," Sirius said, tossing you a pair of thick brown socks.  "I remember hearing you whine about your hands being cold all the time, figured the same might apply to your toes in an old drafty house like this.” 

“You remember?” you asked him. 

“Yes, well, I overheard you whining about it a time or two, and Remus was always mentioning you whining about being cold...I just remembered, that’s all.” Sirius said, his tone becoming oddly choppy. 

“Well, you’re right. My toes were positively popsicles, but I didn’t want to be a complainer or anything, though...” you trailed off, pulling the thick socks onto your ice-cold feet. 

“Ah yes, get attacked by a murderous werewolf, blast yourself into a wall, shatter a few bones, but lest you complain!” Sirius teased you, smiling once more. 

In the next second of silence that occurred, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you smiled sheepishly. 

“Bastard got me right in the middle of making dinner,” you explained. 

“Well, come on then. I’ll have Kreacher fix us something; what would you like?” Sirius asked, seemingly happy that he could help. 

“What’s he good at?” you shrugged, hungry for anything. Winking at you, Sirius barked for Kreacher as he led you down into the kitchen. 

“Yes, Master?” Kreacher croaked, bowing so lowly his nose brushed against the dusty floor. 

“Fix us some herb dumpling stew, won’t you? And some of those delicious little mince pies you make.” Sirius said, and at once, the elf nodded and stepped over to the stove. 

“And some apple pie?” you asked hopefully as you sank into the seat across from Sirius at the long kitchen table. 

“Whatever she asks, Kreacher,” Sirius commanded, smiling fondly at your excited state. 

“Of course, Master...Kreacher gladly serves those pure of blood...gladly...whatever she asks..” he agreed in his funny speech patterns. 

While Kreacher was cooking, Sirius reckoned it was time to alert Remus and the rest of the Order, and you couldn’t find a reason to disagree.Sighing, you watched him disappear to retrieve Remus.   

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter Smut #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Granger #Ginny Weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #weasley twins #weasley #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus #remus lupin fanfiction #lupin #back #marauders fic #harry potter marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter fic #Draco Malfoy #Draco #daddy draco #draco malfoy smut #blaise zabini

[sleeperswakewriting]

First time smut? Could be both or one inexperienced with a dose of comedy ^^

Summary: Childhood friends to lovers, Levi finally works up the nerve to ask Petra to go to prom with him. After years of pining, they decide to lose their virginity to each other on prom night.

Rated: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Prom outfits based on this!

now playing inevitable by anberlin and I think we're alone now by tiffany

If you told Levi Ackerman that the best night of his life would include loud music, drunk teenagers, and a broken air conditioner, then he would have called you crazy and told you to piss off.

Except, of course, unless you mentioned one small detail.

He would be attending prom with his childhood crush, Petra Ral.

Friends since they were babies, neighbors both raised by single parents, they were the best of friends.

Even if they were polar opposites.

Petra was on the cheerleading team, doing cartwheels and somersaults by the time she could walk and was a social butterfly with a heart of gold.

Levi had exactly five friends, not including Petra—Erwin, Hange, Mike, Eld, and Gunther. He met them when they were in elementary school and his friend group had stayed the same ever since.

Throughout the years, their friendship faced trials and tribulations, mostly due to the fact Levi had been in love with her for as long as he could remember, and Petra was absolutely oblivious to the fact.

So much so, that she would dance around the room while they did homework, clad in booty shorts and a loose t-shirt with no bra on. He knew she saw him as a brother, going as far as to kiss him on the cheek in times when she was feeling particularly affectionate, and allowing him to wrap his arms around her with each heartbreak she faced.

"Levi, why don't you ever date? You could get any girl you want!"

He didn't dare tell her why. Even though Petra would never actually leave him, he enjoyed their affable candor, her free touches, and smugly, their Friday night movie nights, a ritual they had since they were children.

Which was also the point of contention between her and her current boyfriend.

He had a bit of a reputation as being a hard ass, also Petra's silent bodyguard even though she didn't need it, and one guy in particular—Oluo, had the nerve to come between their sacred time.

And Petra being Petra, invited him to their movie night, to Levi's chagrin, but miraculously, Oluo had taken a liking to him and the three had a few more movie nights together.

Eventually, they broke up amicably, with Petra teasing Levi that it was because Oluo had a bigger crush on him than her.

It was their senior year, which meant college applications were rolling out, and for the first time in Levi's life, he faced the reality that he might be alone.

Petra had gotten a full scholarship as a cheerleader, Erwin was going to business school, Hange to a STEM school, which left him...

"Directionless!" His mother called him. "I've worked so hard raising an intelligent young man and you can't pick a school?! Application times are ticking, Levi, you need to choose something—-a major, a school, something!"

He asked Petra what she thought about him going to school across the country, and in her infuriating smile, she patted him on the shoulder and said whatever made him happy.

I want to make you happy, he wanted to say.

The summer of their junior year was filled as it always was; late nights talking around the bonfire, camping, and summer jobs.

Petra had gotten him a gig as a camp counselor, a job he wouldn't have gotten if it weren't for her since he had "the personality of a boar," as Hange aptly put it. But, with her sweet persuasion and way with people, she had convinced the manager that Levi would be a fine addition to the team.

And he could lead the children's soccer league!

As luck would have it, he was pretty good with kids, and they latched on to Levi's stoic personality with glee.

It was a sleep-away camp, and while the girls and boys slept in separate cabins, counselors included, Levi knew Petra had a rule-breaking streak (that she got from him) and snuck out after curfew so they could watch the stars.

"The night sky is easier to see than in our hometown!" She exclaimed, leaning against his shoulder.

There was no way she would be able to hear how fast his heart was beating, how his cheeks were heated from how close she was, but all of that seemed to change when she took his hand in hers.

"This is our last summer like this, isn't it?" She whispered, and he dared to wrap an arm around her, even though it was far from the first time.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly, not wanting the cruel reminder. Would they stay friends? Would she leave him? Did he fuck up all his chances to be with her?

Erwin and Hange kept telling him to tell her how he feels—they weren't getting any younger, and Levi morosely pointed out that she's dated several people, with none of them like him at all.

Well, there's a reason why none of them worked out, they observed.

Petra leaned in closer, burying her face into his shoulder as she sniffed. "I'm not ready for senior year. So many choices to make. I mean, I'm glad to be more independent, but I like living with my dad, you being right next door, and our friends all being in one place. Everything is going to change."

Levi swallowed, her words like bile in his throat, but choosing to placate her.

"Well, not everything."

She looked at him, eyes watering with hope.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, looking away from her, not being able to tolerate her steady laugh, her playful friendly shove, and an "Oh, you!"

But she did neither of those things, and he looked back cautiously, noticing a different look in her eyes.

Maybe it was the moonlight, but her gaze was tender, her lips puckering in a way that he'd never seen before, and before he knew it, she was leaning in to kiss him.

Levi had his first kiss when he was 13 years old in a game of spin the bottle, with Petra in attendance. She had been making eyes at a boy all night, and in a fit of frustration, he spun the bottle furiously, hoping it would land on her, but instead, on another girl who he was fairly sure had a crush on him.

Petra walloped with the rest of their friends, cheering and loudly goading, and it was over before he could blink twice.

Hange took pity on him later, locking them in a closet for 7 minutes in heaven, but it turned into Petra crying over the boy who wasn't paying attention to her, with him consoling her as best friends do.

She was bliss, her sweet pea body spray engulfing his senses, as he tentatively kissed her back, wondering if this was some delirious dream he was having.

Petra was moaning in a way that he thought was only in fantasy, at night when he dared imagined himself as her boyfriend, and when she pressed her body against his, breasts deliciously folding against his chest, he groaned in return, releasing them from the kiss to catch his breath.

"Petra, what's going on?" He asked, caressing his forehead to hers, begging that this wasn't some mistake.

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, as she giggled, "I love you, Levi. You've always been there for me, I guess what I've been looking for has been here the whole time. You...You feel the same way about me, right?"

Nifa and Nanaba had teased her relentlessly that she was building a harem since, for every guy she dated, Levi was very much a part of her life, even accompanying her on some group dates.

"I don't want him to be lonely!" She argued, putting on her watermelon lipgloss. "You know how he is, all by his lonesome. Everyone knows he's like my brother."

Nanaba laughed, giving her a look, "Well someone better call the cops because brothers shouldn't be looking at you like that. I can't believe you wear this around him," she said, pinching Petra's thigh that cut off just at her ass by her extra-large PJ shirt.

Rolling her eyes, "Please, we've seen each other in diapers. And in cringey Halloween costumes. I think we're past feeling embarrassed."

"Whatever you say," Nanaba said, noticing the pink hue on Petra's cheeks as she talked about him.

Levi thought he would be caught dead before he said I love you to anyone but his mother, and even then, it was given in brief, stilted tones.

But with Petra, he said it as quickly as he could, pulling her in for another kiss, wanting to hold on to her for as long as she would allow him.

His mother was thrilled, always having a feeling that her son harbored feelings for their ginger neighbor, and her father awkwardly patted him on the back.

"Glad it's you, son. I'm tired of all the jocks she brings around," and with a crane of the neck and a stern look, he said, "By the way, Petra, same rules apply, door stays open at all times!"

Petra groaned, stomping up the stairs. "Daddy, it's Levi! We used to listen to music on my boombox when we were 10, remember? We'd keep the door closed so you couldn't hear the CDs we bought from the thrift store."

Her father gave her a cautionary glance to her, then to Levi, who for the first time in his life, felt scared of the serene man.

"Door. Open." Her dad said with a final word, and Petra huffed, dragging Levi into her bedroom as she bemoaned how much she wanted to kiss him, earning a cough from downstairs.

Their relationship was "going steady" as some would call, with it being Levi's first relationship (he hoped his only), and Petra getting used to the idea that he was now her boyfriend.

He got jealous quite often, to the extent where he would hold her hand in the hallway or would walk with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. If he was feeling particularly whipped, he'd hold her books, but he wasn't sure if the snickers from Erwin and Hange were worth it. Not the one for PDA, Petra was surprised when he asked to hold hands, and she was more so endeared at his exuberant affections.

So far, these were the happiest days of Levi's life.

When springtime came around, with the seniors abuzz with the promise of graduation and more importantly, prom, he came to the dreaded realization that Petra was expecting a "promposal," something he had seen throughout his four years of high school but always wrote it off as annoying.

He supposed he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to go with the girl of his dreams.

It started with Nifa, who received a promposal from Gunther in the most saccharine way possible, a candy gram.

Then Nanaba and Mike, the latter coordinating a flash mob with their friends. (Levi didn't dance, but Petra told him all about it and showed them the final video they recorded).

It was a given that Eld and his long-time girlfriend would be going together.

Hange dropped on Levi that she and Erwin were also going as a pair, but it was nothing serious, and decided to go together just so they wouldn't have to deal with the headache of finding an actual date.

Which left Petra, waiting for Levi, and not being the one for grand gestures, he sat himself down to work on a promposal in the only way he knew how to.

Coding a video game.

Petra may be a cheerleader, but she was also a huge nerd thanks to Levi, where they spent most of their childhood playing every video game between his Gamecube, her PS2, and subsequently, their Nintendo DS's, and trading and exchanging games throughout their adolescence.

Their personal favorite was Zelda, with Petra often handing the controller off to him for the harder dungeons, and he knew just what to do when they had their usual Friday night movie, this time at his house.

Cuddled up on the sofa, they were kissing, barely paying attention to the movie as the white of the TV illuminated their bodies. A half-eaten box of pizza was open and cups of soda were on the table in front of them.

It was getting late, and he knew Petra had to be home soon, and he tried to focus on not losing his nerve. Hands at her waist, her plush body against his, he told himself there was nothing to worry about since this was Petra and she chose him when she could have any guy in the school. Eight months of dating should have said so.

Petra seemed to catch his hesitancy as she broke the kiss, but suckled at his lower lip in a way that he adored before she whispered, "Something wrong?"

She knew him so well.

Pulling her in for one more kiss, he reached for the remote to shut the TV off. "I coded a game," he said seriously, wondering if his face gave away his nervousness. "I was wondering if you could try it."

Eyes sparkling, Petra nodded excitedly. "It's been a while since you've made something!"

He ran to get his laptop, already having the file ready while he opened his computer, sliding it in front of her.

"It's, uh, standard WASD to walk, and you can use the numbers to click on objects," he explained as a black screen opened, showcasing a pixelated version of Petra. She held a magic wand with some fire at the end, and she was smiling, wearing her cheerleading outfit.

"Is this me?" She asked, giggling as she went through the dungeon, shooting fire bolts from her wand.

He nodded, staring at the screen in apprehension.

"Not to be a critic, but it's a little easy. Maybe add some mazes so it's not as linear?" She suggested, blasting through a monster.

"Sure, yeah, I'll keep it in mind," he said absently, chewing at his lip as she made it to the final room.

A dragon with a letterman jacket appeared, and Petra easily dodged his fire while she gave more flicks of her wand. The dragon poofed away in a cloud of smoke, revealing a chest, and as she clicked to open it, the chest opening sound from Zelda played, making Petra squeal.

"Oh boy, what am I gonna get?" She asked with an excited clap, and the screen enlarged, a picture of a blue rose and a question in pixelated letters asking,

IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE. WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?

YES / NO

Mouth gaping, Petra looked to Levi, who was nearly squirming out of his skin in panic, clasping his hands together firmly.

Petra smiled, moving the cursor over to "YES" and clicked on it, playing the item received sound from Zelda, and confetti popped on the screen.

Crashing into Levi, Petra kissed him, wondering why it took her so long to see that she had been adored her entire life.

"You're so romantic," she sighed, tugging at his hair and running her fingers down his undercut.

Levi wanted to nearly cry from relief but quickly forgot about his distress as Petra flicked her tongue down his earlobe. She whispered she had five minutes until curfew, and it was a good thing they were neighbors so she wouldn't have to hurry home.

---

It's too damn hot, Levi thought to himself, tugging at his cravat that contrasted with his black button-down and white suit. A chain tied the two ends of the jacket together, also accompanied by a white pocket square, and even though he liked his ensemble when his mother first helped him pick it out, it was starting to feel too tight as sweat clung to his skin, the layers of the fabric suffocating him in the mid-spring weather.

Maybe it wasn't the only reason he was hot, he entertained, seeing Petra dance with their friends, dressed in a spaghetti strap orange dress and matching cream ribbon. Around her wrist was a blue rose corsage, the one he gifted her when he picked her up from her house in his mom's beat-up minivan.

She looked radiant, and perhaps what made her even more attractive was the fact that she was dressed for him. He had seen her in dozens of outfits ranging from sweat pants to middle school formals, but tonight, this was just about the two of them.

Blushing, she accepted his flowers and corsage, posing for pictures by the stairwell he used to climb with her, pretending monsters were chasing them.

Wrapping his arms around her had never felt so right as they slow danced, the dim light and rainbow disco ball illuminating their touch starved bodies. Levi Ackerman didn't dance, but for her, he would do anything as long as she was by his side.

Pressing her cheek to his chest, happy she chose only an inch for her heels so he was still taller, she whispered to him, "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Petra had agreed to go as fast or slow as Levi wanted, especially with it being his first relationship, but there was one request she had after he had asked her to prom.

"I want to have sex with you if you're ready," she said after a heated make-out session.

"Here?!" He asked, looking at his childhood bedroom, the same navy walls he had known for 18 years staring back at him.

"No, not here!" She giggled, flopping down onto his body.

"Prom night," she said quietly. "I've been saving myself for someone special and I want it to be you. I've never gone all the way with a guy...."

"Really?" He asked in wonderment, assuming Petra had sex, a thought he kept firmly shut off at the back of his mind.

"It just never felt right before. Until you." Scooting up to meet his lips, he groaned, evidence of his arousal for her apparent from the first time they kissed and then after. Sometimes she palmed his pants, sometimes he took care of himself right after she left, but he never wanted to push too far, or come across as inexperienced to Petra.

"We're both 18, I was thinking we can rent a hotel room. I can tell my dad I'm sleeping at Nifa's. You can say you're at Erwin's."

A million thoughts and images flashed through Levi's mind, but the only thing he could hear was I'm going to have sex.

"Prom night, then," he agreed.

He had stayed up hours the night before reading up on sex, the technical side of things, the intimate parts, and discussing protection with Petra the weeks leading up to it. They agreed on condoms, so he went to the store in the middle of the night to get a box, and stuffed them in the back of his underwear drawer so his mother wouldn't find them.

Before he left for Petra's, his mother embraced him, giving him the speech that he was growing up so fast, how proud she was of him, and that she was so happy he and Petra were dating.

It was then she pulled out a plastic shopping bag of condoms and started putting them in his pockets, both his jacket and pants, and Levi nearly pushed her to the ground, face flaming.

"What the hell, mom?!"

She gave him a stern look. "I know what kids do on prom night, Levi. I just want you and Petra to be careful—Don't make me a grandmother just yet! Look, I got you different sizes and flavors—"

They were not having this conversation, and Levi haphazardly unlocked the front door, barely sliding his shoes on, "Stop. Just stop. We're, uh, we're fine. We have everything we need."

Kuchel breathed a sigh of relief, placing three more condoms into Levi's hand, accompanied by forty dollars. "Good. Just be safe. Tell me if you need anything, and have fun at the hotel," she winked, and Levi gaped at her.

"What?" She asked innocently. "I know you guys are 18. And I might have heard Petra in the grocery store gossiping with her friends."

He facepalmed, groaning. Of course, Petra would be broadcasting losing her virginity.

To you, he reminded himself.

Levi stepped back into the house, kissing his mom swiftly on the cheek, muttering I love you as he took the car keys and drove down the half a block to Petra's house. Kuchel waved as she closed the door, happy her son was finally with Petra.

"A little," he admitted to Petra, back in the present. He kissed the crown of her head, holding her close. "Are you?"

Nodding, she raised her head to look at him, though they were nearly at eye level.

"But I'm happy it's with you."

A more upbeat song began, causing the numerous couples on the dance floor to break away and spin onto the dance floor. Petra let him go, but grasping his hand as she guided them back to their friends, encouraging them all to hold hands.

"To senior year!" They shouted, and as much Levi wanted to say he hated crowds, the sweat, and the lack of personal space, he found himself not caring, savoring the last tendrils of adolescence.

---

Petra was talking nonstop as they drove to the hotel, only 15 minutes away from the prom venue, and while she was usually a chatterbox, she found it was more from nerves than actually having anything significant to say.

Levi had one of their mixtapes in the CD player, burned during their middle school years written in sharpie Levi and Petra's mixtape, volume 5. Stolen songs from the internet, coupled with tracks from both of their iTunes libraries, Petra always marveled at how opposite they could be, and yet shared similar interests.

The songs were so familiar to her that she involuntarily sang along, reminiscing how often she played their shared songs and rolling over in excitement on her bed when she found a track she knew Levi would like.

Levi parked, hand still resting at the clutch as he looked to her with a steady breath. "We're here," he said quietly and Petra nodded sweetly in return.

Both brought two small duffles to change out of their prom clothes, and shuffled into the hotel, checking in, trying not to look like two teenagers about to have sex for the first time, but ultimately failing as Levi's hands shook as he slid the key card in.

Booking the cheapest room they could find that wasn't a motel, there was little space to walk other than the perimeter around the king-sized bed, a TV with a dresser, and a door leading to the bathroom where Petra excused herself to.

Levi switched the lights on, checking for anything unsavory, and dropped his duffel bag to the floor, checking himself in the door mirror.

Should he change? He didn't want to look too casual, not having the faintest idea of what "sexy" pajamas looked like for men, and he awkwardly paced, debating to at least take his jacket off, unhooking the chain to let his lapels break free.

He hung the jacket over the nearby loveseat, then fiddled with his cravat, wondering if he should take that off too since Petra may find it to be a nuisance, and before he could debate with himself any longer, he heard the bathroom door open up, revealing Petra in a pink baby doll outfit.

Blinking at him with doe eyes, she blushed furiously, not meeting his wandering eyes.

She was definitely not wearing that before they got in, so she must have changed, and suddenly, Levi felt very overdressed as his mouth went dry.

Licking his lips, he hurriedly got the "sex stuff" from his bag, throwing the box of condoms onto the nightstand, followed by lube, and Petra started giggling as he undid the condoms from his pockets as well.

"How many times do you think we're going to have sex tonight? 50?" She joked, eyes raking at the varieties.

"My mom insisted," he grumbled, heat creeping up his neck and Petra's eyes widened in embarrassment and fear.

"You told her?!"

"No!" He blurted defensively. "She figured it out. You know how perceptive she is."

Petra hummed in agreement, scooping up the condoms and putting them back into his duffel.

"I think it's safe to say we can just use that box," she said, pointing to the Trojan extra-large, then running her hands down his arms.

Levi shuddered, unsure if he wanted to keep staring at her or rip the lingerie off, but found himself unable to speak as Petra kissed him heatedly, tongue diving in, and placed his hands on her breasts.

"You can touch them, you know," she whispered, and Levi could have come alone from the contact, his hands touching the silken mounds he had fantasized about ever since they hit puberty.

He backed them into the bed, with Petra's back falling against the plush sheets, and she moaned as Levi pressed his weight against her, gently rocking against her body. She reached for his cravat, tugging it off so that it hung around his neck, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?" she purred, her pearl earrings catching the light in the room.

"Yes, but I can stand to hear it a bit more," he replied, daring himself to touch her legs, each graze of his fingertips like electricity down her spine.

The babydoll deliciously pushed her breasts together as a cute little ribbon sat in between her breasts. The material was nearly opaque, and his mouth watered, thinking of Petra in a thong, despite the number of times he'd seen her in a bathing suit.

"And you look, uh, amazing," he breathed above her.

"Really?" Petra exclaimed in relief. "Nanaba helped me pick it out, said that you're probably more into cute-sexy than sexy-sexy."

Gently sliding the straps down so he could kiss her bare shoulders where her freckles met, he said, "Anything you wear for me is sexy."

"Mmm," Petra sighed as he continued working at her top, finding the ribbon in the back and letting it fall off her arms until she was left in her bare breasts.

Instinctively, she went to cover then, but at Levi's eager and furtive look, she released them, guiding his hands back onto her chest, encouraging him to knead and caress her.

He was clumsy, but in an endearing way, fascinated that he was able to elicit such sounds from her, and when he realized she was only wearing her underwear, and he was wearing too much, he immediately discarded his shirt, then moved to unbuckle his pants.

"Let me help you with that," Petra said, sliding onto her knees to unzip his fly, then eagerly sliding them down his legs as he kicked it off.

"Wow," she breathed at the tent in his boxers, and he had the urge to cover himself as well until Petra reached for him, stroking his length and he moaned loudly.

"Y-you can't do that, I'm gonna come," he coaxed himself to say despite how magnificent it felt.

Blushing, happy she was able to make him feel so much with so little, Petra removed her hand and embraced him as they fell back onto the mattress.

They kissed again, feeling each other's bodies for the first time in this state, hands needy but asking for permission, Levi skimmed the tips of his fingers over Petra's ass, earning a hiss of pleasure.

"I need you," she whined, and unsure of how to proceed, Levi detached himself and grabbed a condom, hands shaking as he undid the wrapper.

"You know how to put it on?" Petra asked out of concern and fascination.

He nodded, slipping it down while pulling the tip. "I've done a test run just to make sure. I, uh, was thinking of you the entire time—-" Fuck, this was not romantic in the slightest, Levi chastised to himself. Petra didn't want to hear how he tested the physics of it, how to avoid using it incorrectly which led to him snapping it against his fingers.

But practice makes perfect, and he felt confident as he hovered above Petra, kissing her neck softly while feeling awkward from the latex between them. She hooked her thumbs over her panties, taking them off, and spread her legs for him, her expression yearning and hopeful.

"I've heard it might hurt," Levi said, breath heady at the sight of her womanhood, a cute ginger patch of curls.

"It's okay. You can't hurt me, it's you," she said gently, resting her hands against his shoulder blades, egging him forward.

Levi placed the tip at her entrance, holding his breath as Petra wriggled beneath him, gasping from the friction and he slid in very slowly, both moaning from the contact.

Petra was slick with arousal, and as he continued to push in, they gasped in time, and Levi had to keep himself from moving too firmly because she felt absolutely wonderful, all warm and tight.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her wrinkled expression, and Petra gasped, opening one eye.

"Y-yeah, you're just really big. But I feel okay."

Pride swelled within him, kissing her gently as he throbbed with desire, and asked her permission to move.

Lifting her hips, he groaned, pumping into her once, then twice, then on the third—-

"Argh!" He gasped, already coming, not being to restrain himself because that's how good she felt.

Shame washed over him as Petra realized what was happening, and she held him gently as goosebumps danced across his skin.

He immediately removed himself from her, hobbling to the bathroom, and Petra looked worried as she processed what had just happened, but pleased that nothing unsafe occurred.

She squeezed her legs together, disappointment and frustration throbbing between her legs, but Levi reappeared, looking thoroughly abashed as he tucked his underwear back on.

"Petra, I'm so sorry about that. Let me make it up to you—"

And before Petra could protest, he crawled to her on all fours at the base of the bed, and placed his hands on her knees, opening them slightly.

"I read that most girls like this better away," he began, kissing her inner thigh, and Petra rolled her head back, happy he was tending to her, but squeaking as he immediately dove his head between her legs, then licking her core with an unpracticed tongue.

"Eek!" She screeched, kicking him in the chest out of reflex from the surprising sensation.

"Ow!" Levi exclaimed, falling back and looking like a mixture of pissed off and fear.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, inching back to her, and Petra plopped her head against the pillow, laughing hard to herself.

"I should be asking you that, I'm sorry I kicked you," she said, giggling into the popcorn ceiling, then turning to face him. "I think for that, we need to warm up a bit. But...I don't want that tonight. Another time," she added with a hopeful look and Levi smiled sadly, hanging his head.

"I'm shit in bed."

Petra weaved a hand through his hair, realizing how much pressure he was under. "No, you're not, Levi. You were just excited. If anything, it's flattering," she said, an adorable pink blush filling her cheeks.

"We'll get better with time and practice. While we wait for you to reset, I brought something for me. I figured something like this would happen."

She padded to her duffel bag, taking out a pink dildo, and clicked it on. It vibrated, and Levi looked at her with a dumbstruck face as she smirked in response.

"Maybe we'll need all those condoms anyway."

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #my fics #levi x petra #ask prompts

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter three

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

SAUDADE

“How can you have two dads? That’s just weird.”

I absentmindedly tore the crusts from my sandwich, discarding them onto the sodden autumn grass in hopes that some birds would grace us with their presence. It was early into the new school year, and at seven years old, Annie and I had known each other for almost a year, and our nook in the garden remained our daily haunt. Annie, still as aloof and scary to most, but to me, a sweetheart with a soft spot seemingly only for animals, doughnuts, and myself, had told me a story about a girl in her class who had to be taken home by ‘one of her dads’. I, naive to the concept of homosexuality, had questioned how one could have more than one paternal figure, to which my older friend introduced me to the possibility that some people could like the same sex.

“Not really,” Annie shrugged. “Love is already really weird. Why would you not be able to fall in love with another man if you’re a man?”

“But how do they have babies?”

“They don’t.”

“But the girl in your class—“

“She’s adopted.”

I contemplated this idea.

“So if a man and a man can be in love, does that mean a woman and a woman can too?”

“I guess so,” Annie responded nonchalantly. “I’ve never seen two girls in love, though.”

Brazenly, I hugged Annie. “So does that mean we can be two girls in love? Oooh, Annabelle, I love you!” I chirped. I did not quite grasp the weight of what I had said, and presumably, neither did Annie, who smirked and fought off my grabbing hands. We were play fighting, nothing out of the ordinary for two young friends, regardless of gender or sexuality.

“So let me get this straight,” Marco states, snapping my attention back through a decade, sat on the edge of his old twin bed. “The first thing you did when you learned what gay meant was declared that you loved your female friend? I don’t want to jump to conclusions for you, but I think you might be gay.”

I groaned, slamming my face into my hands frustratedly. “I know. I think I’ve known for ages now. I’ve never had a crush on a man in my life, Marco, but I’ve never had a crush on a girl, either. Well, apart from—“

“Apart from Annie?” Marco finishes for me suggestively.

I fall back onto his plaid comforter. “Was it even a real crush? We were children. It’s not like I have any other experience to go off, do I?” Because it’s true. How the fuck are you supposed to know what you are if you’ve only had a puppy crush on a girl from your youth? A girl who you lost when you were eleven years old?

“Are you okay?”

Marco reaches over to my cheek, brushing away a tear that I had not even noticed escape my eye. He lies next to me on his comforter, and we stare at the puckered ceiling, shoulder to shoulder, zero eye contact but the affection we hold for each other sitting comfortably in the familiar atmosphere of his bedroom.

“I miss somebody who I haven’t spoken to in seven years,” I admit ruefully. I know I am crying. Under any normal circumstance, I would be furiously rubbing my under eyes, desperate to remove any evidence of my upset. But it’s Marco. He may not be what my Annabelle and I had, but he is still one of my closest friends. I realise that it may not be the end of the world for somebody whom I love and trust to know the truth. “I miss her every day. I can’t even begin to explain it, because it’s ridiculous. You would have thought that after so many years, so many more wonderful friends, that I would just recall our time together with a sort of nostalgic fondness every now and then, but I can’t. There was something about what Annie and I had. It was a feeling, a sensation that made me feel safe. I love you and the rest of our group, believe me. I would do anything for you guys. But the friendship we have is so different from what I felt. I can still remember every emotion, every touch, exactly how she looked.”

“Oh, Daisy,” Marco starts, his sweet voice laced with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were carrying all of this with you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t still be hung up over a childhood friend. Plus, I was nervous to suddenly come out, you know? Stupid, I know, considering you're so comfortable with yourself.”

“Sounds like more than a friend, if you ask me.” He insinuates. Despite his sunny disposition, Marco can be rather snarky when he wants to be.

“Yeah, yeah, crush, friend, whatever. Part of me wants to forget about her, you know? Just start experimenting and figure me out, but I would never want to lose the memories. The time I had with her is worth every moment I have missed her.”

“As sweet and poetic as that is, there’s no reason as to why you can’t start experimenting now. You’re newly eighteen and you will have left this place come September if it goes horribly wrong.”

I laugh dryly. “Thanks. But yeah, I could do that. How does one even go about that, though? I mean, an average looking, sexually ambiguous nerd with no romantic experience isn’t exactly very high in demand on the market.”

Marco sucks his teeth, shaking his head. “Average looking is not a phrase with which I will allow you to describe yourself. Besides, nobody even cares about experience anymore! Believe me, once you go to uni, virginity, body count and all that jazz isn't even relevant." He reassures me, before he turns to his side, warm eyes lighting up with excitement. "I tell you what, let’s go on a night out. We can invite the rest of the gang or it can be just you and me. Sounds good?”

My heart swells with adoration for my friend. He’s really willing to do this for me? “You don’t even like going out, I’m not letting you be uncomfortable for my sake,” I protest, but Marco holds a freckled digit up, presumably to silence me.

“I don’t mind going out. I don’t particularly like staying out ’til 4am, drunk out of my mind, but I can’t imagine you doing that either. Unless you get lucky?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I jerk my body up, shoving him. “Let’s not get carried away here. Drinks? Sure. But it’s very unlikely I’ll be swept off my feet by a gorgeous stranger and spend the night having bomb ass sex.”

“Not quite what I was thinking, but don’t rule it out! You’re a lovely looking lady, I’m sure you’d have your pick of gorgeous strangers.”

“Ha ha, you’re such a comedian, Marco.” I smirk. “Okay, we’ll go on a big, gay night out. Just the two of us. You better not flake on me for a handsome university student though,” I tease, and he averts his dark gaze. “If we find a cute alt boy with piercings, I can’t make any promises. How does this Friday sound? Get your dancing shoes on, we’ll boogie the night away!” He sits up, jiggling his shoulders in what I can only assume is a butchered version of the shuffle.

My friend is such a nerd sometimes.

“I’m looking forward to it, but fair warning, I will go home if you say boogie at all during the night.”

“How about bop?”

“No way.”

“Jive?”

“That’s infinitely worse than boogie!” I howl with laughter.

“How about a boogie, bop, and jive?” Marco relentlessly teases me, jumping to his socked feet and pulling me up by my wrists, crudely dancing with me whilst we both giggle.

“No, no, and certainly not. But I’m looking forward to going out with you.” I conclude.

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

i am so sorry for the slow updates!! i won't get too into it but i had a bit of bad news and life got very stressful,,, i hope you enjoy this chapter, and please be assured there are more on the way!! thank you for your patience gang <3

#annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #annie x reader #annie leonhardt imagine #annie leonhardt headcanons #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhart x you #annie x you #annie x y/n #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk fic #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #attack on titan fanfiction #snk reader insert #aot reader insert #wlw

[mofieroll]

Cloud Nine (Giorno Giovanna x F!Reader)

A Post!VA Giorno Giovanna x Reader one shot where you meet him after being separated in childhood, and bond with his gang.

AU: Everybody Lives

Word Count: 5.4k

The rustling of papers, followed by a scribbling of pen, engulfed the room of a busy man. Daylight and wind coming from the balcony and windows helped him read through the documents with no problem. It was a nice sunny day, but it's nothing special for someone flooded with loads of work and responsibilities.

Since the day they defeated Diavolo, the previous evil boss of Passione, a mafia organization that stands at the top in Italy, and had his high-ranking position taken, the new boss made sure to achieve his justified dream and clean up the dirty mess in the organization. It was easier said than done: starting from removing and adding new rules, stopping operations that involved children and drugs, proving that he's worthy of being Passione's boss — as someone who has taken down a powerful boss with a heart of gold, he won't be one to use violent means to gain respect unless thoroughly provoked —, protecting himself against loyal followers of Diavolo, and many things that can either be said or is trivial in the mafia world.

That's just a gist of the work of Gang-STAR, Giorno Giovanna, and he's glad that he doesn't need to look out for his back because of his resilient comrades that he shared influencial goodness with.

“Giorno, Mista called me to meet you. I say, this must be something serious,” A man with straight bowl cut and gold pins wearing a black and gold suit entered after receiving permission to enter Giorno's office, “Are you going to send me somewhere?”

Giorno placed the documents and his pen aside, looking up to the man as he leaned his arms on his table, “Yes, although, it's a simple task.” He pushed a folder, which he got from a drawer, across the table for the other man to see.

The man took the folder and read the papers inside as he noted of the important details, “This is.. a profile of a girl and her father who's a well-known government official. For what exact reason did you show me this?”

“You should've known, Bucciarati. Of course we'd be babysitting that girl,” A man with long purple hair and lips who had a goth style entered, “Sorry not sorry for barging in, Giorno,” He lazily said as he walked to the two men on the table, the mentioned latter only nodding at him, “You could stop hiding now, Narancia. Giorno said it's okay for us to go in.”

“Eh? Are you sure, Abbacchio?” Another man, who seemed to be more fitting of the word best boy, peeked from the outside of the door, his orange headband being the most noticeable, “I didn't hear Giorno say something since we came here earlier!”

“Clean your ears, didn't you hear him talk to Bucciarati?” Abbacchio replied.

Giorno looked at Bucciarati as a demand of explanation, “We had hesitations on knocking, Giorno. It makes sense that you're busy and we wouldn't want to disturb you, especially since you haven't left this room for days.” He received, making him nod in understanding.

Narancia had now entered the room, reading the folder and sitting on the couch with Abbacchio as Bucciarati sat on one of the chairs in front of Giorno's table, “So, you're saying that I'll be bringing her to you from the airport, and that's it?” Bucciarati asked with ceased brows, receiving a quiet nod from the blonde.

“It doesn't make one hell of a sense. So what if she's the daughter of a politician? That doesn't make her special to have the mafia as her bodyguards,” Abbacchio raised a brow at Giorno, snatching the folder from Narancia's hold and slid it on the coffee table, “THAT doesn't make her special to have YOU as her bodyguard, Giorno.” He pointed out, resting his back on the couch with crossed arms like an angry dad.

Narancia scratched his head with a scrunched nose, “Isn't it exactly what makes her special? Being a child of a famous politician is no joke, so it'd be safer for them to have the mafia on their side, right?” He asked in confusion, making Abbacchio glance at him with an ‘I know that, idiot’ look.

Bucciarati cleared his throat, “What Abbacchio and Narancia's trying to say is, we understand that her life is on the line because she'll be alone for a whole month here in Italy, but why does it have to be you, Giorno, that has to take care of her? You have better things to do as Passione's new boss, we could easily do it for you.” He told Giorno who was expectant of their questions.

“That is not what I—”

“Yeah, totally! It's like how we did with Trish, you know? Oh, we could just take her to Trish too, Giorno! Girls have this thing for each other—”

Narancia stopped himself after receiving a warning glance from the capo, and also realizing that he was face-to-face with his boss. This is work they're talking about. Chats, even if it's with his closest friends, aren't welcome right now.

“I understand your concerns, Abbacchio, Bucciarati. And thank you for the suggestion, Narancia, but I've already decided that she'll be staying with me. I trust that she won't be much of a nuisance than we think she would be, so my significant work for Passione won't get disturbed. There is absolutely no reason to worry,” Giorno glanced at Bucciarati, “I would only need Bucciarati to bring her to me, and that will be all. You don't need to get involved, Abbacchio.”

“You made it sound like you know her well, Giorno. But since you gave me permission not to care, that's what I'll be doing. You have my thanks.” Abbacchio stood up and raised his hands, making a roll motion on one before he bowed and had the three men watch him leave the room.

Narancia did not follow the long-haired man, and instead firmly sat on the couch with a pout on his face, “Is there something you want to tell me, Narancia?” Giorno asked, figuring that the boy had an unspoken thought in his mind.

Bucciarati excused himself, bowing before he says that he'll be preparing the car. Narancia waited for him to leave before jumping from the couch to the seat in front of Giorno's table, who had been waiting for him to speak up.

“This is my only chance now that the oldies are out of the way— Giorno, can I go with Bucciarati?” He asked after preventing the chair from falling. Giorno nodded, “Then— can we hang with her? Like if she's with you and stuff? I'm.. kind of missing Trish so..”

Right, of course Narancia would be excited that a girl would be bonding with them again even if it's not Trish, who moved somewhere in Italy to continue and enjoy the life she deserved. Giorno saw no harm in letting his group connect with you, so he nodded once again.

Narancia grinned, jumping from the chair to the ground with a fist above. He faced Giorno to bow, almost reaching the floor, and ran to the door as he regained his energy. Giorno felt himself smile, silently glad that he got through an adventure with the same people that he's with now.

“Ah, thanks Giorno! You're the best boss! We'll be sure to bring [Y/N] safe!”

[Y/N].. [Y/N] [L/N]. The name of someone who he thought he'd never see again. Someone he met as Giorno, but kept calling him Haruno because she thought he'd remember him better if she does. Now that he recalls it, more flashbacks of you came into mind, driving him to have a break from work and chill on the balcony. He leaned on the fence and observed the garden below him.

You were a childhood friend of Giorno's that he met here in Italy. You belonged to a wealthy family who had connections to the people on the upper hierarchy, consisting of an overwhelming line of successful politicians. When he knew of this, he was already your bestfriend who you invited to hang out at your family mansion, and there he felt at home more than he did at his own. Your mother was a simple and humble woman while your father was the tough and thoughtful kind. Giorno saw for himself how you managed to be sweet yet cunning at the same time — you often scared off his bullies —, making him develop a puppy crush on you at the age of eight.

Everything was going well with you and your family on his side, your father privately scaring his father if he intended to hurt him more, your mother trying to make his mother understand that he needs proper loving and care. But then, it had to end. For a reason unknown to him and yourself, your family had to move to another country, and that's with no proper goodbyes.

It's not really the time to be melancholic, you're coming back at Italy after all. How did he even know of you and your family's whereabouts if you were gone in his life for a decade now? Simple, because if the boss of Passione aims to achieve something, he'll use his available resources to get it. Relating that to you, he'd say that connecting with your family and meeting you again was his goals, and he's proud that he overcame it. After speaking to your father and proving to him that he's to be trusted with your well-being and safety, he was informed that your father will be sending you to Italy for vacation. Your father even thanked him for appearing in the right time, saying that he wouldn't want you to be completely alone with strangers when he and her wife's away for work, and that you would be happier with him.

Technically, you'd be alone with strangers if you're with him too — his diverse gang crossing his mind —, but did your father mean it when he said you'd be happier with him? He didn't tell your father what he does in his life now, and that just proves how much he's trusted by the [L/N]s.

But will you trust him if you learn that he's the boss of a mafia organization? Yes, it's nonsense to doubt you. What matters is that you get to spend time together once more.

You're still his biggest crush and his first love now, after all.

—

You crouched outside the airport, your backpack resting in front of your chest as you faced your sunglasses on the back of your head. You know you looked ridiculous, but the boredom of waiting for Haruno had striked you. You arrived thirty minutes earlier, expecting that he'd be early too, but the cute familiar black-haired Japanese wasn't in sight. You were starting to think that your papa tricked you so that he could have your mama alone, but that didn't sound right for middle-aged people like them. Plus, why did they have to send you back here at your hometown just so you could be safe? Well, they obviously didn't know that you could take care of yourself with the help of your.. psh. None of it made sense, but since it's free vacation you're talking about, you just brushed off the complains.

“Excuse me, Signora, but are you [Y/N] [L/N]?”

A deep voice spoke from beside you, making you flinch in surprise. You could've sworn that the voice you heard was sexy, but what you saw when you looked up at the person beside you was much more sexier. You don't remember Italian men being this beautiful, “Yes! And you are?” You jumped to your feet, gulping as you stood in front of the man, “You aren't Haruno, are you?”

“Haruno..?” The man repeated and shook his head, “Sorry to disappoint, but no. My name is Bruno Bucciarati, a friend of Giorno Giovanna. I take it he's.. Haruno?”

You sounded an ‘oh..’ before nodding. You wanted to ask why he's here instead of your childhood friend, but you just waited for him to explain, not wanting to come off as rude.

“Alright, then you must be confused as to why I'm here instead of him?” He asked like he read your mind, making you nod, “I'll be brief for now, is that okay?” He asked again and you gave a pursed smile in return, noticing how he acknowledges your comfort, “Hm, to start off, Giorno has a busy work. It mostly takes away all his time, including now, so we volunteered to fetch you here and bring you to him.”

You were about to ask where he is now and what work does he do but you did not, thinking it must be private, “Is that so, Bucciarati? Thank you for your time, but you didn't have to do this! I could just wait until he's.. uh, free and not busy!” You smiled, “Besides, I'd be pretty jetlagged anytime now.. you could go with your friend and if it's no biggie, tell Haruno he shouldn't worry about me! I'll be here for a whole month anyways,” You convinced.

Bucciarati noted how you told him to go with his friend, connecting it with how he said ‘they’ volunteered. You're a perceptive one, huh? Abbacchio must be right, Giorno knows you very well, and that fact is enough for him to let you be the closest to him. You had to be someone Giorno's familiar with for him to guard you himself, someone who has to be special to him.

He smiled back at you, “I'm sure Giorno would love your company, Signora. Won't you be staying with him?”

And with that, Bucciarati had you speechless. He had reminded you that you'll be living with Haruno as a safety measure. It sounded cute when it came from your papa because he still saw both of you as kids, but now that you know that he works for a living, the realization that he's matured mentally and.. physically had hit you. The excitement of meeting him again didn't let the realization cross your mind when you agreed to living with him here.

But again, it's your best childhood friend you're talking about, so no complains.

You now sat on a couch of what seemed to be an office after the ride with Bucciarati and his other friends Narancia and Mista. You almost decided to have a happy crush on Bucciarati, especially on how soft he was around you, but you backed it off after meeting the other two who just had the most chaotic energies you aspired to have. You learned from Mista that Narancia struggled with mathematics so you told him that you could help him, while you noticed on the former that he had a pistol with him so you asked him if he could teach you sometimes, both offers being ecstatically agreed to. The plans for your vacation were going well, but you still haven't met Haruno. Sucks that you've been told to stay and wait at the room you're in without the candidates of who's going to be your vacation crush.

As you searched inside your bag, a person entered the room, “I'm sorry for making you wait, I went outside to buy food for us.” Thinking that the person was one of the first three you met, you didn't looked up and continued searching, only saying ‘It's fine!’.

The person, who happened to be Giorno, had three boxes of pizza and two tubs of ice cream in his arms. It was whack food for his reuniting with you, but he knows that you won't be having the energy to eat at a fancy restaurant right now. He'd be sure to take you in one, though.

He placed the foods on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite of where you were, trying to have a proper look of your face. You had your natural [H/C] covering it though, your bowed head making it even impossible for him. He sat properly and faked a cough, at that you had already found what you were looking for.

You lifted your head, but unfortunately, the photo you were holding hid your face. Is he being teased right now?

On the other hand, you were smiling and admiring the photo. It had an image of you and Haruno, both your arms hanging on each other's necks as you cheekily grinned and he had a smile, your head resting on his. It was just one of the mementos you had, a lot of stuffs stored back at your room. Looking back makes you feel warm everytime, but it could be better if you met Haruno right now.

Giorno faked a cough once again, and you peeked, quickly putting back the photo inside after you saw a new.. face. He wore a black and green suit that bared his chest as he had his usual hairstyle, his long blonde hair tied into a fish braid while his hair's brim were rolled into three. Giorno was looking “mhm!” and you had to deny it, aiming not to embarrass yourself.

You placed your backpack beside you and fixed your sitting position, “Ah.. sorry, I thought you were someone I already met. I'm [Y/N] [L/N], do you own this place? Bucciarati and the others told me to wait here for Haruno, I could wait somewhere else if you want!”

It was a given that he'd be unrecognizable because of his hair and brows turning blonde, but Giorno had widened his eyes, shocked for one fact: you called him Haruno.

“Uhm.. hey? I'm sorry again. I'll just go wait outside now, thank you!” You were fast on clinging your bag to your shoulders and hurrying to the door, but not fast enough for the Giorno Giovanna with you. Before you could open the door, Giorno went beside you and held your wrist with a firm grip.

Giorno gulped the slump in his throat, “It's me, [Y/N],” He started, confusing you, “Haruno.. Haruno Shiobana.”

You dropped your backpack upon hearing this, a surprised face on you, “W-what? But.. he isn't.. are you.. no, there's no reason for you to do that. Is it.. really you? Like.. my Haruno Shiobana? My Giorno? My GioGio?” You held his shoulders and shook his taller form, your voice becoming more and more loud as you asked his names.

Giorno let out a tranced chuckle as he looked at your eyes, seeing your eyes express your excitement. Oh, how much he missed those, “Yes, [Y/N]. It's me, your Haruno.”

That was the confirmation you needed to finally burst out, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you jumped, “Can I.. can I hug you?” You politely asked, knowing how sensitive he can be to physical affection, and he slowly nodded.

You stomped your feet as a wide smile formed on your face, your eyes starting to well up tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck after you admired his beauty, locking him in a lodged hug, “I-I can't believe how much you've outgrown me! And blonde hair?! Are you kidding me?! It looks perfect on you! You were the cutest back then but now— I don't even know how to begin! Puberty hit you like an airplane crash when I'm here looking like a potato sack! You're really unfair, Haruno!”

Giorno had one of his rarest smiles on his face because of your adorable outburst, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you back. You described yourself so wrong when your form and your charming personality wouldn't even have that as an option of definition. He lovingly rubbed your back, trying to soothe you as he felt warm tears on his shoulder, “Shh.. I wouldn't even dare challenge your own alluring beauty, cara.”

Unbeknownst to Giorno who was indulged in your hug though, a part of him was up and willing to challenge you.

His Stand, Gold Experience Requiem or GER, manifested behind him and on the side where you placed your head. Feeling a presence of someone, you looked up with quivering lips, gasping as your eyes laid on a gold humanoid floating behind Giorno. You stepped back and pulled the man with you, pointing to the humanoid, “H-Haruno! Look out!”

Giorno changed your position and pushed you behind him out of fighting instinct, giving him a decent look on his sentient Stand, “GER? [Y/N].. you can see it?” He turned to look at you and you nodded, “You're a Stand User too.. I didn't know about that.”

Giorno led you to the couch with GER behind him and sat beside you, explaining to you what a Stand is. You were glad to know that you weren't the only one with an ability who had a form that no one else around your home sees, so when he asked you to show your Stand, you confidently called for its name. It manifested behind you, its head resting on your shoulder. Giorno, as the sweetheart that he is to you, complimented it before asking its ability. As you were explaining your Stand's ability, both of your and Giorno's Stands now faced and admired each other's forms behind the couch.

“Stand Users attract each other, huh? That's neat.”

Abbacchio, who had his red and green headphones and his eyes closed, stood by the now opened door with crossed arms. Your Stands weren't bothered by the disturbance and just kept staring at each other while you and Giorno had your attention on the man.

“I-I'm sorry, would you like to join us? You must be Haruno's friend too, it would be great if we all got along, wouldn't it? He actually bought too much pizza so..” You informed after hesitating. You walked up to the door, Giorno following you while he had his eyes glued on Abbacchio, ready to warn him not to be rude to you, “I'm [Y/N] [L/N], and you must be?”

Abbacchio opened an eye and saw his boss' firm look. He clicked his tongue and pushed himself from leaning to face you, “Leone Abbacchio.”

Giorno softened when you turned to face him with a cheerful smile, “Haruno, can we call the others? Pizza and ice cream is better when shared, yeah?”

Abbacchio observed Giorno carefully, and he never thought he'd see him go all soft and protective just for a woman. The way he looked at you was different, like he adored everything about you and every word you say. Yet, this was the same Giorno who stepped out of his league to achieve his impossibly deadly dream. Giorno Giovanna never fails to surprise him, it seems.

“Yes, of course, as long as you're comfortable. I'll call them, you should go sit while you wait,” Giorno stepped aside, leting you walk back to the couch and join the staring contest between the Stands. He faced Abbacchio, “You should go sit with her, Abbacchio. How about you try to see if she's as special as I think she is?”

Abbacchio smirked on Giorno's challenge. He won't be able to use his old trick without a tea set available, but that isn't to say he doesn't have any more up his dress sleeves, “It's my pleasure, Don Giorno.”

Oblivious to Giorno's hands behind him, you caught his signal that both of you invented when you were children. It was made just for fun, usually used when you two hung out at your home and had nothing to do except to troll your parents and the helpers. It was fun seeing them get utterly confused with your and Giorno's antics, maybe it won't be so bad to have a little trip to nostalgia.

And needless to say, it was a fun trip, not just for you and Giorno, but for the whole gang, after seeing Abbacchio get his peach handed back to him from you. You had doubts if you should do that one prank you devised long ago against a man who looked like he knew of your deepest secrets, but it was successful nonetheless. The others got back to the office while you were doing it, and like they were used to the tense atmosphere caused by harmless waggery, they waited for the big reveal of who'll be the embarrassed and the victor. In this case, Abbacchio lost, hissing as he almost flipped the table in dismay, and you won, leaning on the arm of the couch as you made two peace signs and crossed your arms, a smug grin and black sunglasses on your face — which your Stand mimicked — while Narancia and Mista screamed behind you, the Sex Pistols jumping up and down your body as Aerosmith flew around. Bucciarati sat beside Abbacchio, calming him down, and Giorno was standing at the other end of your couch, smiling in amusement at them and in awe with you.

It has only been hours since you've met the gang, but the bonding was one of those spent with close friends. You felt at home with them, especially when Giorno's around, and they also did with you. Because of their experience with Trish, they had been inclined to thinking that guarding you isn't something of professional duty, although Giorno had thought of that from the start.

You were now laying and dozing off on the couch, the jetlag and drained energy getting to you. Giorno sat on the floor beside you, watching you as you slept peacefully.

Mista crouched beside Giorno as the others cleaned up, “Yo, boss. Shouldn't we put her to bed? She might wake up feeling uncomfortable.”

“She told me she..” Giorno had his face warm up, which didn't go unnoticed by Mista, “She wants to be close to me,” He said with the most unflustered voice he can do.

Mista surpressed a laugh, “Then go for it! Put her to bed and sleep with her! Aren't you childhood friends? The closest? Doesn't that mean you've slept with her before like when you're playing or something?”

Giorno sighed, still looking at you, “Well yeah, but this is different. We're not kids anymore.”

“Don't misunderstand, Giorno. You're just being by her side like she requested you to, she trusts you enough not to do anything that would ruin that trust. Besides, we all saw how you looked at her! It was obvious that you missed— Okay boss, I know you got it.” Mista, who had been carried away with giving advice, received a warning glance from Giorno, so he stopped himself and patted his boss' back before leaving.

Giorno patiently waited for everyone to leave — each of them giving him a thumbs up —, all the while sitted by your side as he thought of what Abbacchio said to him when he came back after the others had left.

“Hey, Giorno. She isn't a nuisance, at least. It's not everyday you get to spend a break with someone like her. Use your smart ass and don't ruin it.”

He was right, but what does he mean to not ruin it? You're resting, what else does he have to do? He could continue reading through his paperworks while he waited for you to wake up, that way he won't have to worry about those later and get to have more time for you.

It was settled. Giorno stood up and was going to walk to his table, only to be stopped by a hand. He looked back, and saw your hand unyieldingly holding his. Surprised, he checked your face, but you were still fast asleep and were not faking it. He hitched a breath, he's getting flustered over holding hands with you even if you closely held each other earlier. Did he intertwined his hand with you, or was it you who did it? To answer it, he tried to break free from your hold, but you tightened your grip.

“Gio..” You called for him, half-awake. You fluttered your half-lidded eyes as you tried to sit up, Giorno quickly helping you and sitting a little far from you after you've settled with folding your knees, his hand still in yours that rested on your lap. You covered your mouth with the other and yawned, “Ah, wooh! Remember when you.. asked me that one thing, Haruno?” You casually told him after stretching.

“I-it depends, [Y/N]. What thing is it?” Giorno gulped, are you not aware of your hands?

“It was your birthday.. it was the time we confessed our crushes to each other, to be precise,” You looked up and giggled on the memory, “I gave you a gift then you gave me a carnation flower. After that, you told me—”

“Is it alright if I ask you to be my someone like your mama is to your papa?” Giorno cut you off and squeezed your hand, recalling the exact words he told you that day. He began to like holding your hand, it would be a shame to let this miss.

You turned your eyes to him, “Yeah, that. I was wondering if you have someone right now who.. you know, who you asked that?” You gazed at him with pure curiosity, wanting to know more of the people he's most fond with. Meeting his squad had been a blast, and it would be great if you met his special one.

“Did asking you counted?”

“Wha?”

“Is it..?”

Awkward. Silence. You didn't expect him to answer like that, to answer with so much swiftness and poise like he already knew your question and had prepared what to say. Giorno surely grew out of his shell, and that thought made you smile unknowingly, which flushed him even more.

“Can I sit closer to you, [Y/N]?” Giorno tugged your hand after he asked, and you responded with facing to your side so he could move closer to you. You looked down on your clasped hands that broke hold with his, not knowing what to say when he literally confessed for the second time.

“Don't you feel cold with your open chest?”

“Can we hug again?”

Another. Awkward. Silence. You were trying to start up a new topic because it had been too quiet, but you were out of place. How do you even tell him that you still like him? Of course it isn't like the time when you were kids, shrugging off uneasy moments with outgoing replies and with the littlest of distractions. It had been years since you first saw each other, and the bond with the gang earlier helped you both catch up a bit, but it isn't going too well without them. Is it really alright to talk about such feelings now?

You glanced at the nervous Giorno and nodded, a small smile finding its way to his lips. He put an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you in. You shifted your body and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head once again resting on his shoulder. With that, he proceeded to lock you in both of his arms as he placed his head on yours and closed his eyes, GER manifesting on your other side as it mimicked its user's hold on you.

Feeling your affectionate form nestle close to him is what he'd describe as his cloud nine, all the built-in stress being released as the snippets of emptiness that unfortunate circumstances brought were filled. How come you managed to be the same angel that he knew a decade ago? As someone incredibly whipped for you, he already knows the reason, but maybe he'd ask you of that sooner or later just to see you in a blushing state.

In the present, he'll gratify himself of this moment, the voice of Abbacchio saying that he should ‘use his smart ass and not ruin this’ echoing through his mind.

He kissed your crown as you snuggled closer to him, giving him the composure he needed to speak of his feelings for you, “Don't worry. You have the whole month to think of your answer to my question. For now, listen to my voice as I tell you how much you mean to me, even if I get separated from you for a devastating number of years.”

“Sei la luce della mia vita, amore mio.”

[End!]

#giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #bucci gang x reader #haruno shiobana #i know i shouldve included our boi fugo im sorry TwT #leone abbacchio #narancia ghirga #guido mista #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jojo reader insert #let's assume pol got to reunite w/ joot and oldseph.... #mirawrites

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Problem- Remus Lupin

Older Remus x Weasley!Reader

A/N: The Weasley!Reader is 22 years old in this to begin with but is 25 after the time skip, 26 after the second one.

ANYWAY- I hope you like it @elizaphantandroses tis your request after all. I think it was a bit bad toward the beginning but it was better near the end in my opinion

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, implied assault, blood and wounds, mild cursing

Let’s start:

Remus Lupin was in an emotional disaster.

Y/n L/n, the new Weasley recruit in the Order, he had a problem for her.

He didn’t have a problem with her work ethic or the ways he did thing, no, Remus had a problem, and his problem was her.

Whenever she was around Remus never was able to think entirely straight, he could never focus directly on his work when she was working on hers. When it was declared that she and Remus had to go on a mission together, his senses were jacked up by a megawatt and they finished up perfectly and quickly because of fear that she would get hurt.

It went the same with Y/n. Remus was her problem as well, and her mum and dad were starting to sense that.

———————————————————————

It was over, the war had ended, and everybody was finally safe.

Fred and George started a new line of products for people with P.T.S.D.

Harry and Ginny were ready, Hermione and Ron were together.

Yet, Remus and Y/n never stopped.

When Remus decided to open a bakery shop ad Y/n showed up one day to apply for a job, Remus hired her without a word and it was splendid. Molly and Arthur watched their eldest daughter as she fell in love again and waited for her to finally realize that the man she loved looked at her like she was his light and breath.

Remus, how do I say this, he loved Y/n, but he tried to tell himself he didn’t. Because he though that she deserved better; Remus thought the woman needed someone Younger, someone brighter, somebody who could give her as she needed and wanted. So, when Y/n one day walked into his house to ask him for help with a wound on her side Remus almost shut the door on her face. Until he realized she needed help.

Which of course led to this now.

“ No Remus let me in,-

“ Y/n really, I have to do something at the moment.”

He watched in sorrow as the woman leant against the door of his home, hand to her side, face screwed up in pain.

“ No Remus please, I’m bleeding out here you’re not just going to-‘

And that was when he snapped to attention and stopped with the lies. The man quickly put his arms under her legs and carefully under her waist and picked her up; moving her swiftly to his bedroom where he could asses the damage. He placed the H/c woman on the side of his bed and helped work her out of the shirt and cloak she had been wearing to reveal a knife dug into her side along with multiple bruises and two jagged cuts running down her chest to lower abdomen.

Remus had to clench his fists in anger and quickly set off to work mending the wounds and bruises, cuts and other marks. Where Remus had placed a spell to stop the blood from coming out of the knife wound he now had to remove to remove the knife itself and furthermore help her. Right before he went to remove the knife he looked up at the woman, “ This is going to hurt like hell love.”

She reached out and grasped his forearm as he went to pull it out and she bit down on her lip, her toes curling and back arching slightly. As Remus finished bandaging the wounds up he went over to his dresser and pulled out one of his sweaters, helping the panting woman into it.

“ What- Who- What the bloody hell happened Y/n?”

The girl shook her head, looking towards the floor, “ It’s nothing Remus...”

She had to stop mid sentence because a certain brown haired man looked up at her from his crouched position and gave her that look that just said ‘I am Remus Lupin, and You will cut the shit.’

“ I was cornered by a group of men on my way back home. They got a few good hits in before I got them with a jinx and Obliviated ‘em.”

Y/n attempted to moved backwards and sit up but Remus was having none of that. He was now even more pissed than before and he had good rights to be so. The man moved over and grasped his wand, waving it slightly and all the blood that had been spilled on the bed was gone then, he moved over and took the girls cloak out and put it on his coatrack before he moved back and picked up the woman, carrying her to the couch in his sittingroom.

Remus sat and placed her laying down beside him, she managed to wiggle over and place her head in his lap, arms propped up on his thigh to make her head adjust better. “ Don’t worry Rem, I’m good now. I just have to aparate home to mum so she knows I made it home and I’ll be fine.”

Remus scowled down at her and growled lowly.

“ No you’re not Y/n. You are going to stay here tonight and I’ll take you over to your parents home tomorrow and explain what’s happened.”

Y/n immediately reacted with a panicked look and slide backwards until she were sitting utop Remus’ leg. She quickly placed her hand on his leg and another on his arm to keep her body steady. “ Don’t tell mum Remus. It’ll kill her! She’s already worried enough about me being out on my own in this muggle town, if we tell her what happened she’ll freak out and I’ll never be able to leave the house anymore. I won’t be able to go to work and I won’t be able to visit the boys and gin anymore, I won’t be able to see Fred and George, I won’t be able to visit Perce and Bill and Fluer, I won’t be able to see yo-‘

Remus stopped Y/n’s panic attack and ongoing ramble by pushing her back lightly against the couch and leaning over her, engaging her mouth, lips and tongue in a very passionate kiss. The girl moved her elbows to prop herself up and reached an arm to thread it loosely through Remus’s hair and tugging on it slightly as he pulled her jaw closer to his. After a few more moments the two started to lose oxygen and Remus pulled away, panting, as he watched Y/n’s chest heave trying to get breath in.

“ I won’t tell your mum if that’s the case. Or maybe she’d let you stay s’long as you’re with me.”

The man let out a cheeky smirk at the woman underneath him and he leaned down, kissing her forehead.

“ Now let’s get you to bed love, you’ve had a rough night.”

———————————————————————

“ You’re moving back in with us.”

Y/n stood next to Remus in her childhood houses’ living room as her mum fussed over her split and sealed side.

“ No mum, I’m my own person. I can take care of myself mum-‘

“ That’s exactly what you said the Christmas of your third year when those boys felt you up and afterwards Charlie still had to hex them brainless.”

“ Dad! You can’t be going there now! We survived the war for Godics sake! I thought that would be enough to prove I could handle myself enough!”

Remus placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, hand shaking slightly.

“ She has a point Molly, Y/n can take care of herself. Besides, she’ll be with me. Y/n’ll be fine, it was just one thing and we went off and told the muggle policeman earlier about what had happened aswell.”

Molly, still slightly fuming, came up and moved to where her daughter was standing, engulfing the two of them in her signature bone-crushing hug.

Fred came storming down from the stairwell and lifted his elder sister, spinning her bridal style in his arms.

“ Took you long enough N/n, just give it a bit more time before I get some nieces and nephews.”

“ Shut up Fred!”

__________________________________________

1 Year Later

__________________________________________

“ Hey Rem?”

Y/n asked as she slide into Remus’ lap on Ginny and Harry’s couch. They were babysitting her little sisters newborn infant so Harry could take Ginny out with Ron and Hermione.

She had just gotten the child to sleep and had been planning on going to sleep with her Fiancé on the couch afterwards.

Remus sat up a bit straighter and pulled Y/n closer to his chest, slipping his hands under the soft fabric of the sweater of his that she’d been wearing, rubbing shapes into her soft hips. “ What is it darling?”

Y/n turned around in his lap and began to smooth down the fabric of his button-up, biting her lip.

“ Mum has so many grandkids now Rem... I think I forgot count. Do you mind counting for me?”

Remus guided Y/n legs to straddle his waist as he continued to let his hands gently make their way up her back and torso.

“ Love, your memory must be jumbled, if I recall correctly James is her only grandchild.”

Y/n began to lightly trace the feel of Remus’s shoulders through his shirt as she held an innocently ignorant look on her face.

“ No, Rem you’re forgetting one.”

Remus looked up at his love with a quizzical expression and went back to kneading shapes into her hips.

“ What’re you talking about love? You must be confused because Molly doesn’t have anymore grandchildren... Unless someone else is pregnant and just hasn’t- you’re pregnant aren’t you Y/n?”

“ It depends on whether or not you’ll be mad by my response.”

Remus sat forward slightly pulling her closer to his chest as he wiped a few stray tears from her eye.

“ Love I would never be mad about something like this...”

Y/n nodded her head slightly.

“ I mean, I already talked to Perce and he said that Lyncanthrophilia can only be transferred through a werewolf’s bite. I mean, if you don’t want to keep it I’ll have to live with that but-‘

Remus stopped her worried ranting by pulling their bodies flush, slamming his lips into hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

“ I want to keep it Y/n.”

__________________________________________

Drink some water, eat some food, take screen breaks and remember that You Are Loved

^ - ^

#remuslupin #remuslupinxreader #the mauraders #harry potter #james potter #james potter x reader #moony x reader #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony #ginny weasley #molly weasley #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #Hogwarts #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley